It is not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship that makes unhappy marriages. -Friedrich Nietzsche

Winter falls over Camelot, bringing bitter cold weather and a fair amount of snow. The castle residents hunker down for the season, and life in general slows down while the kingdom waits for fairer weather.

Arthur's birthday falls shortly after the new year. He's accustomed to having smaller celebrations due to travel being more treacherous in the cold and snow, but Elyan makes the journey, as do Agravaine and Morgana. The prince is 16 now, and while he is no taller, his muscles have begun to fill in more.

Guinevere is happy to see her brother, but cannot help missing her father. Elyan explains that King Thomas was once again a bit under the weather and did not wish to risk a journey. Guinevere can't help suspecting there is more information that her brother isn't telling her, but she doesn't press.

The king goes on a winter hunt with some of his men to commemorate his birthday, something he has done since his 15th year. They catch some small game and a deer. This year, Arthur decides that all of their catch is to be cleaned and dressed and taken to the lower town and distributed to those low on meat for the winter.

The evening feast is enjoyable and festive, with a fire-eater and a magician for entertainment. Arthur was more impressed with the fire-eater than the magician, but he appreciated the effort from Guinevere and Morgana.

"He was pretty terrible," Morgana later agreed. "Princess Elena recommended him or I would have gone with the knife-thrower."

"Well, there's always next year," Arthur replied with a chuckle.

xXx

"Did you enjoy your feast, Arthur?" Guinevere asks, walking towards him.

"Yes, thank you, Love," Arthur answers. "Where is Merlin?" he asks. Sefa had just left a short time ago after helping the queen ready for bed, but Merlin never turned up and Arthur is still fully dressed.

Guinevere bites her lower lip, growing unreasonably nervous. "I… I told him his services would not be required this evening," she tells him.

His eyebrow rises. "Did you now?" he asks, intrigued. "Is this some kind of… extra birthday gift?" She had already given him a beautiful crossbow that Leon helped her select and a new pair of soft leather gloves.

She smiles, but says nothing, walking around behind him. She slides her hands up his back and slowly peels his vest from his shoulders. Then she moves back around in front of him and unbuckles his belt.

When she slides her hands up under his shirt to begin removing it, he closes his eyes and says, "Oh, I much prefer the way you do it."

He helps her remove his shirt, and she leans forward to kiss his chest. "Good," she says. "Though I doubt you would welcome Merlin attending you this way." She leans forward and kisses his neck, sliding her arms around him.

Arthur laughs and hugs her. "Your humor always takes me by surprise," he says, tilting his head down to kiss her.

Guinevere indulges herself in a few languid kisses, then remembers her mission. The thing she's been wanting to try ever since she found out about it from Morgana, but hasn't had the courage. But his birthday seems like good enough a reason as any.

She pulls away and gently pushes him towards the bed. He makes a quiet intrigued hum, but allows her to back him up until he feels the mattress behind his legs and sits.

She kneels down before him and removes his boots, carefully setting them side by side. Then she removes his socks before lifting up and starting on the ties of his trousers.

"Lie back," she says, hoping he doesn't notice her nervous hands.

"All right," he replies, his curiosity piqued. He helpfully lifts his hips so she can remove his trousers, and she smiles when she notices he is already slightly aroused.

She removes her robe and crawls onto the bed, leaning over him.

"You're still dressed," he comments just before she kisses him. He attempts to roll them so he is on top, but she pushes his shoulder back down. He looks at her, surprised.

"Just lie back, and let me do what I will," she says, a tiny, impish smile playing about her lips.

His eyebrows nearly hit his hairline, but he complies, trying not to grin too much. When her fingers brush lightly over his semi-hard manhood, he groans.

She kisses him again, and he somehow manages to slip a hand under the hem of her nightdress and slide it up her leg. When his hand closes over her backside, she pulls away and quickly yanks her gown off.

"Better," he says, eyes roving over her familiar, but very enticing, form. He prays he will never grow tired of seeing her or being with her this way.

She smiles and leans down, kissing his chest. She works her way lower, to his stomach, then his hipbone. She contemplates his length for a moment, sliding her palm over it, now fully erect. Then she lifts it a little and slides it into her mouth.

"Guinevere," he groans her name, and the sound of it makes her flood with heat. She experimentally licks and sucks, gradually figuring out what to do while her husband groans and pants, his hand groping for her.

She plunges her mouth over him again and takes him in as far as she can. She swirls her tongue around and pumps him in and out a few times, wrapping her hand around what she can't reach with her mouth.

As she goes, she understands what Arthur meant when he said that he gets pleasure from pleasuring her. His reactions to what she is doing to him are making her feel all warm and tingly, like she can feel every nerve ending in her most sensitive places.

"Oh… Love… if you don't stop, I'm going to…" he gasps.

Morgana didn't have any information about how such an act ends, and Guinevere was a bit squeamish about the thought of swallowing what comes out. Grateful he warned her, she eases away and places another kiss on his stomach. She bites her lower lip and moves up to face him, a little worried he might think less of her.

"Guinevere that was…" he says, his expression of blissful awe setting her nerves at ease. He kisses her deeply.

"I am pleased you enjoyed it," she quietly replies. After a second, she admits, "I had no idea what I was doing."

"I have no complaints," he says, pulling her over him. "None at all."

She sits back, straddling him. "Good," she declares. "I was a little nervous about doing it," she admits.

He smiles, running his hands up her thighs to her hips. "I… rather liked you being a little bolder than usual," he admits.

She moves her hips, sliding over his length, and his fingers lightly dig into the soft flesh of her hips in response. "Shall I continue?" she asks, sounding braver than she feels. It's a little exhilarating being in control, but it's very new for her and she's not sure she would want to do it every time.

"By all means," he answers, lifting his hips slightly to encourage her.

xXx

"Where did you hear about… that?" Arthur asks after, curled around Guinevere in their bed. She has put her nightgown back on because of the cold, but he has only donned trousers.

"Morgana told me," she answers. "But only because I asked if she knew anything about it. And she hasn't done it; she had only heard talk," she quickly adds.

He chuckles. "I know my cousin is virtuous," he reassures her. "And I also know she listens to more chatter and gossip than she should, so I am not surprised to learn it was she who told you."

Guinevere tucks her head under his chin. "I wanted to know if there was something I could do for you that is like when you… you know…" She still isn't quite sure what to call what he does.

"Ohhhh, I see," Arthur replies. "You could have asked me," he gently points out.

"I wanted to surprise you," she says. "And I was a little nervous about trying it," she admits a moment later.

He gently lifts her chin so he can see her. "You need never feel nervous with me, Love," he says, softly kissing her lips. "And I recognize it's easier for me to say that than it is for you to do," he adds.

She nods. "I know," she whispers. "Were you surprised?" she asks, peeking at him.

"Quite pleasantly," he answers, grinning.

She is quiet for a few minutes, pondering asking the question that is on her mind. "Has anyone ever done that for you before?" she finally asks.

"I was wondering if you were going to ask that," he answers, kissing the top of her head. "And, um, yes."

She looks up. "I thought you said you didn't have a lot of experience," she says, her brows furrowing.

"I don't," he answers. He goes on to tell her about the decadent, half-drunk afternoon he spent with Princess Elena when he was 16.

"Princess Elena is very beautiful," Guinevere says. "Vivacious, funny, kind…"

"Guinevere, are you… jealous?" Arthur asks, noting her tone. He shifts slightly so they are lying facing one another. "Because I assure you, there is absolutely no need. We were simply both curious and decided we should do a little experimenting."

"I am… only envious that you experienced these things with her first," she answers. "Though I completely understand your desire to do so."

"We never had any illusions about anything developing from the experience. I was promised to you, and Godwin had just arranged her marriage to one of Caerleon's sons, which is actually why she was so keen on the idea."

"Wanted to know something of what she would be experiencing," Guinevere quietly says, nodding.

"Yes. And honestly, the whole thing was a bit awkward because we never felt anything beyond friendship for one another," he explains. "Why do you think we needed the wine?" he adds, smiling.

She giggles and looks down. "I… I almost wish I had a friend with whom I could have done something similar, but I was rather sheltered," she admits.

"Thanks to my father, no doubt," he says in a low voice.

"I think my father had quite a hand in keeping me cloistered as well," she sighs. "He was pretty protective of me, especially after Mum died."

Arthur nods. "I think I actually understand," he says.

"What?" Guinevere asks, not understanding his meaning.

"Oh! I mean I understand your jealousy of Elena. Or, rather my experience with her before you," he clarifies.

"Oh," she replies, relaxing again.

He pulls her into his arms, tucking the blankets up over them. "I freely admit that I love the fact that you have known no one but me," he says. "I've discovered I have a possessive streak where it comes to you, my love."

"Really," she answers, not sounding surprised at all. She closes her eyes and fully relaxes against him. "I never would have guessed."

He chuckles, kissing the top of her head. "I love you, Guinevere."

"I love you, Arthur. Happy birthday."

xXx

The next morning, Elyan seeks out Guinevere in private after breakfast. Arthur has gone to the armory, and the young prince finds his sister in the royal chambers.

"Gwen… I have something I need to tell you," he says.

"Yes?" Guinevere asks, suddenly worried. "Something is wrong, isn't it?"

He nods. "Father is ill."

"I knew there was something you weren't telling me," she says.
He nods, looking down. "I'm sorry. He… he's often confined to his bed these days. I have been acting as regent rather a lot," he says.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Guinevere asks, concerned, but a little annoyed with her brother.

"We only just got confirmation a few days ago, and since I was going to be coming, I thought I would just tell you in person. I waited until now to tell you because I didn't want to ruin the celebration," Elyan explains. "He had the ague on and off all since your birthday, but we didn't think too much of it until last week, when he started coughing and…" he hesitates, looking like he doesn't want to explain further.

"What?" she presses. "Oh gods, he was coughing up blood, wasn't he?" she asks. He nods, and her hands come up to cover her mouth. "I would like to see him," she says. "Perhaps Arthur and I could accompany you ho—"

"No, Gwen," Elyan insists, taking her hand. "He… he gave explicit instructions. He doesn't want you to catch anything. I barely see him, and even then he makes me keep quite a distance. We communicate mostly by notes," Elyan explains. He pulls a bit of folded parchment from inside his vest. "Here. This is for you."

She takes it and holds it to her chest, wishing to read it in private. "Thank you," she says, blinking away tears. She looks at her brother, and sees that he is truly becoming a man. This new level of responsibility has been good for him, and he is no longer the impetuous youth he once was. "You will be a good king," she whispers, and he pulls her into his arms, hugging her tightly.

xXx

"Guinevere, we—what's wrong?" Arthur asks, immediately noticing his wife looking rather unhappy. She is sitting by the fire, her needlework lying untouched beside her.

"My father is dying," she answers.

"I'm so sorry," he replies, immediately coming to her side. He moves her sewing out of the way and sits next to her, taking her hand.

"Elyan didn't want to ruin your birthday celebration by telling me yesterday," she says, producing the letter from her father and holding it out to her husband.

"I'm sure he meant well," Arthur replies, taking the parchment from her.

"I know," Guinevere sighs. "I would like to go see him…"

Arthur finishes reading King Thomas' letter, then says, "I don't think that would be a good idea, Love, based on what your father says here."

"I know I can't. Elyan already forbade me anyway. He barely gets to see him, and even then Papa only allows it from a distance," she explains.

"Your father is protecting you, and I am grateful for it," Arthur says, drawing her into his embrace. "He has the lung disease. It's highly contagious."

Guinevere's breath hitches and she whispers, "It is also always fatal."

"Shhh, I know," he coos into her hair, kissing her head.

"I feel so helpless," she says, leaning against him, letting him comfort her.

"As do I," he agrees, but his feeling of helplessness is more related to making his wife feel better than helping his father-in-law.

He holds her until she settles down, her breathing steady again.

"Thank you, Arthur," she says, leaning back a little.

He drops a small, soft kiss on her lips. "You're very welcome, Guinevere." He reaches up and wipes her cheek with his thumb. "Would you like some good news?"

"I would love some," she says.

He releases her and reaches into his vest, withdrawing two pieces of parchment. "From Aragon," he says, holding the first one up.

Her eyebrows rise. "Don Santiago?"

"Tiago," Arthur says.

"His wife had her baby!" Guinevere exclaims.

"Babies," he corrects. "She had twins."

"Oh, goodness!"

"And there's more." He reads. "'We are very excited to report the birth of our children, Arturo Santiago and Ginebra Marisol. We hope you will be pleased that we have chosen to honor you by giving our children the Spanish versions of your names.'"

Guinevere gasps, overcome by the touching surprise tribute. "That's…"

Arthur grins. "Amazing, I know. I was shocked. Here I was expecting to read Santiago III, but they gave him my name and used Santiago for his second name."

"We must have really made an impression on them," she says, but her voice is wistful, and he notices her hand absently straying over her own midsection. Her courses just finished a few days ago, and she had cried when they came this time.

He takes her hand, lifting it from her stomach. "Our turn will come when the time is right, my love," he softly says, kissing her hand. "The gods will bless us when they see fit."

She nods. "Doña Estela told me that the more I worry about it, the harder it will be for a child to take hold. But it is getting difficult to stay patient."

"I know, Love," he says, wrapping his arms around her again. "We just have to keep practicing," he adds, smiling impishly at her. She giggles, and his smile broadens. "There, that's better." He kisses her forehead, letting his lips rest against her smooth skin for a few seconds.

"Was there any other news?" she asks, reaching for the parchment.

He tucks it away before she can take it, and she gives him a questioning look. "Well, um, yes," he says.

"About Lancelot," she guesses, and he nods. "Please tell me."

"He was hanged for his crimes a week after they returned home," Arthur says. "Tiago thinks his brother's only regret was getting caught."

Guinevere nods, but says nothing. "What is the other parchment?" she asks a moment later, remembering he had two.

"Oh, nothing important," he says, idly waving it. "Just an announcement for Gwaine and Morgana's wedding."

"Arthur!" she exclaims, grabbing it from his fingers to look at it. "It's in two weeks! Gwaine hasn't said a word about it!"

"I know, cheeky devil," Arthur replies. "Did you notice they're holding it at Ascetir?"

Guinevere nods. "They could have held it here," she says.

Arthur rolls his eyes. "And have my uncle miss an opportunity to show off? Never."

She laughs. "Right. How silly of me."

xXx

They reach Agravaine's manor as Ascetir the morning of the wedding, two weeks later. It isn't a long journey, but as the wedding feast will likely go late into the night and it is still very cold, they plan on staying over.

Agravaine greets them, looking like a proud peacock. He's put aside the fact that he's not exactly thrilled with his daughter's choice for a husband because he gets to flaunt his wealth and status. Sir Percival stands at attention a few paces behind Agravaine, keeping a watchful eye over everything.

"Welcome, Sire, my lady," the lord says, bending his waist just enough to be considered a bow.

"Thank you, Uncle," Arthur says, helping Guinevere down from her horse. "Morgana and Gwaine's chambers will be ready and waiting for them when they return to Camelot," he adds, mainly to get under his uncle's skin a little. He still hasn't completely forgiven him for the Lancelot scandal, even though his two month ban from the Council meetings is over.

Morgana, wishing some distance from her father to spread her wings a bit, insisted that they live in Camelot after the wedding. "That way Gwaine can continue his duties as a knight," she reasoned, even though Agravaine would have welcomed another guard at his manor. Lady Morgana will serve as Queen Guinevere's Lady-in-Waiting during their tenure there. When Agravaine dies, Morgana and Gwaine will return to Ascetir and take their places as Lord and Lady.

"Queen Guinevere, you are looking lovely," Agravaine says, smiling at her.

"Thank you," Guinevere replies, but does not offer her hand since her uncle-in-law still makes her rather uncomfortable. She casually loops her hand around Arthur's arm instead.

Agravaine has to greet another guest, so Arthur calls out to Percival, who smiles and steps forward. "Welcome, my lord."

"Percival, it's nice to see you dressed appropriately for a change," Arthur replies with a smile.

It is then Guinevere notices that Sir Percival is dressed in a red cloak with Camelot's gold dragon emblem instead of the blue and gold of Ascetir. "Percival is a Knight of Camelot?" she asks Arthur.

"He is. One of my finest knights, in fact," Arthur says.

The big man blushes. "I asked to be stationed here, my lady, since my family is here."

Guinevere's eyebrows lift, surprised, but she doesn't know if Percival is referring to his parents and siblings or a wife.

"Percival was born and raised here," Arthur explains as though he is reading her mind.

"And my wife and children are here as well, my lady," Percival adds.

"Oh, how many children do you have?" Guinevere asks.

"I have three boys and one more on the way," he answers.

"He's making sure the kingdom will be well-supplied with knights for years to come," Arthur says with a chuckle. "You don't need to see to it single-handedly though."

They all laugh, and Agravaine returns, wanting to personally escort the king and queen inside. "Our finest guest rooms have been made ready for you," he says.

"That wasn't entirely necessary, but thank you," Arthur replies, following his uncle inside.

"I would like to visit—" she pauses, sneezing, "—Morgana before the ceremony if at all possible."

"Of course," Agravaine says. "Surely you would like to settle in a bit first though."

"Yes, thank you," she replies. He shows them to their room, makes a vague statement about still having more guests to greet, and disappears.

"Guinevere, are you all right?" Arthur asks, turning to help her with her cloak. "You've been sneezing a lot this morning, and your voice sounds a little husky."

"I may be coming down with a cold," Guinevere answers with a sigh. "My throat feels a little scratchy."

"Merlin—"

"Yes, my lord," Merlin answers Arthur's request before he can make it, nods, and heads out to find something hot with honey in it for the queen to drink.

xXx

The wedding is nearly as lavish as Arthur and Guinevere's was. Agravaine has spared no expense, wishing to show off as much as he can. "I only have one child, so this will be my only opportunity," he had reasoned.

Guinevere's cold has progressed quickly as the day wore on. By the time the feast begins, her throat is quite sore and her nose is running at an almost embarrassing rate.

"Guinevere, go up to bed," Arthur urges, kissing her forehead. "Morgana will understand."

"I'm all right," she replies. "I would like to eat something."

"Fair enough, but after you eat…"

"Yes, my lord," she answers, delicately dabbing her nose with a handkerchief.

Despite their attempts to not steal the focus from the bride and groom, Arthur and Guinevere have many visitors during the feast. Many of the guests have not met or even seen their king and queen, and they wish to take advantage. Gwaine's parents, Lord Padraig and Lady Etain, also make sure to come pay their respects.

"Our son sung such praises about you that we were a little worried that he was smitten with you instead of Morgana, my lady," Lord Padraig says to Guinevere, smiling the same devilish smile that Gwaine has.

"Your son flatters me," the queen replies, then hastily adds, "Excuse me," just before turning her face and sneezing.

"Dia linn," Padraig bids with a nod.

"Are you ill, my lady?" Lady Etain asks.

"I'm afraid I've come down with a cold today," Guinevere answers. "I'll be excusing myself soon," she adds, glancing at Arthur.

"I tried to get her to go up earlier, but she refused," Arthur explains.

"I was hungry," Guinevere interjects.

Padraig chuckles and puts his arm around his wife. "My Etain knows her own mind as well. It is a wonderful quality to have in a wife and I wouldn't have her any other way."

Arthur nods agreement. "Indeed, sir. It is nice to meet a like-minded man. And I trust your son feels the same way, else he would not have married my cousin."

Padraig laughs. "Our Gwaine does love a woman with spirit, and dear Morgana definitely has spirit. And I daresay she is as strong-willed as she is beautiful, yes?"

"Oh, most certainly," Arthur agrees. "But she has a good, kind heart, and…" he glances around the room for a moment before adding, "most definitely takes after mother."

Etain covers her mouth with her hand to hide her shocked laughter while Padraig openly guffaws. "We understand one another well, Sire," he says once he's recovered. He extends his hand, and Arthur clasps arms with him. "It has been an honor, my lord. I hope we can establish some regular of correspondence in the future."

"That is an excellent idea. And please know that you and your family are always welcome in Camelot, Lord Padraig," Arthur says. "I imagine you might wish to visit your grandchildren in the future."

"Yes," Etain immediately answers, her face lighting up. "We already have four grandchildren, but I assure you, we never tire of welcoming new ones."

"In that case, we look forward to seeing you again one day," Arthur says.

"As do we," Padraig says. They bid their goodnights, and move along.

"Guinevere," Arthur turns to his wife.

"Yes, I'm going now," she responds. He stands and pulls her chair out for her, offering his hand.

As she stands, Morgana rushes over. "I hope you are going up to bed, Gwen," she says.

"Yes, I am," Guinevere replies. "I am sorry to have to leave your feast so soon, but—"

"Do not apologize. You need your rest so you do not become more ill," Morgana says.

Gwaine walks up and wraps an arm around his wife. "Yes, get some sleep," Gwaine agrees.

"Congratulations again," Guinevere says, hugging them each in turn.

"Come," Arthur bids, taking her hand.

"You do not need to escort me, Arthur," she says, but follows him out nevertheless.

"You are not going alone," he insists. "I will return to the feast after… unless you wish for me to stay with you." He looks sideways down at her, finding he actually hopes she wants him to stay.

"You do not need to sit and watch me sleep," she says. "I will be fine."

"I will make sure there is a guard nearby," he assures her, opening the door to their rooms. He has always been concerned about her safety, but since the Lancelot incident, he is extra vigilant.

"Thank you," she answers, walking inside. Sefa and Merlin are already there, making preparations. Merlin has a fire lit in the fireplace and Sefa is ready with her mistress' nightgown.

Arthur turns to Guinevere and kisses her forehead. "Sleep well, my love," he says.

"I will try," she replies. "Do not think less of me if you return to find me snoring," she warns, then yawns, knowing she sometimes snores when her nose is stuffy.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he says.

xXx

The journey home is slower due to the fact that Guinevere's cold is slightly worse. About halfway home, Arthur calls to Merlin.

"Yes, my lord?" Merlin asks, coming forward to ride alongside the king.

"Ride ahead to Camelot and have Gaius prepare a draught for the queen," Arthur instructs.

"Arthur, that isn't necessary," Guinevere protests, her voice quiet and hoarse.

"Please, Love, you need to look after your health," he insists.

"All I want is a hot bath and some rest, honestly," she says. But Arthur looks so worried and helpless that she deflates. "And whatever remedy Gaius has for me."

"Excellent. Merlin can have a bath ready and waiting for you upon our return as well," Arthur says.

"Excuse me, Sire," Sefa calls from behind them. "May I ride ahead with Merlin? I would prefer to prepare the queen's bath myself."

"I would prefer that Sefa prepare the queen's bath as well," Merlin immediately agrees.

Arthur looks at Guinevere, and when she nods, he answers, "Very well. Go on then."

Merlin nods, and then startles as Sefa gallops past him. "Hey!" he laughingly calls, then spurs his horse after her.

Guinevere's laughter turns into a coughing fit, and they stop moving for a few moments so she can recover.

"Are you all right?" he asks, handing her a skin full of water.

"Yes," she answers, but doesn't take the water. "If I drink that, you won't be able to drink any."

"It's all right," he replies. "It's not a long trip, and you need it more than I do."

She sighs and takes it, drinks, then places it in her own saddlebag. "Let's keep moving. It's cold out."

The lower town comes into view some time later, and Arthur glances over at Guinevere, about to suggest going around. He sees her sitting tall and proud in the saddle, her face serene and beautiful.

"Sometimes one has to put aside one's own discomfort and put on a brave face for one's subjects," she says with a smile. The only thing that gives her away is her voice, which is growing weaker by the hour. "The people do so love it when we pass through town; we cannot bypass them."

He reaches over and takes her gloved hand, holding it to his cheek. "Have I told you today how much I love you?" he asks.

"Twice," she answers, smiling. "And I love you just as much."

He releases her hand and they ride into the town. People appear out of nowhere and everywhere, waving to their king and queen as they pass by, undeterred by the cold weather.

"Sire! Sire!" An urgent voice catches Arthur's attention, and he looks around, searching for the source. A young man, likely about the same age as Elyan, is running forward. An older, embarrassed-looking man is jogging after him. "A word, if you please, my lord!"

"Kay!" the older man calls. "Come back here! The king doesn't have time for your nonsense!"

Intrigued, Arthur stops. "Kay, is it?" he asks.

The young man bows. "Yes, Sire," he says, hardly breathing heavy despite having just finished running.

Arthur notices the lad is healthy and strong, and glances at Guinevere. "You wished for a word?"

"Yes, Sire. Forgive me for being so impertinent, Sire, but Father would not let me request an official audience," Kay explains just as his father catches up.

The older man bows and begins apologizing, but Arthur holds up his hand, gently stopping his words.

"What is on your mind?" he asks.

"I would like… I mean, that is to say…" he starts out hesitantly, then the words come tumbling out like a rockslide, "would it be possible for me to take training with the knights?" he asks.

"Kay…" his father warns.

"I know I cannot actually become a knight since I am a commoner, but I just wish… I would like to learn the skills," Kay quickly adds.

"Why?" Arthur asks, his voice kind.

"I want to be able to protect my family, my lord. The town," he immediately answers. "I practice on my own, but I want… need proper instruction and there is no way for non-nobles to obtain such training. Sire."

"This is foolishness," Kay's father says. "It is not your place to make such demands, and the king and queen certainly don't wish for…"

"He has a valid point," Guinevere quietly says while the older man continues to bluster. "And this is something you have been pondering for a while."

Arthur nods. "Kay," he says, loud enough to stop the lad's father's words. "Tomorrow morning. Training grounds. Show us what you have to offer."

Kay's eyes widen. "Truly?"

Arthur nods. "I will be very disappointed if I do not see you."

"Thank you, Sire," Kay says, bowing. "Thank you, my lady," he adds, obviously having heard her words.

"Do not thank me yet," Arthur warns with a smile. "Training is hard work, and I am very demanding."

"I know, Sire. And I will still thank you," Kay insists.

"We shall see," Arthur replies, still grinning. They start moving again, then Arthur stops his horse. "Kay," he calls, looking back.

"Yes, Sire?" Kay asks.

"If you have any friends who are also interested, bring them along. I can't promise we'll accept them all, but everyone who wants should at least be given an opportunity to try," Arthur says.

"Thank you, my lord!" Kay exclaims, excited. He clearly has a few friends in mind, and immediately runs off to find them.

Kay's father is still standing there, and Arthur catches his eye. "Thank you, Sire," the older man says, now looking resigned but impressed. After a moment, he admits, "I would have liked such an opportunity myself, once upon a time."

Arthur gives the man an understanding smile and nod. "What is your name?" he asks the man.

"Ulrich, my lord," he answers.

"Be proud of your son, Ulrich," Arthur says. "And do not forget to let him know you are proud of him."

Ulrich smiles again. "Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord."

Arthur and Guinevere continue on through the town, and when they enter the courtyard, Guinevere says, "That was a wonderful thing you did."

"I have neglected this issue since I became king," he admits. "It is something I wished to put into motion, and just haven't gotten to it."

"Opportunity sometimes presents itself," she says. "Thank you," she adds when he helps her down from her horse.

"Indeed," he says, passing their horses' reins to a groom as servants begin carrying their belongings inside. He takes her hand and they quickly walk inside as well.

"Your father is probably throwing a tantrum in the afterlife," she quietly comments.

Arthur's laughter rings through the corridors, and Guinevere smiles at the sound, happy her husband is happy.