Chapter Thirteen

"Just put them there." Gwen pointed to the corner near her fireplace and Arthur carefully laid the split logs down in it. "Thank you," said Gwen, smiling up him.

"I wish I could do more. I owe you so much."

"I'm always happy to help you."

"Because that's what people are supposed to do?"

"Maybe," she smiled mischievously at him, turned and walked away to the other side of the room and picking up a cloth began to wipe down her table.

Arthur watched the back of her. It crossed his mind that he had seen a hundred ladies, daughters of kings, nobles and knights, each of them trained since birth to walk the right way and talk the right way and each dressed in clothes that cost more than this house five times over. But none of them had the grace of Gwen.

Unbidden he heard Merlin's voice from yesterday in his head saying, 'You like her, you always watch her whenever she's around. You seem to find everything she does…really really interesting.'

He coughed uncomfortable and sifted. Gwen looked behind her. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I should probably…I should go. It's late."

"I thought you'd stay for dinner."

"I can't keep eating your food."

"I don't mind, I like the company," said Gwen, moving back towards him. "Since my father died it's…well it's nice to have someone to eat with."

"It's not…" Right? Fair? Wise?

He remembered the time he had spent with Gwen while competing in the tournament. Since then he had tried to keep those memories at bay. He had been frightened of where those feelings that had begun to grow, would lead him. 'I'm afraid my father would never understand', that had been what he had said to her afterwards. That had been the understatement of the decade. On the occasional nights when he had failed and memories of those days had come back, he saw them leading nowhere but to years of heartache and hurt for all involved, himself, Uther and Gwen; Gwen on whom Uther would be likely to turn the brunt of his anger. And so he had denied them, even to himself.

He also remembered when she had finally had enough and told him exactly what she thought of him and the fiasco with making her dinner. He couldn't help but smile.

Gwen saw the smile and took it as agreement to stay. "Good. Now here, if you don't want to intrude, you can help."

"Help you cook?"

"Yes."

Arthur laughed. Well things had changed since that tournament. Maybe he could cook…with Gwen's help.

An idea flickered through him brain. It wasn't fully formed and he want to allow to form into words. But a feeling crept over him. So much had changed; he might never be Prince Arthur Pendragon of Camelot again. Before when that prospect had been presented to him he had felt terrified and alone. What life could he have, if not his own? He was still not yet ready to give up the hope of that one day he might regain his life…but he began to realize that maybe, even if he couldn't, there was another life waiting for him. One that wouldn't be so bad.

Gwen gave him some potatoes and a knife, and laughed as he tried to skin them. She took his hand and guided the knife along, showing him the best way to take off the peel in the fewest slices and then she set him to cutting the potatoes into quarters.

She was bending over the fire, stirring the pot when he finished and waved at him to bring them over.

Standing next to her, over the warming flames, he dropped the potatoes into the pot and looked over at her. The firelight illuminated her eyes and cast a glow across her hair. He felt he had never seen her look so beautiful. She looked up at him. Her smile faded, her expression became unreadable.

Arthur bent towards her and then he hesitated. Was it fair, when who knew? Tomorrow, the day after, next week, next month, he could be remembered, the sorcerer could arrive in Camelot. Would it be fair to pursue anything with Gwen on what amounted to false pretenses, when he might have to give it all up tomorrow?

He was on the verge of stepping away from her, when Gwen closed the rest of the distance and kissed him.