"I thought I'd lost you." A breathy, heartfelt declaration, whispered in his ear as she clung to his neck. He wrapped one arm around her, wishing to pull her into a full embrace but not daring to do so, not now, now here. Still, he couldn't help but tilt his head towards hers as he soaked in the unexpected affection that brought a slight smile to his exhausted face.
Guinevere felt so good with her arms around him Arthur didn't have the heart to tell her that he ached all over from his ordeal.
Still, she knew.
Merlin went off with Gaius. Arthur let him go. He had Guinevere by his side, her arm wrapped supportively around his waist without having been asked.
She is surprisingly strong.
"Do you need to report to your father?" she asks as they make their way up the stairs.
"Is he awake?" he returns.
"I heard he was going to stay up until your return," she answers.
"I will stop in to let him know I am alive," he sighs. "I'll give him the full report tomorrow."
"All right," she says, turning them towards the King's quarters. She senses his unease and adds, "I'll wait outside while you talk to him. Unless you want me to go ho—"
"No! I mean yes, please wait for me. I'll be but a few moments," he says as they reach Uther's door. He can see light coming from the crack at the bottom, so his father is indeed awake.
"I'll be right here," Guinevere promises, stepping into the shadows.
"Actually," Arthur says, rubbing the back of his neck, "would you meet me back in my quarters?" Her eyes widen a little and he adds, "I… I need some tending. Medically speaking, I mean." His cheeks flush as he clumsily tries to explain himself.
"Oh. Yes, of course. I'll gather some things and wait there for you," she says, smiling.
He reaches up and softly touches her cheek before turning back towards his father's doors.
xXx
The doors creak open fifteen minutes later and Arthur walks into his quarters to find them warm, clean, and inhabited by a beautiful and patient Guinevere.
"I'm sorry it took so long," he says, hobbling in. Her comforting presence warms his heart despite his exhaustion. "He wanted the full report anyway. I didn't tell him everything, but enough to appease."
She had immediately stood when he entered and was at his side by the time he finished talking. "It's fine, Arthur, really. It gave me plenty of time to set a nice fire and get it going for you. It was quite chilly in here," she says. They stop near his bed. "Let me help you with your armor," she says.
He gives a silent nod and she sets to work. He doesn't say anything, doesn't give her any guidance, because he knows she knows his armor as well as he does. He simply allows himself to enjoy her gentle touch and skillful care.
In minutes, Arthur is standing in his shirt and trousers. Guinevere has even removed his boots, working with a quiet efficiency that makes him smile. "Merlin could learn a thing or two from you," he says.
She returns his smile and says, "Merlin does an excellent job serving you and you know it."
He nods again. "I do. I just… like to keep him sharp."
"Of course," she answers, bending to look at a bloody spot on his sleeve. "This isn't deep."
"You're humoring me," he replies, his eyes following her every move while she tends him.
"About Merlin?" she asks, moving to inspect his right shoulder, where his shirt looks a bit ragged as well. "Yes, I am."
Surprisingly, Arthur laughs. "I cannot keep anything from you, can I?"
Guinevere looks at him. "Do you wish to keep things from me?"
He tenderly touches her cheek. "Definitely not," he answers, his voice quiet.
She smiles again, a soft, shy smile, then plucks the sleeve of his shirt. "This needs to come off," she says, switching back to business. "It needs cleaning and mending. And so do you."
He reaches up to pull off his shirt and winces. "Ah."
"Let me help you," she says. "Your shoulder?"
He nods and allows her to help remove his shirt, sitting on the trunk at the end of his bed so she can more easily reach. She makes quick but careful work of tending his cuts and scrapes, using a pot of water she had sitting on the fire to warm. Thankfully, he needs no stitches.
She sets the pot and cloths aside. "Let's see about your shoulder," she says. "Um…" She bites her lower lip, then slips her shoes off and climbs up onto his bed to sit behind him. "Is this all right?" she asks. It feels very strange, sitting on the prince's bed. Arthur's bed. She puts her awkward feelings aside and concentrates on Arthur's shoulder.
"Yes, it's fine," he answers, sighing when her warm, capable hands make contact with his skin. She prods gently, lifts his arm until he winces, and pronounces his shoulder neither fractured nor dislocated.
"I think it's just over-exerted," she says. "Let me see if I can…" her voice trails off as she begins massaging and rubbing his shoulder, her strong fingers seeking out the sore spots.
Arthur groans, dropping his head forward. "That's good," he says. "Mmm…"
She keeps her eyes trained on his shoulder, keeping her mind on her task. She's tended his wounds countless times, but they are rarely alone and never alone in his quarters. If they are here, Merlin is usually with them, keeping the mood from turning too…
Too much like it's beginning to feel now. When her hands feel so good on him. When his skin feels so warm under her fingers. When they are completely alone in the dim light of his quarters. At night. Alone.
She clears her throat. "Tell me about what happened," she says, her voice a little too bright, too chipper.
"Yes," he answers too quickly, too eagerly. He begins telling her, trying to think about his journey with Merlin and the dragonlord instead of how close she is and how alone they are. He tells her everything he can recall, but realizes some parts concerning the dragon are a bit hazy. "Merlin said I dealt it a mortal blow, but… I think its magic knocked me out for a bit."
"Oh?" she asks. She'd been doing a good job of keeping her attention on his words, even feeling a pang of sadness at hearing about the mysterious dragonlord's death. "Why is that?"
"I remember striking the blow, but then I woke up and found myself alone with Merlin. That's when he said that I'd killed it," Arthur explains.
"The dragon was gone? Where did it go?" Guinevere asks. "Shouldn't its body have been lying there?"
"Well, it's a magical creature," he says, frowning. "Maybe it just…" he lifts his left hand and wiggles his fingers, making a "poof" noise. "Disappeared. Some do that. I mean they must, right?"
"I have no idea," she answers, finding a large knot with her thumbs that makes him hiss. "Sorry."
"No, that's good… keep at it," he says, his voice tight. "I guess I could ask Gaius if it's plausible that the dragon vanished when killed."
"Might be good, just for reassurance," she agrees. She bites her lower lip, eyes trained on his shoulder, staring at the jagged scars there from the Questing Beast. She takes a moment to trace one with her finger before going back to her task. "Arthur…"
"Yes, Guinevere?" His voice comes out lower and huskier than usual, her detour over his scar having momentarily scattered his thoughts.
She bites her lip, knowing she needs to tell him. She wants to tell him. She knows it may be fruitless, but she cannot keep hiding how she feels. Not from him. "I was so worried about you. Out there. I… I always miss you when you are gone, but this time… this time I was more concerned than usual," she admits. "Going to fight men is one thing, but a dragon, well… that's something else entirely." Her voice is low and slightly tremulous. She takes a deep breath, ducks her head, and pushes her thumbs into that same large knot in his shoulder.
Arthur involuntarily groans when she presses that spot, but his heart leaps, then aches at her words. She's been a little distant since that day in her house when she sadly insisted she could not be his queen, so receiving the affirmation that she does indeed still care for him means worlds to him. "I know you worry, and I'm sorry. I hate causing you concern."
"Thank you, Arthur. I know you can't always stay away from danger. I understand it is your duty as the prince and a knight," she says, her hands briefly stilling again, palms flat on his skin.
"Guinevere," he replies, turning his head to look at her. "I want you to know that I always think of you when I am gone. Remembering you are waiting here for me is sometimes the only thing that keeps me going when everything looks bleak."
His words draw a small gasp from her lips. "Truly?" she asks.
He turns further, just enough to catch her hand in his. He kisses the back, then turns it to kiss her palm. "Yes," he confirms. "Thank you, Guinevere."
"You're welcome. Feel better?" she asks, misunderstanding the reason he is thanking her.
"Yes, but that isn't why I was thanking you," he clarifies, turning to fully face her. He takes both her hands in his. "Thank you for being you. For always supporting me, even when we are apart. For being brave enough to tell me when I'm wrong," he pauses, smiling a little at this. "For staying up to meet me tonight when Merlin and I returned."
"Oh," she softly replies, smiling. "You're welcome, Arthur. I…"
He leans over and sweetly kisses her lips, stopping whatever she was going to say, but also stopping himself from bursting forth with promises he isn't certain he can keep.
Not yet.
