It's almost 2am and I'm exhausted so this chapter wasn't edited. We die like men. (Seriously, though, let me know if you find any mistakes lol).

I decided that what we all really need is some Gwen love, because the show really did her dirty. A lot of the characters Deserved Better, but Gwen did most of all, so she is now going on a journey of self-discovery.

Merlin's fingers ached, but he refused to say anything. He was used to tiresome, mind-numbing work; he'd never thought he would find anything more distasteful than cleaning horse dung in the stable, but it appeared Mavis was determined to prove him wrong. It wasn't that her work was anywhere near as disgusting as the things he did for Arthur on a regular basis. It was just that sewing wasn't a normal part of Merlin's duties. So far, he'd pricked his fingers four times, his joints were sore, and he had a headache from squinting his eyes for so long. How did Gwen and Mavis do this every day? It was pure torture. Nevertheless, Merlin clamped his mouth shut and refused to utter any of his many complaints, because he could see Mavis and her assistants working quickly and efficiently in their own corners. They'd somehow managed to complete several pieces while Merlin was still working on his first. He eyed Mavis' neat work across the room, then glanced down at his own crooked stitches and winced. When he'd volunteered to help Mavis with her work, he hadn't expected it to be this hard, although in hindsight, he could understand what her doubtful look had meant now.

Well, at least he'd learned something new during this visit. He was never going to take his work for granted again, and he was never going to visit one of his new friends unannounced again. All he'd wanted to do was drop by to chat, but he'd quickly been roped into helping Mavis when he'd seen how busy she was. She hadn't asked him to, of course; no, Merlin the idiot had volunteered. It was never happening again. Lesson learned.

On the bright side, he and Mavis had spoken a bit, in between rushed orders and demanding customers. Merlin did not know the other sorcerers very well yet, and he was always pleased to learn new things about them. They were all little things, like Mavis' peculiar obsession with order and cleanliness, her quiet humour, so often overshadowed by her sister's more forceful personality, her deep and endless love for pastries, and her recollections of her and Brienne's childhood on the outskirts of Camelot. They were little things, but they mattered, and Merlin was eager to learn all he could about his new friends. They were all too willing to indulge him, and the warmth of their acceptance was overwhelming.

That did not, however, make the current situation any more bearable. Friendship was all very well and good, but Merlin was in pain. By the time he let out his third pained whimper in as many minutes, Mavis seemed to have finally decided to take pity on him and dismiss him with an exasperated wave. Merlin did not sprint out of the backroom in relief, but it was a close thing. It was as he was leaving that Merlin ran into a burly man entering the shop. Merlin thought he was vaguely familiar, but it was the resemblance between him and Mavis that immediately gave away his identity.

"Hello, ah, Fealtor?" Merlin greeted the man tentatively.

Mavis' son said nothing in reply, instead choosing to stand stiffly in Merlin's way with narrowed eyes. As his smile faded away uncertainly and the sweet-faced assistant Mavis had stationed in her front room shifted about awkwardly, Merlin gave it a few moments before he started wondering if he should call for Mavis and ask her why her son was so unfriendly. He'd never seen her gaze so cold, and she had certainly never stood in a guest's way like a brick wall for a whole minute. Just when Merlin was about to do something stupid and embarrassing, Mavis appeared in the front room and rescued him.

"Fealtor, you're here!" she exclaimed warmly. Merlin sighed in relief as the other man's intense gaze left him.

"Mother," was all Fealtor said in reply, still frowning.

Merlin had no idea what his problem was, but Mavis seemed to glean something from her son's expression, for she quickly said, "It's alright, Fealtor. He's a friend."

"A friend," Fealtor echoed. "You've certainly spent a lot of time with him recently. What's he doing here?"

Merlin blinked, equal parts affronted and bewildered. Was it him they were talking about? Why would Fealtor find his presence so distasteful?

"He's just visiting, son," Mavis answered tiredly. "Now, come in and let him pass." She was already turning around to head back into her backroom as she gave the order.

Fealtor's cool grey eyes soon turned back to Merlin, and he sighed once more. The entire situation was exhausting, and he wanted to go back home to complain to Gaius about his poor bruised fingers. The man before him clearly had other plans, though.

"What do you want with my mother?" he demanded as soon as Mavis disappeared behind the thick curtain concealing her shop's backroom.

"Uh, nothing?" How was he meant to respond to this? "I really was just stopping by for a chat."

That did nothing to appease Fealtor. "A chat. Is that all?" he asked suspiciously. "There's nothing… else?"

Wha- no. He could not seriously be implying what Merlin thought he was implying, could he? The thought was so ridiculously laughable, but Merlin was too horrified to appreciate that just then.

"No! Nothing else," he squeaked. "Really! We just became friends recently, that's all; you can ask our other friends. Aiden, or Fawn- oh, your aunt, too! She'll tell you there's nothing- uh, untoward going on."

Fealtor's gaze sharpened as he let Merlin squirm for a few long moments in silence, but he eventually nodded. "Of course," he responded with something like disgust, for all that he seemed deep in thought. "Perhaps I will ask my aunt to keep an eye out."

"You do that," Merlin mumbled helplessly. He had never been so uncomfortable in his life, ever, and he wondered why he'd wanted to visit Mavis in the first place. Friendship, who?

Fealtor stepped aside with one last glare, and Merlin finally managed to flee the shop. As he walked- ran- back to the safety of the castle, he silently vowed never to set foot inside Mavis' shop again. In fact, he was never going to see her again outside of Brienne's presence. Maybe he didn't need to get to know her better, after all. He had other friends; why not Brienne? Or Aiden. Aiden was nice.

He prayed that Aiden's children, at least, did not try to murder him if he stopped by to see their father.

Gwen had always believed in true love. It was silly, especially for a level-headed, practical woman like herself, and she'd never told anyone that she entertained such ridiculous thoughts, but deep down, she'd always believed in soulmates. People who could complete each other. People who could never fall out of love because they were meant to be.

She was starting to think that she'd been wrong.

The thought had made her feel so guilty at first, so unworthy and disloyal. After all, how could she have doubts when she was so loved? How could she consider leaving when Arthur risked so much for her just by declaring his love? It had seemed like a forgone conclusion; Arthur loved her and risked his station for her, so they would be together. They had to. She could do no less for him; she owed him for all of it, didn't she? After everything they'd been through together, there was no other way for it to end.

It was only recently that she began to realise how wrong it all was. At some point during Merlin's long rants about responsibility and pride and their rights as servants, Gwen had begun to harbour those doubts. It wasn't that she hadn't loved Arthur from the very beginning. She had, even when Lancelot had been alive. Day after day, mistake after mistake, she had still loved and accepted Arthur for all his faults. She still did, really; none of this was his fault. Recent events had, perhaps, had a hand in opening her eyes to the truth, but it was less about Arthur's actions and more about her reactions to them. Gwen had never been passive but she had to admit that, for a while now, she had allowed herself to be wilfully blind in order to stick to her illusion of love and safety.

It no longer felt like safety. Why had she ever thought she owed Arthur anything for loving her? If he had risked anything for her, she had risked just as much for him in return, if not more. Yes, he risked displeasing his nobles, but Gwen risked her life. She had almost been executed once already because of their relationship, but all she heard every day, from the other servants when they thought she wasn't listening or the nobles had no such compunction, was envious talk of how fortunate she was, how generous and noble Arthur was, how she should have been more grateful that someone so far above her station would even look twice at her. The comments- and derisive looks- had always bothered her but she'd done her best not to think about them until recently. Mostly, Gwen had tried to be grateful for those who had supported her- mainly the women she worked with, who were just ecstatic for her and determined to defend her from the vicious comments the others made. While almost all of the nobles reacted the same way, among the servants, she'd expected most of the anger and jealousy to come from women but she had been sorely mistaken. She had no idea why so many men were so hateful toward her; Fawn had told her they hated to see a woman of their station rise above them. Whatever the reason, Gwen had been even more determined to be happy with Arthur to spite all of the petty busybodies and watch them burn with envy. Deep down, though, a part of her had agreed slightly with the things they said. A part of her had believed that she had to pay Arthur back, as though he was doing a favour by loving her.

If Merlin or Fawn had ever heard her say that, Gwen thought they would have been furious. She felt furious, with herself and everyone who'd ever told her she deserved less, but mostly she felt tired. She had always tried her best to be selfless and kind no matter what, but she was so tired; for once, Gwen wanted to put herself first. She wanted to take some time for herself, to consider her options and think about what she wanted. She wanted to learn what it felt like to love and be loved without guilt or pressure, to know if it was worth it to give up her life and everything she knew just for one man. She wanted to speak with her brother and her two best friends and tell them how she felt without worrying that they would call her fickle or ungrateful. She wanted to control her own fate rather than passively going along with what everyone else thought she should do.

Gwen wanted so much more than they thought she deserved. And she was starting to learn that perhaps that was a good thing.

It was awful to think of Arthur's reaction when she told him all of this- because of course she would; she had to. She did not owe him her love, but she did owe him an explanation, because it had never been his fault. Gwen could blame many of the nobles and servants for everything she'd been through, but not him. Arthur really had been perfect to her, if not to everyone else, and she still loved him, really. She just needed to decide if that love was worth more to her than her whole life and the future she'd always envisioned for herself. Some might have said she was being ridiculous, that she should take her chance to be queen and count her blessings, but it wasn't that simple. Gwen knew nothing of that life, and she had never wanted any part of it. As happy as Arthur made her, she was sad so much of the time too. These days, it felt like she could hardly do anything without being suffocated by loss and grief, even when it came to the littlest things. Every time she began sewing a new piece for her buyers, or ran an errand with Fawn, or went picking flowers with Merlin, all she could do was wonder if she would ever get the chance to do any of it again if she were to marry Arthur.

Perhaps she was being cowardly. Perhaps change was a natural part of life that she should have accepted and even welcomed without complaint. Gwen didn't know, but she thought she deserved to get the chance to figure it all out. Arthur would wait for her, or he wouldn't, but it didn't matter. At the very least, she would not spend the rest of her life plagued with doubt and regret.

Is it worth it? she asked herself once again, no closer to receiving an answer. Is being with Arthur worth losing everything else?