Author's Notes - Thanks to end-of-rainbow for reviewing. My story has a fan (I hope). Review, people! Reviews make me happy.

Chapter 3 - For Guinevere

She could not speak. Guinevere, too pale almost beyond recognition, only looked at Arthur as he entered the room. He did not speak as his eyes fell upon her corpse-like figure. It was as if an aura of death encircled her fragile face. She reached out for him with trembling arms as if they were as stone and she had not the proper strength to lift them.

"What happened to you?" Arthur asked, going to her. Still she would not speak. A look of utter suffering was painted upon her face and reflected in her eyes. Arthur bent his head down and kissed her cold lips. She could not even hold him. She could barely whisper his name.

"She is very ill, my brother," a cold voice said from behind him. Arthur shivered at the sound of it. The voice was like an unexpected wind – a draft that crept into the beds of those who slept.

"I had thought she would be well when I returned – I had prayed for it so... I will not lose her."

"God does not grant all the things men ask of Him. He will answer in His own way if at all. Let me remind you, brother, that not all creatures of this earth find favor in His eyes." She paused for a moment, not moving from her place. Arthur turned to face her but he was not angry. He merely nodded, ignoring that in which she spoke about.

"But my son..."

"She is not the young lass she used to be. Children are innocent, Arthur. Your child is in the arms of Christ now... it is your daughter that you must worry about." Arthur ignored her. Why did he tolerate this sister – this sister that seemed no more than a stranger to him when she arrived.

"Guinevere..." Arthur whispered. "Not you as well... you were so strong... so fierce..." He suppressed bitter tears and looked away from her face so as not to let his dwell more on her suffering. Just as you were, he thought, when I first met you. Perhaps this is how you shall leave me. He slipped his hand in hers as it lay stationary at her side. Then he lay his head gently upon her chest and listened to her heartbeat. If it were the only thing left in the world to here, he would have gladly listened and he would have listened forever.

"Leave her be," Morgaine said, attempting a more gentle tone. "She needs her rest."

"She has been resting for so long."

"Perhaps eternal rest is what she truly needs..." Morgaine said, her raspy voice fading into whisper. "It's punishment, Arthur... punishment for denying our Lord. If she were any other woman, perhaps she would have been spared."

"Many women, peasant and royalty alike, suffer the pains of childbearing... what makes her any different? God does not life for anyone," Arthur said angrily, turning to her but not on her as he was so often tempted to do. But she was his sister.

"But He as every right to let it slip away." Arthur scowled. He could only bring out the anger inside him and not the tears. He wanted to cry but could not bring himself to – not in front of Morgaine but maybe he would have if it were Guinevere there. He would cry for Guinevere but not let himself be seen defeated in Morgaine's eyes.

"Every right..." he said quietly. "Every right," he repeated, letting the words sit on his tongue. They sounded almost foreign to him. He could not think.

"She is the second half of my soul, sister... I cannot let her slip away. You did your best to care for her?" he knew that could not be true. Morgaine despised Guinevere. He only lied to himself aloud.

"I did care for her... you know that." He did not believe her. I am a fool, he scolded himself. But Rome had been calling to him. He could not deny his responsibilities elsewhere. Never. And yet his heart ached for the things that he should have done. Or could have done.

"Father," another, different, voice called abruptly from the doorway. There stood a young girl dressed, not in riding clothes, but in a beautiful, though still simple, gown. Her long, dark hair was combed and loose over her shoulders. He was looking at Guinevere.

"Aranwen..." he said, this time with no anger or surprise. The calm expression in his daughter's face suddenly turned from smile to snarl when she saw Morgaine. She then turned around and went away and Arthur almost fretted that he would never see her again. But he knew he would now that he was home – alive.

"She is like her mother more and more each day," Morgaine said though it was not a good natured observation. She said it with a hint of bitterness and disappointment. "I have tried," she murmured. "But she will not listen."

Guinevere's eyes followed Morgaine as she left the room. But she did not want to think of Morgaine. She murmured his name, trying with all her strength to sound out each syllable of his name. Arthur. But he could hardly hear her and he did not need to. He was there.

"I love you," he said to her. It had been a long time since she had heard those words spoken. He loved her and she should have been content with just that.