Gwen was making dinner for herself when a knock sounded at the door. She was surprised— people usually didn't come to see her— and she went to answer it quickly.
"Lancelot," she said, smiling. "How was your first day of training?"
He looked exhausted, but a little excited at the same time.
"Well," he began, "I really only mucked out the stables." His eyes fell to the floor, and she instinctively put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. "But I expect it takes time to work your way up, to you know," he faltered. "Actually fighting."
"Of course it does," Gwen replied quickly, not wanting him to get discouraged. "Is there something you wanted to tell me?" As welcome as he was, she wasn't really sure why he was there.
"I just wanted to talk to you," he said sheepishly. "And to thank you for helping," he added.
"I was happy to. I meant it, when I said that Camelot needs men like you."
"What do you mean, men like me?" Gwen fiddled with the buttons on her dress, not entirely sure how to respond. She didn't exactly know Lancelot well, but in the brief time they had spent together she had gotten a sense that there was something special about him. He had called her "my lady." He had spoken of wanting to join the knights not for glory or honor, but to serve. She didn't know many people like that.
"Brave," she said at last. "Merlin told me how you saved his life."
"It was nothing—"
"Don't do that. Don't make it seem less meaningful than it was." For a moment neither of them said anything.
"I'm glad I was there."
"Do you want to have dinner with me?" she asked suddenly. "Morgana is dining with the king, so I have a few hours before I have to return to the castle." Lancelot smiled and Gwen felt herself start to blush. Maybe she was being too bold.
"I would be honored."
Gwen ushered inside and told him to make himself comfortable. Too late she realized how sad her home looked.
"I know it's not much," she said, gesturing at the simple room with its shoddy furniture and dirty floors. She bit her lip, now wishing she hadn't asked him to stay. He was going to be a knight— why would he want to spend time with her?
"It's lovely," he said, and she felt some of her nervousness fade. "Do you live alone?"
"No," she replied, walking over to the stove so she could keep an eye on the pot. She was making stew, and hoped that Lancelot would like it. "My father lives with me too. He's still working."
"What does he do?"
"He's a blacksmith." She smiled a little, caught off guard. Most people didn't ask her to tell them much about herself. "What about your family?" Lancelot didn't answer. Gwen looked back at him— he was sitting at the table, suddenly very interested in a crack in the wood. She wondered if she had said something wrong.
"They're gone," he said finally. Gwen got the sense that he didn't want to talk about it, so she didn't press for more information.
"I'm sorry."
When the stew was ready she spooned into bowls, praying she had made enough and wouldn't send him away hungry, and set them down on the table. Lancelot started eating rapidly and Gwen felt relieved at knowing that at least her food was edible. She wasn't exactly sure why she was worried in the first place; she had always been a decent cook.
"Do you like living in Camelot? he asked, breaking the silence.
"I suppose. Morgana's good to me, and I'm grateful for my father." Lancelot looked her in the eye while she spoke, and Gwen got the impression that he was concentrating on every word. "But—" she hesitated. It seemed foolish, really, what she was about to say.
"But sometimes you want to do something more?"
"Exactly."
"I know the feeling," he said. "I've tried my whole life to accomplish just that. To be someone."
"And now you will." Without thinking Gwen reached across the table and took his hands.
"You really think so?" He held her gaze and looked at her expectantly, hope radiating off of him.
"Of course I do."
He grinned and gently squeezed her hands.
"You will too, you know." He leaned closer to her. Gwen laughed.
"I don't think so," she said lightly, trying not to seem sad or self-pitying. "But that's okay. I'm happy," she said the last part with a little uncertainty. "And," she added, "Being a maid gets you plenty of funny stories."
"You should tell me one." Lancelot's bowl was still half full, but he hadn't let go of her hands.
"Well," she began, and launched into a description of the time she had walked in on Merlin impersonating her while Morgana changed behind the screen. He laughed, and she couldn't help but laugh with him.
"You and Merlin," he said when she was done, laughter fading a little. "Are you, you know—" He trailed off awkwardly. Gwen didn't know what to say. She was definitely interested in Merlin, at least, she definitely had been. But it had been awhile since she had started dropping hints, and she was pretty sure that her feelings weren't reciprocated. Now, looking at the man across from her who had been nothing but nice since he arrived, she wasn't feeling too disappointed about that.
"No," she said firmly. "We're just friends, and that's all we'll ever be."
The rest of the dinner seemed to pass very quickly. At some point they let go of each other to finish their food. Gwen told several more stories, and even managed to learn a little more about Lancelot. When it was time for her to return to the castle she escorted him to the door and he thanked her for the food.
"No, thank you," she responded, feeling a little flushed. "For keeping me company."
"It was my pleasure."
They both just stood there for a moment, and Gwen, feeling bold, seized an opportunity. Before he could leave, she reached up and pressed her lips to his.
He kissed her back softly, putting his hands around her waist, and she held onto him fiercely. She didn't want him to leave. But she was the one who pulled away in the end, remembering that she really needed to get back to the castle.
Breathing a little heavily, they smiled at each other, and Gwen felt a surge of happiness rise in her stomach.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
He nodded, took her hand and squeezed it, and walked off into the night. Despite her giddiness, Gwen felt a twinge of sadness as she watched him disappear. She wasn't sure why. It was almost like she was losing him, like she was letting him go.