Greetings Readers! Here is the latest oneshot, and it's sad. It also has massive spoilers for the last episode, so you have been warned.
Warnings: 5x13 spoilers, grief, character death
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any of its characters.
Wearing the nightdress Arthur had given her on their first anniversary, Gwen sat beside the bed, her fingers idly tracing the threads in the hem of the nightclothes. They had been pulled back, revealing the soft comfort of the sheets and the accommodating plumpness of the pillows. Letting her eyes close, Gwen brushed her hand over the top of the linen, trying to let the familiar sensation soothe her. Beside her, a candle flickered.
If she squinted her eyes in just the right fashion, it was like she could see the golden head of her husband denting the pillow. But then her eyes flooded with tears and she couldn't see anything anymore.
The king was dead. But the queen lived on.
All day she had had to be strong. Even amongst her friends, she had to bite back her tears and be every inch the competent and strong queen. She had not had the chance to be the grieving wife.
Alone in the flickering darkness, Gwen allowed herself to grieve.
Her maids seemed to sense the tension in her, as any maid worth her salt would be able to ascertain about her mistress, and so every care had been taken into preparing her and the bedchambers for bed. They did not remove Arthur's pillows or adjust the bedclothes to feature prominently in the center for the lone occupant in the bed, but they did take care to place an extra pitcher of water on the bedside table, along with a dish of grapes that they knew were her favorite comfort food.
Gwen appreciated the gesture, but everything was so full and heavy that she could not even think of bringing a grape to her lips. She wanted to sleep and sleep, and to wake up with her husband, smiling and prattish and wonderful, propped up on an elbow to better look at her.
The tears ran afresh, and she took her hand away from the bed, with half a mind to sleep in a chair that night. Or possibly not sleep at all.
Gwen did not even have to feel the drooping of her eyelids or the ache of exhaustion deep within her bones to know that was folly. Steeling herself, she leant forward and blew out the candle, getting into bed before she could remember how Arthur used to tug her bodily into bed or imagine his arm across hers as they slept.
The one mercy of her grief was that it was exhausting, and as soon as her head hit the pillow, Gwen succumbed to the pull of sleep.
It was somewhere in the interim of late evening and early morning that Gwen awoke to the brushing of something warm and gentle across her face. She blinked her eyes open and looked up to see the face of her husband gazing down at her.
She blinked a few times and then closed her eyes tightly shut, pushing her head firmly into the pillow and moving it back and forth. "No," she murmured, just under her breath, "you're seeing things, you're seeing things."
"Gwen…" The warm, gentle touch moved to her shoulder, at once caressing and steadying.
"I'm going mad," she murmured feverishly, tears of frustration and grief trickling from her closed eyes and matting the fabric of the pillow, "I can't go mad, I can't. Not with everyone relying on me, not with trying to make Arthur proud-"
"Guinevere." The tone, amused and affectionately exasperated, was so much like Arthur's that it stole her breath away and she sat upright in surprise.
Gwen allowed her eyes to slide open and she looked in front of her to see the poignantly smiling figure of her husband, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand on her shoulder. She swallowed hard and valiantly tried to ignore the tears brimming at her eyes. "Arthur?"
Arthur nodded and rubbed her knee, a little shyly, as he had been when they had first properly begun courting. "It's me, Gwen."
"You mean, you're not-" Gwen couldn't speak any more.
Arthur's eyes grew unspeakably sad, and he squeezed her knee, which was beginning to tremble. "No," he replied, "I am." He moved forward a little to caress her cheek and the moonlight streaming through the windows caught on his figure. The color of his skin and clothing was nearly silvery in the moonlight, and he looked a bit like solid smoke moving as he came closer. But the warmth and the pressure of his hand felt real.
"But then – how?" Gwen wondered aloud, moving forward to better feel his hand on her cheek and nervously moving her hands forward to brush through his hair. It was ethereal yet solid, and showed no risk of dissipating beneath her touch.
Arthur leaned forward and placed his lips against hers. Both their eyes slid shut and Gwen shivered with pleasure as the ghostly arms wound themselves around her, feeling incredibly precious. "I'm not sure how," Arthur whispered against her collarbone, placing several lingering kisses along her shoulder, "but I'm not questioning it. And," he pulled back, looking at her, "I came because I couldn't leave you without saying goodbye."
Gwen could feel a million questions brewing in her mind, nearly crowding her heart and soul in their impatient insistence to know everything. But she pushed them all aside. Without being told, she knew this moment was not going to last forever, and that she could think of many other things she'd rather do now then clutter it up with questions.
"I wish you didn't have to," she whispered, kissing him firmly on his warm, slightly chapped lips. Arthur moaned beneath the feeling and pulled his wife closer, feeling the rush of her breath and pounding of her heart as though it were his own. He looked at her reverently before brushing kisses against her neck, her jaw line, her nose, and the spot behind her ear that made her both giggle and sigh.
"So do I," he said, before moving onto her mouth, kissing her. Arthur pulled her close and Gwen entwined her arms around his neck and the kiss grew more passionate, the rush of heat engulfing Gwen's entire body. She pulled him even closer and slid onto her back on the bed, his weight moving just to the side as he lay next to her.
Gwen absorbed every kiss and caress into her mind, storing it away in her mind, preparing in times of abundance for the years of famine ahead. But it was hard to think of the years ahead when Arthur held her as he did, like a treasure, like she was water to a man dying of thirst. When the need for air became too much, she fell away from Arthur, cursing her lungs as she struggled for breath.
Arthur brushed her cheek that she suddenly realized was damp with tears and she smiled shakily up at him. The intermingled pain and love in his eyes made her heart clench with some poignant emotion that she could not have named. Wordlessly, he drew her into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder, and rocked her slowly as she continued to cry. His hands continued to brush against the bare skin of her shoulders, her hair, her face, as though committing the sensations to memory, but he did nothing more, waiting for what she needed.
When the tears had mostly subsided, Gwen shuddered against Arthur's shoulder. "I don't want you to go," she whispered against his shoulder.
"I don't want to leave," he replied, sadly, "but we know I have to. I'm not even sure how I came here to begin with. Although it probably had something to do with Mer-"
Arthur stopped, stiffening a little, and Gwen moved one hand to rub slowly down his back. "It's all right, I know."
"Did he tell you?"
"No," she smiled at the amusedly affronted tone, "I figured it out."
"Clever," he smiled against her neck, kissing it, "my clever Guinevere."
"Will you," she swallowed hard and she felt his arms tightening around her, comforting her, "will you be here in the morning?"
"I don't know," he answered, "but I will stay with you until you are asleep."
The call of the crow startled Gwen from her sleep and she sat upright, looking around for the form of her husband. No one was there.
Was it only a dream?
As she hid her face in her hands, determined to get one last moment of grief before donning the mask of the efficient queen, she brushed a sore spot on her neck and gasped. With shaking hands she reached for a hand mirror and peered into it.
There on her neck was the mark of her husband's lips. And at the top of her nightdress's neckline lingered a blond hair that hadn't been there the day before.
Gwen pulled the hair from the dress and put it securely in the bedside table. Then she brushed her fingers lingeringly over the mark, smiling poignantly as the maids knocked to come in.
It was the first time after Camlann that Gwen saw her love. It was also the last.
A/N: That was a bit sad. I blame the fanvideo I saw that gave me the idea - all it had was Arthur comforting Gwen, and of course I go for the sad thing.
I hope you enjoyed it, regardless.
Thanks for reading and please review!