For the next few years Arthur and Gwen continued their tradition of passing the handkerchief. Sometimes the reasons were trivial such as when Gwen had to get a particularly stubborn stain from Morgana's dress, or when Arthur had apologise to Cook for stealing her chicken (again.) Sometimes the reasons were more serious, for example when Morgana, and therefore Gwen, had been forced to join the King on a trip to King Odin's kingdom, Arthur had not attended as Odin's son was known for his violent nature and there was fear he may challenge Arthur to a fight. Not that anyone though Arthur couldn't take care of himself, but if either Prince were to be severely injured the cost could be war.

After the day of Morgana's arrival Arthur and Gwen would meet and talk each night, while he walked her to the courtyard. The both enjoyed having a friend to talk to, neither having experienced the notion before. Gwen had confided in Arthur that although she was friendly with the other children her age, both near her house and the servants, they always treated her differently. She acted much more responsibly than them, and had a higher sense of morality – she would not back down when she thought they were doing wrong, and had therefore been labelled a snitch – untrustworthy. When Arthur learned of her sadness he was angry, and for a while had been particularly rude and cruel towards those who caused her tears. However she had begged him not to, telling him he was being as bad as them, and that he made her feel better by just talking to her – so that's what he did.

About a year into Morgana's stay however, Gwen was called to stay later with Morgana once a week, and she would not tell him why. So Arthur decided to investigate. He was surprised to find the two girls sword fighting down in the tunnels under the castle. They would not be persuaded to stop, and honestly Arthur was quite impressed, so he decided to join them. On several occasions Morgana would claim to be suffering from headaches, a constant side affect of her nightmares, and ask Gwen to tell Arthur that their meeting was cancelled, however she would simply meet him on her own and they would practise together. Morgana seemed to have forgotten that the two of them were friends, despite her initial complaints that they left her out. Both felt slightly offended that she could forget something so important to the two of them, but put it down to stress and said nothing.

At one such meeting, when they were 12, Arthur informed Gwen that he had officially been ordered to spend more time with the nobility- boys of his own age with a respectable name and noble blood, in other words future knights. He had hated the thought, he didn't particularly like these boys, and it left him with less time to spend with Gwen and Morgana. She smiled sympathetically and gave him the handkerchief "For luck socialising with the arrogant prats." That made him laugh and he cheered up a bit. She assured him they would still meet once a week for sword fighting, even if he could no longer walk her home or visit her and Morgana during the day.

Over the next two years Arthur began to change, he became more self-righteous, encouraged by the nobility he was now forced to spend time with. However after a few hours sword fighting with Gwen and Morgana he would be his old self again – still slightly over confident, but also more humble and kindly. Then the next day Uther and the nobility would erase all their hard work.

Things became worse when they turned 14. The King discovered the three of them training during the night, and forbade them to do it again. Although they dared not tell the King before, now it was forbidden, and none of them were willing to disobey the King. When they were informed of the King's decision, Morgana in particular had been fuming – Arthur could practise with the nobles and the knights, Gwen could practise with her father, Morgana could do neither.

When they were 16, a few weeks before the Prince's first tournament, Arthur had arrived at her father's workshop on one of Gwen's rare days off. While her father was repairing his sword – broken by Sir Pellinore in a particularly vicious blow – Gwen and Arthur waited in the small outside area around the back of the forge, where they could not been seen from the street outside.

Gwen asked him why he had brought the sword to her father, rather than the royal blacksmith – he replied simply;

"I've heard you brag about him so many times, I thought I'd test his work. Besides, if a mans daughter can name pieces of armour better than every single one of my manservants…"

"It's actually rather sad?" she interrupted jokingly.

He laughed "No, its not! It's brilliant! I was going to say – It shows that he is a good blacksmith!"

"You know, you should try a little harder to get on with your manservants, I mean, why is that plural? I've been Morgana's maid for 7 years, and you've had how many servants in that time – 11?"

"11 exactly – are you keeping tabs on me Guinevere?" he asked teasingly. "Besides they've all been rubbish – no backbone, and never do the job well, and then they look all upset when I get angry." He now sounded like he was whinging.

"Oh stop it Arthur, you treat them badly that's why! I saw you the other day throwing apples at poor Benjamin – for what, bringing your dinner a bit late?" She rolled her eyes.

"Target Practise actually." He sounded annoyed. What Guinevere didn't know was that he had overhead Benjamin making some foul comments about her a few days ago, and the Prince had no intention of informing her.

"I know what this is, you start acting all arrogant to impress your new friends in the nobility, and then can't face how hurt your servants are by your actions, so you sack them!"

"Can we please stop this Guinevere?" He asked quietly. He didn't like arguing with her, and there were so many things she didn't understand. His father expected so much, expected him to be like the other noble kids. Sometimes Uther would make comparisons between Sir Ector's son Kay, and it seemed to Arthur that he wished Kay was his son, not Arthur. Being kind to servants was frowned upon, Guinevere didn't seem to realise her relationship with Morgana was the only exception – allowed because Morgana needed a female friend, someone of a similar age to talk to, especially when she first arrived, and Uther had allowed the bond to stay. But Arthur was expected to be strong, he was heir to the throne, and if he needed someone to talk to he had the knights, or the sons of his fathers allies, people with noble blood. He had no need of servants other than to serve. If Arthur did not live up to these expectations, he was lectured and punished by his father.

Though he would never tell her, Guinevere was the only reason he had remained even slightly humble these past years, the reason he could sit through his father's shouting and being confined to his chambers whenever he thought his father was wrong. But for the past year or so she had been drifting away, as a young boy he had feared that Morgana would steal her away from him, now it was like she had. Guinevere and Morgana spent all there time together – Morgana didn't even seem to realise that he and Guinevere were friends. Only the other day, when he had questioned how Guinevere was, Morgana had replied "Why do you care? She's not doing jobs for you." So he found it harder to deal with his father's disapproval, and had begun trying to please him more, even if the entire time it felt wrong.

"Fine" She muttered, she must have sensed he was upset, as she looked guilty, but did not apologise – he smiled slightly, she was always stubborn. It made him think of the day they first met, and grinned fully as he spied two swords lying on the floor. He picked them up and threw one to her. Her grin matched his, and on three, the fight began.

Somehow, she managed to pin him to the ground "I beat you, again" she said laughing. He grumbled something unintelligible in response.

"What was that?" She teased him laughing. Suddenly he dived at her, poking her in the side, tickling her.

"I said… Do you really think so?" He was laughing now, holding on to her tight as she tried to wriggle free.

"Of course sire" she said through her laughter "And it's not the first time…" she had to stop, unable to breath through her laughter. "Arthur … stop…" she begged, trying once again to break free from his grip.

"Do you admit defeat?" He laughed. She seemed to take a moment, whether because she couldn't talk through her giddiness, or because she was considering her answer he didn't know, before she said,

"Alright, you win! Do I have a choice?!" But she was smiling, and he smirked as he let her go, "Not really."

They sat down against the wall, both breathing slowly, calming themselves. This was nice, though Arthur, just the two of them. Then she had to ruin it.

"Morgana will kill us for doing this without her." Of course, it wasn't Guinevere's fault, and he would never blame her. Things pulled them apart – status mainly, she turned to Morgana unknowingly hurting him, while he turned to his Father, which from her statements earlier, obviously disappointed her. They were being torn apart, so he decided to savour the moments they had left together – not making a fuss.

"Then don't tell her." His tone teasing, his mouth pulled into a charming smile, the exact replica of the one he had gave her directly before they met Morgana, but like that day his wide blue eyes told her that he was terrified. And she had a horrible feeling she knew why. So she decided to make an unspoken agreement with him to enjoy the moment.

"I won't! But you know what she's like, can't hide anything from her."

He laughed, "Yeah, Good Old Morgie." There was a short silence, as they tried to control their laughter, but failed miserably and simultaneously burst into fits of hysteria, clinging to each other for support.

When he had calmed enough, Arthur pushed his hand into his pocket and pulled out their handkerchief. It been about a year now since she had last given it him, but he had a habit of carrying around with him. He turned to her sombrely, still sat on the floor, taking both of her hands in his, placing the handkerchief in her right palm.

"I give you this handkerchief, for luck with the impossible task of hiding something from Morgie and failing that, luck in surviving long enough to tell me the very amusing tale."

"Thank you kind sir, I hope I will be able to amuse you, with tales of Morgie's rants."

And once again they were laughing, giggling like little children. Morgana had given up the nickname years ago, and was now severely embarrassed by the fact she had insisted people use it – something the two friends used greatly to their advantage.

"So, Gwennie, It sounds as though your father has finished with my sword." He said standing, holding his hand out to assist her. In truth, noise from the workshop had stopped ages ago but neither of them had felt like mentioning it, preferring to sit together talking.

"Will I see you again soon?" she questioned almost shyly.

"I don't know" He muttered embarrassedly, ashamed that he could offer no promises. "I'm constantly training for this tournament, I only got today off because my sword's broken."

"Of course" she nodded and smiled in understanding. "You nervous?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted smiling, sternly "And don't say you don't get nervous, because I know you do."

He smiled gently at her "A bit, it's my first one, what if I mess up terribly?"

"Arthur Pendragon, you have the potential to be the best warrior Camelot has ever seen, perhaps already are. You get told often enough don't you?"

"You just beat me Guinevere, and you haven't had any formal training."

"I though we agreed that you won?" Her grin widened, "Besides, I must be the only person in Camelot who isn't distracted by your smile."

"Oh, really? So if I start losing, I just, smile at them?" He was smiling now, his tone mocking, as though he was actually considering it.

"Exactly…. You'll scare them off!"

His mouth opened in shock and protest, "Guinevere" he said her name in the way only he could.

Then her arms were around his shoulders, "You'll be fine Arthur." He returned her embrace, holding her tight, trying to hold on to her forever, trying to quench fears that he would lose her one day soon. "Will you come to see me, before the fight?" He asked quietly, hopefully.

"Of course, I promise."

"Thank You."

He left Tom's forge smiling, having had the longest conversation with Guinevere he'd had in a long time, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that her goodbye could be the last, the sense he got that the good times were over. Now he was headed home, to his father, to the very people who were tearing him away from Guinevere, and it took all his willpower not to cry.

The morning of the fight Gwen made her way down to the tents where Arthur was preparing to do battle. Clenched in her fist was the handkerchief.

The past month had been difficult. Each day Arthur seemed to be getting worse, more arrogant, less like the friend she knew: she heard servants complaining about him, saw him ordering young squires around like they were piles of dirt, once she'd even overheard him say to Morgana that while he was Prince of Camelot, destined to rule, the Lady was destined to sit and brush her hair, a spinster because no respectable man would look at her twice, apparently. The Prince seemed particularly hostile towards Morgana lately, and neither Gwen nor her mistress could figure out why.

She had tried to brush it off, telling herself it was stress about the upcoming fight, but something told her it was more than that.

As she approached his tent, she heard shouting coming from the inside, and groaned.

"Honestly how difficult is it to place armour on correctly?!" That was Arthur, "Pass me the gauntlet!"

"um…the what sire?" Oh no It was Benjamin, Arthur's latest manservant, she

pitied the boy, but honestly he could've have tried to read up on armour – or asked

someone for help. She'd have to go and help him.

"See this is why I'm future King of Camelot, and you're just a servant! Because

you're an idiot!" Arthur bellowed. Gwen stopped in her tracks. That hurt. She knew

that the nobility was getting to Arthur, but for him to say something like that…

"Get out!"

"But sire, your armour…" squeaked little Benjamin

"I'll do it." Arthur looked up to see Gwen stood in the entranceway, tears pooling in her eyes, refusing to fall, while she glared heavily at him. He gulped.

Benjamin hurried out of the tent. Arthur stood completely still while Guinevere fixed his armour, wondering what she was going to say. Finally she tied their handkerchief around his wrist.

"For luck" she said quietly, "In facing this tournament… and many too come." She said the last bit as though it pained her.

"Why, won't you be able to give it me at tournaments in the future?" His voice plainly betrayed his fear, and he couldn't even bring himself to try and prevent it doing so.

"Not if you continue acting as you are." Her voice was quiet, resigned, and he could see that she was trying not to cry. "You are, and always will be my best friend Arthur, but you … you're not my Arthur anymore!" Her voice broke now, tears falling down her face, matching his. "I can't stand by your side and watch you treat people as you have been doing – the nobility, they have corrupted you Arthur. Can't you see?" He couldn't speak, she was right, but she didn't see the whole story, and he couldn't find the words to tell her. "I love you Arthur! You're my best friend and I love you for that, but unless you change, I can't speak to you anymore. I just… can't."

She was backing away from him now, leaving the tent.

"Guinevere" he croaked "I'm sorry."

"Me too." She whispered, but she did not turn around.

The tournament ended well, at least officially. Arthur placed second, a spectacular achievement to say that it was his first tournament. But he could not find it within himself to be pleased. The first thing he did when the tournament had finished was to place his and Guinevere's handkerchief into a small draw beside his bed. Then he had gone down to speak to his father, and request to be excused from the festivities. That hadn't gone down well. His father had yelled at him, saying he must learn to behave like other nobles, whether he liked it or not, for the sake of the Kingdom – it would not look good to have a weak King. He said Arthur was a disappointment to him – showing commoners too much attention, letting them see too much emotion. A King should be the personification of pride, honour, and confidence, and if Arthur didn't like that, he would have to get used to it.

So Arthur had attended the feast. He spent the whole time trying not to cry, while at the same time trying to avoid looking at Guinevere, because when he did it broke his heart. A servant accidently knocked a jug over Arthur's shirt. He couldn't even find it in himself to be angry, and went to wave it away, when he saw his father glaring at him. Sighing, already regretting what he was about to do, Arthur stood and seized the terrified boy by the front of his shirt – he could only have been all of 10 years old. "See what your insolence has done boy!" he roared. He heard Guinevere gasp, only a few feet away, it brought tears to his eyes, but thoughts of his father forced him to continue. "This will never happen again! Do you understand me?!" The boy nodded furiously. Arthur lowered his voice as he forcefully pushed the boy away "You will spend tomorrow in the stocks." Uther was smiling with pride, but Arthur's eyes met Guinevere's. Tears streamed down her face, her expression was one of hurt and disappointment. Arthur felt sick.

Later, as he was walking past Morgana's chambers, he heard the girls talking.

"I can't believe Arthur," Morgana was saying "I mean I knew he was getting bad, but this! I don't know who he's trying to impress, maybe Uther? "

"He shouldn't have to impress anyone, it's this nobility, they've changed him." Guinevere was trying to hide it, but she was distraught, he could tell from the tone of her voice.

"He is nobility Gwen, I'm nobility. It's nothing to do with that, he's just being an arrogant prat. Why are you so upset, he's nothing to you!"

"My Lady… oh, it doesn't matter." Guinevere sounded almost angry now, Arthur knew he was. Morgana had driven them apart, and now she had forgotten that they were friends? He had never hated the girl as much as he did now.

"…never hurt you Gwen… I wouldn't let him." And now she was saying Guinevere needed protected from him? As if he would ever hurt her!

"I know Arthur would never hurt me My Lady - goodnight" Gwen now sounded broken, defeated, and she was coming towards the door. Arthur backed into a dark alcove, hiding from her, not able to bear seeing that look of disappointment again.

"At least not intentionally." She whispered to herself, tears flowing freely. It was enough to undo Arthur, and he broke down in the alcove and cried.

Finally, Arthur had come to a decision. The decision broke his heart, but he had no choice, it was the only option he could see, a way for the both of them to be as content as possible in the circumstances. It was the only way. He had to let her go.

Guinevere was led awake in bed, crying, when she heard a small noise outside her door, and then a letter was pushed through the gap near the floor. She got up slowly, and picked it up. The envelope simply read Guinevere and her stomach did a funny turn when she recognised the writing. She carefully broke the seal, hands shaking, and read the letter.

My Dearest Guinevere,

Many years ago we promised each other that we would be best friends forever. I intend to honour that promise, yet I fear you are right, as always, we cannot remain speaking to each other. However I could not lose you without explaining why. I cannot bear to see the hurt in your eyes, so I take the coward's way out and put it in writing.

You claimed the nobility corrupted me. You were right. My father expects so much, for me to be like the others, to know my position in society and use it to my advantage, to know of a servants place in society and remind them of it. I hate these expectations, but I cannot refuse them any longer, I must make him proud – he is my only family. You must understand, I tried. You and Morgana, but especially You, helped me see who I wanted to be. You were the one I thought of when he locked me in my room without food. It was you who helped me cope when he told me I wasn't good enough, because you told me I was.

But then he took that away, he forced me to spend all my time with noble blood, while you and Morgana became closer. You are her closest friend now, and as much as it pains me to see how close you are, I know you need each other. Currently I can be no kind of friend to you, but Morgana can be, even if she forgets that I was your best friend.

Father forced me to spend time with Kay and the others, and as much as I despise them they need to respect me, otherwise I will never last as King – without their support I will not become any kind of King. In spite of this, I also know that without the support of the ordinary people, I will never be a good King. In the years to come I hope that one day I will be able to win their support, but for now I must focus on winning over the nobles, if we are to have any hope of change.

I know my actions are wrong, but they are for the right reasons. Please understand that. However I cannot bear to see the pain and disappointment in your eyes, for it breaks my heart, therefore I think it best if I stay away from you and maybe in time your pain will become less. I hope in time you will forgive me, and that I can one day be the true friend that you deserve.

For now, farewell. Know that I love you; you are my best friend now and always,

Arthur.

Guinevere put down the letter, and her heart broke. For herself, for Arthur, for the friendship they were never allowed, and she cried.

"Oh Arthur."