What do you want?
She had never once been asked that question.
She'd learned to eat what was served, buy what was available.
At work she presented choices for others, never made them for herself.
She answered to what she was called – none had ever asked her preference.
She might not have had an opinion anyway.
(She liked how one said "Gwen", another "Guinevere".)
In the woods they'd determined her fate, no questions asked.
She'd wept.
Now it seemed few choices remained.
Arthur was planning to marry her.
She certainly loved him,
And did not understand why she feared.