Often at night, she walked with her ghosts. Camelot's halls seemed so still at night, but Gwen knew better. The seemingly empty stone always had company for her. Long after everyone had gone to sleep, she'd meet them.
The first time she'd seen them, she thought she'd gone mad with stress. Gwen had known the crown took its toll. That night, she'd spent hours in the council chamber, finally dismissing everyone around 3. Leaning back in her chair she could not miss the way Sir Leon's concern wrinkled his brow as he closed the doors behind him. She stared at the ceiling, watching the banners move lazily in the night breeze, the Pendragon sigil rippling across the surface. Uther, whatever afterlife he was in, must be loving this.
"Happy to see me fail, old monster?" She murmured. Odin was close to declaring war and refused to treat with a woman or servant. She exhaled, close to tears. After everything they'd lost, she owed the people the stability Arthur's rule had established. How could she, though, when the close-minded limits of others' imaginations prevented them from even working with her? Uther's cruel satisfaction almost made her choke. Sitting up, she clutched her throat.
It started as a warmth. A feeling. She'd always been aware of his presence in life. He could not stand behind her without her knowledge. The grip of fear and doubt let go and she slumped in her chair. She closed her eyes, letting the feeling of Arthur's closeness brush over her, even if it was just a dream. She awoke the next morning, sore and cramping from having slept all night in a wooden chair, but it seemed that as her eyes blinked open she could see Arthur smiling. He nodded and faded from view.
After that night she began to see them. Always just out of reach, always in the cover of darkness. Elyan, proud and noble, would sometimes patrol the halls outside her bed chamber, still hoping to keep her safe. Though he could sometimes be convinced to wander a bit when Gwaine came to pester him. Gwaine, his roguish grin in place would incline his head with a small wink whenever he saw her watching.
Her father was there too. His visits were less frequent, which wasn't surprising. Gwen didn't like him lingering in the place that had killed him. There were times when she walked down to the town to his forge and she'd see him and Elyan as they were when she was a little girl. Tom would stand, tall and strong while little Elyan rolled his eyes, trying hard to stay interested but itching to swing the sword being forged. She tightened her cloak around her and left them be. She had gotten time with each of them, they needed to be together. She would join them, one day.
Not all the ghosts were kind. Morgana walked the halls, her pain and rage almost palpable, heating the air as she moved. Gwen would often see her standing outside the throne room, pacing in front of the door. She'd stop and stare at Gwen, her lip curled in jealousy. Gwen had no fear. Morgana was too far away to hurt her. Though there were times when a younger Morgana would appear in front of her old chambers. She'd stand there, waifish and scared, smiling only when Gwen drew close. The apparition was so familiar to Gwen it made her heart ache for the kind friend Morgana had been before bitterness, lies, and anger had twisted her heart. She'd acknowledge her, but left her to her solitude. Too much had passed between them for her to stay near her too long.
Uther was not there. At least not that Gwen could see. She could feel his judgement sometimes. Whenever she had a sense of doubt or a flicker of feeling unworthy, it felt as though his presence, for a moment, strengthened. It was easily banished, though, with a smile from one of her councilors or the lack of fear the young magic users of the court exhibited while they learned their craft. When Merlin's wanderings brought him through Camelot, his delight in teaching them new tricks and turning them loose on the knights brought laughter to the halls, banishing whatever grip Uther's cruelty had on all of them.
And Arthur.
He was everywhere.
He was nowhere.
Of all the ghosts he was the one she felt the most but saw the least.
She looked for him, though. Wandered through the palace in hopes to catch a glimpse. She saw him in the way the torch light used to reflect on his hair. In the whispers in the old alcoves where they hid, stealing moments before they could be open about their affections. In the clang of a sword, the rustle of a paper. In the gnarled wood of the Round table. His love, for his people, for her was everywhere.
She asked Merlin, once, why she couldn't see him. Merlin smiled, his eyes crinkling. He'd taken to growing a long beard, thinking it made him look wise. "He's not here, Gwen." He looked towards Gaius' old chambers, watching as the old Physician emerged, his basket in hand, still hoping to give medicine to others after the end. "Not like they are."
He left the next day. He didn't stay long. Gwen doubted he would even stay the day he would join the others wandering the castle. He was in no hurry to join them and neither, she discovered, was she.
She had so much to live for. While the ghosts of the past surrounded her, their stories and smiles in the stones of castle, she was not ready to become a silent watcher. Her presence was being felt now and she wanted to do more with the time she had left her, no matter how long that might be. Perhaps that was why Arthur would not show himself to her. She still had work to do.