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Camelot.
The word caused warning bells to go off in Guinevere's head. The thought of being inside Camelot's walls with the man who embodied all it stood for didn't inspire comfort in her. For while Camelot did give some measure of joy, it asked for things in return. Terrible things.
But she asked herself to be brave and nodded. Soon, she was safely ensconced inside Arthur's powerful car and he was driving them to his home.
The countryside outside of the city limits was green and lush. And despite the sun firmly setting itself in the sky, Guinevere knew that here, the heat would barely be noticeable.
She watched the green fields and ancient trees dotting the landscape, anything to avoid looking at the man beside her even when she felt his gaze upon her.
"Guinevere," Arthur's voice pulled her from her reverie and she turned to look at him.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For agreeing to come with me."
Guinevere shrugged, the delicate movement of her shoulders belying her worried thoughts.
"It was bound to happen, Arthur," she said. "We might as well get this over and done with."
She turned her attention back to the view, thankful that Arthur didn't press the conversation further.
A short while later, he spoke again.
"We're here."
She saw the imposing bulk of Camelot. It wasn't the beautiful castle she had known, instead, it was a large, imposing house, all stone and brick—sitting solidly among rolling hills.
"It's changed," she said with a smile. "But still formidable."
Arthur drove up to the main house, and as soon as he turned off the engine, he stepped out of the vehicle to open the door for her. The keys were given to a waiting staff member and soon, they were walking up to the door of Camelot.
Guinevere didn't realize that she had been holding her breath until Arthur touched her elbow and urged her to relax.
"Breathe, Guinevere," he said, his lips much too close than what she felt was necessary.
She nodded and they crossed the threshold and walked into the house. Guinevere noted the rich, dark wood that gleamed under the soft lights. The Pendragon crest was evident in the antiques that were displayed throughout the entry hall and into the massive living room where he led her.
But something caught her eye and she walked toward a glass case, leaving Arthur to trail behind her.
A red cape, its color dulled by age, was framed above the fireplace. She looked up and saw the familiar gold dragon against a deep crimson shield. The sight of the cape gave her indescribable comfort; it was like seeing a friend after spending a long time apart from each other. It was just as she remembered it from long ago, and she was thankful that this, at least, was familiar to her.
"This was yours," she said.
"Technically, it is an ancient heirloom passed from father to son," Arthur's tone was amused.
Guinevere's eyes grew soft as she turned to look at Arthur. His hands were in his pockets and he looked at her with such warmth that she was unable to prevent the smile that bowed her lips.
He moved closer to her and as they stood side by side, they looked at the cape. Guinevere offered no protest when one of Arthur's hands moved to rest on the small of her back. His warmth soothed her and soon, she felt at ease.
Their attention was called by a staff member, telling them that the food was ready and waiting for them.
Arthur led her out to the back of the house, and saw that the food had been set out on the terrace. It was beautiful there: large stone urns overflowed with blooms and there were comfortable wicker chairs that were set with yellow and white cushions that lent an air of casualness that was so sorely lacking from the dark formality of the rest of Camelot.
Arthur pulled her seat out for her, waiting until she was comfortable before taking the chair opposite her. Breads, jams, marmalades, and other offerings were laid out on a side table, but Guinevere declined Arthur's offer to get what she wanted, asking instead for a cup of tea.
As she cradled the delicate porcelain cup between her hands, she couldn't help but remember all the times when she and Arthur were together like this, sharing a meal and just enjoying each other's company.
But this was now and they were not married. She was not his queen, and while this house was Camelot, she was not beholden to his will and judgment.
"We need to talk, don't we?" She finally said.
"Yes, we do."
Guinevere set the cup on the saucer and took a deep breath.
"I'm ready, Arthur."
