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She was ready, but was he?
He looked at the woman seated across from him and wondered if she knew just how much he would forsake if it meant her happiness. Arthur saw the sadness that never seemed to leave her eyes. Her pain tore at him because he knew he had caused it.
If he couldn't have her love, maybe he could beg for her forgiveness.
But would it be enough?
"How," his voice cracked and he cleared his throat. She still made him feel like an awkward boy, not a man in charge of an empire.
"How did you find out?"
Guinevere told him of the dreams that plagued her for months, of being followed by Merlin and Morgana when she still had no memory of who she was. She told him how she ran when they introduced themselves and how, on that same evening, she remembered everything.
"When did this happen to you?"
"A year ago."
She had known for a year and she made no attempt to contact him.
"Why didn't you try to find me?"
"I didn't want to," Guinevere admitted softly. "I wasn't happy at being found by Merlin and Morgana, but knowing that you were not with them gave me some measure of peace."
Arthur was taken aback. She didn't know that they worked for him.
"I would have looked for you, Guinevere."
"I know," she said as she nodded. "But if you had, I would have done my best to stay as far away from you as I could."
His eyes widened at that.
"Is your hatred of me so complete?"
She gave a small smile as she shook her head.
"No, Arthur."
He saw her take a deep breath before speaking again.
"Our lives will always be complicated," she looked at him with those sad eyes once again. "But maybe it becomes complicated because we keep finding each other."
"I love you." The words came out much more abruptly than Arthur wanted.
Guinevere closed her eyes for the briefest moment and when she opened them again, he saw the tears threatening to spill over her lashes.
"Do you, Arthur? Do you really?
Arthur heard the anger in her voice.
"You love me until I do something to displease you. You love me only when it's convenient for you."
"Guinevere, I..."
She held up a hand to silence him.
"I never asked for anything from you, Arthur. Only that you be good and just and fair," she paused. It was clear that she was trying to keep her emotions in check.
"Please, Guinevere." He didn't know how else to reach her; how else he could break down her walls.
"I had such faith in you," she spoke again. There was a sad wistfulness to her voice; a broken quality to it that rent at his emotions.
"All those times," Guinevere continued. "All those times I looked to you for hope because you stood for what was right."
There were tears in her eyes.
"I never really understood why you chose me. The times when I was a king's daughter, maybe there was some reason there; but when I was nothing more than just a face in the crowd..."
Her voice trailed off and Arthur took his chance to speak.
"You always came first Guinevere," his voice cracked as he spoke. "Surely you must have known that."
"Is that why you left me to fester in a dungeon for a year?"
Her accusation felt like a blow to the stomach.
"Is that why you did nothing when they..." Arthur saw her gasp with remembered pain. "When they took advantage of my helplessness?"
He was silent.
"I trusted you with my life, Arthur."
He saw her shoulders slump and her head bow with grief, and once again, before him was a broken woman. Once again, he caused her misery. Once again, he hurt her.
"Is that why you left with Lancelot?" His accusation came out in a whisper as he brought out the only weapon he still wielded.
Guinevere's head snapped up and her eyes bored into his. Arthur held her gaze and willed himself not to flinch from the despair he saw in them.
"Lancelot..." she whispered. "You accuse me of betraying you even now?"
"You left me for him," Arthur's voice was even. "You left Camelot for him."
"Lancelot gave me a choice."
Her voice was steady now.
"Do you know how that feels, Arthur?" She asked him. "To be given a choice when I had so little before?"
He couldn't answer her.
"It was heaven, Arthur."
But the admission didn't bring a smile to her face. There was no relief in the lines of her body.
"I knew what would happen if you found me...if you found us. But I chose what Lancelot offered because it meant being free from your chains."
She looked steadily at him once more.
"I was never unfaithful. I left with him, yes, but we never lay together. Never once did I consider it," she took a deep breath before continuing. "But I knew you would put me to death. I knew that, even with your pronouncements of love, you would see me dead."
A single tear rolled down her cheek.
"I chose my freedom over my life, Arthur," she spoke softly this time. "Because I couldn't bear to live with your hate anymore."
There was a pause. Arthur didn't know what to say. She spoke of hate—hate, when he would give her the moon if she should so ask. How could she mistake his feelings for hate?
"I love you," he said. "How could you even accuse me of hating you, Guinevere?"
"Would you still tell me you loved me after the next kidnapping? The next accusation of witchcraft? The continued whispers that I was someone beneath your station?"
She paused and wiped away the tears that now stained her cheeks.
"The hate was simmering beneath the surface, Arthur. I felt it many times even if you never spoke of it. One more false move from me would be a challenge to your power—and I learned long ago that if there was one thing you treasured above all others, it was your absolute rule over Camelot."
Her eyes bored into him once again.
"You would forsake everything but Camelot. We both know this." Her voice was controlled, but there was no mistaking her sadness. "You could never love anything more than your kingdom."
She pushed her chair back and began to stand up. Arthur was on his feet and beside her before she could.
It was then that Merlin and Morgana made their appearance.
