"I've decided that I forgive you."
Gwen had just finished giving Arthur a tongue lashing for turning his nose up at the meager food Merlin's mother had provided and was trying to slip away when his voice called her back. She turned back to the Prince, her brow quirked inquisitively wondering what slight on her part he had decided to forgive her for.
"Sire?"
"For drugging me, Guinevere, I forgive you."
From the expression on his face, she could tell that he thought his forgiveness was a great gift, something she needed.
"Thank you My Lord, that is very...gracious of you. Though, I feel no guilt over the matter."
Breakfast bowl still in hand, he turned and stalked toward her, all traces of leniacy disappearing from his expression. Clearly he thought she should feel guilt, should seek penance.
"You feel no guilt?"
"No, Sire, it had to be done, I explained it wasn't personal, I was protecting my Prince."
"It was personal to me!"Arthur thundered and she took a startled step back. He immediately looked contrite.
"Would it have been personal if it were Gaius or Merlin who delivered the drug?"
"No."
"Just me then? Why?"
"I thought we had an understanding, I thought you could see the person I was past the Prince I must be."
That was the betrayal he felt, he thought they could understand and see each other beyond their roles, their stations even though he'd treated her as nothing more than Morgana's servant for all the years they'd known each other. But standing there, looking and feeling completely betrayed, Guinevere felt sorry for him.
When she spoke she softened her tone; "Perhaps if sometimes you acted less like a Prince and more like Arthur more people would see you as something besides a Prince to be obeyed and protected."
He sighed and took a step back, putting even more distance between them and ran a frustrated hand through his hair; "We're not going to win this, we can't."
"We have to. For Merlin."
"I'm leading them to the slaughter."The way he said it, Gwen knew he would feel the loss and guilt of every death that occurred in this battle.
"We have faith in you, Sire, you just need to have faith in yourself and your ability to lead us."
"You're not going to drug me again to protect me from dying in this lossing battle?" He asked it somberly but the corner of his mouth quirked up as he fought the smile lurking there.
Gwen offered a small smile at his attempt of humour, "No, Sire, this time you're not heading into a battle you cannot possibly win."
Arthur watched her for a moment, astounded by the amount of faith, belief and trust she had in him, then he shook his head and tilted his head in a teasing manner; "When a Knight go off to battle, it is customary for a lady to offer him a token for luck."
Gwen smiled at both his teasing and implication and shook her head; "I'm not a lady, Sire, at least not the type you mean,"she offered him a curtsey before turning and heading back to the village, calling over her shoulder; "Besides, I already gave you one."
He watched her go, puzzled, before realization seeped in and he chuckled to himself and pulled at the leather cord hanging around his neck, lifting the wooden star out from under his shirt. A token. Though, really it was a token he'd given her. But, he thought, it would do.
After the fight was done and the battle was won, Arthur found Guinevere sitting on a low stone wall, catching her breath or watching the horizon possibly both. Still in his armour, the village people clearing up around them, he sat down beside her and she offered him a small smile before ducking her head down respectfully.
"We won, Guinevere, like you said we would."
"Yes, Sire, we did. I knew we would."
He watched her as she fixedly refused to look in his direction, she was quite beautiful, this girl who he'd first seen sitting on a step crying, she was pretty then but he'd never noticed when she became beautiful. Beautiful and fierce, she'd held her own well in the fight, defending herself and others.
"Where did you learn to wield a sword, Guinevere?"
She turned her head and met his steady gaze with an unfaltering one of her own; "I am the blacksmith's daughter, My Lord."
He thought if he wasn't the Prince she would have rolled her eyes at him, a part of him wished she had the freedom to express all of her thoughts and feelings to him. He'd like to see them.
"Your father taught you?"
"Yes. He wanted me to be able to defend myself, he didn't want me to vulnerable."
"You fight well, Guinevere."
"Thank you, Sire."
They sat in companionable silence, side by side until Morgana came and asked for Guinevere's help with something and just like that the moment was broken, they were once more servant and Prince no longer two companions reminiscing about battles past.