The light from the fireplace danced across Arthur's face, highlighting his handsome features in an ethereal glow. If his expression wasn't so insecure, so Arthur, Guinevere might wonder if this man refusing to come home was truly her husband.
"What-" Gwen shook her head, her voice cracking with emotion, "what do you mean you're 'not returning to Camelot'?" her eyes seeking solace in Arthur's, but finding only more grief.
"Gwen, I…" the words caught in his throat. It was unbearable, seeing Gwen's pain, knowing he could heal it - but choosing not to.
Arthur - the man she followed into battle, who gave her hope for the future and love beyond her dreams - now could not give her an answer.
She was tired, so tired. The battle, the grief, the crown…it had all lifted when she saw Arthur alive and well, but now it was crushing her harder than before. Tears that had been building up spilled silently down her cheeks. She scrunched her eyes shut, tried to stave off the turmoil inside, keep herself together, but the motion of wiping the wet streaks away with her sleeve just made her feel more broken until she couldn't stop the sobs. Familiar, strong arms that she'd been longing for wrapped around her and she let the emotions wash over her.
Arthur held her, rubbed her back, kissed her hair. He hoped it offered her more comfort than it did him as her tears worsened his guilt.
After some time, her sobs quieted. She steadied herself with calming breaths, prepared herself for the conversation they still needed to have. Finally, she pulled back to look upon the face of her husband and was surprised to see red eyes brimming with unshed tears of their own.
"I'm so sorry, Gwen," Arthur whispered.
"Just tell me why," she sighed, "please, Arthur, I deserve that much."
"Guinevere," Arthur reached for her shoulders, conveyed his sincerity in his grip, "you deserve that and more. Never doubt the worth I see in you."
"Then return with me," she implored. Arthur sighed and moved away, leaning his hands upon the fireplace mantle.
"Arthur," she moved to his side, placed a hand on his arm, "return with me to Camelot."
"I…can't," his head hung, defeated, his face hidden between his arms.
"Why not?" on this point her strength was returning. She needed to know.
"I don't know. I wish I could explain it, but…"
"Are you still hurt?" Gwen glanced over his body with concern, but saw nothing physically wrong.
"No."
"What then?" She urged, "Why won't you return to your home, your people-"
"I don't know!" he slammed his fist on the mantle, startling her into pulling back. He took a deep breath. "Something…happened. When Merlin saved me. And I just-" he straightened, ran his fingers through his hair, "I just need time to figure it out, that's all."
"So…once you've figured it out…you'll return to Camelot?" she asked, hopeful.
"Maybe," he stared into the fire, its flames licking the dwindling wood as it crumbled into ash.
Silence stretched on, both tired, both at a loss for words that would mend their aching hearts.
An idea, a decision, came to Gwen.
"Then I shall stay with you," simply saying the words made her feel more at ease than she had in a long while, "help you figure out whatever is bothering you."
Arthur shook his head, "Gwen-"
But she cut him off with a stop gesture, "Arthur, I'm staying."
Looking at his wife - that steadfast stance, the mask of regality back in place - he knew her mind would not be changed. Given how much he'd come to rely on her opinion and encouragement, he wasn't sure he wanted it to. He wasn't sure of anything anymore.