A/N: Arthur's turn to reflect on his relationship with Gwen. Thank you faedemon & Charis77. You're the best of the best.

Dance In the Candlelight

Before I was king and after I knew that I loved her, Gwen asked me one day to meet her at dusk in the abandoned mill-house on the edge of the lower town. Bemused yet always eager to see her when chance allowed, I entered through a rickety door that was near-ready to fall from the hinges. The workspace, alight with a few candles, had no furniture, dilapidate and dusty cupboards and cobwebs in every corner and then some.

Gwen was there already and straightened her posture when she saw me. Dropping the hood of my blue cloak, I looked at her with curiosity when I notice her wearing trousers, a buckskin vest and a sword strapped around her hips. I then raised an eyebrow when she brandished the sword toward me.

"Teach me to be a better fighter," she commanded me.

I raised both eyebrows and laughed, perhaps with too much arrogance because she narrowed her eyes and set her jaw, shifting to a defensive stance.

"Women are killed without discrimination all the time, Arthur, even during times of peace," she rebuked me, straightening her shoulders. "Why shouldn't we fight for our kingdom or those we love?"

Startled out of my laugher by her intense scrutiny, I swallowed my ego and stared at her for a moment. I searched her eyes for the commitment I expect from every knight that come into my rank. I'd fought beside her on a few occasions so I knew she was earnest and I came to realize I was proud of her again. Most women have no care for swordplay, let alone a mind for it. Knowing that Gwen had both had only made me fall deeper for her.

She brandished her sword again, more fiercely than before. "Shall we begin, my lord?"

I unstrapped my cloak and tossed it on the dusty floor not too far away. I assessed her form for a moment.

"Sink into your stance a little more and put your weight on the balls of your feet, not your heels. This helps with your balance. Make sure your forward knee is over the middle of your foot to stabilize your body."

She did as I instructed, her stance appearing more comfortable, natural—though her sword began to dip in her hand from the weight of it.

"Your wrist is all wrong." I approached her. Rounding her, I reach for the wrist holding the sword, our bodies close and intimate. "Your grip is too tight. Here."

Caressing her delicate wrist with a firm hold, I reposition it slightly. "Easy. Move your thumb here."

I could hardly concentrate being so close to her, smelling the lavender scent of her hair and body. I'd never trained anyone in this manner and it was more delightful than I'd ever imagined. Pressed together, we seemed to fit like tung and groove, perfectly matched and inseparable unless forced apart. My thoughts wandered briefly toward our sensual contact, and feeling flushed, I forced myself to focus on why I was there. I didn't want to let her down, nor to let go of her at that moment.

"Keep your wrist straight. The sword then becomes a part of you." I guided her arm to the left, then right, gently swinging the weapon in figure eight loops. "It's an extension of your arm." Our hearts beat their own ballet as we moved together as one. "Feel its balance. Get used to its weight. You...are...the sword."

I spoke softly near her ear, swaying with her body and the weapon, losing myself in the ease of our motions. She stopped after a moment and turned her head towards my voice. We can't really see each other's eyes, but hers were searching. I could hear her breathing, feel the rise and fall of her chest, smell the fragrance in her hair. My lips seemed to edge closer to hers.

Mesmerized and stirred beyond belief, I dared to kiss her. But she trembled and bit into her lower lip. Pulling away from me and breaking our trance, the warmth drained from my body as if life itself was being sucked from me, a most disappointing and unsatisfying experience.

Facing me, her cheeks flushed I noticed, she stepped back into a proper stance and wielded the sword as I had instructed her. It took effort to ease my breathing and gather my thoughts so I cleared my throat and pulled my sword from its scabbard. Circling her with slow intent and concealing my growing desire for her, I gave her more instructions on footwork and stance for a brief period.

When I saw that she was ready, we crossed swords a few times with caution, our footwork switching between offense and defense. She handled the sword much better this time around, but she still needed to straighten out her footwork.

Gwen and I practiced swordsmanship at the mill-house at least one day a week if I wasn't on patrol or away on some damn mission or if our other commitments wouldn't allow it. We'd grown ever closer during those times whether we'd intended to or not. I could feel the attraction between us. I could feel our desire for each other. When incidental contact was unavoidable, she'd blush ever so sweetly and bite into her lower lip—as customary for her. My face burned with embarrassment too and I'd clear my throat—as customary for me. We'd push through the awkward moments and then persevere to continue with the training. My hunger to learn more about her was near uncontrollable back then, distracting, yet ever so exhilarating.

We're married now, as of a few days ago. Our responsibilities have kept us at distances most of the time—me in the towns surveying the damage, helping with repairs, or in meetings that lasted for long hours; and she in the castle bringing it back to order, back to life. In my own feeble attempt for a moment away from it all, I left her a note this evening like the one she'd left me years ago, to meet me at the abandoned mill-house.

Entering through the now door-less structure, those warm memories of being here with her flood my thoughts. I wanted—no, needed—to come back to this place to see if she treasured the moments when we danced in the candlelight, to the rhythm of swordplay in our own special way. To see if it meant as much to her as it still does to me.

So, I wait. It's still early.

I know there's much work to do in my city and for my kingdom, but my attention is divided. Although Gwen has forgiven me for what I did to her months ago, I'm finding it difficult to absolve myself of my actions. I'd broken trust with her too many times over the years that it's a wonder she allows me to touch her at all. As hard as I had begged for her forgiveness, could she truly do so without harboring resentment for me on some level, even if buried?

On our wedding night, when my fingers roamed across that cursed scar on her thigh, I crumbled with guilt and shame in her arms. She'd comforted me, assured me that what had happened had been beyond our control. All the hurt, the disappointment, our separation, in the end had only made us stronger. There was no reason to hide our faces and our love any longer.

I believed her.

She had kissed me then, wiped the water from my eyes. We made love for the first time after so many years of sorrow and I trusted the stronger, new bond fashioned between us. Each night since then has been idyllic to be with her, and yet each night following our loving each other, she stirs in troubled sleep. I dare to imagine what haunts her dreams, though my instincts point to her experiences with Helios and her captivity by the Southrons. Sometimes, my heart aches that they may center on me too, and the actions I'd taken against her.

I wait, the hour of our meeting having passed now. Unsheathing Excalibur and slicing it through the air, my heart sinks into despair. She isn't coming, I believe. She doesn't care about what happened here as much as I'd hoped. Somewhere deep inside, I fear I haven't regained her full trust. I jab at the air with fierce thrusts, my sword striking down an invisible opponent that may as well be me.

Has she truly forgiven me? I can't help but wonder.

Gwen hasn't allowed her troubled past to interfere with her waking world, which is good for the kingdom. By all appearances, she's stepped into the role of queen as if she's been born to it. She's calmed and composed in the public arena. She's fair and just, firm and resolute. She seems to balance the responsibilities of running a kingdom as well as any sovereign, perhaps even better than me.

But I'm concerned for her. Ignoring her pain—especially for the sake of others—only leads to self-destruction and inner desolation. I know. I've lived it; and it's beginning to creep from Gwen's subconscious and manifesting itself in the nightmares that's surely to come. My hope is that one day soon she turns to me and tells of her experiences during that fateful time.

I look up through a hole in the thatched roof to see the stars of the night sky. Dust dances in a sliver of moonlight that seeps through and I am as listless as the floating particles. In the past, I'd have walked her home by this time and bounced my way back to the castle, giddy as a young lad. I sigh with resignation and shove Excalibur back into its sheath. Drawing my cloak tighter and lifting the hood to cover my head, I try to console myself that I still have something to look forward to: that she'd be waiting for me in our chambers and that is good enough for me.

At least, for now.

I turn to leave, but stop when I notice a motionless shadow at the entrance of the mill-house. My hand grips the hilt of my sword by instinct, but my heart races with rousing expectation.

Gwen steps into the moonlight and smiles. She dons trousers, buckskin and a sword on her hip. I can't help smiling too as she gazes at me with eyes so warm that my veins course with fire.

"Teach me to—"

I hurry to her, embrace her with a firm grip, cover her mouth with mine and swallow the words I know is coming. It's a desperate kiss, but I don't care. Whatever delayed her doesn't matter to me. Whatever troubles lie within her, her love tells me that it isn't all about me. Her presence here—tonight—proves that. I kiss her with more passion and her arms coil tighter around me.

I'll give her time—whatever it takes—to share with me the demons haunting her. I know that together, after all that we've been through, Gwen and I can conquer them, too.