As promised, Gwen wakes up. Arthur confesses what he's been up to. Just post 5x03.
“Guinevere,” Arthur breathes when Guinevere’s eyes open. He had insisted that she be moved back to their chambers once the danger was over. He’s been keeping vigil in a rather uncomfortable chair beside their bed all night and well into the morning.
“What happened?” she asks, coughing, sitting up some. The coughing combined with the slight hoarseness of her voice gives him a pang in his stomach.
Arthur looks unbelievably contrite. He looks down, then away.
“Arthur. What. Did. You. Do?”
He sighs and tells her, sheepish, embarrassed. He tells her everything.
“I see,” she says, looking down. She coughs delicately into a handkerchief she’d been clutching as she listened.
“It was weak of me, Guinevere, I know. I was missing him so much, feeling the sting of his loss. Inconvenient timing. I… I just feel so alone sometimes…”
Her head turns sharply towards him, stung. “I see,” she repeats tersely looking down into her lap now, her fingers picking at the edges of the handkerchief.
“What? Oh… I… I didn’t mean… Guinevere, you know how much I love you, how much you mean to me.”
“And yet you feel alone.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I know you are always here for me and your counsel is more valuable to me than any other’s.”
She still looks at her hands.
“I simply mean that I sometimes miss my father’s guidance. Well, I used to miss it. Before… before I knew…”
“Before you knew that he really was a tyrant?” she asks quietly. “I’m sorry, Arthur, and I know it pains you to hear this, but,” she pauses, catching her breath, coughing again into her handkerchief, “but he valued nothing more than his power.”
“I know that now. His power, this kingdom. Being feared. All top of his list. Above me, even. I… I told him what a great queen you are. How wise you are. That I would rather not rule than rule alone. My words fell on deaf ears.”
“Thank you for saying them all the same,” she whispers. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”
“I’m glad that I know, now, though. I no longer feel his shadow looming over me. I’m only sorry that you once again had to suffer at his hand. Even from beyond the grave.”
She gives him a sideways look.
“Yes, I know it’s really my fault!” he huffs, tears hovering at the corners of his eyes. “But in my defense, Gaius never told me not to look back!”
“Gaius told you not to use it at all!” she says, rather sharply, and coughs again.
“I’m so sorry, Guinevere. If… if you had died… if he had succeeded… my soul would have died along with you,” he says, reaching for her hand, a few tears rolling down his cheeks now.
“He tried to kill Percival as well,” he adds, pressing her fingers into his cheek, kissing them.
“Really? Surprised he didn’t go after Elyan,” she comments dryly. “Why Percival?”
“Commoner knight,” Arthur shrugs, still toying with her fingers. “Also, he was alone in the armory. My father may be dead, but he’s not stupid enough to attack a room full of knights, even as a ghost. He flung an axe at Percival.”
Gwen actually chuckles. “It’ll take a great deal more than that to take him down.”
“Got his arm fairly good, but he’ll be fine. As will you,” he squeezes her hand. “I rather think he was about to do Merlin in as well before I sent him back.”
“Probably would do, given the chance,” Gwen says. “He knows how important Merlin is to you.”
“He knows how important you are to me.”
“Which is exactly why he attacked me,” she says. “His pride is only surpassed by his ignorance, Arthur. The concept of a serving girl on the throne is not one he can even fathom.” She coughs again. Too much talking.
“I would have hoped that your gentle care of him in his final days would have softened his opinion of you,” Arthur says.
“He hardly knew where he was or who I was most of the time,” she reminds him.
“I know.”
“I’m sorry, Guinevere,” he repeats. “I… One of the things my father criticized me for was the fact that I listen to other people’s opinions. I rather think I need to do that more often, actually.”
“As long as you listen to the correct people, Arthur.”
“You,” he strokes the back of her hand with his thumb. “Gaius.”
“Merlin,” she adds, looking at him knowingly.
“Perhaps. Occasionally he says things that make sense.”
“Arthur…”
“Yes, I know.”
He releases her hand to stroke her cheek. She unsuccessfully tries to hold in a cough.
“Is that from the smoke?”
She nods. He drops his head. “Will it last very long?”
“You’ll have to ask Gaius. My lungs are trying to expel the smoke I inhaled. I don’t know how long I was there before Merlin found me.”
Merlin found her. I should have been the one to find her.
“Arthur?”
He lifts his head.
“Where is this horn now?”
He points across her to the bedside stand, the drawers where he keeps important things stowed.
She scoots over and opens a drawer, then another. Finding it, she withdraws the horn and looks at it.
“It is beautiful,” she allows.
“Guinevere, what…?” Arthur asks, surprised, when she swings her feet down on the opposite side of the bed, slipping them into some small leather slippers.
Saying nothing, she opens another drawer and pulls out a ring full of keys.
“What are you doing? You should stay in bed.”
“Except for the cough and a slight headache, I feel fine, Arthur. I’m taking this to the vaults,” she declares, putting on her dressing gown now.
He follows her to the door, and she stops halfway there, turning. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m going with you,” he says.
“You most certainly are not,” she declares, pushing him back with one palm on his chest. She removes her hand to block her cough again.
“What?”
“You heard me. If you insist on an escort, I will ask my brother. No, better still, I will ask Percival.”
He stands there, stunned but understanding. “You don’t want me to know where you’re going to put it.”
She turns and strides the rest of the way to the door. Just before leaving, she looks at him over her shoulder. “Arthur, if you ever get the urge to summon a dead parent, try your mother next time.”
Guinevere exits, and he hears her ask the guard outside about Percival’s whereabouts just as the door closes.
He sits heavily in his chair. My mother…
“Guinevere,” Arthur breathes when Guinevere’s eyes open. He had insisted that she be moved back to their chambers once the danger was over. He’s been keeping vigil in a rather uncomfortable chair beside their bed all night and well into the morning.
“What happened?” she asks, coughing, sitting up some. The coughing combined with the slight hoarseness of her voice gives him a pang in his stomach.
Arthur looks unbelievably contrite. He looks down, then away.
“Arthur. What. Did. You. Do?”
He sighs and tells her, sheepish, embarrassed. He tells her everything.
“I see,” she says, looking down. She coughs delicately into a handkerchief she’d been clutching as she listened.
“It was weak of me, Guinevere, I know. I was missing him so much, feeling the sting of his loss. Inconvenient timing. I… I just feel so alone sometimes…”
Her head turns sharply towards him, stung. “I see,” she repeats tersely looking down into her lap now, her fingers picking at the edges of the handkerchief.
“What? Oh… I… I didn’t mean… Guinevere, you know how much I love you, how much you mean to me.”
“And yet you feel alone.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I know you are always here for me and your counsel is more valuable to me than any other’s.”
She still looks at her hands.
“I simply mean that I sometimes miss my father’s guidance. Well, I used to miss it. Before… before I knew…”
“Before you knew that he really was a tyrant?” she asks quietly. “I’m sorry, Arthur, and I know it pains you to hear this, but,” she pauses, catching her breath, coughing again into her handkerchief, “but he valued nothing more than his power.”
“I know that now. His power, this kingdom. Being feared. All top of his list. Above me, even. I… I told him what a great queen you are. How wise you are. That I would rather not rule than rule alone. My words fell on deaf ears.”
“Thank you for saying them all the same,” she whispers. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”
“I’m glad that I know, now, though. I no longer feel his shadow looming over me. I’m only sorry that you once again had to suffer at his hand. Even from beyond the grave.”
She gives him a sideways look.
“Yes, I know it’s really my fault!” he huffs, tears hovering at the corners of his eyes. “But in my defense, Gaius never told me not to look back!”
“Gaius told you not to use it at all!” she says, rather sharply, and coughs again.
“I’m so sorry, Guinevere. If… if you had died… if he had succeeded… my soul would have died along with you,” he says, reaching for her hand, a few tears rolling down his cheeks now.
“He tried to kill Percival as well,” he adds, pressing her fingers into his cheek, kissing them.
“Really? Surprised he didn’t go after Elyan,” she comments dryly. “Why Percival?”
“Commoner knight,” Arthur shrugs, still toying with her fingers. “Also, he was alone in the armory. My father may be dead, but he’s not stupid enough to attack a room full of knights, even as a ghost. He flung an axe at Percival.”
Gwen actually chuckles. “It’ll take a great deal more than that to take him down.”
“Got his arm fairly good, but he’ll be fine. As will you,” he squeezes her hand. “I rather think he was about to do Merlin in as well before I sent him back.”
“Probably would do, given the chance,” Gwen says. “He knows how important Merlin is to you.”
“He knows how important you are to me.”
“Which is exactly why he attacked me,” she says. “His pride is only surpassed by his ignorance, Arthur. The concept of a serving girl on the throne is not one he can even fathom.” She coughs again. Too much talking.
“I would have hoped that your gentle care of him in his final days would have softened his opinion of you,” Arthur says.
“He hardly knew where he was or who I was most of the time,” she reminds him.
“I know.”
“I’m sorry, Guinevere,” he repeats. “I… One of the things my father criticized me for was the fact that I listen to other people’s opinions. I rather think I need to do that more often, actually.”
“As long as you listen to the correct people, Arthur.”
“You,” he strokes the back of her hand with his thumb. “Gaius.”
“Merlin,” she adds, looking at him knowingly.
“Perhaps. Occasionally he says things that make sense.”
“Arthur…”
“Yes, I know.”
He releases her hand to stroke her cheek. She unsuccessfully tries to hold in a cough.
“Is that from the smoke?”
She nods. He drops his head. “Will it last very long?”
“You’ll have to ask Gaius. My lungs are trying to expel the smoke I inhaled. I don’t know how long I was there before Merlin found me.”
Merlin found her. I should have been the one to find her.
“Arthur?”
He lifts his head.
“Where is this horn now?”
He points across her to the bedside stand, the drawers where he keeps important things stowed.
She scoots over and opens a drawer, then another. Finding it, she withdraws the horn and looks at it.
“It is beautiful,” she allows.
“Guinevere, what…?” Arthur asks, surprised, when she swings her feet down on the opposite side of the bed, slipping them into some small leather slippers.
Saying nothing, she opens another drawer and pulls out a ring full of keys.
“What are you doing? You should stay in bed.”
“Except for the cough and a slight headache, I feel fine, Arthur. I’m taking this to the vaults,” she declares, putting on her dressing gown now.
He follows her to the door, and she stops halfway there, turning. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m going with you,” he says.
“You most certainly are not,” she declares, pushing him back with one palm on his chest. She removes her hand to block her cough again.
“What?”
“You heard me. If you insist on an escort, I will ask my brother. No, better still, I will ask Percival.”
He stands there, stunned but understanding. “You don’t want me to know where you’re going to put it.”
She turns and strides the rest of the way to the door. Just before leaving, she looks at him over her shoulder. “Arthur, if you ever get the urge to summon a dead parent, try your mother next time.”
Guinevere exits, and he hears her ask the guard outside about Percival’s whereabouts just as the door closes.
He sits heavily in his chair. My mother…
