A/N : Hey everyone, okay - so, earlier on I was slightly hesitant about Arwen, but this episode just won me over. I just watched the bit...you know, THE bit, again and it inspired me to write this little ficlet. It's about how Gwen feels when Arthur walks out that afternoon, what's going through her mind.

Please let me know what you think?

XO, as always

Gwen

"I must go."

That's what he'd said to her. And she knew he was supposed to go, she knew he needed to – the tournament final would begin any minute now, and he'd be riding for the glory. Winning it to show the world that there was more to life than just a title, it was everything of bravery and strength…the power to take on the world with good deeds and strong willpower, and everything would become real to him, again.

She touched her fingers to her forehead, searching for the slightest twinge of normalcy to return to her thoughts, to creep into her heart. He had had to go, but she had wanted to beg him not to. Stay, she'd thought. Just keep here, Arthur and be with me, for a while. Let's pretend that this is reality.

The moment he had stepped through that door, he'd left it all behind. Rushing away from her and into the arms of danger. She had tried to pretend Merlin hadn't come bursting in when he had, she'd desperately tried to deny the words he'd spoken then, but the truth was that all of it had been real. Danger. The assassin Odin had sent could be around ever corner,he could be every man Arthur passed on the street.

She hurried from her shelter, searching for any sign of that ridiculous blue cloak, hoping to see him disappear safely into the tent where he would prepare for battle. A small sigh escaped her when he was nowhere to be found.

Closing her eyes briefly, she was horrified to see the image appear that she hadn't been able to get out of her mind ever since that dreadful day in the arena. She watched in agony as the black knight struck down sir Owain, and Morgana's red ribbon was ripped from around his tender wrist, dancing in the wind. The flagrant red between the yellow sand.

She pulled the cloak tighter around her body, hoping to keep the cold away. It was a bright, sunny afternoon, yet for some reason she couldn't manage to find the warmth in the air. It wasn't tangible, today – only the brief gust of warm autumn wind that had left when he had.

If only she could stop her mind from racing. Things would be a lot easier, then. She prayed for the power to shift time, where she could fast forward through this awful jousting match and see him safely, home again. When that time had come, she would look at him and smile, before casting her eyes down to earth. She was a servant now, and he a prince.

Rewind. Come back to the time when he'd been there, right there next to her at dinner, and really savor it, again. Confront him about lying to her, but forgiving him just moments later. And then she'd make the hours longer, let him stay with her and really talk to him, if only to yell at him for being an arrogant pig.

Have him kiss her again.

She took her place on the stand and folded her hands neatly into her lap, but she found herself unable to keep them still. Gaius looked at her and smiled. "Worried about the arrogant knight?"

She smiled. Only a little. "Something like that…"

The sound of the trumpet terrified her like it never had before. She watched, closely, as he rode into the arena with his head held high, his spear in a steady grip. Her breath caught when she saw just a hint of pale blue ribbon beneath his armour, and she smiled.

It was at that moment. That's when she knew he'd be alright.

-

She'd been wrong.

The very second he collapsed, bending over in his saddle, seemed to last an eternity. Make time fly again, she prayed, rising from her seat and walking out. She ran, needing him to be okay as badly as he needed this tournament to feel worthy. More…

When she reached him, the first thing that passed through his lips were the letters that formed her own name. "Guinevere." His voice sounded rough and tired, and the blood seeping through his chainmail was almost more than she could bear.

"I'm here," she told him, while she took his hand to lay across her shoulders. "I've got you."

She tried to reason with him, tried to make him see that though she knew this meant a lot to him, it wasn't worth dying over. "You would risk your life to protect your pride?" It didn't make sense to her, yet it did. He gave her a weak smile that made her feeling even more broken before accepting the helmet again.

"I like those flowers in your hair." He murmured. "They're nice."

She granted him a breathless laugh. "Thank you," she said, before suddenly reaching for his left hand, pulling the chainmail over his wrist. The ribbon had come undone, and she fastened it again for him.

"Keep this close to you." She asked him. "Promise me.."

Arthur nodded. "I promise," he said, allowing her to carry him. She was sure the desperation was evident in her voice but didn't care – let him see that he was not meant to die, that too many people relied on him here.

It was only a second, but it was there, as real as it had been at her house. It was as real in the shadow of the shrill daylight as it had been in the coccooning warmth of her home. Just the briefest of kisses on her forehead, and she knew he could feel her tremble. "It's going to be aaall right, Guinevere." He teasingly told her, but that sentence too, held a promise.

And she would keep him to it.

Ok, pleaaaase tell me what you think? It would mean the world to me!
Xo, as always!