This is not my first Merlin fanfiction, but it is the first after a long unintended hiatus…real life insisted and I had to oblige. I am quite apprehensive about posting this, I had some good reviews from my previous stories and this one here feels…well, I will let the rest of you be the judge of it. There are a lot of perspective shifts...please bear with me as my muses are to blame for this. I just write what I see unfold in my mind.

This is my take on Guinevere's betrayal of Arthur. A love that legendary would not have just fallen apart because of an alleged affair.

Reviews make my day. I do not own Merlin. I have never given up, though, on owning the Crowned Prince of Camelot…soon to be Regent, perhaps?

She arrived in Camelot at twilight, just as the sun sunk deeper into the horizon. It was a time of both darkness and light, matching her own feelings. She was returning home; that gave her hope. Hope that her husband has finally knows the truth. But somewhere in the deep recesses of her heart, she felt apprehension. That nothing was well. Nothing could be well, not after the events that occurred two weeks ago...but that was a long time ago. she holds nothing against her husband for...judging her. The important thing is, she was coming home.

She rode through the lanes of the lower village, rushing past the cottage that she had lived in until the day she married Arthur. The cottage still stood; it was a getaway spot for the both of them; a reminder of times that despite its perils, had been a delight. They were in the cottage just a few weeks ago; Arthur burning his finger in his effort to impress his wife with his almost non-existent cooking skills.

She smiled at the thought of the events of that particular evening and surprised herself at the fact that she could still smile. All happiness was wiped out from her life two weeks ago and not even the memories of the wonderful times she shared with Arthur had brought her any comfort in the long days and night she had spent away from him. Not that she had been in any state to laugh or reminisce. But at that moment, riding towards the castle, she was able to smile again...the events of two weeks ago nothing more than a nightmare, a memory that is already disappearing the closer to home. She was going home to her husband.

She entered the courtyard and the guards on the duty ran towards her as she slowed down her horse. They caught the reins of the horse and helped her dismount. By then, it was already dark. The other two riders were already in the courtyard as well. She did look at them; she was more concerned with the darkness in the castle. It was night time and the torches of the castle were barely lit. She turned towards the main entrance of the castle and saw her friend standing at the top of the stone steps.

One look at him and all hope disappeared. And at that moment she knew, she should not have left when she was told to leave two weeks ago.

Three weeks earlier...

Arthur had wanted to accompany Guinevere to Ealdor for the Harvest Festival, but there had been an uprising in the eastern borders of Albion. A group of mercenaries were running rampage in the outlying border villages and though they were mostly looting and pillaging, being a general nuisance was Sir Gwaine's assessment of the situation. But there was a danger that it could escalate to somewhere more violent and as the protector of Albion, Arthur could not risk overlooking these attack and felt compelled to squash the ragtag bunch of barbarians. It was decided at the council of the Round Table that Arthur would lead the Albion army against the mercenaries. Merlin, Sir Elyan and Sir Gwaine were to join in the campaign. Merlin was rather upset at missing the start of Harvest Festival in Ealdor; Arthur assured him that they will return before the festival ended.

Since it was a short campaign, the women of the Royal Court were not to accompany their husbands to the battlefield. Arthur had a little bit of trouble explaining this to Guinevere, who had been with him at every battlefield in every war he has fought for the creation and unification of Albion. She had even fought in some of them, she pointed out, both as a reminder and warning to Arthur. Arthur had then gently pointed out that the Queen's presence in the Ealdor would be much appreciated. He also reminded his Queen that she had promised the young children there that she would aid them in planting some trees. Surely she would not want to disappoint the children?

Guinevere had to admit her husband had played his cards absolutely well. She agreed to his plans; she was to go to Ealdor and Arthur would ride directly from the eastern borders to the village, as soon as the rebellion is put down. The agreement was sealed with a kiss, which led the King asking his Queen for something to remember her by in the long nights at the battlefield. Guinevere had promptly blew out the candles and told Arthur to get a good night's sleep. When Arthur protested that this was furthest thing he had in mind when he asked her for a token, Guinevere merely said that he will have trouble sleeping soundly in the battlefield camp, so as a good wife, she was obliged to give her husband what he deserved before he left alone to the battlefield.

The next morning, the knights had to wait almost half and hour before their King showed up to commence their ride to the eastern borders. The King muttered an apology, mentioning his wife dressing him that morning. The rest of the knights hid their smile when the Queen came to wish them goodbye; her shy smile and the glow of a woman loved gave away the reason for their King's delay. She had apparently given the King something to remember her, and no doubt, a reason to rush back to her, in the early hours of the morning.

As he rode away, in his full battle regalia, Guinevere felt the love she had for her husband overwhelming her. she tried not to cry; there was nothing to worry about, Arthur was courageous and he had men as equally courageous as he was. Merlin was with him too; the warlock's presence always gave Guinevere more peace of mind than the sword Excalibur Arthur wielded. Yet, as he disappeared from her view, she could not help the tears that fell from her eyes...her husband; so strong, courageous...loving. she knew he would return to her safe and refuse to think anything other than that, lest she would jinx the luck Arthur has had in the battlefield thus far.

She turned back to the castle. Another tear fell from her eyes, betraying her resolve, not to mention her promise to Arthur, to be strong. She glanced heavenwards and prayed for her husband to return to her safely. Wiping tears from her eyes, because Arthur would not have her crying, she made preparations to leave for Ealdor. Sir Leon, wounded at a battle not too long ago and now a trusted advisor and administer of the Royal Court, was to be in charge of the affairs of the kingdom for the next few days or so. This enabled Guinevere to leave for Ealdor earlier. She did not want to stay in the castle for too long after Arthur's departure; everywhere she turned, she was reminded of Arthur. And while it is true she carried him in her heart, she also knew getting involved in the festival in Ealdor is the distraction she needed from worrying needlessly for her husband.

She left for Ealdor in the afternoon. Twelve knights accompanied her. Leading them was one of the Knights of the Round Table, Sir Lancelot.

Arthur did not come for the Harvest Festival at Ealdor. He sent a herald to Ealdor, to the village chieftain, rather than to Guinevere; sending his best wishes to the villagers and praying for a more bountiful harvest next year. the herald had no message for Guinevere, who was surprised by this admission. Further questioning of the herald revealed that Arthur had returned to the castle the day after he rode out to the battlefield, where there was apparently no signs of the mercenaries or any sort of barbarians. Arthur had apparently had been swamped by administrative affairs of the kingdom and visiting dignitaries that the visit to Ealdor had simply been scrapped. Guinevere did not know if she was angry or surprised, but seeing that she was the only one from the Royal Court, she stayed on for another day before riding back to Camelot. She sent word with the herald that she will be by her husband's side by mid-day on the day after tomorrow.

If the Queen had been upset over the King not attending the festival, she did not show it. She was as gracious as ever, participating in the events of the festivals with the same enthusiasm as she would have with her husband's presence. Only Sir Lancelot seemed a little disconcerted, but he had never been one to display his emotions publicly and remained stoic for the rest of the stay. The day after the Queen proclaimed the festival to open, the royal entourage left early in the morning, waved on by the villagers of Ealdor, who wished nothing but happiness for their King and Queen.

At Guinevere's urging, the carriage driver pushed the horses to their limits. The journey back to Camelot would take a whole day and night, but Guinevere insisted on riding through the night, after a brief rest. The royal entourage arrived at Camelot just before noon. And the closer she got to the castle, she felt a shift in her emotions...something had changed, for the worse. She wondered if Arthur or any of her friends had been hurt...or worse.

The royal carriage entered the courtyard of the castle, surprisingly filled with people. Of course, the castle was always filled with people, but this time, the people were not there for an audience with the King or any castle-related matters. Guinevere knew at once that it was an assembly. The only thing she could not discern was the reason for it.

Her carriage door was opened and Guinevere was surprised that Arthur was not there, waiting for her, as he usually did when she arrived from her travels. Sir Lancelot helped her out of the carriage. As she descended from the carriage, she was puzzled by the distinct lack of sound or any sort of noise. Every single one in the courtyard was silent. And every single one of them was looking at her. Guinevere caught the sight of one the villagers who was staring at her. She smiled at the woman. The woman looked on at her, her face devoid of any expression. The crowd parted and Guinevere made her way towards the entrance of the castle, Sir Lancelot a step behind her.

"Halt, Guinevere." Arthur's voice rang clear from the first floor balcony above the courtyard. Guinevere turned with a smile towards the sound of her husband's voice. The smile disappeared from her the moment she laid eyes on her husband. Surprise gave away for something she had never felt of all the time she had known and loved Arthur. Looking at his cold expression, Guinevere felt fear towards Arthur for the first time in her life. She had seen the look on Arthur's face before, but never once had it been directed towards someone close to him, let alone at Guinevere. She felt a chill along her spine when she saw the rigid set of his jaw and the angry glint in his eyes.

This was not her husband at all. She had never seen Arthur this angry in her life before.

"Arthur?" Guinevere spoke, the tremble in voice barely disguised.

"You shall only speak when you are asked to do so," Arthur said, looking at Guinevere.

Guinevere looked up at Arthur, a frown on her face. She had no clue as to what was going on. Lancelot still stood behind her, muttering if Arthur had gone mad. That was when she realized something. The people in the courtyard were assembled for a trial. By some unknown reason, Guinevere was the centre of the trial. She looked up at the balcony and saw the rest of the Knights of the Round Table flanking their King. Merlin, as usual, was on Arthur's right. His expression too was similar to Arthur. The only one who showed any other emotion was Sir Gwaine, who seemed indignant at the proceedings. But loyalty to Arthur kept him from acting out on his impulses, and he looked pained to be a part of something he clearly did not want to participate, let alone to have agreed on.

"Guinevere, you have been charged with treason towards the King of Albion," Arthur spoke with icy detachedness.

Before Guinevere could react, not that she could have done much except to stare at Arthur, for his words cut through her like a knife, Lancelot stepped forward. "Sire, I must protest..."

"Sir Lancelot, you have also been charged with treason towards the King," Arthur said, interrupting Lancelot.

"Treason?" Lancelot said. "I am a Knight of..."

"You have besmirched the title of a Knight of the Round Table with your actions, Sir Lancelot." Arthur was looking at Guinevere as he spoke. "More than that, I have lost the trust and confidence I had in you."

"What is the meaning of this, Sire?" Guinevere asked, her tone pleading to Arthur for something she could understand.

"Guinevere, you have been carrying out an illicit affair with Sir Lancelot..."

That was all she heard, before her world crashed into itself. Of all things she had lived through, what were mere words from Arthur killed her. she felt nothing, no confusion, nor anger. She heard nothing; not of Arthur who was reading out the list of her charges. Nor did she heard Lancelot protesting Guinevere's innocence and his as well. She saw nothing; not Sir Gwaine protesting quite vocally on behalf of her and Lancelot. Not did she see Sir Gwaine being led away by Sir Percival for protesting too much.

The charges were read and the judgement was passed; Guinevere and Lancelot was not given the chance to defend themselves. Guinevere was stripped of her title and banished from Albion, as was Lancelot. Should they be seen in the kingdom again, they would be hung. The King had shown some leniency for Guinevere had been his queen and Lancelot a good friend.

Guinevere remembers nothing after that. She vaguely remembers Lancelot leading her away from the castle, on foot. They walked for miles, before he bought two horses from a farmer. Then they rode the whole day and night, before stopping for rest at daybreak. All the while, Guinevere was just waiting and waiting to wake up from this nightmare. She was sure she was dreaming because there was no other she could explain the events that had happened. Nor could she explain why she felt so numb; she could not cry, she could not feel anything. All she remembers was walking out of the castle courtyard and turning around to look at Arthur one last time. She saw a tear fall from his eye as he watched her.

Why? Why did he cry?

It was the only things she spoke of to Lancelot, repeating the question, as she relived that moment over and over again.

Lancelot could not answer her, as he tried to forge ahead, trying to make sense of the events that had turned what had been a perfectly good life, upside down, with no chance of ever being redeemed again.

They had wandered the borders of Camelot for days, seeking refuge in caves and abandoned huts. Guinevere did not speak, she merely followed Lancelot. She did not do much of anything. Lancelot understood what she was going through; he tried to talk to her about it, but the conversation had been one – sided. He gave up after that and focused on surviving…the purpose of survival eluding him because this was a fate was worse than death itself. Perhaps he kept on going because one day, Arthur would realize that everything had been a monumental mistake. It seemed a remote hope, but Lancelot needed that to trudge through each day.

They came to Avalon on the tenth day. She sat on the grass the edge of Avalon, overlooking the beautiful lake. She had been here many times; picnics with Arthur and even once had accompanied Merlin when he came to visit the Lady of the Lake. But she could not recall any of it, as she stared on at the surface of the lake, liquid diamonds reflecting the sun overhead. She supposed the scenery in front of her was spectacular, but she was lost in her thoughts. Whenever Lancelot spoke to her, she could only stare back at him. In her mind's eyes, she could see herself crying…crying for her broken heart, her shattered soul and a life that has been torn apart by mere words. Heart, life and soul…all entwined…all of which was Arthur's own. And now, to have been violently yanked from all that she knew…How could she cry when she could not even begin to acknowledge what she felt. Everything was overwhelming. She saw no beginning nor an end to her predicament. All she felt was…nothing.

Sitting not far away from her, sword in his hand, and staring at the lake, Lancelot seemed similarly dazed, but it was obvious that he was angry. Angry for the accusation. Angry for not being given the chance of speaking for his innocence. Most of all, he was angry Arthur had been a part of a ridiculous trial and passed an even more ridiculous judgement. He wondered who would have poisoned the King's mind…such allegations had no basis of truth whatsoever. He had, a long time ago and even Arthur was aware of this, had some feelings for Guinevere. But when he became a Knight of Camelot, a Knight of the Round Table, he had been given a purpose, for the first time in his life. Knowing that whatever he felt for the Queen would only cause complications, he had come to accept that Arthur was Guinevere's one true love. Lancelot was simply not in the equation of Arthur and Guinevere's life. He had told of this to Merlin once a long time ago and he had always been a man of his words. To have been accused of having an affair by Arthur himself…that had been mortal blow itself, but Merlin not rising to defend him…there was nothing more Lancelot could do. Not when the judgement had been so swift.

And for every day that passed, Lancelot found the hope he clung on to fade, until one day, he was sure, that there will be no redemption for him or the Queen.

Gwaine came for them in the early hours of the fourteenth day. He dismounted before the horse could fully stop and rushed to hug Lancelot and Guinevere. And then he told them Arthur wanted them to return to Camelot. Arthur wanted Guinevere to return home to him.

And that was when Guinevere cried. The suffocating walls around her crumbled and she felt she could breathe again…to feel again. She felt happiness. Overwhelming happiness. Arthur wanted her back. She had finally woken up from the nightmare…she was going home to her husband.

She did not see Gwaine leading Lancelot a little further away from her. And he did not hear when Gwaine told Lancelot about the mortal injuries Arthur had sustained in the final battle with Mordred at Camlann.

The Queen did not hear that the King of Albion was dying of his wounds and his last wish was to see his beloved wife.

Guinevere was greeted at the entrance of the castle, her home, really, by Merlin. Merlin had been crying. Never in the twenty years or so she had known him had Guinevere seen Merlin cry. Before she could ask what was wrong, Merlin told her everything.

There had been no mercenaries at the eastern borders. It was nothing more than a ruse by Morgana and Mordred to get Arthur out of Camelot. Incensed by their petulance and his own misplaced trust that Morgana might yet have some humanity left in her, Arthur had ordered the capture of both Morgana and Mordred. A hundred or so Druids with magical powers may have been a force to reckon with, but wandering for days in the inhabitable lands near the borders had left them weak. The Albion army overwhelmed the Druids; many of them killed in the aftermath of the battle. Arthur welcomed magic in Albion, but Morgana and Mordred advocated something more darker and sinister than the magic practised by Merlin and the other warlocks in Albion. Morgana had killed Uther, with little regards that he was her father and had attempted to kill Arthur on many occasions. Not many were sorry to see her lifeless body after a drawn out battle with Merlin. But Mordred swore revenge on Arthur, starting with Arthur's beloved wife. He promised Arthur, before he disappeared into the shadows of the forest, that he will kill Guinevere with his bare hands; magic was too good for a mere handmaiden.

The Albion army pursued after Mordred, but Arthur gave up the chase. He needed to return to Camelot to protect Guinevere. He knew Mordred would not stay hidden for long, his retribution would be swift, he will come for Guinevere.

In the Royal Council following Arthur's return from the battlefield, Arthur made a casual inquiry of the whereabouts of his wife. Merlin had been surprised, he was sure Arthur knew that Guinevere was waiting for him at Ealdor. Arthur claimed he knew not of such arrangements and proceeded to ask for Sir Lancelot's reason for being absent from Council. Sir Gwaine had pointed out that Sir Lancelot had left for Ealdor with the Queen. Arthur responded by banging his fist on the table, exclaiming he has had with the two of them carrying out an illicit affair behind his back. The rest of the Council had been stunned into silence. When Merlin tried to calm him down, Arthur had replied he would not be made into a fool…he was the King of Albion. Sir Gwaine had thought it was all a joke and jested that the King might have received a blow to his head during the battle. His efforts were shot down by a ferocious glare from Arthur that silenced the rest of the Knights. Arthur then proclaimed his wife and Lancelot will be tried for treason the moment they return to Camelot and anyone questioning his actions would be tried separately for treason as well. The Council was dismissed and Arthur left the chamber before his friends could start protesting. After that, Arthur had refused to talk with anyone, let alone listen to their pleadings of Guinevere and Lancelot's innocence. None could reach out to the King; it was as if his heart had turned to stone.

Two days later, Guinevere returned to Camelot. Arthur had decreed that the citizens of Camelot be present to witness that no one is above the laws of the kingdom. He forbade any of the Knights to speak; he did not want to show that there was dissent amongst the council of the Round Table and would take it a personal insult if anyone tried to interfere what is essentially his personal matter. Just before the trial, Merlin had asked Arthur to reconsider one more time; asking him if it was necessary to have such a public trial. Arthur had pointed out he was the King of Albion and because of that, he needed to set an example that he is wise and just ruler. Merlin then told Arthur he did not see anything wise in Arthur's actions...just a man out to make a fool of himself. Arthur then told Merlin that another word from him regarding the matter would be at the peril of their friendship.

Then came the trial and before he knew it, Arthur had banished his wife and friend from Camelot . The next order of business was sending heralds to all corners of Albion, challenging Mordred to name the place and time for their duel. Three of the seven heralds were sent back, beheaded and with a note stuck on their backs. Camlann. On the eve of midsummer. Arthur was to come alone and if Mordred as much as sense the presence of Merlin anywhere within a hundred miles of Camlann, he would not bother to show up and they could return to their cat and mouse game until the day Arthur died. Arthur accepted the challenge, much to the horror of the Merlin and the rest of the Knights of the Round Table. They tried to protest, but Arthur would not hear of it. He was the protector of Albion. He had to do what he should have done along time ago, he had claimed. Sir Gwaine was threatened with time in the dungeons for his vocal protests and when the king would not hear what he had to say, he had thrown down his gauntlet. It seemed to Merlin, at that time, nothing in Camelot was going as it should be. Arthur picked up the gauntlet and told Sir Gwaine he would deal with him after his return from Camlann.

Merlin had been the last to speak to the King before he left for Camlann. He had helped the King to dress for battle, as he had done a long time ago when he was Arthur's manservant. Merlin had told Arthur then that he understood why Arthur did it. He should have realized it, he admitted, when he saw Arthur for acting so indifferently during the trial, almost as if Guinevere meant nothing to him. No one had seen the tears in his eyes as he watched wife leave the castle courtyard. Nor did anyone see the way the King held on to the stone ledge of the balcony. They had all thought it was because he was controlling his rage. Merlin realized then that Arthur was holding himself back from rushing to Guinevere.

"It was nothing more than a ruse, Guinevere," Merlin said, holding Guinevere's hand, hoping that she would see the wisdom in Arthur's seemingly foolish actions. "He wanted to banish you publicly so that Mordred would think you meant nothing to him. It was to divert Mordred's attention back to Arthur. To let Arthur issue the challenge and for Mordred to accept knowing that he could not hurt Arthur through you. Arthur had to make sure everything was authentic so that Mordred would be sufficiently fooled. Arthur knew he had hurt you beyond forgiveness and told me that he could never look at himself ever again for doing that to you."

Guinevere listened to everything Merlin was telling her, hardly able to understand the words she was hearing. Every fibre of her being knew that something had gone wrong. She did not want to listen Merlin any more than she wanted to be apart from her husband. She understood Arthur had done what he did to save her life. That was enough of an explanation to her. All she wanted was Arthur.

"Where is Arthur?" she asked, speaking for the first time since she banished.

Merlin led her into the castle. He continued with his explanation. Arthur had arrived in Camlann and found Mordred waiting for him, seemingly alone, but Mordred had never been one to fight fair. It had been an ambush and Arthur found himself over-powered by dozens of Druids. That was when Sir Gwaine had rode in, daring anyone to as much as scratch his King. In the ensuing confusion, Arthur had locked on to Mordred and using Excalibur, had been able to fatally injure him. In his true dark magic ways, Mordred had waited until Arthur had his back turned to him before he plunged the poison tipped lance into Arthur's side. Sir Gwaine picked up Excalibur and severed Mordred's head with it.

Arthur Pendragon, High King of Albion, collapsed to the ground of the battle field for the first and last time in his lifetime.

Merlin's voice broke and he could not continue any more.

She remembers the young prince who used to pull her pony tail and then blew raspberries at her. She remembers the young prince who returned from any battle or tournament, wearing his scars and injuries like trophies. She remembers the young prince who set out to save his manservant's village because it was the least he could do for a friend. She remembers the man who brought her a single rose when he came to tell her that he loved her. She remembers the man who told his father he would give up everything just to be with her. She remembers the man who proposed marriage to her, in the middle of the town square, with the citizens of Camelot watching and urging her to say yes. He remembers the King who made her Queen and then admit to everyone at the Royal Banquet that Guinevere was more than the Queen of Albion...she was the Queen of his heart.

In all her memories of Arthur, she only remembers him as strong, beautiful, and larger than life. Arthur was never an ordinary man. He created Albion. He created equality among men. He brought peace to the realm of Albion. He did what other men could only dream of achieving in multiple lifetimes in the span of less than a decade. Her husband was invincible.

Standing at the doorway to their chamber, Guinevere could see someone lying on their bed. The person's features were hidden from her view by a bedpost. One step forward and she would be able to see the person on the bed. However, her legs were leaden. She had not awakened from her nightmare yet, for she already knows that it is Arthur on the bed. But if she waited long enough, she reasoned, she would eventually wake up and she would not have to see her worst nightmare coming true.

"Guinevere?"

Now she knows that it was not Arthur on their bed. Arthur's voice had been strong...this person who addressed her sounded weak...

She could only deny to herself that much. Their heartstrings were entwined and Guinevere rushed to Arthur, who waited for her with his arms held open.

"My dearest love," he whispered against her hair, as she embraced him, crying. "My most precious love."

"Arthur..." was all she could say as she held him close to her.

"Forgive me, my love..." Arthur began, but Guinevere hushed him, a finger to his lips, shaking her head. She saw the bloodied bandage concealing the wound on his side. It was almost with fascination that she reached out and touched the blood soaked muslin. His blood felt warm against her finger. The rest of his body however, were cold.

"You are going to be all right, Arthur," Guinevere told him, wiping tears from her eyes. Whoever has heard the wife of a Knight crying?

"I am now, love." He managed a smile despite the fever racking his body. "I love you."

"If you love me, you fight this," Guinevere told him, holding his hands. Arthur squeezed her hands tight.

"I have been fighting, love. I was waiting for you..."

"I am here now. And I will never leave you again."

"I am afraid I have to pay for the consequences of my actions..."

"You were protecting me. I am safe because of that."

"But I had hurt you..."

"Nothing you do can hurt me, my love. You will be well."

"Beautiful," Arthur said, looking at his wife. "Lie with me, Guinevere." He indicated the space next to him on the bed. She did as she was told, lying next to him, holding his hand. His body was shivering, fighting a relentless poison. "What is the most wonderful memory you have of us, my love?"

Guinevere smiled despite her tears. That was an easy question to answer. "You walking into my home for the first time. You claimed you cooked me dinner, but it was a meal from the castle. The next morning, you left for your tournament..."

"We kissed for the first time..." his voice trailed away. "I still have your token..."

Guinevere nodded, kissing Arthur's hand. Her token, a piece of lavender cloth, frayed at the edges, was tied on their bedpost. Arthur had taken it to every battlefield, the cloth tied to his wrist. It was a reminder, he had told her once. To return to her safely. The piece of cloth was still tied around his wrist, soaking with blood.

"I shall have it with me always..." he said.

"Yes, my love."

"Do you forgive me, Guinevere?"

"There is nothing for forgive, Arthur. I love you. There had never been a moment in my life when I have not loved you..."

Arthur sighed and squeezed her hand. Guinevere squeezed back, not wanting to let go. She looked up and saw Arthur smiling at her. "I love you," they said together. Arthur smiled, his blue eyes twinkling, a genuine sign of happiness that Guinevere had come to recognize. Her husband was happy.

"For ever and ever, Guinevere..."

The hand holding hers became slack and the blue eyes saw her no more.

The Queen's cry of anguish was heard all over the castle.

~~~THE END~~~