Kind of long A/N: This is the first fanfic I've written in a four years, and the first Merlin fic I've ever written. It's mostly canon, as far as Merlin/Arthur can be. This would be vaguely set between season four and five, influenced by parts of season five. Lancelot is alive. To start this will be fairly Arthur-centric, and then more Merlin-centric. I have about 8000 words of this written so far, about four chapters. I'll post two and see how they do then possibly make changes to the rest based on response.

The first chapter is Arthur/Gwen (failing relationship), and you can feel free to skip it, I'll write a little summary at the start of chapter two if you don't want the repetitive angst that is a relationship falling apart. There will be less and less Gwen from there, the rest will be Merlin/Arthur pre-slash or slash.

Chapter One:

..XxXxX..

Arthur and Guinevere Pendragon had been happily married for two years.

And less happily married for several months past that. Arthur had thought he was in love. He had felt like he was. He allowed Gwen so much of himself he'd never thought to share with anyone else.

Gwen taught him patience. She would ask for explanations of the court, the same questions a million times when it was something so simple to Arthur, and he would forgive it and calmly reply. She would draw him from his work, regardless of how important it was, and he allowed it with a smile. Nothing she did could press past the peaceful feeling being in her presence brought to him.

Gwen taught him to hold his temper. If they argued, she would leave the room to think through what had been said and later approach it levelly, though she knew nothing bothered him more than being walked away from when he was talking. He would cool the blood that readied his tongue for insults, reminding himself how much Gwen meant to him and understanding that a few harsh words would drive away her tender heart if he ever let himself go.

Gwen had, more than anything, given him love and companionship when he felt like sinking into thought and inaction because of his father's death. He had grasped at their relationship and delved deep into the happiness it brought him to fight back the pain in his heart and try to replace the missing piece.

He had believed in their future. But none of that seemed to matter anymore. Quite suddenly, his patience was wearing thin. Every petty matter made him feel he hated Gwen, and what he wanted became more important than their relationship.

Arthur sometimes tried to picture Gwen with someone else. His mind would jump to how he felt finding her with Lancelot, and at first it hurt just as it had in that moment. Not just the betrayal, but the jealousy, he was usually quite good at being jealous. Eventually, even this thought failed to bring the pang of hurt: Gwen moving on felt inevitable, because he knew he couldn't keep this up.

Sometimes he tried to think of why it had changed. Perhaps their basic differences, or the feeling he could never fully trust her because of one large mistake on her part, had eventually quelled his passion for her. It was as if he had fallen out of love, causing him to wonder if it hadn't been obsession. He'd always believed, childish as it seemed to him, that love once begun would last a lifetime. He scoffed at the idea now, telling himself nothing could last but responsibility.

Arthur was still so comfortable with Gwen, and he was fond of her, sometimes he even felt that he owed her a debt, but there was no heat left. He didn't want to admit he could not change back, could not be in love with her again, but he had tried for months.

Gwen was perceptive. She knew something was changing. There were times his smiles fell flat. Sometimes he let his annoyance at her too-frequent touches show in his rigid movements. He showed no interest anymore in anything but sleeping when night came. Gwen would answer these with only a questioning glance, as if she didn't dare to look hurt, and try that much more to please him.

He sat at his desk now, looking over at Gwen, who was staring out the window to the darkened city. He took in her lovely profile, the dark ringlets and soft skin he had been captivated by at one time. Arthur tried, as he had many times, to conjure up that feeling again.

He failed, and as Gwen glanced over at him with a small smile, Arthur mirrored the expression in a way he hoped spoke of mutual caring. Her smile remained as she looked back to the nighttime view. "Love you." She said, with the sincere, soft quality her voice still carried only while speaking those words.

"And I you, with all my heart." The words felt like sand in his mouth, but he said them as he always did, hoping to prove to himself he meant them. After all, it must take a great deal of love to stay with someone and try so very hard. Arthur ignored that it may be the simplest way, and that part of him believed that even without love he and Gwen may be happiest together. And he wanted her to be happy.

..XxXxX..

He wondered if his heart had frosted over sometime between the pleading for him to just try a bit longer and the constant clinging touches. Arthur did care for Gwen deeply, and he hated seeing her unhappy. He knew that this was his fault, and that this reaction was not the worst she could have. He was taking away so much by falling out of love. But watching her eyes brighten and then the tears coursing down her pretty cheeks no longer caused his throat to tighten. He felt sorry for her, and a part of him almost wanted to just care again, but he was resigned to the fact that he could not.

He cared for her, of course. Arthur wanted her life to be as bright as it was when they thought they were in love. He just knew he could not be the one to give her what she wanted.

He allowed her to take his hand in hers, holding it to her cheek and sniffling, trying not to continue crying. "Please, Arthur." She whispered, pain tightening her brow. "Do you remember…" It always came back to this, and the nostalgia did make him ache for that feeling. He wanted to remember with her: how he had been willing to risk his crown for her. How he had felt a warmth deep in his chest when he held her tight to him, thinking 'this is what love feels like'; when the urge to protect her from anyone, to make her happy above all else, stole into him. Sometimes he thought if he could just be magicked back into love with her he would take that option.

He'd told her for months now that he didn't feel as he once did. She, observant as ever, had finally asked him why he was becoming distant. It hurt her to have him shy away from her tender touches. And he summoned more than the bravery he knew he had, acknowledging that he would hurt her further with the truth but that he couldn't bear to lie to her forever. He wasn't in love with her. Perhaps he never had been, though it had felt… he had thought… But it didn't matter anymore. How many times had her tears made him promise things he could not keep? How many times had she begged him and he had acquiesced because he just couldn't be the one to do this to her?

He had tried to enjoy things with her, had tried to heat their relationship once more, but no matter how one breathed on kindling, without a spark no fire would be born. Arthur was sick of being blamed for everything that happened between them, she would tell him he 'needed to get better' as if he was a sulking child. It did hurt that his father was gone. It didn't matter that he'd watched the King decay into a man, or that he was no longer a boy in need of a father to help him each day. He missed the guidance, and the pride, and he was afraid of what he was capable of without someone to tell him 'no'. Perhaps he would bring the kingdom to ruin. Perhaps tomorrow he simply wouldn't be able to get out of bed due to the crushing weight of shouldering it all. He worried often, and snapped at Guinevere when she didn't deserve it, and she would tell him that he wasn't pleasant to be around all of the time.

Now, and for the past few months, he could feel the gloom receding. He felt he was becoming a better king, and that his father would be proud yet. He had found friends in his knights, and in his manservant, the likes of which he had never known. He was not alone, and they believed in the country he worked to create with such fervor they would fight beside him until it was so. Not to mention brightening his days with their childish antics or loyal statements.

No, he had come to see that he was not drifting toward something dark, but rather toward a truth. He did not love Guinevere, and he could do nothing to fix that. All he could do was allow her out of their relationship and hope it led them both to a happier path in the future. He did hope she would remain in his life, but he did not press her for this, it was something she must choose alone.

He was tired of trying for nothing, and he realized fully the inevitable end that each "I'll try" simply postponed. He understood after telling her it was over, and that was that, that she had never really believed him. She blamed his sorrow on finally accepting his father's death and said that their love would come back to him once he had healed from that event. Gwen knew the pain that came from losing one so dear, and though they grieved in different ways she had attributed much of his lacking emotion to his hiding all feeling away while in pain.

"I just never believed you could do this to me." She told him, voice hitching with her withheld sobs. Part of him wanted to hate her for making him hate himself. Arthur knew this was all he could do, help her through as a friend and tell her once and again that he could not change his mind because it was not just his mind which felt this way. "I still believe you love me. You may not feel it now, but somewhere –" Gwen laid a palm on his shoulder, looking into his eyes. "–You do love me. And when you remember, you only need to tell me. I'll forget all about this. I'd do anything, Arthur." A quiet gasp shook her. "I understand we cannot be together now. I will let you sort yourself, and I will be here."

"That's not what I'm asking from you. I need you to move on and be happy alone or, eventually, with–"

"It doesn't matter what you're asking. I need to be honest with you the same way you need to be honest with me. Do you want to be with someone else?" She glanced away, then back to him. She had asked this many times over the past months as well.

He fought back a sigh of irritation and didn't roll his eyes. "No. I don't know. I'm not doing this because I do, though. Perhaps I will eventually." He left unsaid that he simply couldn't be with her anymore, that they were what wasn't working. It was true, he didn't have eyes for anyone else in particular, but he didn't hate the notion of new love after months trapped in a one-sided and stale relationship. He felt guilty thinking this, and knew the information would only hurt Gwen.

"I think that would be the only thing that could show me that you were ready for love and truly not in love with me anymore. I would move on then." She was weeping truly, tears making several tracks from each deep brown eye as if she needed to release them too quickly for them to file orderly out. He noticed things of this nature now when she cried, his emotions detached from the event. "But I hope you don't. It's selfish, but I want you to be happy only with me." A sad smile turned at her lips. "I'll move to the guest quarters, you shouldn't be sleeping away from your own bed."

"No, I'll move to my old rooms." He held up a hand to quiet her protests. "I would prefer to stay there anyway." His father's rooms brought him little comfort, and he couldn't count them as his own even now. Back to his princely suite, back to his own self, perhaps. It took strength not to wish her well or ask any more from her when he knew she was trying very hard not to react in a worse style.

"Goodbye, Arthur." She murmured, sitting as he left the room.

..XxXxX..

A/N: The title and any quotes I may add at the ends of chapters are from Ed Sheeran songs, he's wonderful. The title specifically is from an (incomplete) line in "Drunk", the chapter title is from "U.N.I".