Chapter Text
Arthur slowly opened his eyes to a vision of ethereal beauty. It was the woman he had been longing for. At first he thought he was dreaming again, and then when he remembered that he had been injured he thought he was dead and this was heaven because surely he would only see her again when he was in heaven.
But then he sat up and the ache in his side as well as his heart reminded him that he was still painfully alive. But then that realization gave way to confusion because if he wasn't dead and wasn't dreaming, how could she be there with him? Despite Merlin’s assurances, after finding her ring in the woods ownerless and lost, he had feared she was dead, and he would have had no one to blame but himself. Yet here she was, alive and well—or not well, but sad. She looked so sad and worried.
“Guinevere?”
“Yes, Arthur?”
“What are you doing here?”
“It's as good a place as any.” She shrugged.
He reached up to cup her face, and she closed her eyes as if it pained her to have him so near. And perhaps it did, as it certainly pained him to touch her and want her so much still even after all the hurt she had caused.
Then she opened her eyes and brought her hand up to cover his own. “Oh, Arthur, I've missed you. And even though I have no right to feel so, I'm so glad you're here.”
Arthur couldn't deny it, so he didn't even try. “I've missed you, too.” Then he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck and savoring the feel of her arms wrapping around him. He missed her touch, and the feel of her pressed against him. He missed her smell and the softness of her hair tickling his nose. And he missed her kiss, the heat of her mouth and the wetness of her tongue.
He pulled back just enough to angle his mouth against hers and kiss her deeply, imbuing it with all the want and longing he had felt for her the past few weeks. And she returned his kiss, opening her mouth to allow his tongue to gently probe her, and showing him just how much she had longed for and missed him.
His hands wound themselves in her hair, and he broke from their kiss to press his lips to her skin along her jaw and her neck, down to her collarbone. He wanted to touch every part of her, to mark her skin with his heated kisses, to know her deeply and intimately as a husband might know a wife. He had been robbed of this knowledge before, by another man and his own wounded pride, but he didn't want to wait any longer. He needed to know that the woman he loved was his.
She knew what he wanted as soon as he started trailing kisses down her neck, and she knew that she wanted to give it to him, that all of their reasons for waiting before meant nothing now, and that if she could show him in some small way that she loved him, then she would do anything for him, especially since she wanted it herself. When his lips found their way to the top of her cleavage, she pulled away slightly and then reached down to lift her shirt off, baring her breasts to him.
He took in the sight of her heaving bosom, his eyes darkening with need, and then he reached up to cup a firm breast in his hand. It filled his hand up, and he marveled at its heaviness, its softness, and its warmth. He had touched her breasts before through her bodice, but had never touched her bare skin. It aroused him to be able to touch her freely. He squeezed her breasts gently, and palmed her dark nipples, making them harden instantaneously with the feel of his tender ministrations. They fascinated him, and he leaned forward to take one into his mouth, sucking on it gently, possessively. She moaned softly, and he took it as encouragement to move to the other breast.
Her hands were in his hair, tugging gently and massaging him. Then they roamed down his chest, her palms flat against his chest hair. Arthur groaned with want, and pulled his lips from her breasts in order to gruffly tell her “Touch me!” Her hands went to the waistband of his trousers and she slipped her hand in reaching for the very heat of him. He was warm and stiff in her hand, and she stroked him gently, hoping that she was giving him as much pleasure as he was giving her.
Her tentative touch set him on fire, and he couldn’t believe how hard and ready for her he was. He wanted to be inside of her, but he wanted to prepare her, to make it good for her. He gently tugged on her trousers and pulled them down, and she stood up so he could more easily remove them. She leaned on his shoulder while she took off her boots and socks and then he pulled her trousers all the way off. She stood there shyly, completely naked before him, and subconsciously covered her breasts with her arms. “Don’t,” he commanded gently, pulling her towards him so that he could kiss her breasts again. Then his mouth moved lower down her stomach, and lower still to the dark curls covering her mound and she gasped in shock.
“Arthur! What are you doing?” She had heard gossip from one of the other maids in the castle about the kinds of things that men and women liked to get up to in the privacy of their bedrooms, or sometimes a stable, or a closet, but she had been as scandalized as she had been titillated. In all her imaginings of what it would be like to be intimate with Arthur, she had never imagined that he would want to do that. But she had to admit that she was intrigued.
“I want to kiss you everywhere, Guinevere. Will you let me?”
Guinevere nodded, her surprise keeping her from saying anything. He dropped to his knees in front of her and bent over to kiss her, lips to lips, and it sent a shudder of pleasure through her whole body. She cried out and gripped his blond head to steady herself because she felt weak at the knees.
His kiss was chaste; he didn’t want to frighten her with too much too soon. So he kissed the inside of her thighs, and gently touched her with a single finger. He deeply inhaled her musky scent, and resisted the urge to taste her. She was warm and damp, but nowhere near ready. He lightly stroked her, from the bottom of her opening up to the top where her little nub rested, still slightly hidden in her folds. When she was breathing heavily, he slightly increased the pressure of his finger’s journey and returned his lips to press against hers and giving in to his desire, snuck out his tongue to lick her folds languorously. She tasted rich and earthy, a bit salty and yet there was a sweetness there that drove him wild.
It was the most exquisite torture for her, the feel of his mouth on her most private parts. She would sometimes touch herself down there when she would feel this urgent need for release, and it was always pleasurable, but this was different. She felt like she was coming undone, like she was a dress and he was ripping her apart from the seams, leaving her open and exposed, and weak. She almost buckled on top of him, and he pulled his mouth away so that he could help her sit down on the little cot, and then he was pushing her down onto her back, and spreading her legs. His mouth returned to her heat, and he deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue inside her, and gently pressing on her hot button, until she moaned and writhed beneath him. She felt pressure building deep in her stomach, making her quiver and her back arch into his touch. She wanted…she needed…release, and she was sure Arthur could give it to her. “Arthur…Arthur…oh god…” she moaned, over and over again. He increased the pressure of his tongue and slipped a finger inside her, curving it to reach the spot that he knew would drive her over the edge. And then suddenly a wave of pleasure washed over her, making her feel dizzy and disoriented with it, except for Arthur as her anchor, whose head she gripped tightly in her hands.
When his mouth disappeared from between her thighs, she looked up and saw him hurriedly undressing the rest of the way. Then he was standing naked before her, and she wanted to cry from how beautiful he looked. He was tall and broad of shoulder, with strong defined stomach muscles, and thick muscular thighs. Even his manhood looked beautiful to her, and she yearned to know what it felt like deep inside of her.
He knelt down on the bed between her thighs and took her chin into his hand, bringing her curious eyes back up to his face. “Look at me, Guinevere.” Her passion-filled eyes immediately looked up to meet his. “I’m going to take you now. Is that okay?”
She nodded. “Please…I want you…”
With no further encouragement he grabbed his cock and placed it at her entrance, and then pushed in slowly. When he was fully sheathed inside her, he stilled completely in order to give her time to adjust to his intrusion. But she was so tight and hot it was difficult for him not to come completely undone. He had wanted her and this so badly for so long, he could hardly believe that it was happening. When she began to buck up against him unconsciously, he withdrew and then drove himself back into her as deeply as he could. He did it again and again, as if he were trying to become one with her, as if only by touching the deepest part of her could he ever feel at home.
Being inside of her, having her pliant willing body underneath him, feeling how she squeezed and clutched at him, something primal came over him. He wanted to possess her. He wanted to brand her with his body. He wanted to pound away all thoughts of her with anyone else. He was yelling, and he didn’t even realize it. “You're mine! Only mine! Say it, Guinevere!”
“I'm yours! I'm yours!” she cried out, rising up to meet his every thrust.
Her voice spurred him on, and he found himself close to release. Then with a final cry of her name, “Guinevere,” he spilled his seed deep inside her.
He collapsed on top of her momentarily, but fearing he was crushing her with his weight, he rolled off of her. When he turned to look at her, he found her face covered with hot tears. He was immediately filled with remorse that he could have hurt her with the forcefulness of his desire for her.
“Why are you crying, Guinevere?” he asked, his voice full of concern.
“Because I never thought I’d see you again—that we would ever have this. I’m so sorry, Arthur. I still don’t understand what I was thinking, but it's only been you. It's only ever been you that I love. You have to believe me!”
Arthur sighed deeply and pulled her half on top of him so that he could bury his face into her neck. He kissed her there and held her tenderly, but his heart was full of turmoil. Knowing that she was waiting for some kind of response from him, eventually he told her. “That's the problem, Gwen. I don’t know if I can trust anything you say. But I still want you. I still need you. I still...” Whatever he was about to say he thought better of it. Instead he continued, “I missed you, and I don’t want to be without you.” He kissed her on the mouth, and pulled her fully on top of him so that she was straddling him. His hands went to her waist and he massaged her hips. “I don’t know if I can marry you. So will you still want me if we can never have more than this?”
Guinevere nodded sadly. “I understand. What I did was unforgiveable, but if we can have this,” she said, stroking his chest and resting her hand on his heart, “then it will be more than I deserve. I love you, Arthur, and I want you any way that I can have you.”
Arthur took her hand into his own, and with his other wrapped it around her nape and pulled her into another kiss. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for now they would have this, and he intended on showing her how much he needed and wanted her with his mouth and his body.
They were interrupted from one of their lovemaking sessions when Merlin came barging in, warning that Agravaine’s men had been spotted along the ridge and they needed to evacuate. He didn’t acknowledge that they were naked, saving them both from embarrassment. They were quickly dressed, and then fleeing into the forest with Agravaine’s men hot at their heels, but were saved when they managed to lose them in a series of tunnels in the mountains.
Once on the other side of the mountains they decided to make their way to the Forest of Ascetir, hoping that the Knights of Camelot and any other refugees might make their way there.
When the danger had passed, it gave Arthur the opportunity to think about what had happened last night. Whenever he looked at Guinevere he remembered what she looked like naked and trembling, and his loins would tighten. But then he also began to feel guilty, that he had taken advantage of her, had used her own sense of guilt to coerce her into giving up her virtue to him. And if he had gotten her with child? Would he force her to make her shame public? Or could he marry her even though he still wasn't sure if he could trust her?
He should never have touched her. He had had the right idea when he banished her. He didn't want to see her publicly humiliated, but he didn't know if he could publicly forgive her either. What she did had hurt too much, and humiliated him in front of his entire kingdom. He couldn't just forget that no matter how much he wanted to.
And to make his humiliation even more complete, he had been duped by his conniving uncle, driven from his kingdom by his ruthless sister, and was now being mocked by a self-righteous smuggler. He just wanted to bury his head in the sand and forget everything—the betrayals, the deceptions, the lies that he had been too blind to see through.
But then Guinevere was pulling on his arm, and the sight of her filled him with guilt and anger.
“Arthur—”
“What happened last night. It was a mistake. Whatever there was between us—it's broken. I can never trust you again.” It would be easier to break things off now than continue and make things worse. It would be better for them both in the long run. He could only pray that she hadn't conceived after their one night together.
Tears welled up in her eyes at his harsh words, but she nodded in acceptance. “I understand. I just wanted to say to you that I believe in you. Don't listen to Tristan. He doesn't know you like I know you. Like your people know you. You are a good king. And I love you for it. We all do. Never forget that.”
As she turned and walked away, stiffly and clearly hurt, he regretted what he said. He had never wanted to hurt her, and yet he could see no other way.
He approached her carefully, knowing that she was probably still smarting from the last time they had shared words. Since then he had avoided her, only seeing her once, at the sword in the stone, her standing with the other refugees and Knights lending him her support as she always had, and it had given him courage. But he had one last thing to say to her, a request knowing that their mission would be fraught with danger and he might die.
“Guinevere,” he called out to her, and she turned around and looked him right in the eyes, her gaze filled with curiosity, and perhaps wariness? He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. “I want you to stay here.”
She immediately shook her head and frowned. “You would have your men sacrifice themselves for you, why not let the women as well? There isn’t a man or woman here who wouldn’t willingly give their lives for you, why not let them? You’ll need all the help you can get.”
It was a similar conversation to the one they’d had many years ago in Ealdor, and she had been stubborn then as well. But he had to try. “I am humbled by their support, and I can only hope that I am worthy of it, but I’m not asking all of the women to stay behind. Only you.”
“But Arthur…”
“I know that you are a good fighter, and you have the courage of any knight, but I cannot have you there. I would worry for your safety, and it might distract me.”
“Surely my safety isn’t so important to you. You have made it clear that I mean nothing to you. Our relationship was a mistake, and it’s best that I stay away. And though that may be the case, I love you and have never stopped loving you, and if in death I might be able to show you how I feel, then it is my right. You may be the king, but you cannot take that away from me.”
Arthur felt a tightness in his chest at her words. Whatever doubts he may have had about her love in the aftermath of her betrayal with Lancelot, her words had proven them wrong. He knew that she loved him, and would do anything for him, and she was right, he could not force her to stay here if she did not want to. But he gave it one last try. “What if you are with child? Would you put our child in danger just to help me?”
Guinevere’s eyes widened with shock. To be true, she hadn’t even thought about the possibility even though she was fully aware that their intimacies could have led to conception. “I…I do not think the possibility is likely. But even if it were, I do not think the small possibility is reason enough not to fulfill my duty to you. You need my help and I am able to give it. And even were I to stay here and you lost this battle my life would be forfeit anyway, because I would not want to live in a world without you in it.”
Arthur sighed, knowing he had to give in. Even now—after everything—there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her, and he could feel his resolve to keep his distance breaking already. If somehow they managed to survive and win back his kingdom, perhaps they could find a way to be together… “You are wrong, you know,” he told her honestly. “You don’t mean ‘nothing’ to me. You mean everything. And I never stopped loving you. Even when I hated you, I loved you still. I love you still…”
Tears pricked her eyes at his words, and she struggled with the implications. Even after the night they had spent together she had never dared hope that he still loved her. That he wanted her there could be no denying, but after what she did she knew she didn’t deserve his love. And yet, here he was, declaring his feelings had never changed, and it gave her hope. But she couldn’t forget what he had said earlier. As much as she wanted his forgiveness and to be with him, they were a mistake, and she couldn’t help believing that as well. Nothing had really changed, but she could take comfort in his love, and if these were to be her last hours, she could die satisfied.
It happened so suddenly. Merlin and Tristan had gone after Morgana, while she and Isolde had stayed to help Arthur. She saw him disarmed and at Helios’ mercy, so she stabbed him in the back before he could harm her King, but she hadn’t expected him to strike back in the throes of his death. He turned quickly and swiped at an angle, getting her right in the chest. She fell backwards onto the floor, and was surprised that she didn’t feel any pain.
She heard some cry out “No!” but it was as if he was shouting from the end of a long tunnel. She realized that she must be in shock, and perhaps she was dying. Then she felt herself being gathered into strong arms, and when she managed to focus she saw that it was Arthur and he was crying.
“You’re going to be all right,” he tried to reassure her, and she smiled at him.
“You’re safe and that’s all that matters to me.” She reached up to cup his face in her hand. “Please don’t cry for me.”
“Just don’t die on me and I promise I won’t shed a tear.”
She looked down and saw that her shirt was covered in blood. The slash seemed to go from her right collarbone down to her stomach, but she couldn’t tell how bad it was. If she survived, she imagined it would need stitches, though, she thought rather clinically.
“I can’t make any promises,” she managed to creak. She felt weaker and weaker, probably from the blood loss. “But I think it’s just a flesh wound.”
Arthur cracked a smile through his tears. “That’s my brave Guinevere.” He kissed her brow. “Just stay with me. Help will be here soon. Merlin!” he shouted, looking around desperately.
“I’m here, my lord.” And then he was at her side, and she felt immediately relieved. If Merlin was there, she would be fine. She just knew it. Then she promptly fainted.