She was watching.

Arthur resisted the urge to scan the small crowd that gathered daily to watch the training, to crane his neck toward the castle and find her face peeking from a window. This was the next step in the dance they were engaged in, and it was as tortuous as it was delicious, and as with all things in Camelot, there were rules to be observed. His insides bubbled, recognising her on a visceral level, knowing she was near and the sure certainty was a thrill and a source of panic too. It was no longer the tender yearning of the early days that charged their meetings now, but a tight throbbing ache that made eyes scatter and skin burn. Christ, he blinked the need away, his sudden perspiration due to more than the sun beating down as he fought.

”Umph.” The Knight in waiting he was sparring with caught the broad side of his sword in the chest, stumbling backwards on the grass to a murmur of excitement, his expression crestfallen but steadfast under Arthur’s level gaze. The distraction was a blessing and Arthur clung to it, forcing himself to concentrate on his men through sheer force of will. The boy stared at him, chin raised but deferential, and it anchored Arthur to his duty, a life line he clutched at gratefully. A burst of pride in the younger man skirted Arthur’s spine, too quickly eclipsed by the knowledge that Gwen had witnessed his skill on the field. He knew, though she was hidden from sight, that her dark eyes were following his every movement, and his skin strained beneath the weight of his armour. The temptation to seek out her face was a sharp lance in his side, but gritting his teeth, and proffering a hand to his opponent to help him find his feet, he forced his mind back to his work.

The daily training had intensified, the recruits pouring in from the nobility in the surrounding lands , as all looked to Camelot and its might to solve the issue of Cenred. They may not offer armies, Arthur thought cynically, but they offered up their sons, eager for bragging rights during the battles, not so eager for the cost of war. Shaking off such thoughts, he glanced at his charges, noting the weariness in their stances, and as though connected to each of them as he stood tall before his fathers castle, felt as bone tired as he ever had. Momentarily, his head dropped, as the weight of expectation, of success, threatened to crush him. He closed his eyes, hoping to quell the fleeting weakness. But the moment dragged, and he heard a cough, the awkward shuffling of nervous feet. Still his eyes remained closed, as if opening them would see the weight fall, smash him to the ground like the dead he saw in his sleep.

Usually he would snap the moment before it caught hold, bark at Merlin, get a laugh from the men to disguise his secrets. But Merlin was at his mothers, Hunith having the dubious pleasure of Merlin’s company whilst she recovered from a broken ankle. Arthur’s lungs seemed to forget their function as time crawled to a stop, and each whisper in the crowd, each rustle of chain mail scored his skin and stung sharp. The war he was fighting with his constant need for a love he could never have, a body he could never truly touch was the most challenging physical battle he had ever endured, and its toll was starting to tell, allowing deeper issues, self doubt, to burrow deep and settle. His lungs remained locked, and his eyes tight against the world, as he fought for control.

Then her scent was filling him up, the light lilac soap she bathed with kissing his skin, cooling the heat that scorched him. He wanted to curse at his own treachery as his imagination betrayed him, the fresh flowers in her hair so sweet and intoxicating that his lungs pumped again, dragging the aroma inside, allowing him to breathe.

” Sire.” Now her voice was a spirit in his ears, that low sensuous tone scraping his thoughts as she whispered so close that if he moved, just slightly, he was positive her lips would brush his hair. Christ. His eyes snapped open as self preservation finally thundered into action, aware that he was losing it before his men, in front of the people he strove constantly to prove himself worthy of leading. Enough, he told himself. Enough now.

” What on earth are you waiting for?” He curled his lip, raising his eyebrows at the puzzled faces staring back at him. “ Do you ladies require engraved invitations? Pair up and spar for heavens sake, honestly.” He could manage scornful derision, so lay it on in spades. The men didn’t need to like him, he resolved, as he caught a few looks from Sir Leon that made his hackles rise. They just had to listen. And learn enough not to become another casualty that kept him awake at nights, when dreams of her escaped him.

” Do you have a burning desire to see your innards on your enemies sword Percival?” The youngster shook his head, wisely keeping silent. If he heard Sire from anyone but...well it was a smart move on the boys part. Arthur stomped towards the boy, temper fraying, fraying, gone.

“ Then keep your arms up, and use your bloody feet, make yourself a moving target. Go on. Again.”

The training lasted an hour longer than usual. But no one complained.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen chewed her lip, concern deepening her chocolate coloured eyes to pools of mahogany. Morgana frowned at her maid, perplexed, and also increasingly annoyed by the distracted behaviour Gwen had been displaying lately. It didn’t help that she had her suspicions about what may be the cause of it. Biting her tongue, and swallowing the anger that the thought inspired, she smiled, bright and false at her hand maiden, and placed a hand on Gwen’s arm.

” Gwen? Are you even in the same room as me today?” A light laugh, that once would have been warm, and affectionate, and now rang hollow, even to her own ears. Morgana knew that the cold edge to their once easy friendship confused Gwen, and at times, the hurt she saw fleetingly in her one time confidante’s eyes was a wind howling through her ribs, rattling her foundations. Her new found purpose. That Gwen could cause such doubt, infuriated her beyond reason.

” Forgive me my lady.” Still, after all these years with the ceremony. Morgana wanted to shake the dignity and propriety right out of her servant, despairing that Gwen may remind her of what was good in Camelot, but also of what was wrong. “ I believe it was the red dress you were considering for the banquet this evening?”

Morgana nodded, her throat tight as she saw the sheen of tears in Gwen’s eyes. Once she would have asked until she had wrung a confession from the girl. Demanded to know what troubled her. Merlin could worry now, she thought pettily, flushing at the childish spite churning within. Morgause had been clear about what to expect on returning to Camelot after witnessing the reality of Uthers genocide of her people, and Morgana had fully expected to find the adjustment hard. She had not expected to find Gwen and Merlin tucked in corners gossiping about the latest servant scandal as she and Gwen had once done. She had not expected to catch Arthur and Merlin discussing tactics before a tournament, as she and Arthur used to do, as she teased that she could win each damn honour if only Uther would let her fight. She had not expected to be stung so, when Arthur’s eyes softened when looking Gwen when he thought no one was watching, or to feel so bitter at the secret smiles Gwen bestowed upon him when their paths crossed in the castle corridors.

She had returned to be the outsider in enemy territory, and the cause she fought for was one that gave her purpose, but in her heart, she had not been prepared to be the outsider, and the three people she had missed most whilst discovering herself, had betrayed her by moving on. Leaving her behind. Sometimes the rage it instilled almost swamped the hate she held for Uther, and the challenge of maintaining appearances was growing daily. At least with Merlin, the element of suspicion, and the dark secret of her kidnapping kept her feeling visible. Relevant. Whilst he was away, she had no one to spar with, and it surprised her to realise that she missed him. The man who would have killed her for Camelot. The emptiness in her chest ached, and she could stand it no more.

” Gwen, I have a headache. Be a dear and fetch my sleeping tonic from Gaius would you? I should rest before the evening’s festivities.” And then, because she hurt and wanted somebody else to:” Being paraded around on Arthur’s arm all night as his trophy is positively exhausting.” Gwen’s lips pressed tight, and she curtsied, dipping her dark curls.

” Of-course milady. I’ll go at once. I am sorry I did not notice your fatigue earlier.”

So righteous, Morgana thought, as Gwen dashed from the room in a could of skirts and lilac scent. We are strangers now. As the sad truth occurred to her, she sat back on her bed. The headache no longer a fiction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

” You seem troubled my dear. Is everything all right?” Gaius peered at Gwen above his spectacles, and Gwen smiled nervously.

” I’m fine Gaius. Thank you for asking.” Her attempts at normalcy were failing appallingly today she thought, annoyed at her lack of discipline. Glancing about the familiar room, with its bottles and potions, and Merlin’s door a little ajar, she sighed a little, and turned to the physician, smiling warmly.

” Have you any word from Merlin? I do hope his mother is doing well.” Gaius raised an eyebrow at her, but allowed the change in topic to pass.

” Oh I am sure Merlin and his mother are fine.” A twinkle in his pale eyes. “ Merlin is a far more capable boy than most give him credit for. Myself included.” Gwen’s smile reached her eyes, and she grinned, twirling on the older man teasingly.

” Missing him too Gaius?” He simply blinked at her as he turned to fetch Morgana’s potion. “ It’s strange, but I never realised quite how much I relied on my chats with Merlin until now. A fortnight has passed and I feel as though I have ahead full of things I need to tell him.” Gaius glanced back over his shoulder, his hair a wild tangle, and his creased familiar face was comforting. Passing her the potion, he held her hands for a moment, his palm gloves rough and warm. “ Merlin has a way of lightening others burdens. Its a gift of a sort.” In a conspiratorial whisper, “ though I would never admit so out loud of-course. His mopping skills are still dreadful.”

Gwen squeezed his hands, grateful suddenly for Gaius and his kind words. Some days when the loss of her father yawned inside her, stretching itself into every bone and muscle, he would appear, with a gentle hand at her shoulder, or a task that sent her beyond the castle, to the woods where her tears would be privately spent, as she collected his odd provisions.

” You know, I miss Merlin, of course,” Gwen’s habit of babbling when nervous, or faced with emotions that ran too deep was one she would never be divested of she thought, as the words ran on, “ but I never realised how close he was to so many of the servants till now. Florentine almost cried when she asked how much longer he would be away earlier, and the librarian was looking for him too. And its ever so strange,” a puzzled frown marred her forehead as she recalled the surreal moment, “ but I am sure I heard Uther asking Arthur about him too. Isn’t that odd? If I didn’t know better, I’d think that Merlin had cast some sort of spell to make the whole of Camelot notice him in his absence.” She didn’t notice Gaius pause, and keep very still for long seconds as he listened, or hear the muffled curse from the elderly physician as she continued. “ Perhaps we should all be a little nicer to him when he returns. Appreciate him when he is around to see it, rather than pine when he is not.” She smiled, glad to have gotten that off her chest. It had been bothering her for a few days now, and as Merlin would have been who she had shared such musings with, it seemed fitting to share with Gaius in his stead. She smiled brightly and waved the potion in her hand.

” Well I had better see that Morgana gets this quickly, so she has time to rest before this evenings banquet.” The thought of getting through the evening alone, without Merlin and his catty remarks about the dignitaries and Knights made her curl her toes. Being so close to Arthur all evening was going to be a challenge. Her skin grew warm at the thought of him, seeing him easily, the golden haired ghost that haunted her waking moments when her head refused to give her peace. Serving the evening meal, a task that she shared with Merlin usually, was becoming a nightly torture, their eyes clashing, skin humming, and she wondered if he were as affected as she. Wondered if he carried those looks, and sometimes, those briefest of touches of hands over serving plates, to bed as she did. Where they continued to tease and taunt her, making the idea of sleep a mockery. With Morgana watching from those new cold eyes that held secrets that Gwen refused to examine too closely, each meal was fraught with tension of some kind. Her nerves were stretched beyond endurance.

” Gwen? Was there something else?” Gaius caught her elbow, and Gwen looked up, surprised and mortified to have lost her composure so completely. Colour flooded her face as she read his expression, the sympathy, and curiosity plain. Good grief, she had to pull herself together before tonight. Shaking her head, lips firmly closed in a tight smile, she span away and left, before she gave herself away further.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~