(no subject)
Title: Bump
Author: Rachel Marie
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Gwen
Word Count: 2823
Disclaimer: Don’t own it! Would break it.
Summary: Arthur reacts … and then overreacts.
A/N: Part four of the tale of Guinevere’s pregnancy. Arthur and Gwen cope with changes, for better or worse.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
I hope you all enjoy. <3
One eye fluttered open and was met by a rather startling amount of sunlight, much to Gwen’s dismay. With a whimper of disapproval she rolled onto her stomach and buried her face beneath the blanket once more. This was the price of oversleeping, evidently.
“Something not to your standards?” came Arthur’s muffled voice from above her.
Surprised, Gwen twisted to her other side and drew up her knees, giving him a little kick in the process. Sheepishly poking her head out from beneath the covers, Gwen offered him a small smile. “Sorry.”
He only grinned at her. “Oh, don’t mind me …”
She reached out and pressed the back of her hand to his chest. “What are you still doing here? I thought you’d be gone.”
“Well,” he began, casting aside an open scroll and lowering himself flat against the mattress once more, “We didn’t really get to talk last night,” explained Arthur, a telling eyebrow raised.
A familiar flush crept up the back of Gwen’s neck as she thought back to the previous evening and she inwardly smacked herself. Granted, raising this newfound condition of hers right before they made love wasn’t necessarily the best idea, but it wasn’t as though she’d had much of a speech prepared anyway. Once it was out it was out, and that was all she’d sworn to accomplish. “That’d be your fault,” she accused playfully. “I was all for talking.”
Arthur Smirked and propped himself up with one elbow. His gaze fell to the space on the sheet between them, and Gwen patiently waited for him to speak.
“So … you were quite serious, then.”
Her stomach dropped a little. She was hoping for a number of things from him - mostly reassurances, expressions of faith in her or this new shared journey, or even a continuation of his rather romantic (albeit non-verbal) response to her news from the night previous - but not this.
Gwen rolled onto her back and propped herself up, gazing down at Arthur incredulously. “I’m sorry?”
He must’ve seen something slightly sour cross her face, as his tone became more cautious. “That we’re going to … you know.”
Now she frowned outright. “That we’re going to have a baby?”
He exhaled slowly. “Right. Yes.”
Guinevere sat up, holding the sheets over her chest. “Yes, Arthur,” she replied evenly, “I’m quite serious.”
At the very least, Arthur was able to sense that he was suddenly treading in dangerous water. Unusual though it may have been, Gwen’s temper had been quick to rise of late, and she was pleased to see him catch on little by little. With little effort, he snaked an arm around her waist and tugged her back down toward him. “Don’t get me wrong,” he began, once he held her close once more. “I’ve never been happier. I’m just …”
“Terrified?” she supplied.
He nodded slowly, then amended: “Surprised.”
That she could understand. A week ago, Gwen felt as though the rug had been pulled out from under her. And it turned out that rug had concealed a cliff, which she’d rather inconveniently stumbled off.
She turned her gaze to the ceiling of their four-poster, and her hand drifted to the still flat plane of her abdomen. She couldn’t blame him … it was difficult for her to wrap her mind around as well. After all, she didn’t feel particularly pregnant. She felt off, as though she’d ingested something that left her perpetually nauseous. She felt very warm and often fatigued. And ever since she met with the court physician that fateful morning, anxiety tugged on her constantly, tempered only by swells of all-encompassing joy and a new, odd kind of protectiveness.
But not ‘pregnant.’
After a few minutes, she felt Arthur’s breath on her shoulder. She tipped her chin to get a better look at him, and felt pleased to see a familiar smile on his lips. “What?” she asked, curious.
His grin was cheeky. “So, I must be pretty good.”
Gwen laughed outright, loud and full, and she felt his teeth graze her shoulder. “Go on,” he prompted. “Admit it.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll do no such thing.”
Cool fingers tickled her side, and she squealed and tried to pull away. But he held her in place. “Guinevere,” he teased, saying her name in that way. She shivered.
“No.”
“Say it.”
“I won’t.”
He poked a particularly sensitive spot, and she held in a snort. “Go on, or I won’t let you go.”
“Arthur Pendragon, the last thing you need is for me to stroke your ego.”
He smirked. “But you’d be amenable to some other kind of stroking?”
Gwen let out another shrill giggle, and he tickled her once more, until Gwen was laughing so hard tears spilled down her cheeks. “Okay, okay, okay, Arthur. You are good.”
“At?”
“Getting me pregnant, apparently.”
He made a face but kissed her soundly. She watched him roll away, channeling the cocky young prince he’d been when she’d first fallen for him for her amusement as he dressed, all the while muttering something about Merlin and a council meeting. And once he was ready to go, he leaned in and kissed her again. “Thank you,” he said against her mouth, smiling all the while.
She fought an embarrassed grin. “Don’t thank me yet,” she teased. “I haven’t done any of the real work.”
“But you will.” He took a few steps toward the door before turning on his heel, expression thoughtful. “And you’ll not lift an extra finger. I’ll see to it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Go on, Arthur. You’re late as it is.”
***
Gwen had taken Arthur’s vow as a teasing promise, but it was soon apparent that he’d meant it quite seriously.
Over the course of the next week, Gwen barely needed to get out of bed. She’d often taken breakfast in her chambers before, but now lunch and dinner were brought there as well. Morgana joined her for her earlier meals, and she was thankful for both the comfort and the company, but she thought it utterly ridiculous that Arthur insisted on having her supper brought to her as she’d always they’d always shared their meals in the hall with Merlin and Morgana. Five days in a row, she left the food to Rosaline and Hannah while she went to join her friends for dinner, and on the sixth day she personally ventured to the kitchens to contradict this particular order from the king.
She was excused from her court appearances and related duties, even though the vast majority involved sitting in a throne all day. Initially quite grateful, she used the time to indulge this new exhaustion. The physician and midwife insisted it was quite normal, and so she tried not to punish herself, and took an extra week of rest.
But two weeks after she’d told Arthur everything, she was no less tired and still off her food, but bored out of her mind. More than that, her sense of duty kicked in again, and Gwen wondered absently what her mother would think to see her lazing about all day. Surely she’d had to continue to work while pregnant with Guinevere … which meant Gwen would attend to her duties as well.
But when she woke early one morning and announced to Arthur that she was feeling well enough to accompany him that morning, he’d hastily excused her presence, and then excused himself from their bedroom before she could piece together an argument.
Word of Gwen’s pregnancy spread quickly through Camelot and the adjoining lands. Though it was not yet appropriate for her to receive formal congratulations, Gwen tried to banish fears of miscarriage from her mind, members of the nobility and servants alike seemed eager to ask after the queen’s health. So with her newfound free time, she entertained as much as she could in her private salon.
… Until Arthur put an end to that as well. Something vague about illness and a cold going around. The nobility were discouraged from visiting with her until the pregnancy was formally announced and celebrated.
Gwen tried to take comfort in her suddenly empty days by doing little things - cleaning up after herself when she could, or taking long walks around the castle. The less she had to do, the more she welcomed any distraction from the fears building up in her mind that she tried desperately to ignore.
One week, she and Morgana took their lunch out of the village to a nearby stream every day. June was almost upon them, and the weather was suddenly balmy and clear. For her sister-in-law’s company, Gwen was intensely appreciative. After all, she knew Morgana liked to stay closely involved with the things Arthur and Merlin did … but she saw Gwen’s growing worry and cast aside some of the things she liked to do in order to spend time at Gwen’s side.
Except Arthur tried to end that too. Had she not been so irritated, Gwen would’ve appreciated his transparency on this matter.
“I don’t think it’s wise, Guinevere.”
She raised her chin defiantly. “Why not?”
“The hill there’s very steep. What if you fell?”
“I might fall walking from my table to the bed, but I’m not going to stop doing that, am I?”
His eyes went wide, and Arthur barely talked to her for the rest of the evening. In the end, he need not have gotten angry, Gwen thought glumly. It had begun raining that night and kept up for days.
***
One welcome distraction Arthur could not get in the way of were all the new things happening as Gwen waded into her third month.
She was initially quite alarmed to notice that the palms of her hands had taken on a slightly red color. The midwife told her it was quite normal, though Gwen had never heard of such a thing.
Her breasts were still sore, and Gwen noticed they were beginning to seem much more full … to Arthur’s delight.
Though Rosaline swore up and down that it was not true, a good deal of time spent in a mirror made Gwen suspect that her nose was a little wider than it had been. She wasn’t sure what to make of such a thing - and there was nothing to be done about it, so she tried not to worry. On the other hand, though she’d never admit that it brought her any pleasure, her hair seemed a good deal thicker. Rosaline admitted that that was true.
She was beginning to learn her way around food again. Feeling nauseous was something Gwen was learning to come to terms will, and she still had to excuse herself from dinner a fair amount. But she was pleased to learn that she could eat a fair amount of things without involuntarily initiating the instinct to retch.
But the most important change Gwen took stock of was one no one else could see. Not even Arthur.
Nearly indiscernible to the eye was a small bump at her waist that had never been there before.
It as generous to think of it as a bump, or to call it a bump, since at almost every angle Gwen’s stomach appeared as it always had. With the press of her hand, she could make it lay flat, and when she was dressed, it was lost. But in bed, or as she washed, Gwen could rub her hand low over her abdomen and feel the slight rise of flesh.
Underneath, deep inside, was her baby.
***
Gwen was shaking, she was so angry.
It must’ve been a sight to behold, the small and usually-very-sweet Guinevere staring down the empty space between two guards posted outside the throne room, barring her entrance until the meeting held inside was adjourned. Inwardly, Gwen clung to the memory of her former self - ‘Serene Guinevere, as she thought of her - wondering where she’d had the nerve to run off to. She’d been gone almost three full months now.
… Damn it, she added.
When the doors finally opened, Gwen made her way through the gaggle of knights and advisors who bowed their heads and offered polite, “My lady”s.
Arthur stood with his back to her, Merlin close at his side.
He turned to face her first. “Gwen!” he exclaimed with a smile. But just as quickly, his face fell, and she tried to soften her look a little. But the softening must’ve made her appear close to tears, since Merlin looked almost stricken. “I’ll just …” he mumbled awkwardly, pointing toward the door.
Arthur looked over his shoulder in her direction as Merlin slowly backed away, opening his mouth to speak and quickly snapping it shut again at the sight of her. Though she met Arthur’s gaze head on, she thought for a split second that she might lose her nerve and burst into tears at the injustice instead. But Merlin squeezed her arm briefly as he passed her by, giving her the strength to say what she meant to.
When the doors closed behind the warlock, Arthur cleared his throat and spoke first. “What’s wrong?”
As though he didn’t know.
“They took my cleaning!” she blurted angrily, still shaking.
There was a great deal of space between them still, but she could read the surprise on his face plain as day. “What?”
“I was going to do it!”
He was clearly drawing a blank, which only served to incense her further.
With a shaky breath, she tried to convey her point, which ‘Serene Gwen’ was telling her in the back of her mind, was a little ridiculous. “I was going to take it,” she repeated slowly, fighting the wetness filling her eyes and the bitter taste in the back of her mouth, “But you told them not to let me!”
Arthur stepped off the dais. “You don’t do your own laundry anymore, Gwen.”
“I know I don’t have to, but I wanted to! I still want to!”
“And how was I supposed to know?”
She sputtered. He just was … but she doubted that he’d understand that. So she pressed on. “I don’t get to do anything anymore, Arthur.”
“So you want to start with your laundry?”
“I need to start with something! I’ve been cooped up, bored out of my mind for weeks now, because you don’t seem to think that I’m capable-”
He advanced a few steps toward her, eyes flashing. “I never said that.”
“But you don’t want me in court, outside, at meals-”
“I’m trying to help you-”
“By trapping me?” She hesitated when she saw anger flash across his face, but took a few defiant steps forward anyway. “I’m trying to prove to myself that I can handle all this … change just fine. To prove I can eat without getting sick, walk around without falling over, take my own dresses a few rooms over without collapsing, but I can’t because …” she dropped her gaze, voice losing a little of its fury. With a deep breath, she finished, “It just makes me feel like I can’t.”
Silence. As in that first confrontation years ago … when she’d thought she’d gone too far.
She braced herself for his response, but he only asked, “What do you mean you can’t?”
“I’m scared, Arthur.” She dared to look into his face again. “I wasn’t expecting this … I’d only begun to wrap my mind around being queen, and suddenly I’m supposed to be a mother. And there’s nothing that makes me happier, and nothing more terrifying … and the more things you say I can’t do, the more it seems like you don’t believe in me.”
Gwen closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, suddenly relieved of a great burden. When she looked up to meet his gaze again, she felt instantly bad. His arms were crossed, and he was looking away, and she wanted to slap herself for hurting him. But the truth needed to come out somehow.
Before she could do anything to soften the blow she’d delivered moments earlier, Arthur spoke up, voice low. “I only wanted to protect you.”
She went to him, dared to reach out and place a warm hand on his chest, willing him to look at her. “I know,” she murmured, “… But I’m safe.”
“I believe my father thought the same thing.” His eyes found hers once more, and Gwen’s heart broke a little for the pain there.
She didn’t have a response. In her anger, her frustration, she missed what should’ve been obvious. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, to be held and reassured, but she was uncertain how to close the distance. “You have to trust me,” was all she could say.
He looked down again, shaking his head. And with an almost inaudible, “I’m sorry,” he left her standing there.
Author: Rachel Marie
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Gwen
Word Count: 2823
Disclaimer: Don’t own it! Would break it.
Summary: Arthur reacts … and then overreacts.
A/N: Part four of the tale of Guinevere’s pregnancy. Arthur and Gwen cope with changes, for better or worse.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
I hope you all enjoy. <3
One eye fluttered open and was met by a rather startling amount of sunlight, much to Gwen’s dismay. With a whimper of disapproval she rolled onto her stomach and buried her face beneath the blanket once more. This was the price of oversleeping, evidently.
“Something not to your standards?” came Arthur’s muffled voice from above her.
Surprised, Gwen twisted to her other side and drew up her knees, giving him a little kick in the process. Sheepishly poking her head out from beneath the covers, Gwen offered him a small smile. “Sorry.”
He only grinned at her. “Oh, don’t mind me …”
She reached out and pressed the back of her hand to his chest. “What are you still doing here? I thought you’d be gone.”
“Well,” he began, casting aside an open scroll and lowering himself flat against the mattress once more, “We didn’t really get to talk last night,” explained Arthur, a telling eyebrow raised.
A familiar flush crept up the back of Gwen’s neck as she thought back to the previous evening and she inwardly smacked herself. Granted, raising this newfound condition of hers right before they made love wasn’t necessarily the best idea, but it wasn’t as though she’d had much of a speech prepared anyway. Once it was out it was out, and that was all she’d sworn to accomplish. “That’d be your fault,” she accused playfully. “I was all for talking.”
Arthur Smirked and propped himself up with one elbow. His gaze fell to the space on the sheet between them, and Gwen patiently waited for him to speak.
“So … you were quite serious, then.”
Her stomach dropped a little. She was hoping for a number of things from him - mostly reassurances, expressions of faith in her or this new shared journey, or even a continuation of his rather romantic (albeit non-verbal) response to her news from the night previous - but not this.
Gwen rolled onto her back and propped herself up, gazing down at Arthur incredulously. “I’m sorry?”
He must’ve seen something slightly sour cross her face, as his tone became more cautious. “That we’re going to … you know.”
Now she frowned outright. “That we’re going to have a baby?”
He exhaled slowly. “Right. Yes.”
Guinevere sat up, holding the sheets over her chest. “Yes, Arthur,” she replied evenly, “I’m quite serious.”
At the very least, Arthur was able to sense that he was suddenly treading in dangerous water. Unusual though it may have been, Gwen’s temper had been quick to rise of late, and she was pleased to see him catch on little by little. With little effort, he snaked an arm around her waist and tugged her back down toward him. “Don’t get me wrong,” he began, once he held her close once more. “I’ve never been happier. I’m just …”
“Terrified?” she supplied.
He nodded slowly, then amended: “Surprised.”
That she could understand. A week ago, Gwen felt as though the rug had been pulled out from under her. And it turned out that rug had concealed a cliff, which she’d rather inconveniently stumbled off.
She turned her gaze to the ceiling of their four-poster, and her hand drifted to the still flat plane of her abdomen. She couldn’t blame him … it was difficult for her to wrap her mind around as well. After all, she didn’t feel particularly pregnant. She felt off, as though she’d ingested something that left her perpetually nauseous. She felt very warm and often fatigued. And ever since she met with the court physician that fateful morning, anxiety tugged on her constantly, tempered only by swells of all-encompassing joy and a new, odd kind of protectiveness.
But not ‘pregnant.’
After a few minutes, she felt Arthur’s breath on her shoulder. She tipped her chin to get a better look at him, and felt pleased to see a familiar smile on his lips. “What?” she asked, curious.
His grin was cheeky. “So, I must be pretty good.”
Gwen laughed outright, loud and full, and she felt his teeth graze her shoulder. “Go on,” he prompted. “Admit it.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll do no such thing.”
Cool fingers tickled her side, and she squealed and tried to pull away. But he held her in place. “Guinevere,” he teased, saying her name in that way. She shivered.
“No.”
“Say it.”
“I won’t.”
He poked a particularly sensitive spot, and she held in a snort. “Go on, or I won’t let you go.”
“Arthur Pendragon, the last thing you need is for me to stroke your ego.”
He smirked. “But you’d be amenable to some other kind of stroking?”
Gwen let out another shrill giggle, and he tickled her once more, until Gwen was laughing so hard tears spilled down her cheeks. “Okay, okay, okay, Arthur. You are good.”
“At?”
“Getting me pregnant, apparently.”
He made a face but kissed her soundly. She watched him roll away, channeling the cocky young prince he’d been when she’d first fallen for him for her amusement as he dressed, all the while muttering something about Merlin and a council meeting. And once he was ready to go, he leaned in and kissed her again. “Thank you,” he said against her mouth, smiling all the while.
She fought an embarrassed grin. “Don’t thank me yet,” she teased. “I haven’t done any of the real work.”
“But you will.” He took a few steps toward the door before turning on his heel, expression thoughtful. “And you’ll not lift an extra finger. I’ll see to it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Go on, Arthur. You’re late as it is.”
***
Gwen had taken Arthur’s vow as a teasing promise, but it was soon apparent that he’d meant it quite seriously.
Over the course of the next week, Gwen barely needed to get out of bed. She’d often taken breakfast in her chambers before, but now lunch and dinner were brought there as well. Morgana joined her for her earlier meals, and she was thankful for both the comfort and the company, but she thought it utterly ridiculous that Arthur insisted on having her supper brought to her as she’d always they’d always shared their meals in the hall with Merlin and Morgana. Five days in a row, she left the food to Rosaline and Hannah while she went to join her friends for dinner, and on the sixth day she personally ventured to the kitchens to contradict this particular order from the king.
She was excused from her court appearances and related duties, even though the vast majority involved sitting in a throne all day. Initially quite grateful, she used the time to indulge this new exhaustion. The physician and midwife insisted it was quite normal, and so she tried not to punish herself, and took an extra week of rest.
But two weeks after she’d told Arthur everything, she was no less tired and still off her food, but bored out of her mind. More than that, her sense of duty kicked in again, and Gwen wondered absently what her mother would think to see her lazing about all day. Surely she’d had to continue to work while pregnant with Guinevere … which meant Gwen would attend to her duties as well.
But when she woke early one morning and announced to Arthur that she was feeling well enough to accompany him that morning, he’d hastily excused her presence, and then excused himself from their bedroom before she could piece together an argument.
Word of Gwen’s pregnancy spread quickly through Camelot and the adjoining lands. Though it was not yet appropriate for her to receive formal congratulations, Gwen tried to banish fears of miscarriage from her mind, members of the nobility and servants alike seemed eager to ask after the queen’s health. So with her newfound free time, she entertained as much as she could in her private salon.
… Until Arthur put an end to that as well. Something vague about illness and a cold going around. The nobility were discouraged from visiting with her until the pregnancy was formally announced and celebrated.
Gwen tried to take comfort in her suddenly empty days by doing little things - cleaning up after herself when she could, or taking long walks around the castle. The less she had to do, the more she welcomed any distraction from the fears building up in her mind that she tried desperately to ignore.
One week, she and Morgana took their lunch out of the village to a nearby stream every day. June was almost upon them, and the weather was suddenly balmy and clear. For her sister-in-law’s company, Gwen was intensely appreciative. After all, she knew Morgana liked to stay closely involved with the things Arthur and Merlin did … but she saw Gwen’s growing worry and cast aside some of the things she liked to do in order to spend time at Gwen’s side.
Except Arthur tried to end that too. Had she not been so irritated, Gwen would’ve appreciated his transparency on this matter.
“I don’t think it’s wise, Guinevere.”
She raised her chin defiantly. “Why not?”
“The hill there’s very steep. What if you fell?”
“I might fall walking from my table to the bed, but I’m not going to stop doing that, am I?”
His eyes went wide, and Arthur barely talked to her for the rest of the evening. In the end, he need not have gotten angry, Gwen thought glumly. It had begun raining that night and kept up for days.
***
One welcome distraction Arthur could not get in the way of were all the new things happening as Gwen waded into her third month.
She was initially quite alarmed to notice that the palms of her hands had taken on a slightly red color. The midwife told her it was quite normal, though Gwen had never heard of such a thing.
Her breasts were still sore, and Gwen noticed they were beginning to seem much more full … to Arthur’s delight.
Though Rosaline swore up and down that it was not true, a good deal of time spent in a mirror made Gwen suspect that her nose was a little wider than it had been. She wasn’t sure what to make of such a thing - and there was nothing to be done about it, so she tried not to worry. On the other hand, though she’d never admit that it brought her any pleasure, her hair seemed a good deal thicker. Rosaline admitted that that was true.
She was beginning to learn her way around food again. Feeling nauseous was something Gwen was learning to come to terms will, and she still had to excuse herself from dinner a fair amount. But she was pleased to learn that she could eat a fair amount of things without involuntarily initiating the instinct to retch.
But the most important change Gwen took stock of was one no one else could see. Not even Arthur.
Nearly indiscernible to the eye was a small bump at her waist that had never been there before.
It as generous to think of it as a bump, or to call it a bump, since at almost every angle Gwen’s stomach appeared as it always had. With the press of her hand, she could make it lay flat, and when she was dressed, it was lost. But in bed, or as she washed, Gwen could rub her hand low over her abdomen and feel the slight rise of flesh.
Underneath, deep inside, was her baby.
***
Gwen was shaking, she was so angry.
It must’ve been a sight to behold, the small and usually-very-sweet Guinevere staring down the empty space between two guards posted outside the throne room, barring her entrance until the meeting held inside was adjourned. Inwardly, Gwen clung to the memory of her former self - ‘Serene Guinevere, as she thought of her - wondering where she’d had the nerve to run off to. She’d been gone almost three full months now.
… Damn it, she added.
When the doors finally opened, Gwen made her way through the gaggle of knights and advisors who bowed their heads and offered polite, “My lady”s.
Arthur stood with his back to her, Merlin close at his side.
He turned to face her first. “Gwen!” he exclaimed with a smile. But just as quickly, his face fell, and she tried to soften her look a little. But the softening must’ve made her appear close to tears, since Merlin looked almost stricken. “I’ll just …” he mumbled awkwardly, pointing toward the door.
Arthur looked over his shoulder in her direction as Merlin slowly backed away, opening his mouth to speak and quickly snapping it shut again at the sight of her. Though she met Arthur’s gaze head on, she thought for a split second that she might lose her nerve and burst into tears at the injustice instead. But Merlin squeezed her arm briefly as he passed her by, giving her the strength to say what she meant to.
When the doors closed behind the warlock, Arthur cleared his throat and spoke first. “What’s wrong?”
As though he didn’t know.
“They took my cleaning!” she blurted angrily, still shaking.
There was a great deal of space between them still, but she could read the surprise on his face plain as day. “What?”
“I was going to do it!”
He was clearly drawing a blank, which only served to incense her further.
With a shaky breath, she tried to convey her point, which ‘Serene Gwen’ was telling her in the back of her mind, was a little ridiculous. “I was going to take it,” she repeated slowly, fighting the wetness filling her eyes and the bitter taste in the back of her mouth, “But you told them not to let me!”
Arthur stepped off the dais. “You don’t do your own laundry anymore, Gwen.”
“I know I don’t have to, but I wanted to! I still want to!”
“And how was I supposed to know?”
She sputtered. He just was … but she doubted that he’d understand that. So she pressed on. “I don’t get to do anything anymore, Arthur.”
“So you want to start with your laundry?”
“I need to start with something! I’ve been cooped up, bored out of my mind for weeks now, because you don’t seem to think that I’m capable-”
He advanced a few steps toward her, eyes flashing. “I never said that.”
“But you don’t want me in court, outside, at meals-”
“I’m trying to help you-”
“By trapping me?” She hesitated when she saw anger flash across his face, but took a few defiant steps forward anyway. “I’m trying to prove to myself that I can handle all this … change just fine. To prove I can eat without getting sick, walk around without falling over, take my own dresses a few rooms over without collapsing, but I can’t because …” she dropped her gaze, voice losing a little of its fury. With a deep breath, she finished, “It just makes me feel like I can’t.”
Silence. As in that first confrontation years ago … when she’d thought she’d gone too far.
She braced herself for his response, but he only asked, “What do you mean you can’t?”
“I’m scared, Arthur.” She dared to look into his face again. “I wasn’t expecting this … I’d only begun to wrap my mind around being queen, and suddenly I’m supposed to be a mother. And there’s nothing that makes me happier, and nothing more terrifying … and the more things you say I can’t do, the more it seems like you don’t believe in me.”
Gwen closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, suddenly relieved of a great burden. When she looked up to meet his gaze again, she felt instantly bad. His arms were crossed, and he was looking away, and she wanted to slap herself for hurting him. But the truth needed to come out somehow.
Before she could do anything to soften the blow she’d delivered moments earlier, Arthur spoke up, voice low. “I only wanted to protect you.”
She went to him, dared to reach out and place a warm hand on his chest, willing him to look at her. “I know,” she murmured, “… But I’m safe.”
“I believe my father thought the same thing.” His eyes found hers once more, and Gwen’s heart broke a little for the pain there.
She didn’t have a response. In her anger, her frustration, she missed what should’ve been obvious. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, to be held and reassured, but she was uncertain how to close the distance. “You have to trust me,” was all she could say.
He looked down again, shaking his head. And with an almost inaudible, “I’m sorry,” he left her standing there.