Here it is at last, as promised!

Sorry it took so long! But what was supposed to be only a bonus scene finally became a full bonus chapter, so I hope it was worth the wait!

Feel free to review some more! :-D

Arthur was in his chambers, standing next to the window and observing the city down below. The streets were alive with preparations for that night's celebration.

He couldn't help but think how lucky they had been. There had been rather few deaths amongst the villagers, which, considering how grave the situation had evolved, was nothing short of a miracle. Especially since he still wasn't entirely sure how everyone had been healed.

He was no fool. He might have been too glad to see his father cured at that moment to really pay any attention to it, but he could tell Livia hadn't done anything. She wasn't the one who healed the villagers. But if she wasn't, who was?

Who was there when Gwen had been healed? Who returned to her house the night her neighbour was healed? Who had been nowhere to be seen for hours and returned wounded once the whole city was cured?

Merlin.

It always came back to Merlin.

How did he get wounded? What had happened while he was away? Arthur didn't believe in coincidences. He couldn't believe Merlin could have gotten those mysterious wounds without being involved in the resolution to the situation.

The only explanation he could think of was that Merlin had found out who – or what – was responsible for the curse, and took care of it. But how? How could he have faced alone what was likely a powerful warlock or creature, unless he was...

The more he thought about it, the more obvious it became. When Arthur had confronted him, Merlin hadn't, at any point, denied being a sorcerer. He had let Arthur rant and had reacted only when being accused of betrayal.

But beyond the recent events, there was also this incomprehensible insistence to always accompany him during his travels, while his place was clearly not on a battlefield. Or was it? How many times had Merlin disappeared for mere instants during a fight, at the very moment some external event came to their help?

No, he really didn't believe in coincidences. There were way too many links to magic around Merlin for them to be random.

A soft knock at the door took him out of his thoughts. "Come in," he invited, convinced it was Merlin, though he didn't expect him so early.

Instead, he saw Gwen walk in slowly and hesitantly. He was surprised to see her there. She should have been with Morgana, helping her prepare for the feast. He was also quite surprised to see her carry a large and heavy winter coat while the bright late spring sun was still shining high in the sky.

"Guinevere, you look... preoccupied... Is there anything I can do for you?"

She took something out from under the coat. A book. Arthur recognised it immediately.

"Livia forgot this in my house," Gwen explained. "I was scared someone would see it and accuse me of witchcraft, but... I wasn't sure what to do with it... Maybe I shouldn't have brought this to you..."

"No, you were right," he assured her. "Don't worry about it, I'll take care of this," he promised and took the book from her hands.

Strangely, he wasn't surprised to find out Livia had forgotten her magic book. In fact, it made sense: the whole leaving it in Merlin's room story had always been a little hard to swallow.

He opened the book to check the handwritten note, flipped the page, and smiled. If the note had been written with a quill, he'd be able to see the ink through the page. He couldn't. It was as if the note had appeared by magic...

He flipped a few more pages until he stopped abruptly on one of them with a strange feeling of deja vu.

One more coincidence that couldn't be one...

"I should go, Morgana is waiting for me."

"Gwen, wait," Arthur called, discarding the book on the table.

When Gwen stopped and turned to face him, Arthur found himself unable to speak. He had put a lot of thought into this. After what had happened recently, or at Hengist's castle, he had to do what was right. Even if it didn't feel right. And it certainly didn't. But right had become a tricky notion lately.

There was no easy way to tackle such a delicate subject. They were alone, and they might not be again before a long time. He should seize that opportunity to talk to her. But where should he start?

"I'd like to apologise for my behaviour over the last couple of days," he finally said.

Gwen frowned. "Apologise? What is there to apologise for?"

"In the kind of situation we have faced, I tend to forget about individuals. I arrogantly believe I know better, become directive and order people around."

She seemed amused by his declaration. "So? Isn't that what one should expect from their future King? There is no need to apologise about that."

"Yesterday I left you in the middle of the hallway without a word of explanation. It just isn't done."

Gwen smiled again. "Duty called, and judging from the results, it was certainly worth bending the etiquette a little."

Arthur sighed. There really was no easy way to say it. "What I mean is, my duty will always come first for me. This may seem insignificant now but this is bound to keep happening more and more as time goes by and I gain more responsibilities. There are things I wish I'd never have to sacrifice in the name of duty, but if I'm honest with myself, I know I will have to. And that might imply having to leave people behind and not living up to their expectations."

Gwen's smile had vanished slowly while he spoke. "Oh," she mouthed quietly. "I think I know where this is going. I'll save you the trouble of explaining any further, even though I can't say I expected this, especially after... I mean I thought we..." She paused and sighed. "Well, from now on I will make sure to remember my place, Sire," she stated with a quick curtsey. "I shall see myself out." With those last words, she turned and headed for the door.

"It's not what I -"

"Yes, it is!" Gwen exclaimed, turning around once more to face him. "Is it about Lancelot?"

"No, it's not," Arthur assured.

"Because I already apologised about that."

"It's not about Lancelot!" Arthur insisted.

Yes, it was about Lancelot. Partly, at least.

Gwen shook her head and walked towards the door again, but froze a foot away from it. "Do you know what attracted me to Lancelot in the first place?"

Arthur suddenly felt nauseous. "No, and I'd rather not -"

"It's how honest he was about how he felt. It was refreshing. You, on the other hand, usually let your actions speak for themselves, and they do say you care, but your words..." She paused again. "I should go..." she concluded with a strangled voice, and reached for the latch.

"I'm saying all this because I do care. A lot. Much more than a Prince should care for one of his subjects. And believe me, it breaks my heart to tell you this, but I have nothing to offer you. Not yet anyway. And it wouldn't be fair to keep you waiting and hoping when I'm not even sure myself such a time will ever come. You deserve to be happy, whoever that may be with."

Even if it was with Lancelot...

Arthur had always thought of himself as not being very good with words. He preferred actions. Gwen was right about that: he was better at showing than at telling. But this speech... It had come straight from the heart, and it felt right.

Gwen's hand dropped to her side. "I agree with you," she spoke slowly.

Arthur felt a pang. This was the closest he'd ever been to actually admit openly how he felt about her, and he had to say that deep down, he had hoped for a little more... opposition to his decision.

"You do tend to order people around," Gwen continued, turning to face him again. "What makes you think you know better than me in that matter? Why don't you let me decide for myself? Don't I have a say in this?" she asked, taking a few steps towards him.

"Of course you do," Arthur recognised, his heart beginning to beat faster. "But like I said, I can't promise anything about a close or even a distant future," he insisted, all the while stepping slowly towards her as well.

"What if I'm willing to wait anyway?" Gwen replied. She was starting to blush.

"It wouldn't be reasonable," Arthur argued, but stepped closer again.

"What if I don't care what's reasonable or not?" Gwen claimed, staring at him straight in the eyes with an incredible confidence.

Arthur's resolution dissolved instantly. He didn't care any more about what was supposedly right. This felt way too right.

"Guinevere..." he murmured and picked up her hands gently.

Her cheeks turned from bright pink to full-blown red.

They were close. Way too close. So close he could smell the scent of her hair.

Out of a purely instinctive impulse, he bent down slowly towards her face. She didn't shy away.

When he was an inch from her lips, when he could feel her warm breath on his, when his heart was beating so fast he couldn't think straight any more...

A sudden knock at the door brutally brought him back to reality.

Gwen's hands slipped out of his.

"I shouldn't be here," she realised suddenly with worry. "If anyone..." She took a step back. "I should go."

Arthur straightened up. "Of course," he said with feigned understanding, but his current state of frustration was so strong he could barely keep his composure. Whoever was behind that door had better have a very, very good reason for being there. "I look forward to seeing you tonight at the feast," he finally concluded.

Gwen smiled, still flushed, and headed for the door. As she left, Arthur caught a glimpse of who had spoiled the moment.

Merlin. Grinning stupidly, as ever.

May have all the magic in the world, but still so desperately clueless...

"Are you planning on remaining there in the middle of the hallway all day, or will you come in at last?"