Prompt/s:

I . "Arthur and Gwen are caught in a storm and must find shelter somewhere safe."

II. "Uther finds out and confronts someone other than Gwen or Arthur."

III. ""Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken..." (William Shakespeare, The Sonnets)"

Author's notes:

Originally written for the Prompt Lottery at ag_fics on livejournal. A story in three parts.

In the Rain

In the Castle

In the Cave

Part I. In the Rain

Arthur and Gwen are caught in a storm and must find shelter somewhere safe.

The rain came suddenly, taking them by surprise. The icy droplets of water fell thick and fast, leaving them soaked within seconds. Hurriedly the young lovers pulled the hoods of their cloaks over their heads, but it was little use. The material, of Gwen's cloak in particular, was only a thin barrier, holding the water momentarily before soaking through, allowing a swift trickle of water to ooze down her neck. She shivered.

Arthur noticed instantly and held her hand a little tighter, pulling her forward more urgently.

"We need to find shelter or you'll get sick," He told her worriedly. Gwen didn't bother to add that he wasn't invincible either. She looked up towards the darkening sky, filled with thick, grey clouds, just visible beyond the downpour. Typical, she thought, the one day Arthur was able to join me. Camelot had been quiet in recent weeks, so Arthur had somehow managed to find time to accompany her on her walk, she should have known it was too good to last. Sometimes it seemed as though trouble followed Arthur around.

She looked up at his handsome features, his blue eyes darting around, frantically searching for a place to shelter. She laughed "Still glad you joined me on my walk?" she said, teasing.

Suddenly he stopped and turned towards her with an intensity she didn't expect. "Yes." He sighed, "I'm grateful for anytime I can spend with you." Gwen smiled with a touch of sadness and understanding. Then she rose on her tiptoes to place a soft kiss to his cheek.

"Me too."

They held each others gaze for a few more moments, lost in each others eyes, forgetting the rain completely. The only sound beyond their gentle breathing was the soft trickling of water, falling from the lush, green leaves in the glade. Then, deciding they should enjoy the little time they had together, rather than dwell on the times they didn't, Arthur's face broke into a wide smile.

"Besides – if I wasn't here who'd keep you warm?" And without further ado he pulled her into a tight hug, wrapping his thick red cloak around her in the process. Her giggles were muffled against his chest, and he smiled into her hair as she shook with laughter.

"Who indeed?"

Gwen smiled against his shirt, enjoying the warmth being snuggled in his arms provided.

She raised her head to look at him, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Then slowly he lowered his mouth to hers. She responded immediately to the kiss, sliding her hands up to thrust them into his matted hair. She felt him smile against her lips, before he pulled her closer into his embrace. They were both soaked to the skin, the rain still falling down relentlessly, but Gwen was no longer cold as she clung passionately to Arthur.

Suddenly a clap of thunder caused them to jump apart, both grinning awkwardly, remembering the storm. Gwen stepped back slightly, while Arthur ran his hand through his hair, now in complete disarray thanks to her.

"um…I think I saw a cave over there." He indicated behind her.

"Okay." Gwen took his hand in hers, and let him pull her towards shelter, already knowing it was too late to prevent a bad cold in the morning, yet somehow, she couldn't bring herself to care.

Part II. In the Castle

Uther finds out and confronts someone other than Gwen or Arthur.

The King watched silently from the southern tower, as his son, the Prince, held out his arm for a simple handmaiden. The girl, who Uther now recognised as Morgana's former handmaiden, accepted the gesture with a soft smile, lightly wrapping her hand around Arthur's elbow. They began walking towards the forest, both oblivious to the darkening storm clouds overhead; it seemed they were too emerged in each other to care. Uther could see their shoulders shaking with laughter, could see how the girl gently leaned towards his son.

Suddenly, just before they disappeared into the trees, Arthur stopped and pulled away from the girl, spinning around. For a moment Uther was tempted to hide, before realising the boy was simply looking at his sweetheart. Besides, there was no reason Arthur should know he was here – the tower was supposedly deserted, no one knew it was the King's private haunt – after all it was he who had it shut off after Igraine's death, as it had been her favourite spot. Uther suspected that this was why Arthur felt it was safe to meet his paramour beneath the tower.

He watched on, in slight amusement, as his son plucked a flower from the ground and clumsily placed it in his lovers' hair. He remembered Arthur's first attempts at courting; Lady Josephine, who had received a bouquet of roses – which contained more thorns than flowers; the poor Lady Winifred whose hair had been set alight as the Prince attempted a candle lit dinner; and of course Morgana, who at the age of thirteen had been presented with Arthur's first attempt at poetry, and had been most displeased to find that the only rhyme Arthur could find for "pretty" had been "bratty." Uther chuckled at the memory - watching as his son pulled the girl gently into his arms, dancing with her in the breeze - it seemed Arthur's romantic side had developed drastically.

The girl laughed before stepping backwards slightly, keeping Arthur's hand in hers before playfully tugging him towards the trees, the Prince complied with enthusiasm, and started to pull her along, forcing her to run. As Uther watched them disappear he smiled, they reminded him of his days with Igraine.

Turning from the window he slid down the wall, sitting on the floor, lost in thought. Arthur had been so happy recently, yet more responsible, more eager to take care of the Kingdom. He would be a magnificent King. He was pleased to see Arthur happy, and he wanted to like this girl, the girl who had made his son smile again - because Uther was no fool, he knew Arthur had had an unhappy childhood, he just didn't know how to make up for that - there was just one problem, she was a servant. Not only that – the son of a man who died a traitor's death, for the blacksmith had never officially been pardoned.

It stung Uther to know that a servant could make Arthur happy, while he, the boy's father, could do nothing. He could of course, blame his sons adoration on magic, accuse the girl of sorcery for a second time, but he knew it wasn't true. And could he really bring himself to take away the source of his son's joy?

There was also the question of the Kingdom; a commoner could never become Queen. What to do? Sometimes Uther despised being King – should he place the Kingdom before his sons happiness? But, if Arthur lost his love, would Camelot still want him as King? For he would become like Uther himself – and as a father he couldn't allow it – he couldn't allow Arthur to become consumed by hate, as he himself had been. Yet the question remained – could he allow the commoner to be Queen? As much as the King hated to admit it, he needed advice. So, as always, he went to Gaius.

"You should have told me!" Uther raged at his discovery, the old physician had tried to act surprised at Uther's announcement, but the King knew him too well.

"Sire, I felt it only fair to protect the Prince's privacy, and I heard nothing from his mouth – I claim knowledge only from my observations of the two of them."

"But you suspected, and I should have been told! How am I supposed to protect the Kingdom, if my own people do not tell me what's happening?"

"I hardly think Gwen is a threat to Camelot my Lord, if anything she is an asset, I have lost count of the number of times she has assisted…" Gaius made to continue his speech in Gwen's defence, but Uther would not listen. The King did not need more reasons to like her; she made Arthur happy that was enough. The problem did not lie with his opinion of this Guinevere, rather with her ability to rule.

"But could I really allow my son to marry a commoner! Allow her to be Queen?"

"Sire, I believe that one day Gwen could be a brilliant leader."

The aging men sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound coming from the heavy rain battering the windows. The storm had finally hit – and Gaius couldn't help but feel it was symbolic. He feared for Gwen, for Arthur. Whilst he believed Uther wanted the best for his Kingdom, the physician knew all to well that the King was often blinded by his prejudices. And this train of thought reminded him, he needed to get rid of the King before Merlin arrived home – Gaius wouldn't put it past the boy to walk in and start wittering about magic. He often wondered how the young warlock kept his head on his shoulders; he could be so careless at times. Also, he didn't want the King finding out that Merlin knew of Arthur and Gwen's relationship – it would only make things worse.

"Sire, I have a suggestion." Gaius began carefully, studying the King nervously, looking for some sign to continue.

"Go on."

He continued slowly, "Well, you do not want to get rid of the girl, Arthur would never forgive you…" Uther nodded sternly "…however, you don't want to acknowledge Guinevere officially." The other man rolled his eyes impatiently.

"Gaius I know this – what is your solution?"

"Do not tell anyone that you know of their relationship. Leave the decision to Arthur. He would not make her Queen if he didn't think she could manage, and if it isn't meant to be, this relationship will end itself."

Uther pondered over this for a moment – as King subtlety was not his way of doing things, he liked to be in control at all times, he didn't like people keeping secrets – to allow this relationship to continue would almost be to condone it. But if it made Arthur happy…and no one need know he knew, if one day Arthur chose to make the maid his Queen, it would be Arthur who faced the council's wrath, not he. Uther knew this was a coward's way out, but he had fought enough battles to last him a lifetime… and he could not allow this weakness in his heart affect his authority over the Kingdom. He may be willing to let this relationship continue, but he would not fight for this girl, his prejudices did not die that easily.

"And what if he asks permission to marry? What do I say then…I cannot let him wed her, it would weaken my authority, allowing this girl to break all bounds of propriety!"

"Well Sire, now you are aware of the relationship, you can take time to study the girl. Decide for yourself whether she could be Queen, whether she is worthy of you son." Gaius knew he was playing a dangerous game, one wrong move and Gwen could lose everything– and she wouldn't even know she was being watched. But Gaius had faith in her, and at least it would prevent Uther from doing anything rash, at this point in time anyway.

After minutes of silence Uther sighed in defeat, "Fine. I shall stay quiet for the moment."

Gaius smiled in relief.

"However, the girl shall become one of my personal servants. Then I shall be able to monitor her." Gaius wondered what Gwen would think of this, she would be nervous certainly – and she would definitely, unknowingly, be in more danger – but she would receive a higher salary, and after Morgana's loss, he knew she needed the money.

"An excellent idea."

"Thank you for your counsel Gaius." Said Uther, moving towards the door.

"My pleasure Sire."

"Oh and Gaius? You shall speak nothing of this – not to Arthur, or Guinevere, or that boy of yours."

"Of course, my Lord." But as Gaius closed his door on the King, his only thought was that there were too many secrets in Camelot. Too many secrets.

Part III. In The Cave

"Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken..." (William Shakespeare, The Sonnets)

The cave was small, a tiny space in the rock face which jutted out of the earth. There was barely enough room for two people to lie down comfortably, but the walls of the cave provided merciful shelter from the icy winds blowing through the forest, battering the trees with a ruthless force.

Arthur sat with his back resting against the hard, stone wall of the cave, gazing out into the storm. He glanced down at the sleeping girl in his arms; the gentle weight of her head in his lap comforting, and her thick, dark curls in deep contrast with his white shirt. He smiled affectionately at her gentle breathing, he would give anything to see this sight everyday, for her to wake safe in his arms. Their cloaks were laid to the side, they had tried using them as blankets, only to realise that the wet cloaks were doing more harm than good as the water dripped onto their skin. Guinevere smiled softly in her sleep, and Arthur wondered idly what she was dreaming of.

Once again he looked out into the storm, which was battering the world just outside their small sanctuary. He watched as the deep, emerald leaves - which usually appeared so fragile, shaking with the slightest breeze – withheld the tempest. Large, pregnant raindrops fell down onto the leathery green surface, while the fierce winds made the entire tree shudder in the ground, but still the structure stood strong, as it had for hundreds of years, and would continue to thrive for hundreds more.

It struck Arthur that this unmoveable oak was like his love for Guinevere. He knew they would face challenges, they had done already, and he knew the worst was to come. And yet he would not lose hope, just as her faith in him was unwavering, so was his belief in her, in their future. She had told him so many times she could never be his Queen, but he couldn't imagine another by his side. He never would. His love for her was too strong, too resilient. Arthur Pendragon was like the oak – he never gave in, he never bent to the will of those who tried to defeat him. His feelings would not change because someone ordered them to. He would make Guinevere his Queen, or die trying. And from the way her hand fisted into his shirt, directly above his beating heart, clinging desperately to him, he knew he would not fight this battle alone. They would face the storm together - and they would win.

A/N: This won Best Fic and Best Overall over at the prompt lottery, so a huge thank you to everyone who voted – and to the wonderful mods ella_rose88 and sophielou21 who organised the lottery.

Comments would be greatly appreciated :)