God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December.

J.M. Barrie

Arthur had come to terms with the facts that Guinevere had kissed Lancelot and flirted with Gwaine. He was also proud of the way he acted like it did not bother him when she admitted that her first kiss had been with Leon, when they were younger and her mother served in his family's home. Even discovering that she had briefly kissed Merlin did not get under his skin all that greatly, partially because of the situation in which it had happened (although, he did inquire as to why she did not kiss him with relief after his run-in with near death, courtesy of the questing beast). Mainly, he did not mind any of it because of where things stood with them now. None of that mattered.

Turning a corner in the castle to find a visiting knight toying with one of her curls, on the other hand, was like a fist to the face. His initial reaction was that Sir Theo must be taking liberties, and Arthur rushed toward them- only to realize as he neared that Gwen was clearly quite pleased with the situation, smiling coyly up at his guest.

Arthur took her elbow as he reached them, shooting Sir Theo a glare that instantly silenced the man's protests, and guiding Guinevere far enough down the corridor that they would not be overheard. "What are you doing?" he hissed, not even attempting to hide his hurt at the situation.

She frowned, keeping her eyes lowered as she carefully extracted her arm from his hold. "Forgive me, my lord. I should not have invited his advances in such a public place."

He was speechless for a minute. There was nothing here that made sense, least of all her response. Finally finding his voice, he bit out, "You would prefer to invite his advances in a private place?"

Still keeping her gaze trained downward, she replied, "I know it is not entirely appropriate, Sire, but-"

"Not entirely appropriate?" What was happening here? "What, precisely, would you define as 'appropriate' about any of this? Wait; why did you call me that?" A cold fear suddenly washed over Arthur; was Guinevere ending their relationship? Of the two of them, she had always been more practical about where they stood in the larger scheme of things, but she had finally come around to the fact that they belonged together.

Or, so he thought.

She would not end things in such a callous fashion, surely? There was not a cruel bone in her body, nor was she a coward. If she had changed her mind, she would talk to him about it. He would have a chance to convince her that their love truly was more important than what any ridiculous laws or priggish courtiers had to say about it. She would not just throw herself at some newly-minted knight barely out of leading strings-

Guinevere glanced up at him in surprise. "My apologies again; I was not aware you did not like to be called 'Sire,' my lord." Her eyes dropped back down. "And of course, I am aware that it is entirely inappropriate, as he is a knight. I will not do such a thing again."

This was not an end to their relationship. This was a complete dismissal of it, and was wrong, very wrong. Pain and confusion were beginning to give way to a deep concern, and Arthur tried to get her to look at him. "Guinevere, what do you recall about this morning? What have you done today?"

A different sort of confusion from his, a more distant one, was written on her face. "My lord?"

"Just tell me. Please. What, exactly, have you done thus far today?"

She pursed her lips and looked away again, although this time it was in thought instead of in deference, at least. "I... woke up, had breakfast and washed, then came here. I took breakfast to the king, collected and saw to his laundry, and then cleared away his breakfast dishes." Realization dawned on her face and she grew visibly anxious. "I know I should be back up there now, my lord; but, the king usually naps at this time, so I thought-"

"No, no; it's not that." Arthur shook his head impatiently, asking the question that mattered. "What about me? Do you recall seeing me at all?"

"Yes, when you visited your father. I did not eavesdrop, if that is what's worrying you, honestly."

He drew back, letting out a breath as he stared at her. The two of them had eaten breakfast together in his chambers, as had become their habit, and taken time for a few kisses before beginning their working days. And while he had, indeed, visited his father, Uther was in a mood and had not wanted company, so Arthur and Guinevere had spent most of the time in quiet conversation.

This was not normal. "Of course, I do not think you were eavesdropping." She did not seem befuddled and a cursory glance at her head fortunately yielded no injuries, but that did not rule out the possibility. "Guinevere, have you suffered an accident this morning? Bumped your head, fallen- anything like that?"

The query obviously struck her as odd. "No, nothing. May I ask why?"

At a loss, Arthur decided a consultation with Gaius was in order. "Never mind. Just... stay in the king's chambers, for now." That would be the safest place for her to be until he figured out what was happening.

Dropping a small curtsy, Guinevere replied, "Very well, my lord." Arthur found himself frustrated by her proper behavior, reminding him as it did of the times when she had kept him at arm's length because she felt she must. As he made his way toward Gaius's chambers, he hoped that there would be a ready solution for this problem, since he did not think he could take any more my lord's.

Gaius would not give Arthur any suggestions until he had spoken with Gwen personally. As he left for Uther's chambers, Arthur leaned against the table in the center of the physician's room, arms and ankles crossed in a deceptively casual pose; inwardly, he was going mad with impatience.

Further down the table, Merlin was washing several jars and vials. "Do you think she could be enchanted?" Arthur asked him, his tone low.

"Maybe. Maybe not. I'm sure Gaius will know more when he comes back."

"It was like she didn't even know me!" Overtaken by his agitation, Arthur pushed away from the table and crossed the room, studying a shelf of odd knick-knacks without really seeing them.

"We will figure it out." Merlin's voice was sympathetic... and also, thoughtful at the end.

Turning slightly, Arthur eyed him. "What is it?"

"Nothing." Merlin shook his head, rubbing the washing sponge over a jar a couple more times before stopping and looking up at Arthur. "It's only that it really is so unusual. I have never heard of an illness causing such a specific loss of memory."

"Nor have I."

"And you, of all people, should know the signs of a head injury." Despite the gravity of the situation, a hint of mischief danced over Merlin's face.

"Very funny. What's your point?"

Merlin appeared hesitant. "I don't know... I guess I don't really have one."

With a grumble, Arthur started pacing. "There has to be something we can do."

"You could kiss her," Merlin mumbled.

Arthur halted. "What?"

"It worked on you when Lady Vivian was here." Merlin shrugged.

Despite Arthur's aversion to the memory, especially since learning of that enchantment, perhaps there was a parallel. "You may have a point."

That was obviously not the praise Merlin would have liked, if his muttered, "I usually do," was any indication. However, Arthur was already on his way out the door.

He passed Gaius halfway to the king's chambers, pausing when Gaius laid a hand on his arm. "I cannot find anything physically wrong with Gwen, but I will continue to look into it."

"I may not need you to, but thank you, Gaius." Arthur was walking away before he had finished speaking.

He was not aware of much else as he strode through the corridors and up the stairs, barely acknowledging the guards outside his father's chambers as he pushed the door open, focused entirely on willing this to work. Besides the obvious drawbacks if it did not, he would also be a complete ass if she was not amenable to a kiss, worthy of the retribution he had nearly visited upon Sir Theo earlier.

When he entered the room, Guinevere sprang to her feet from where she was seated near a window, doing some mending. Dropping into a curtsy, she said, "My lord, we were not expecting you."

For the first time since his father's affliction began, Arthur had not immediately noticed where Uther was. When he did, he wondered at her use of "we," for Uther was still sound asleep. Apparently, his nap today was a long one, and Arthur was glad for it. "I did not think you were expecting me," he replied, suddenly doubting his plan out of concern that he might offend her, if it did not set things right.

"Was there something you needed?" she asked curiously.

That caught his attention. "You. I need you," he said, without really meaning to. Still, it was the truth. As she stared at him in bewilderment, he closed the distance between them and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips- nothing like the way she had slammed him back against the tent pole when their situations were reversed, yet equally true. His heart began to sink when she did not respond... but, she was also not pulling away, so neither did he.

All of an instant, she tilted her chin, and ran her hands up his chest and around his neck. Reservation gave way to relief, and then to something more, and Arthur pulled her close as he slid his mouth over hers. When Guinevere finally leaned back, she seemed dazed in more than one way. "Arthur?"

Leaning his forehead against hers, he murmured, "Thank god."

"What's going on?"

"I have no idea," he admitted. "I am just glad it's over."

Consulting with Gaius, the best anyone could figure was that someone had cast a love spell on Gwen- or, more of an anti-love spell. Arthur was inclined to suspect Morgana, although he had to admit it was a bit tame for her, being that it did not end with his or Uther's death.

Since the enchantment had been broken and there was no immediate way to determine who was behind it, they decided to let it rest for now, whilst remaining on their guard.

When Arthur agreed to that, he expected to have to keep watch for a different sort of attack, something to strike at himself or the kingdom. What he did not expect was for Guinevere to greet him with a curtsy and a deferential, "My lord," when he went to his father's chambers the next morning. He had been somewhat surprised that she did not join him for breakfast, especially after the events of the previous day, yet it was not so extraordinary as to merit too much concern.

As she straightened from her curtsy with her hands folded demurely in front of her, Arthur was taken aback by the ache that went through him. He knew this was not of her own choosing, yet it was unpleasant. At least he could remedy it quickly.

Or... not so quickly, as this kiss lingered once her enchantment was again broken. Despite how nice that was, her brow was furrowed when she finally moved her head back. "It happened again," she said softly, her eyes troubled. She said it as a statement, but it was obviously a question, and Arthur reluctantly nodded.

Smoothing the ties of his shirt a bit absently, she asked, "Is this going to happen daily?"

The worry in her expression mirrored his own. Quietly, he replied, "I hope not."

It did.

Gaius and Merlin spent the next several days scouring every book they could find which might provide an answer. Arthur was trying to make Guinevere believe that her distance was not wearing him down more each morning, because she was taking it so very hard, herself. Elyan had taken him aside and confided that she was staying up later and later, doing her best not to sleep for fear of what she knew waking would bring. The ever-growing shadows under her eyes rendered that information somewhat redundant.

"This has to stop," Arthur barked on the sixth day, striding into Gaius's chambers. Before the kiss even ended that morning, Gwen had broken down sobbing, exhaustion taking its toll on top of the upsetting situation. Once she was somewhat calmer, he had talked her into taking a nap, tucking her into his bed so that she would be as comfortable as possible. He wanted to be there when she awoke, in case the enchantment took hold again. First, however, he needed answers- regardless of whether there were actually answers to be had.

Merlin peered up from the book he was reading, giving Arthur a sympathetic look. The rational corner of Arthur's mind appreciated that. However, he was not paying much attention to his rational thoughts, too irritated to be anything other than more irritated by the kind manner in which Merlin said, "Arthur, we're doing our best-"

"Clearly not!" Arthur regretted that immediately. Letting out a breath, he dropped his chin and gave a shake of his head. God, he was tired; Guinevere was not the only one losing sleep. "Sorry. I know you are." Wandering over to the seats by Gaius's workbench, he dropped wearily onto one of them. "I just have a hard time accepting that you have not found a thing in nearly a week."

Merlin began to reply, stopping when Gaius tentatively said, "I may have found something..."

Arthur was instantly alert, a surge of excitement running through him. "What is it?"

The physician's face defined hesitance. "I doubt it is the best answer, Arthur, or that it even applies."

"Tell me." Arthur's tone brooked no further argument. Likely wishing he had said nothing, Gaius handed him an open book, regarding him over folded hands as Arthur quickly skimmed the page.

Without a word, he passed the volume back to Gaius and stood, wandering over to the window. As he stared up at the brilliant day outside, hands on his hips, he heard movement behind him which was probably Merlin reading the solution Gaius had offered.

That was definitely something on which Arthur did not want to hear his opinion. "Thank you," he said in a low tone, and exited the room without looking back at either of them.

Arthur was seated in the windowsill behind his desk when Guinevere woke from her nap, having been there since he left Gaius's chambers. He had wanted some physical distance between them, both in case she was enchanted again and because...

...well. Because.

"Arthur?" she asked sleepily. Fortunately, it did not appear that the enchantment had taken hold again, even simply the way she said his name carrying enough familiarity and affection to reassure him. As she sat up, Gwen brushed her hair back from her face. "How long was I asleep?"

"About an hour." The smile he gave her took a little work to produce, but he managed. "Feeling better?"

"Not really," she replied honestly. "A bit more rested. Not better, though." Looking at him now, she apparently realized something was off, more than it already was. "What is it?"

He did not answer straight away, bothered by the situation and pleased by the sight of her, mussed by sleep in his bed. It was a very odd mixture of emotions. "Gaius found an answer in one of his books," he finally replied.

Guinevere broke into a wide grin, tossing back the covers and scooting off of the mattress. "He did? That's wonderful! It is not too difficult, is it?"

At her exclamation, Arthur's eyes dropped, absently focused on his ring as he toyed with it. "It is quite simple, as it happens."

She drew to a halt in front of his desk, her enthusiasm waning. "What is it?"

He gestured at a piece of parchment on his desk, upon which he had written the solution. "There."

Giving him a slight frown, Gwen picked it up. He could not watch her as she read it, could not meet her gaze. She held the leaf longer than was necessary; after all, it was only nine words, and while he had not made them very large, his writing was clear.

You have to tell me that you love me.

After setting it back down, she was quiet. He was tempted to look up at her as the silence grew, but kept watching the ring as his thumb worked it around his finger.

"Arthur," she said softly. "Arthur, look at me."

Reluctantly, he did as she bade, wishing she would not see what it had cost him to have to write that and knowing that she would.

If he had not been watching for the troubled look in her eyes, he might have missed it, she set it aside so quickly. She knew him better than anyone ever had, would know that sympathy would only cut him more deeply. Gaius had understood that to an extent, but she was more aware of it. "This cannot be the answer," she said. From another person, it might have been a denial, but it was clear that she honestly did not believe it.

"It is the only viable answer anyone has found." There had been another solution on the same page as this one; despite the draw it held, however, it was not truly an option.

She could either declare her love for him, or make love with him.

While he anticipated the latter at some point, they were still miles away from it, their relationship far too new. And, if things did lead where he knew they should, with Guinevere as his wife, that should be held off until their wedding night. That wait might prove difficult later on, but he would not dishonor her.

Besides all that, if she could not even speak the words, he was found that he was somewhat less interested in acting upon them.

"But..." She made a helpless gesture. "Surely, you know?"

"I do, actually." He could give her a real smile then, even if it was tinged with melancholy.

"Then, how is that supposed to solve anything?"

"Words can be powerful things." Whilst a minute earlier, he had been unable to meet her gaze, now he could not look away. "I do not understand how this enchantment works or why we have found ourselves in the middle of it, but I think I can guess at its origins." None of the times he conveyed his love for her had he done so with the intention of coaxing her to do the same, but it sometimes nagged at him that she had not yet felt the urge to tell him what he knew she felt. There had been so many opportunities, large and small, and they had all passed her by.

"It is not as simple as you say. Memories of actions can change with time as we need them to. Words spoken are harder to remember differently, especially when there are only a few of them."

Arthur was no longer smiling. "Why would that be an issue?"

"Because, as we have said before, this is insane!" She shook her head. "It is wonderful to hope, but..."

"'But', what?"

"But, it will hurt so much worse when it falls apart, if I have said that to you."

He studied her. "You are really so certain that our futures do not lie together?"

"I know it is very likely impossible," she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

He swung his feet down from the windowsill and regarded her as he stood. "Well, I know that what is considered impossible can change. The many kingdoms of Camelot should have been impossible to join into one, and my father managed to do just that. My mother was told that it was impossible for her to conceive, yet I am standing here now.

"And here's another: most people would believe that it is impossible for me to have fallen in love with you, but that is exactly what has happened. I love you, Guinevere, and nothing will ever change that. Even if you cannot say the same to me. Even if you are willing to wake up each morning without any recollection of it, whatsoever. I love you."

She started to speak, but he held up a hand for her to wait. "I have never said that to you with the expectation of hearing it in return, and that still holds true. You should not say it because you feel cornered, or only to break an enchantment." He paused. "When you want to say it- if you want to say it- is the only time I wish to hear it."

For a few moments, she simply looked at him, and he wondered what she was thinking. "Very well," she suddenly agreed, her tone and expression still indecipherable. Without anything more, she turned and left the room.

Arthur had not expected her to do that and was too startled to immediately react. He had just started around his desk to follow when Guinevere walked back into his chambers. Without hesitation, she came right up to him, threw her arms around his neck (once again knocking him back a step or two), and kissed him soundly. "I love you, Arthur Pendragon," she finally murmured, her mouth still very close to his.

While it was exactly what he had hoped to hear for so long, she had just finished telling him why she would rather not say it, and the juxtaposition made him draw back. He could not conceal his disappointment when he said, "You should have broken the enchantment, then."

"Good." She caught his sleeve as he began to turn away. He had not expected her to be so callous about it; that was very unlike Gwen, which made the sting worse— until she continued. "I cannot wake up another morning with no recollection of what has passed between us and what I feel for you. It is driving both of us mad, and my own fears are what is enabling this to happen."

He could not stand the pain in her voice. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he looked directly at her. "That is not true. Nothing about this is your fault."

"I have been too afraid to admit that I love you, afraid of losing that love." It occurred to him to wonder whether a certain past experience was influencing her, though it seemed safer not to dwell on that notion. "Because of that, we have both been hurt."

He bit back a sigh. "You are infinitely practical, Guinevere. Far more so than I am capable of being." That was especially true when it came to her. An unexpected smile tugged at the edge of his mouth, and he took her hands. "Do you not see, though? That is exactly why we work so well: without your sensibility to guide my decisions, I could get in over my head when it comes to ruling Camelot."

Pleased at the change in his mood, an answering twinkle came into her eyes. "You say that as if it has never happened."

"Again, with the practical truth!" By then, they were both grinning. His faded into a warm smile, and he ran his thumbs over her hands. "We truly do complement one another well."

"I suppose we do."

"And, I love you," he said quietly.

She smiled at him. "As I love you."

"Then, we can make this work." Her smile slipped a bit, making him all the more determined that she should accept it. "We will make this work, Guinevere."

She finally gave him a little nod. Teasingly, she noted, "You can be very stubborn about things, after all."

"Terribly so," he declared.

Moving a little closer, she slid her arms around his waist, and his arms went around her with a familiar ease. "In that sense, we may be well matched," she warned him.

"I'm glad of it." He had witnessed her determination at times, and it was a beautiful thing. That was yet another reason they worked so well together… there were so many reasons.

It was awhile later when they left his chambers, both of them in a much brighter mood than they had been in a week. It was awhile later still— a few days, to be exact— when Gaius knocked on the door to the king's chambers. Arthur was visiting with his father whilst Guinevere put away some clean laundry, and both of them joined Gaius out of Uther's hearing.

The physician was carrying a small, clear jar, inside of which was a yellowish-green powder. "Gwen, do you recognize this?"

Guinevere nodded, glancing quickly at Uther before saying quietly, "It was in Morgana's chambers with some of her toiletries. I packed it up several days ago; what are you doing with it?"

Rather than answer her question, Gaius asked another. "Did you happen to open it?"

"Yes. I did not know what it was, so I gave it a sniff to see if it was a perfume for the bath."

Arthur frowned. "What's this about, Gaius?"

"I believe that it is a dried form of wolf's claw, which has been enchanted."

That meant absolutely nothing to Arthur. "What would that accomplish?"

"On its own, it can be an effective aid for improving memory. With the wrong magic..."

"...it can deny one's memory?" Gwen guessed.

Gaius's eyebrow went up. "It can actually be used to control minds, if the sorcerer is powerful enough." He gave Arthur a severe look. "I suspect that was what she was planning to use it for."

Arthur blinked. "You believe that what happened with Guinevere was... an accident?" All that worry- all that pain- was unintentional?

"It makes sense," Gwen said. In a way, Arthur supposed it did, although he wished he could blame someone directly. As usual, she seemed to know what he was thinking, and took his hand. "It's over now, and that's what matters."

"And, Morgana did not have the opportunity to use this in the way she could have done," Gaius added, indicating the jar.

Arthur noticed that Guinevere was trying to catch his eye. She gave him a sweet smile, and he understood what she was thinking. They had gone through a very difficult week, but they had emerged from it stronger than before.

Sometimes, even the worst mistakes could have welcome consequences.