A/N: Okay, I decided. This will be the only other chapter I will post. Just a two-shot, see, not so bad.

Gwen rolled over in bed. Daylight streamed in through the window, and she had been staring at it without emotion for a good several minutes.

She was not used to sleeping past daybreak, so despite her exhaustion, she had awoken early. Just as she had every day this week. But even if she was to get out of bed, there was no use. She had nothing to do at this hour.

Arthur had told her that she should sleep whenever she got the chance, as he did, because sometimes, between emergencies and long obligations, sleep was a commodity. And he had laughed, "I'm not as lazy as Merlin would lead you to believe."

She told him that the reverse was also true, that Merlin was not as lazy as Arthur would say, and they had chuckled. But inside she had been panicking. She just knew she wasn't ready for this.

Guinevere had spent the past few months trying to relearn who she was, since she had never thought she was the sort of person to betray her fiancé the night before her wedding. And now this rushed move to being queen had thrown her off even more. So now she was going through an identity crisis, dealing with judgmental looks from various sources due to her newfound status, and lying in bed unable to sleep.

But overall, she was happy.

She was happy because when she woke up and rolled over, she saw Arthur lying sprawled on the other side of the bed with a tiny smile on his restful face.

Soon, she thought as she pulled closer to him, her hand drifting up to settle on his bare chest where the blankets didn't cover it, she would have to move to a queen's chamber, of course. She would get her own, as soon as they finished clearing and fixing up Ygraine's old room. But she hoped not too soon; she didn't want to go. She liked lying next to Arthur – her husband – as she drifted off to sleep with his hand in her hair. It felt safe.

But she was sure there would be no hurry. After all, he did not want her to go either. Perhaps because he did not altogether trust her with her own chambers. (They'd talked; they'd re-evaluated; they'd discussed and they had speculated. But the trust took a while to come back. They were working on it.)

The thought made her distinctly sad. After all, they were married now! She was Arthur's wife—Arthur's and Arthur's alone. He didn't have to share her with a single other man. She was his.

And he was hers, or so she fervently hoped. She scooted a little closer to him, putting her face near his soft blond hair possessively. Maybe she didn't want him to have his own room either. Not that she didn't trust him. (Because Vivian was a curse, Elena was forced, and Mithian was over with!) It was just… men. Noblemen, in particular. Oh, she'd heard stories. And she'd heard how hard it was to stop that sort of thing once you started.

She'd never asked him about any of that, about the times before they'd married or even before they'd met. She didn't know if she was too shy or if she didn't want to know from him. It was too much. Guinevere had dropped a hint at Merlin, though…

Because, after all, poor Merlin was the best friend she had, so he was bound to get awkward girl talk sometimes.

But he had assured her that never within his knowledge…

Guinevere sighed. She was being ridiculously clingy right now, holding onto Arthur tight when there wasn't even any current danger of losing him. But the stories. It wasn't like it was all hearsay, either, after all, Uther had seemed to love his wife a lot, but lo and behold! Morgana.

Guinevere tensed at the mere thought of the woman. What had happened to her? Once again she had disappeared from Camelot after attacking. And if she survived, as she was prone to do, then she would be back. And she would try to take them again.

Gwen was used to feeling sorry for everyone who hurt her. That was her way of dealing with pain, usually, whenever she was wounded, or whenever someone had injured her. If I am hurt, think how bad it must be for them to have to have caused this! And even if it wasn't always true, it made her feel pity for them, so she had little left for herself.

It was a little different when someone hurt the people she loved.

When Uther had died, she had been sorry for Arthur. But despite the year she'd spent with him, her heart was hard. He had killed her father.

So when she thought of Morgana, there was a kind of vague determination in her stomach. Morgana might hate and try to hurt Gwen, but that paled in comparison to what Morgana wanted for Arthur and Camelot.

And Gwen loved Arthur and Camelot.

Gwen stiffened even further in her new soft sheets, curling up close to Arthur protectively. Because no matter what Morgana thought she was doing, no matter how delusional she might be… Gwen didn't care. She only cared that Arthur would not be hurt by his sorceress half-sister.

Gwen was not generally a violent sort of person, but she had been known to stab bandits to save a fleeing Morgana or charge monsters holding Merlin hostage or hilt-whip invaders who wanted to take Camelot from Arthur.

Suddenly there was movement underneath her tense hand, and she looked down to see that beneath her curtain of curly hair, Arthur was staring up at her with blue eyes. "Good morning, Guinevere," he said sleepily.

Smiling serenely, she leant down and kissed him awake, her hand sliding down his hair and to his face. He kissed her back, his own hand coming up and rubbing a tight circular pattern into her back.

She knew people thought that all she cared about were Arthur and flowers, but right now she knew that the next time Morgana tried to attack Camelot, Guinevere would be ready.

And she would bite and scratch if necessary.

Because Arthur was hers.

And that went for the pretty maid from the kitchen that kept smiling at the king, too. She would pull both of their hair if she needed to.