Title: Lady Fair
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Gwen/Lancelot
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Lancelot has never forgotten her.
A/N: Written for kinkme_merlin.



From the moment Lancelot first saw Guinevere, he knew that he would never see another woman so beautiful. True, her clothes and surroundings were plain, but a lady like her needed no finery, not when her kind eyes and gentle smile shone brighter than any jewel. The knights spoke longingly of the lady Morgana, who was indeed beautiful, but it was a cold beauty. Guinevere was warm, like a fire in the dead of winter or the spring sun on you skin.

He had almost asked her to leave with him, but had stopped himself. Guinevere had a life in Camelot, one that she would not, should not give up for a man she barely knew. Besides, he was poor and had no real home. A lady like Guinevere deserved better. He was not yet worthy of her.

She wasn't the only person he missed after he left Camelot, of course. He frequently thought of Arthur and Merlin, who had both shown him such kindness. He wondered how Arthur was faring with the new recruits and hoped that Merlin and his secret were still safe. Still, it was Guinevere's face that Lancelot saw as darkness fell and he let his mind drift and wander. Sometimes his thoughts were memories: her careful concentration as she took his measurements, the grace she showed at the feast as she weaved among the guests, the look on her face as they gazed into each other's eyes before he left her. Other times... other times he imagined things that he had never seen. He pictured her rising out of a hot bath, her skin shining and wet, the steam not quite manging to hide the curves of her body. Or else he would think of her draped in silk, the gauzy fabric clinging to her like a second skin. Sometimes it was as simple as envisioning her getting ready for bed, shaking out her long hair and removing her clothing piece by piece.

He never touched himself during these... visions. It would be obscene, even blasphemous. She was his lady. It was shameful enough that he should have such thoughts without defiling her further. Unfortunately, he had no such control while he slept. In his dreams, he ran his hands along her sweat slicked skin before lowering his head to taste her. He planted kisses up and down her body, and, yes, he slipped inside her, reveling in the rich heat that coursed through him as her body enveloped his own. Lancelot hated waking from those dreams. He would hold his head in his hands as shame and longing warred within him, mixed with disappointment that the dream had not been real.

He came upon a partial solution one day after defeating a group of bandits who had been terrorizing innocent travelers. He killed all but one of them, a scrawny, scraggly boy who Lancelot felt deserved a second chance. He was holding his sword to the boy's throat when he had an idea. "I have defeated you in the name of Guinevere of Camelot," he said. "Because she is gentle, I will spare your life. However, you must show your gratitude to her by doing no more wrong." The boy nodded his head madly and agreed before running off. Lancelot smiled. This was good. Even if he couldn't stop disgracing himself while he slept, he could at least spend his waking hours honoring his lady.

Lancelot spent many years like this, until he heard that Arthur had become king. Joyous, he raced back to Camelot. His spirit sang. At last, he would pledge himself to Arthur and serve him faithfully for the rest of his days. He could bring glory to Camelot as one of its finest knights. And he could finally see Guinevere again.

Arthur welcomed him gladly. To the right of the throne, standing slightly behind, was Merlin, wearing rich robes that marked him as royal sorcerer. Lancelot's heart swelled to see his friends looking so proud and strong. And at Arthur's left... Lancelot felt something inside him break.

He should have expected that Guinevere might be married. He couldn't have expected her to wait for him, not when she had had no way of knowing if he would ever return. But if only it had been some other man, someone who Lancelot could have resented for not being worthy of his beloved. However, there was no worthier man than Arthur, and Lancelot could never resent him. So, he swallowed his pain and smiled as he knelt and pledged his life to the king and queen.

She looked so regal as she looked down at him. It was nearly impossible to imagine this stately woman ever getting flustered or tongue tied. Then, she smiled at him, and he nearly cried out in delight to see the same blacksmith's daughter he had fallen in love with so many years ago.

Arthur threw a tournament to celebrate Lancelot's return, although Arthur himself declined to participate. Lancelot suspected that he did so to ensure that Lancelot would get all of the glory and not be upstaged at the tournament being held in his honor. Perhaps he should have been offended, but he found that he didn't care. It was worth it to have Guinevere's eyes on him the entire day.

A feast was held after the tournament, and by the end of the festivities, Lancelot was more than ready to retire. Before he could enter his new room, however, he heard footsteps and looked up to see Guinevere walking toward him. "My queen," he said, bowing.

She was smiling at him, that same smile. "You did very well at the tournament. Everyone was very impressed, especially Arthur."

"I must always be at my best in order to serve your majesties."

"I didn't give you a token." There was a touch of nervousness in her voice. "I was worried that showing favoritism so early would make the other knights resent you."

"My queen, you don't need to give me anything."

"No, but I want to." She pressed her lips against his cheek. "There. A reward for your valiance and bravery."

Lancelot watched her her walk away until she was out of sight, then put his hand to his cheek, feeling strangely warm.

As he prepared for bed, he knew what kind of dreams he was going to have that night. If only he could have brought himself to regret it.