Gwen & Art Are Not in Love

by Lex Croucher

“I am good, though,” Arthur said, winking at Gabriel, who looked thunderstruck and quickly turned back to face the arena. “Don’t wink at him,” Gwen said. “The point is to make it seem like we’re getting together, not that this is some kind of … mildly incestuous free-for-all.”

Gwen was surprised that he was being so talkative—but then, he never passed up an opportunity to wax Arthurian.

“Could you … fall in love with a woman, do you think?” “No,” said Arthur immediately. “Although I assure you that if I ever find myself on the turn, you’ll be top of my list.” “Much appreciated.” There

“You moon, I’m afraid. But she must find it endearing. Can’t say I understand the appeal. I like my men emotionally repressed and unavailable.”

It had been a full year now, but Arthur supposed some hurts ran so deep that they became part of your foundation; he had been relentlessly optimistic about his doomed romance until it had lived up to its name and imploded spectacularly one June afternoon,

“Hmmm. I suppose now would be an excellent time for me to have my very first idea.” “Yeah, keep working away at that,”

“In that case, Sidney Fitzgilbert—I have decided to make a series of poor decisions in an attempt to clear my name in the eyes of those I love, most likely culminating in our untimely deaths.” “Well,” said Sidney, shaking out his shoulders and then settling into the saddle, chin stubbornly raised. “Good of you to announce it this time. Usually, you just crack on.”

she was wielding … “Excalibur fucking Nine,” Arthur choked out,

Arthur pressed his forehead to Gabriel’s, and closed his eyes, and waited for the killing blow.

“To be truly brave, first you must be afraid—and to be afraid, you must have something you cannot bear to lose.”

“You’re going to be brilliant. You’re going to be a brilliant, brave idiot. You’re going to shock the entire country, but they’ll come around when they realize that aside from your penchant for roguish, dark-haired gentlemen, you’re the most righteous, level-headed monarch who’s ever worn a crown. And just think: we’ll be in Tintagel in a week—that’ll give them all some time to get used to it here, where we don’t have to watch them doing it.” Gabriel gave him a weak, forced sort of smile. “That’s the spirit. Now, come on. Chin up, shoulders back; let’s go and show them a new England.”