Gwen & Art Are Not in Love

by Lex Croucher

It was quite early in the summer for things to have gone so spectacularly wrong.

💀

“Nobody else is ever going to care as much as you do about the things that you want, Gwendoline. So it’s up to you—you can put them aside forever, if you can live with that, or you can put on your big-girl girdle and demand more for yourself.”

Is there a—is there a how-to guide for monarchs? Tips and tricks for subjugating the masses? Prevent a revolt in ten easy steps?”

“If you think about it, some variety of magic turns up in the story of every country and kingdom in the world. It goes by different names, but it’s always there. Other religions have their own magic words—their own rituals. It seems unlikely that magic never existed, and yet everybody came to the same conclusion of their own volition.”

“I’m going to bed. Suggest you do the same, instead of staring dramatically out of the window like you’re in a poem.”

“Why don’t you come over here,” Gwen said sweetly, “so I can pit you like an olive?”

“I like to meet people where I am,” said Arthur, as they got to their feet. “I’m already there. Saves on the commute.”

“Why are you talking like you know something I don’t?” “What? I’ve never known anything,” Arthur said.

“Jesus, Gabriel—why are you punishing her for who she is because you’re scared of who you might be?”

clocked him

And besides, has it never occurred to you that being king means you’ll have the power to change things?”

You’ll still be you, even when you’re king. So what do you want to do with your one slightly dull but nonetheless precious life?”

Arthur sighed. If only both siblings could have had their crises in the same room, he could have halved the evening’s work.

“It’s stupid.” “I’ll be the judge of that. I’m very familiar with stupidity.”

“Put your hand on my shoulder.” “Why?” “So I can flip you like a wrestler,” Arthur said. “Why do you think?”

And stop shaking me like a maraca, people will think we’re odd.”

“Oh, shut your mouth, and the rest of you,” Arthur said, somewhat nonsensically.

bestie what does that mean😭

“Mordred? He wrote poetry?” Gwen said, delighted and horrified in equal measure.

I need a head injury.” “You are a head injury.”

“I like it. It’s hard and black, like my heart.” “Your heart is soft and yellow,” said Sidney. “Like marzipan.”