Gwen & Art Are Not in Love

by Lex Croucher

Please bring your own swords, maces, and morning-stars, as none will be provided.

Her first true memory was of Gabriel giving her a piece of warm, fragrant honey cake, sneaking it to her outside the kitchens before dinner to calm a tantrum. Her second memory was of Arthur taking it from her. It had been sixteen years, and she was still angry about that honey cake.

Arthur Pendragon, purportedly Arthur’s relative many times removed, was such a fixture of his father’s lectures that if he’d fallen through time and encountered the man, Arthur’s primary inclination would have been to kick him right in his damned round table.

If they had considered the possibility that he might be leading her off to impugn her virtue, they didn’t seem too bothered—perhaps they thought her virtue was in need of a little light impugning.

“I’m not accusing you of anything, you despotic little psychopath,” said Arthur.

“Brilliant,” said Arthur. “Glad this all has a happy ending. If we’re lucky, some insurgents will rise up and kill us all in our beds before we have to say ‘I do.’” “Don’t give me hope,” said Gwendoline. “It’ll only make reality all the more crushing.”