Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and alerted:)

There are spoilers in this fic up to Series 4. Also, if you hadn't already figured that out from the summary, there are some pretty strong religious themes. If you don't like that sort of stuff, this story is not for you. Thanks to Kitty O for beta-ing for me:D

I don't own Merlin, or the song this fic was based on, 'Did You Think To Pray?"

Gwen was exhausted after crying, so Merlin ushered her into his room and left her there to rest. But Gwen felt certain that, no matter how tired she was, she wouldn't sleep for a long time. She realized that the sight of her father's body lying motionless on a cart would probably be enough to fill her head for many nights to come.

But it wasn't just that. Dark thoughts swam through her mind, also impeding sleep. If she had been almost anyone else, this might not have stopped her, but she was Gwen; unkindness was practically unknown with her.

Whenever she failed to repress the memory of her father, other memories would rise to the surface, memories of speeches and executions, of strange laws and cold looks, all given by one man.

Uther.

Oh, how she hated him. Red seemed to cover her vision as she thought of him, and she wanted to leap to her feet, find him, and run him through with his own sword. She wanted him to make him feel the pain she was feeling. She wanted to make him pay.

How could he have done this? Her father had been innocent; she knew this, and she felt sure Uther did too. Hateful man! Wicked old tyrant! Heartless fool! Perhaps she should give him a taste of his own medicine!

The next thing Gwen knew she was on her feet and reaching for the door latch. Her hand stopped dead inches from it as she realized was she was doing.

Is this really a good idea? one part of her questioned. Come on, Gwen, this isn't you! Guinevere, kind blacksmith's daughter and lady's maid, does not seek revenge! Don't let the anger take control of you!

He deserves it! she thought angrily. He's killed so many people! How many innocents have died to appease him? I can put a stop to that!

No you can't, Gwen. You're one girl. He's a trained warrior surrounded by protectors. How will you do it?

A sudden vision of how she might do it came to her mind, and Gwen stumbled back in shock at the power of it. She could see herself, hands bloodstained and eyes mad, reveling in her revenge.

And her father, sadly leading Uther's drained spirit away.

Tears poured down Gwen's face as she realized what was happening. She was letting anger take hold of her, letting it shape her words and actions. She must stop it.

But how? Still it coursed through her veins, making her tremble with the effort of sitting still. She could still remember her father's corpse. Just realizing she was angry was not going to make the anger go away.

Trembling, she lay down on the bed and curled into a ball. Suddenly afraid to move lest she do someone harm, afraid to open her mouth - even to call for help - lest hateful words escape, Gwen squeezed her eyes shut and prayed frantically for release. '-

It's a wonder no one entered the room to try and comfort her quiet sobs, or maybe they wanted to give her some time alone. She was grateful for this solitude in those terrifying moments. One might have thought she was having a fit as her hands clasped her hair and her whole body tensed. They might have rushed to her side and shaken her in fear, only to unleash the beast that coiled around Gwen's heart.

Yes, she was grateful to be left alone.

A calm overcame Gwen as she lay there, and she relaxed. Breathing deeply, she stretched out her aching muscles, going slowly just in case it triggered another attack. Thinking of what her feelings had been just a few minutes before, Gwen shivered, then sent up a little prayer of thanks for her deliverance. She was still a little bit angry, and a lot sad, but no longer did that weird madness grip her. She was Gwen again. The urge to kill had passed, leaving her feeling little more than a strange pity for the king.

She wasn't sure if this was exactly forgiveness, a realization that she wasn't going to attempt an assassination of her opponent, but, she thought as her eyes slipped closed in a relatively peaceful sleep, it's a start.

"When your heart was filled with anger, / Did you think to pray? / Did you plead for grace, my brother, / That you might forgive another / Who had crossed your way?" -Mary A. Pepper Kidder

unsigned reviewer: I'm very glad you liked it, and I guess I just answered your question!

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