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 You're the reason, for Arthur // Sky
King Arthur Pendragon
 Posted: Dec 9 2017, 11:28 PM
Quote
  • Royalty (30)
  • Arthurian Legend
  • Camelot
  • “Gather the soldiers, the heir to enfold. Crown him and give him a sceptre to hold.”
Skylark


a vial of hope and a vial of pain
in the light they both looked the same
“It’s okay, Arthur, really.” She lets that placate him. And Arthur resigned himself to those words, eyes still not leaving her. He lacked to strength to argue, not in the face of how much Gwen was trying to hide her own pain for his sake.

Her husband reminds her of all of it in a pained voice, of all the promises he’d made and broken. Right up to the very moment which saw her by his bedside. He couldn’t help breaking them it seemed, just as he could never stop making them. She whispered back to him a voice so quiet, it almost wasn’t there at all. She forgave him, he was only trying to protect her.

And how well that had gone. How great a place it had brought them both to…

But it was all Arthur ever wished to do for her. His wife, his queen, his Gwen. To protect her from the harm this world might bring her. Even in the form of himself, and the endless string of miscarriages he was destined to bring her. So desperate was his need to protect her, it had overridden even his devotion for her. For that terrible, terrible year.

As he broke under the weight of these horrible decisions he felt he’d been forced to make, she is right there for him. To comfort him, to remind him of all she had almost lost in him. He tells her just how brave she’s been, he is in awe of it. “I’m brave when I’m with you.” And it lights up a sad smile on his lips. Why had they both been forced to be so brave? When had the world demanded such courage from the both of them?

King Arthur and Queen Guinevere; better together than apart. Braver, stronger, capable of so much more. When they could carry the weights of each other’s burdens.

“You always make me brave.” He offered in return. That watery smile not fading.

He remembers so strongly that little boy with a kingdom place upon his young shoulders. The one so woefully underprepared, so scared of his own shadow. And his best friend who’d always been there for him. Who listened enraptured by his tales of battle, who begged him to come back every time he left once more with his army. Who stood by him through every trial and tribulation of those four years of bloody conflict, and all the years after. The woman who’d agreed to share this life with him. Who never failed to this day to whisper courage into this heart.

Arthur tries to tell her, tell her everything. All his proof, and of this inexplicable but entirely certain feeling that it was done. This was done, finished, he was free at last. But what forms in his head and what spills from his lips are from two different worlds. It seemed to make sense to Arthur, but whenever he tried to voice it, it came out as the confused rambles his wife could hear. He told her, in that quiet awe of his, of that picture he had in his head of her holding their son in her arms. An ideal they’d treasured for so many years, brought to life in those dreamlike visions.

That little boy, just finding his feet, who was equally his mother and his father. A product of their endless devotion.

It brought only crying from his wife, the very thought of it, not the shared amazement he’d somehow imagined. “I want to believe you so badly.” She cried against him, and Arthur’s heart is breaking at the sound of his wife’s words. “Then trust me with this, Gwen.” He pleaded one more time, eyes locked with hers. She wanted to believe it, but she couldn’t allow herself to. Couldn’t allow herself to hope for one moment for fear of what it would do to her the moment that hope was ripped from underneath them all. And he was the one responsible for that.

How could she ever think her children safe again? When every one had already been destined to die by the hands of the stale blood feuds of the Pendragon clan.

He watched the tears wetting her cheeks now and knew it was cruel of him to even dare.

Arthur. He is almost deaf to it. He certainly didn’t react. Those whispers, soft, low, almost awed, kept coming seemingly without end. Like another voice altogether spoke them. Like another mind thought them but his. About the red and the blood and the fire. Arthur, stop. And he snaps out of immediately. Calling himself crazy.

Because it all sounded so much like it was. Like he was. Or at least, sounded like the exhausted ramblings of a man who’d just suffered substantial blood loss…

He didn’t know. Of course, he didn’t. He felt he did but King Arthur was a man of reason. A man too tired to fight this anymore, too tired to argue with his own mind in circles about what this all meant. He didn’t know.

And the admittance broke his wife all the more than his earlier belief. He can see the pain in her eyes as she spoke. His heart breaking all over again at the very tone of her voice, bleeding with pain as their hearts weeped in unison. Over the children they had lost. And Gwen, his wonderful Gwen, over the husband she’d so nearly had to grieve over this night too.

Tears spill from his eyes, tracing trails down his face once more. His heart bleeding for his wife’s. Arthur forced himself not to hide away from her again, not now she needed him. No matter the pain which pierced them both, at the mention of the children they’d been forced to lose. At the events which had led them both here; for her husband almost dying for the very sake of those children. “Shh, Gwen, I know. It's alright. I understand.” He understood all too painfully just the extent of what his love had caused her. That arm about her held her so very closely, his other injured hand reaching over to brush her hair behind her ear. Fingers grazing her cheek.

“I can’t hope like that again. Please don’t do that to me.” It pushed through Gwen’s tears and pierced right through Arthur’s heart. He winces, as if the words had physically wounded him. It would always pain him, the thought of hurting her in any way. But he already had, it was his curse that had done this. That had destroyed her hope. That had turned the joy of her being pregnant into a terrifying waiting game.

Please don’t do that to me.

She asked it of him, begged it of him; to leave it to rest. To stop giving her hope.

If Arthur had been at all in the state to, he would have kept pushing. If he had the strength, he’d have explained this feeling properly. Kept the hope alive for the both of them. But he wasn’t, and he hadn’t. And all at once that realisation comes crashing down on the king once more. You did this to yourself. You can’t complain when you only have yourself to blame.

Tears spill from tired eyes.

The arm around her loosened its hold. Falling back now to their bedsheets. Even that small movement sent sharp pains shooting down his forearm. Ones he winced at but didn’t mention. You have to take care with them, else they won’t heal properly. He could hear his physicians’ words already. But Arthur had already resigned himself to them scarring horribly, so what really was the use?

She told him to stop and he buckles. Laying there, he looks defeated almost.

The hope, that temporary joy, dies in his expression. His features turning from their confusion and their inexplicable belief, to the exhaustion and the pain which was laying underneath it all. “Sorry.” His eyelids flutter closed. “I can’t think straight.” The husband offers as an explanation, an excuse which wasn’t far from the truth.

As his eyes fall closed, it all came flooding back. In a muddled array of half-remembered scenes. Like memories from another life. Gwen staring right through him. The bleeding throne. His arms, cut and bloodied, letting his life seep from them. Those children. And the agony he bore for them, setting a fire beneath his skin-

That wasn’t good enough. She deserves far more from him than this.

His whole body ached, his head well past begging for rest. He should sleep, but his heart fought to refuse. He didn’t want to yet, didn’t wish to leave his Gwen alone to his sleeping form again quite so soon. Arthur wished to talk with her until the sun disappeared back behind the horizon, to lie here beside her for an eternity. And pretend somehow that he hadn’t nearly given up his every chance to hold her in his arms again, to plant gentle kisses against her lips. Like death hadn’t nearly had its way with him last night, to leave Gwen here in the land of the living with his unborn child. Without her king.

Arthur placed a kiss on her forehead. Whispered one last promise into her hair. “I’ll hope for you.” He offered her an exhausted smile. That flicker of hope in his eyes again. “Deal?” He offered to carry that heavy burden of belief for himself and for her, for them both. If she found it too painful to let herself hope again, Arthur would gladly relieve her heart of that duty and place it on his own. No matter the heartbreak it assured him, that fateful day if it came. When all this proved false.

In this small moment, it felt as if they existed out of time almost. Despite the ever moving earth, and ever rising sun breaking morning slowly through their window. There was so much, so very much, weighing heavy on the tired monarchs of Camelot. In the peace of the early morning which would see an ailing king, and not one lost.

His hand moves cautiously, mindful of his injuries, from cradling her face to the hand which rested still against his chest. Her fingers on his skin above his heart, his hand takes a gentle hold of hers. Fingers playing with hers a moment before-

“What happened to your hand, Gwen?” He asked, brow creasing in concern. Arthur lifted their hands a little in the air, turning hers over gently so he could see.

The same starched and reddened bandages patching the king together also held together his queen.

+Tag: @Kelly
+Notes: ughhh these two <33
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Queen Guinevere Pendragon
 Posted: Dec 12 2017, 01:54 AM
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  • Royalty (28)
  • Legend of King Arthur
  • Camelot
  • “I keep a close watch on this heart of mine, I keep my eyes wide open all the time”
Kelly


Well hold on, my darling This mess was yours, Now your mess is mine

“You always make me brave.” Gwen offers up a sad smile that matches her husband’s. Arthur had been making her braver since she was ten years old, since that very first day at that meeting of knights of the round table her father had taken her to. Since that boy king had taken a chance on the shy, quiet girl in the corner and found himself a friend for life. Someone who would stand with him no matter what, someone who always wanted to be with him, to hear his worries. Someone who loved him.

He had been all that for her too. After Arthur she had feared her father a little less. Hurt a little less. Because no matter how bad the emotional abuse got at home, he had always been there to meet her in that oak tree.

When they had grown up and she had become more than Arthur’s best friend (his wife, his queen) he didn’t stop making her braver. He was just making her braver in the face of different things. The whispers and the pitying glances and the insecurities.

When they were together, when his arms were around her or his lips on hers, everything hurt a little less. They had always been better together. She supposed that had been one of the things that had hurt the most about that long, awful year. He should have known that about her. Gwen could have weathered anything just as long as he had stuck by her side.

She had fallen apart when he had left her alone. She hadn’t known how to exist like that, being one half of a whole for so long that when her other half was missing it had broken her heart so completely.

It had hurt so badly that she let the wrong person pick up the pieces.

But at least know they both knew for certain that they couldn’t survive without the other. Neither of them ever had to be that alone again.

Then Arthur is trying to explain to her how he just knows. His reasoning makes no sense to her but he seems to believe it so strongly. He’d done it, the curse was broken, their little prince was saved. But Gwen doesn’t believe him, she can’t believe him. Belief would hurt too much.

His voice had been full of wonder when he told her about this vision he had of a little boy in her arms. She could almost picture him, with that curly mane. She had been trying to picture him for a decade. But now she tries to block it out of her mind, convinced that she’ll only lose him.

She wanted to believe him. “Then trust me with this, Gwen.” he begs of her. She wants to, and of course she trusts him… but this was too big of a leap for Gwen’s broken heart to take.

Arthur begins to cry again at the sight of those great tears spilling from his wife’s eyes, at the heartbreak in her voice as she tries to give him her own explanations for why she can’t hope that way again. He attempts to comfort her with whispers of understanding. She tells him how much it would kill to to think they got to keep the child growing in her belly just to have him ripped from her again, she begs him to not make her hope for something she can’t have.

Curled up against his side Gwen can feel Arthur wince as if her words had caused him physical pain. Pain at the idea that he would hurt her so badly, something his wife knows he thinks he’s already doing with this curse that was not his fault. Her watery eyes look up into his, her fingertips dance along his jawline. “You didn’t do this to us.” she reminds him, her voice firm behind the tears.

Then his arm is slipping from around her waist, leaving her feeling vulnerable for a moment. Tears fall from the corners of his eyes and she quietly wipes one off of his cheek. He looks saddened, defeated by his wife’s inability to believe in something so grand without proof. She wants to be able to say she does. She wants to make him feel better, bring back that smile he had only a minute ago at his declaration of what he’d done for her, for their little prince. She just can’t.

His eyes close as he apologizes to her. A tiredness seeping through his voice. She was exhausted too but as long as he was awake, she wanted to be awake. Not giving up a single second, even if her eyes burned and her heart hurt over the conversation.

Gwen is still looking up at him when he kisses her forehead, whispers to her in a soft voice. “I’ll hope for you.” She can see it in his eyes, that willingness to hope where she couldn’t. To carry that heavy load. She whispers back. “Okay. Deal.” Because at the very least, she could give him that. She could let him hope if he wanted to hope, and she would be there for him when it crushed the both of them.

Arthur’s hand moves from where it had laid gently against her cheek to find her own where it rested on his chest. He picks her hand up, and she watches his expression as he studies the bandage around it that matched his. His brow furrows. He asks her what happened.

“The same thing that happened to yours,” she starts out in that quiet voice. “A terrible kind of magic.” Gwen remembers how the blade had burned her as it sliced across her skin. How she didn’t know what Mordred would do but held her hand out anyway. The sight of her blood as it seeped across her husband’s chest. “It was to save you.”


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King Arthur Pendragon
 Posted: Jan 4 2018, 08:30 PM
Quote
  • Royalty (30)
  • Arthurian Legend
  • Camelot
  • “Gather the soldiers, the heir to enfold. Crown him and give him a sceptre to hold.”
Skylark


a vial of hope and a vial of pain
in the light they both looked the same
She’d always made him brave. Always helped him find courage, even in those times when he felt the very farthest from courageous. Long before she’d ever agreed to be his wife, even back when they were just children and Arthur had taken a chance to speak to the only other child in that meeting room. The little girl stood at the very edge of a world built of men, like she’d been trying to melt away into the wall.

She’d given him so much. As well as the courage to ask for that first dance, to lean in for that first kiss, to get on one knee beneath their oak tree and finally ask what his heart had so dearly wished for. Gwen had given him a reason too above all else, to stay safe. To fight valiantly and bravely, but to come home at the end of it all to her with only stories to tell, and not wounds to show. She’d given him her heart to protect, and another life which he’d gladly give his own to defend.

They’d navigated Camelot’s most tumultuous moments together, and they’d equally navigated their own. Always find strength in the other soul forever stood by them, in the heart beating with theirs.

Two lives which had been begging only for more to join them for so long now. Two lives who currently agonised over a third, their little boy, their little prince who could never be.

That something, indescribable and yet inexplicably there, lit a hope in Arthur’s eyes that he couldn’t truly fully shake. Even after his wife’s distraught reaction to his solemn promising without any good reasoning. She tells him she couldn’t let herself hope, not again, she couldn’t hope and then lose this little life again.

And her husband understood completely. It didn’t even bear thinking about, that time they’d both been agonising over these past few weeks. The time he was assuring them both would now never come...but if it did? If he were wrong? He couldn’t even bear to think of it…

He didn’t think he could take the weight, this heaving guilt, of it again. His desperate actions that had landed him so weak in this bed were proof enough of that. He couldn’t let him die. They’d already lost two children. Two children who had been so dearly wanted and would have been so incredibly loved. And it pained Arthur to know of his part in that, it had been weighing down on him since the very first day he realised the warning of this curse laid upon him to be true.

He flinched at the very thought of it, and it doesn’t slip past his Queen’s notice. Of course it doesn’t, Gwen could always read him so well. “You didn’t do this to us.” She tells him, assures him, not for the first time and likely, not for the last. He could hear so clearly that strength in her voice, one leant by the certainty that the words she spoke were true. That she believed them wholly.

But this damned guilt, the one which clung so tightly to his heart, could not be so easily shaken. Not for a man who’d been feeding it for so very long. Arthur couldn’t excuse himself. Not from the blame he felt to be rightfully his to shoulder. “But I did this to us.” The whisper says it all. One year of desperation had led both their hearts to be broken. One moment of foolishness had led Gwen to be pregnant again. A well-intentioned sacrifice had brought them both to this moment, to the grief he’d cause his wife once again. And the turmoil he’d nearly caused every soul in his kingdom.

“Maybe one day, I can think that too.” He relinquished in his soft whisper. Maybe one day he could forgive himself. One day when they weren’t still in some living hell, waiting endlessly for the inevitable.

So, this hope he clung to. This feeling he allowed himself the luxury of believing in, for the both of them. Even if Gwen couldn’t. He offered that up to her without needing the think about it, he’d gladly bear the burden of hope if Gwen felt she couldn’t.

And he can’t help his smile growing wide at her answer. “Okay. Deal.” She gives him that in another whisper. “Thank you,” he breathes. Resting his forehead gently against hers. Arthur already knew it was a promise he would stoically keep, right until the moment he could no longer. He’d be there to hope for her, to ease her doubts, to believe that they were finally free of his sister’s malevolent clutches.

He holds them there, stationally in the air just above them. Both hands as damaged as each other. What happened? Arthur asked, not for the first time since waking. Not for the first time the pieces refusing to add up.

It was the same as what he’d done to his own, his Queen tells him.

The same kind of magic, she added in that quiet tone. And his confusion only grows. “Save me? But-” He is shaking his head now and can’t seem to stop, not as he looked at the injury whose explanation needed to make so much more sense in his head than the one Gwen gave him. What did she mean, save him? They’d found him, treated him, taken him here, that much she’d told him already, but magic? Surely, there’d been no blood magic involved- Not unless-

“No, no, you didn’t...” The King stuttered over the words, throwing a glance at his Queen. A look of both confusion and deep concern.

“I don’t understand, what did you do?” A terrible kind of magic, she had said. The same one which the cut on his hand had been in aid of. The blood magic for which he’d slit down both his arms. But when had Gwen done this? If it was blood magic, how had she done it? Arthur searched her face for the answers he was seeking, that one final piece that would make this all fit in his deprived mind.

His eyes find their hands again and he tenderly brought them down to lay over his heart again, his hand holding hers ever so gently now. Afraid he would cause her any pain. “Oh, Gwen...” Arthur whispers, a concern bleeding into his tone. “Are you okay? Does it hurt much?” Her husband soon begins fretting over her injury, and over her. His worried eyes frantically looking over the red-stained cloth and then to his wife’s expression. That stone cold guilt already digging an even deeper wound through his heart.

It was to save you.

No matter how much this addled mind wanted to reject the thought, it hit him like a brick. Smashing its way through the relative moment of peace they’d found in each other’s arms just a moment before, breaking through to plant a terror in his voice and a sadness in his eyes.

“Was I really that far gone?”

It is barely above a whisper, his weak voice cracking on the question. His gaze sinks back to hers, as the pieces slowly fall into place in his head. Into a position of events that sickened Arthur and terrified him in equal measure.

+Tag: @Kelly
+Notes: <333
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Queen Guinevere Pendragon
 Posted: Feb 4 2018, 07:58 PM
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  • Royalty (28)
  • Legend of King Arthur
  • Camelot
  • “I keep a close watch on this heart of mine, I keep my eyes wide open all the time”
Kelly


Well hold on, my darling This mess was yours, Now your mess is mine

Even through her tears and her breaking heart, Gwen is sure to tell her husband once again that this wasn’t his fault. Her words are so sure because she is. Never, not even for a moment, had she blamed this on him. There is one person responsible for this curse and all the pain it had caused, for the lives it had taken, and that person was not her sweet Arthur who felt so much guilt over it.

He doesn’t really believe her, he never has. But Gwen will keep telling him for as long as it takes.

“But I did this to us.” Arthur says in such a quiet whisper. And for a moment his wife can not protest with that absolute certainty that she had before. She wants to, just as she wanted to believe him when he told her the curse was broken, their son was safe. “No” is on the tip of her tongue. But she hesitates, because when she says the words aloud she knows they won’t be backed by that same strength. That long painful year, the devastating night that had felt just as long. He had done all of that for her, in a way, but it still hurt and she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t still picking up the pieces of herself.

Gwen also knows that this is referring to more than that, to things he is weighed down by the guilt from. She wants to take that all away, to lessen the burden and the pain he’s feeling. When she looks back up into his eyes though, her hand still against his cheek, words fail her and it makes her feel as though she’d failed him.

Arthur moves on anyway. “Maybe one day, I can think that too.” His wife gives him a sad smile. “I hope so.” Their whole conversation was in whispers but it seemed to fill up the whole room. One voice so full of stubborn hope and the other refusing to acknowledge the seed up it springing up in her heart in spite of herself. One daring, the other frightened of a pain experienced before.

He’ll hope for the both of them, no matter how much it’ll hurt him if he’s wrong. Arthur had always been selfless like that. She agrees to let him carry that for her and he thanks her, his forehead pressed into hers.

Her husband asks her questions about the wound on her hand and Gwen can see her answers causing a panic in his mind. His head shaking again and again, he trips over his words. “No, no, you didn’t...” She tries to interject a small comfort. “It’s okay, I’m okay.” but it does little to calm the worry or the confusion in his eyes.

Of course Arthur would be concerned that his wife had bled even a drop for this, no matter the rivers of blood he had.

I don’t understand, he says. Gwen tries to explain it as calmly as she can but tears burn at the back of her throat when she speaks at the thought of it. “Mordred did the magic part. I just bled for it.” Gwen’s voice barely raises above that whisper.

“He was already there when I found you. He told me he could bring you back... I would have done anything.”

She remembers that terrifying energy in the air, the way the blade burned like fire as it ran across her skin.

“I just held my hand out when he told me to and he cut it open. I bled for a bit, and he was speaking words I didn’t understand, and then he put my hand right here.” She lets go of his for a moment for mimic it, her palm hovering above that red spot on his chest. “That blood is mine, there.” Gwen pauses for a moment before taking his hand again, trying to hold back tears. “Then he told me to call you back. So I did, in the only way I knew how. And it worked.” It still seemed like a miracle, that first inhale that echoed around the room. It was a miracle. Her Arthur had come back to her.

“Does it hurt much?” Arthur asks. “It did, but I barely noticed.” Gwen’s eyes travel to the bandages running down his arms. Her mind shows her those awful images again. Her Arthur lying there in a pool of blood, his feebly beating heart pushing out more with each pulse. Gwen shuts her eyes for a moment, willing the images to go away but they are burned into her eyelids.

“Was I really that far gone?” he wants to know. “I thought you were dead.” Gwen repeats her words from earlier in a voice that echoes his, the cracking and the whisper and all. She gives up on trying to hold her tears back. “Honestly, if it had been even just a minute later… I don’t know, Arthur. I think I would have lost you.”

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King Arthur Pendragon
 Posted: Feb 12 2018, 11:24 PM
Quote
  • Royalty (30)
  • Arthurian Legend
  • Camelot
  • “Gather the soldiers, the heir to enfold. Crown him and give him a sceptre to hold.”
Skylark


a vial of hope and a vial of pain
in the light they both looked the same
He professed his guilt. But I did this to us. Like he had done before, this guilt he’d never shake, that weighed down his shoulders and nestled in his heart. Arthur could never forgive himself for causing her any bit of pain. Even if at the time it had felt like the only way to save her from a whole other kind of suffering, he couldn’t forgive himself. It wasn’t in him to. He’d take it to the grave.

He professed his guilt like he had done before, and her accompanying silence it what he half expected to hear. They could neither of them deny it, nor would Arthur ever wish to. But they’d forgiven, and moved past that. Gwen’s silence now was testament to that; that non-answer she had ever right to.

It was the presence now that plagued his conscience, however unwittingly he’d brought them here. To this bed, and this state, he only had himself to blame. And for the horror he’d made her witness to, the pain of nearly losing him. She looked up into his eyes and didn’t speak a word. Gwen didn’t have to, he’d make it up to her somehow.

For a start, he’d do it by living. By recovering; back to the husband who did not remind her in his weakness of everything she’d almost lost.

Their whispers fill the room up in the early hours of the morning. Then they lapse into a peaceful quiet...for a moment before the King is reminded of the injury to his Queen’s hand. He asks after it, concern flooding his face and his tone, and her answer throws him. Arthur hadn’t an idea what he was expecting but the thought of just where this was heading, and just what that meant, brought that tremor back in his weak whisper.

“It’s okay, I’m okay.” Her attempt to placate his worry does nothing to shift that look in his eyes. It wouldn’t do, not when she was hurt. Not when it meant this.

Gwen tried to explain it, like he asked of her, and Arthur could hear the emotion that was grating at her throat. Her voice always sounding just a few words from breaking completely. But even the very first word to leave her lips triggers something in Arthur’s mind. A name which in itself seemed to tie these remaining loose ends together.

Mordred. His knight. His first born son. The child he’d not met since so very recently.

He’d found Arthur first, Gwen goes on to tell him. It was Mordred who had performed the blood magic and that last missing piece seemed to fall in place. Mordred performed the terrible breed of magic that ran in their family, and Gwen the willing sacrifice, had gladly bled to save her husband’s life.

The King was stuck still in silence for a moment as the Queen spoke. And then, “Mordred.” He let out a breath, one almost in relief at having solved those pieces in his head. He hasn’t thought of what this meant again yet, the scope of the damage he’d inflicted on himself.

For now, Arthur’s mind was busy on other thoughts. Of how this suddenly made every sense in the word, for there was something here beside his own magic. And it was no longer his sister’s, but something else foreign...though this time not malignant, but benevolent. A protection that ran through him, wrought by a son’s power and a wife’s willing sacrifice for her beloved.

“It’s you.” Arthur whispered, not quite aware how he had come back to hardly making sense. “I thought I felt another presence, here, in me, another magic- I wasn’t sure before, but it’s the two of you.” Whatever they’d cast on him, it had been strong. Powerful enough to coax a man back from death.

And it lived in him still; willing a body still to live.

He goes silent again as she continues on, telling him just how they’d done it. How she’d offered up her hand, her blood, without a moment’s thought to save him. As much as he couldn’t bear the thought of Gwen being hurt, something else shone through her words; that love which flowed between them. This endless devotion which would see them go to the ends of the earth in a heartbeat to protect one another. That would see a wife sacrifice for a father who’d sacrificed for a son.

She lets go of his hand for a moment, hovers it above his chest to show him just where she’d placed it earlier. Arthur looks, stunned into silence still as he notices what he hadn’t before. A patch of darker red, of dried blood, that wasn’t his own but his wife’s. Where she’d placed her sacrifice above his heart and made her plea for it to not stop its beat.

“Gwen...” Her husband is trying to hold back tears too, they shook in the tremor of her name. Arthur realises now that there was more. Dried blood running over his hands, darker red spilling from under his bandages down past his elbows and up his arm-

He stops looking for them then. It made it too plain to see just what she must have walked in on. Him lying there in the self-sacrifice that had nearly taken him. It scared him to think that he’d never be able to relieve her of that, of that image of him.

Arthur had quickly turned his attention to fretting over her injury, despite how Gwen tried to stop his worries. “It did, but I barely noticed.” His eyes follow hers, found his injuries again the moment she did. And all at once Arthur understood what Gwen had meant. She’d hardly noticed her own injury when she had been worrying over him instead. Her eyes are close when he looks back to her, and Arthur is struck again by the fact that she’d carry this with her. She’d have no choice, they both cared so much.

“You’d ask if you needed anything?” He asks her, still trying to look after her, even in the state they were in. Arthur knew how ridiculous that question might seem but he asked it anyway, when he was the one who so evidently needed nursing now.

“I thought you were dead.” Gwen says in a broken little voice, her tears spilling from her eyes once more. Arthur felt a chill run down his spine to hear it put so bluntly, but as much as his little strength allowed him, he held her closer.

That was it, he knew now. He’d asked whether he’d truly been so far gone as to need magic to bring him back and now he had his answer. Though Arthur lacked the exact timings, of when they’d found him in that secluded little room, of just how long he had been bleeding out alone there, it was clear to him now just how close it had been to being too long. So close he’d been beyond medical help, and instead dragged back through the same magic that had nearly killed him. Not so much heading towards death, but at its doorstep-

Arthur can’t help the tears now either. It felt like there’d been so much crying between them tonight already, their eyes already sore from it, but it still wasn’t over. Another minute and she fears they would have lost him, and Arthur couldn’t even find the words for the weight of what that meant. What had been a desperate last bid attempt to save his unborn child’s life and had nearly had repercussions for their entire kingdom. To throw Camelot into the same uncertainty as his father’s death had, for this nation to lose its king without any obvious heir-

But Gwen. Eliza, his knights, his brothers...another minute and he might not have been here for them at all.

His tears come freely now, as he plants a kiss on Gwen’s head and buries his face against her. “You saved me, Gwen. You saved my life.” This vulnerability now, one in another time he might have hid from, run from, he didn’t mind showing. Not in front of the woman who knew every corner of him; heart and soul. Arthur lacked the strength to try to hide it, or fight it. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” The apologies leaked easily from his tongue, but for what had happened, what he’d done, it felt like he’d never be able to say them enough.

“I love you, Gwen, so much, and I owe you, I owe you everything.” He held here there, a hand in hers, and tried to express what he meant. But there wasn’t the words, there never had been, for just how much she meant to him. “I didn’t want to leave you.” I didn’t mean to almost leave you. The insinuation of his words were obvious, but Gwen knew now at least, that leaving her had never been his intention. Despite what had crossed her mind when she had seen him lying there, with these great self-inflicted wounds.

Arthur took a moment to release this hurt, the heaving of his chest eventually calming. His eyes running dry once more. He moves a little, just enough so he could see Gwen’s face again. His mind aware enough now to begin ticking over everything, beyond them, beyond this moment of quiet-

“What happens now? What do we tell them?”

It was morning, wasn’t it? That’s what Gwen had said earlier. If this had been any other day, they would have been woken up soon and this hitch in his plans sends Arthur into another spiral of worries. “Today’s meetings. We were meant to hold the assembly-” He’d expected to have suffered some loss of blood, to have wounds that needed healing...but not this. He’d never anticipated the agony of it, nor the dreams which plagued him. Hadn’t anticipated collapsing, driving himself so near to his own demise. How long would it take now to recover, to heal? He barely held the strength left to move…

His thoughts jump back to earlier, stating a truth he knew with such a certainty. “They can’t know, not the truth of it, not yet.” Just thinking about it now, it was hard to keep up with how many knew what version of the truth of the events of the past year, and beyond. So few knew about the curse, the real reason beyond Camelot’s absence of heirs, and now this? It was too hard to explain it all, not to so many, so would they have to leave it up to people to make their own assumptions? Arthur was sure his physicians, his nurses, their servants, up until now already had…

“I’m so tired, my love, and I don’t know when…” His thoughts flicker back again, then trail off unfinished. To where they went from here. Arthur says tired when there were so many other words that would fit, but Gwen could tell all the exhaustion, and pain, and weakness from him already. So Arthur went with tired, because tired was easier than all the rest.

+Tag: @Kelly
+Notes: forever dying over them <33
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Queen Guinevere Pendragon
 Posted: Yesterday at 04:01 pm
Quote
  • Royalty (28)
  • Legend of King Arthur
  • Camelot
  • “I keep a close watch on this heart of mine, I keep my eyes wide open all the time”
Kelly


Well hold on, my darling This mess was yours, Now your mess is mine

Arthur fusses over the injury on Gwen’s hand, his face full of a worry that her whispers of reassurance do little to placate. It seemed almost silly to her, considering the extent of his injuries and how close he had truly come to leaving her alone here. But still he worried over her, never wanting to her spill even a drop of blood for causes he ended up almost dying for. Never wanting her to take the same risks he would. Always wanting to keep her safe.

She attempts to explain further, hoping answers would ease his anxieties about the unknown. Her voice is strained against the emotion in it, but Gwen pushes on. She doesn’t stop when Arthur whispers Mordred’s name. She doesn’t mention how the dagger was in his hands when she walked into that living nightmare. Doesn’t mention that before she thought Arthur had tried to leave her behind, she thought Mordred had taken him from her.

He’s back to mumbling sentences that sound like an enlightenment to him but make little sense to his wife, who has no magic of her own and can’t imagine feeling it inside her like she longed to feel a child kick. She can only squeeze his hand gently and continue with her tale.

Arthur is taken aback when Gwen shows him just where she had laid her hand last night. He notices now the dried blood covering him, knew now that some of that belonged to his wife. The emotion of it clear in his voice as he chokes out her name. She watches as he tears his eyes away from the injuries and the blood, watches the weight of them settle in his mind.

He asks her if it hurts. “You’d ask if you needed anything?” Gwen shakes her head softly. “They offered earlier, when they stitched me up. I was afraid it would make me tired. I’m fine, I don’t need it.” Neither the sharp pain of the needle pulling closed flesh that had been cut open or the dull ache of the injury after had come anywhere close to the pain of waiting for her Arthur to wake and so they had been easy to ignore.

It isn’t until her husband wants to know just how close he had come to dying that Gwen lets herself break down again, having to force the words out. Arthur just holds her closer. She curls up into his side.

He presses his lips into her forehead softly, buries his face in her hair. He cries too. “You saved me, Gwen. You saved my life.” Then apologies spill out between his tears. So Gwen pushes her own pain aside to make way for his in her heart, just as she’d always done for him and he for her. She looks up at him, his face crumpling under the weight of it all and his wife right there to help carry it. “It’s okay, Arthur, it’s all going to be okay.” she whispers to him, her voice soft.

She lets him cry for a moment, running her fingers through his hair and pressing her lips gently into his cheek. “I love you too, more than anything.” she says. “I know you didn’t.” More than anything seemed so inadequate. Words always did. Gwen’s love for Arthur overflowed in her heart, defied description in its intensity.

It isn’t long before his mind comes back to duty, to Camelot, to what must be done. What happens now, he wants to know. What would they tell everyone? The list of the day’s meetings spurs a new bout of worry in him, and when he stops his sentence short Gwen interjects. “I’ll handle it.” She promises. “I’ll go to all your meetings, I’ll hold the assembly. I’ve seen you do it a thousand times. I know what to do.”

The King of Camelot needs to rest and recover, so the Queen has to step up to the plate. She has to put aside her exhaustion and her stress and put on a smile and do what needs to be done. It’s a role she’ll gladly fill, for her country but more importantly for her husband who lies in their bed with his head full of worries, worries she would do almost anything to quiet. She could handle this.

“They can’t know, not the truth of it, not yet.” Gwen nods. “For today I’ll say that you are ill. We’ll figure out something for the long term. It’s going to be alright. They won’t know.” Her hands are still trying to comfort him, moving gently through his hair and across his face.

But eventually his mind has to give in to something bigger than the worries, the exhaustion of a body that had lost so much blood. “Don’t worry,” his wife tells him, leaning up and pressing her lips into his softly. “I’ll take care of everything. You should get some sleep now.”


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