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Post by Guinevère on Apr 12, 2011 0:54:37 GMT -5
When she heard the door open she froze. Arthur entered and she watched him as his eyes found her's. Standing slowly and just watched him, and wondered what to say to him. "I should apologize." She started with, still silently praying for some sort of sign. "I keep forgetting that my knowledge and your Knowles are no longer the same. I thought I was a understanding person but tonight it proving me wrong." She felt a few tears hit her cheeks, and reached up to wipe them away.
"My only reasoning is that I've never missed someone so much and had them only feet away." But he would not want to hear of her feelings. They were not wanted by him, and she knew that putting space between them would be the best thing for now. "Perhaps we should start anew, and try instead of me trying to show you how things are; we should start with how things were?"
She dropped her hands down to touch the edges of her skirt and paused there for a few seconds, before she gave the smallest of bows in her head in the form of a courtesy. It hurt to do it, but if trying to get him to feel at ease enough to let her help him got her Arthur back sooner then she'd do it. Maybe that was her sign. "Can I stay? . . . . . sire."
(¯`v´¯) .`·.¸.·´ ♥ ¸.·´¸.·´¨) ¸.·*¨) (¸.·´ (¸.·´ .·´ ¸¸.·¨¯`·.♥
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Post by Arthur Pendragon on Apr 12, 2011 11:40:23 GMT -5
He watched her get up from his bed -- thank goodness she did. Then he would not have to look at her any more awkwardly than he was already doing. He listened to her apologize, say that she was not an understanding person . . . and he was not blind to the tears in her eyes. It was a weakness for any man to see a woman cry, and he only wished he knew what to say to cease her tears. Did he ever console her? Probably not. He was not the best at comforting other people for he often used humor to lighten the mood. He knew that such a tactic was completely inappropriate at this time, so he just stood there silently, waiting for her to finish. What she was saying, was something that he strong agreed with when it came to 'starting anew'. It would probably save them both a lot of anger and frustration with one another. Besides, if they were already friends then surely they would find some sort of middle ground . . . eventually.
"I agree that its for the best," he said in a slightly formal voice, though it lacked any anger now. She had apologized, and it seemed she was punishing herself enough for having upset him. He was not that unforgiving, so he decided that he would just accept the apology and not bring up her words against the king. The actual king. NOT him! Furthermore, she bowed and used the title of 'Sire'. It was the first time she addressed him as such since he had woken up. The informality was not something he was deaf to. Oddly enough, she seemed more uncomfortable saying sire than she did referring to him by the casualness of his first name. He gave a bit of a nod as she asked him if she could stay. Now this was what he remembered; this is what he was used to; this is what he could work from. "You can," he answered, concealing just how much he wanted her to stay. While he had not stopped her before, he did not want her to leave him in this state.
"This, is how I remember things being," he said in a bit of a softer voice, meaning in terms of her bowing, her calling him Sire. Again, he did not wish to offend her for it seemed they had surpassed those lines of prince and servant, in terms of their friendship. It was evident in the way she spoke to him, the way she touched him, the way she just casually sat on his bed . . . but he was not used to this, and so could not disagree with her decision. In order to start anew; to start from what he remembered, then he had to tell her what he remembered of their, interactions. Did she really miss the other version of him that much? He found that interesting, and only raised his curiosity over what the true nature of their friendship was.
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Post by Guinevère on Apr 12, 2011 11:57:29 GMT -5
When he admitted that this was what he was used too, Guinevère game him a soft smile not sure what she could say to that. She wasn't sure what she could say to any of it. She only knew that right now there was no place she'd rather be, and no place it hurt more to be. The tears slowed to just watery eyes as she simply watched him, not offering any words in return.
What could she even say? Everything n her heart was something he didn't want to hear right now. Was this her sign? Was this what she had just asked for? What if he never got his memory back? Dawn. She had a few hours until dawn. Somehow that had been the point in which all her hopes and fears were tied into. Either at dawn she'd have her Arthur back . . . . or she would have to begin to face the reality that she could loose him.
Guinevère stayed where she was, and folded her hands before her. She didn't trust her voice to speak to him right now, so she would simply have to wait until she could or until he asked her something directly that she had to answer.
(¯`v´¯) .`·.¸.·´ ♥ ¸.·´¸.·´¨) ¸.·*¨) (¸.·´ (¸.·´ .·´ ¸¸.·¨¯`·.♥
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Post by Arthur Pendragon on Apr 12, 2011 12:16:51 GMT -5
Her silence was something, familiar and yet new. Familiar from what he remembered; new because it was the first she had not quite said anything since he was brought back to consciousness. There were a few moments of pure silence for he did not know what to say either. He did not know how to press for more information, for now that they established some sort of . . . boundary, would she be able to still describe the man he was, without as much ease as she did before? He would have to take the chance for, if dawn came and he still did not remember anything, then they -- he -- would need a new plan. "Apart from the shawl, there were a few other things out of place in my room." It had been three years, but certain things that had been moved -- like his sword -- well, he felt that he must have had a good reason for moving it for he had never slept a night without it close by, just in case an intruder entered his room.
"Maybe by looking around, it will help jog my memory," he suggested. Since she seemed to know him fairly well, perhaps she could give him some more answers, just as she had been doing all along. He walked over to where his sword should have been, crouching near his bed and looking under it just to be completely sure it was not there. "For instance, where my sword is that I keep by my bedside," he questioned while standing up. He then noticed something else out of the ordinary. He walked over to his dresser, where he saw a hair comb sitting there; a decorative one that women often wore. "Or why this is sitting here," he asked as he held it up, inspecting it. It was one thing for the woman he loved to forget her shawl on his bed, but she also had a comb sitting here? Were there any other female accessories that he would have to keep an eye on.
Near the comb, was yet another item of unfamiliarity. A piece of cloth; something that looked like a favor almost. Though it was a bit scrappy looking, as if it was severely worn out. It may not seem like it was of great importance, but Arthur was trying to fill in as many holes as he could . . . starting with personal items placed in his room. He put down the comb, and picked up the cloth by its edge turning his head as looked at it from different angles. "Or what this is," he said, throwing in another phrase that begged for an explanation.
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Post by Guinevère on Apr 12, 2011 12:32:38 GMT -5
When he walked to the other side of the bed, Guinevère did not turn to watch him. She just pay attention to his voice as he spoke about his missing sword. The memories of why still made a cold shiver run up her spine. She'd had gotten to familiar with him back when she should not have and when she sought to wake him it had ended up with a sword at her neck. At the time she had thought it proved they were breaking too many rules. But he'd moved them, making sure that he could not hurt her again. "Your swords are in the cupboard by the window." She answered trying to make her voice as informal as his but only half succeeding.
"Or why this is sitting here," Finally she turned just enough to look to see what he had. Her comb. She watched him, not saying a word as he looked at it. She wondered if he would connect to it being beside the bed, rather then on a table. While they were not overly intimate right now, there had been times they'd simply just talked til they fell asleep.
"Or what this is," He was touching the cloth as if it were dirty. The cloth was of course simple fabric and not soft nor pretty in anyway. Even when it was new it was just a simple white, and now it help signs of battles and from being carried completely too often. It was something Arthur loved, and now he held it up as if he could not stand the touch of it. She turned and walked away from the bed, needing the psychical space to get the emotional space she needed. "I would assume they were your ladies." If he assumed the fabric was his love's would he wonder why it was that of a commoner?
(¯`v´¯) .`·.¸.·´ ♥ ¸.·´¸.·´¨) ¸.·*¨) (¸.·´ (¸.·´ .·´ ¸¸.·¨¯`·.♥
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Post by Arthur Pendragon on Apr 12, 2011 12:46:31 GMT -5
In the cupboard by the window? That didn't seem like a logical place to move them. He kept it by his side for protection. During the day, he never removed his sword from his belt and at night he would always sleep with it near him. So what could have possibly made him move it away from the bed? It was just a lapse in security for while the castle was on heavy guard, it was not impossible for people to get in his room. He would have to question that after he was done inspecting the comb and cloth that he was waiting to hear an answer for. His lady's? The woman he loved? He had received enough favors from noblewoman to be a aware of the quality of the fabric. They often chose something that would stand out; something that was expensive. This looked . . . well, it was plain in color and poor in quality. If it was from the woman he loved then it did not look like a noblewoman's cloth. If it did not belong to the woman he loved then why had he kept it? Arthur made a face as he looked a it. "Really?" He asked with a bit of confusion; not quite disgust but more, disbelief.
Then of course came the question of why it was near his bed . . . when her shawl was on his bed and -- oh. Ohhhhhh well they clearly must be more intimate than Arthur had initially thought. Being in love was one thing, he had not known that his relationship had progressed to another level. Wow. He must really, really love her. Oh dear. Did Guinevère know? She must have if she saw the placement of all these things. Well, that was awkward. "Doesn't look like something from a noblewoman," he said bluntly, trying to shift the conversation so that he would not have to think about how much she knew about his . . . intimate activities with this woman. After looking at it carefully for a few more moments, his face still twisted in an odd sort of expression, he tossed it to the side, unsure as to why he had kept it, and turned his gaze back to the comb.
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Post by Guinevère on Apr 12, 2011 12:57:00 GMT -5
Guinevère wished she could just turn and run. Run so far away that she never had to think of the look on his face when he touched the fabric or the words that were in his tone now. Does not look like someone a noble woman would own. No, it did not! It wasn't something a noblewoman would own. She did not trust her self to speak in return for her heart was breaking. If Arthur never got his memory back then this would be his opinions of her.
Not turning, and not speaking she ignored his words the best as she could. He didn't know he was being hurtful, and she could not tell him with out making him more shocked at his life. Keeping her back to him she put her hands on the table for support, trying to fight back the tears that wanted to come. She would let him keep looking around his room, and trying to discover what he could about his life. If he asked her something, she would answer but right now she could not speak.
She reached over to the flowers on his table and started to move them around in the jar to give her hands something to do. They were little blue ones, meant at the time to match his eyes. Ironic now that his room was filled with little forget-me-nots. She wondered if she could move the conversation to something else with out looking like the friend instead of the silent servant.
(¯`v´¯) .`·.¸.·´ ♥ ¸.·´¸.·´¨) ¸.·*¨) (¸.·´ (¸.·´ .·´ ¸¸.·¨¯`·.♥
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Post by Arthur Pendragon on Apr 12, 2011 13:04:18 GMT -5
She was certainly right in thinking that he didn't know his words were hurtful. He had seen nothing wrong in what he said -- for it was only honesty -- nor did he notice how upset she got upon hearing what he said. What he did notice though was that she had grown quiet. More quiet than she had been this entire time. Perhaps that was just her way of reverting to who she was before hand, but Arthur knew that this was not going to work unless she spoke. Part of the reason he wanted her to stay was so that he could get more answer. He was not totally selfish in his thinking, for he knew this was not easy for her; she had made that much clear. But it would not do either of them good if they did not try to figure out how to get his memory back, especially if dawn came and nothing changed from how it was now.
It was clear that she had no opinion of the favor or comb. So he would move on to the next question. He went over to his cupboard where she said his swords were kept, and opened it. Sure enough, it was there. He picked it up, the feel of its hold very familiar and almost comforting for it was one of the few things he actually recognized. He held it firmly in his hand, holding it out in front of him before lowering it to the ground and turning so that he could look at her, even though she continued to maintain a distance between them. "Any idea why I moved my sword to in here?" He asked. It may seem like such a small thing to ask about, but it was not small to him. He had to have a very legitimate reason to have shifted his only weapon from his bed, to a closed cabinet.
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Post by Guinevère on Apr 12, 2011 13:16:16 GMT -5
She didn't turn to look at him as she heard him walking around the room. When he asked about his swords her hands froze for a moment over the flowers, just hovering there. She felt that same cold shiver on her spine at the reminder at how frightening he could be but then her hands went back to moving the flowers around and trying to just keep busy. After a few moments she finally spoke, "You were sleeping one day, and someoen went to wake you. You didn't know what you were doing and should have been smart enough to know not to be so bold." At lest in that moment.
"You grabbed your swords before you came out of your dream and had it pressed to her neck before she could blink. You moved them then, in effort to never hurt anyone." To never hurt her, as he had wanted her to never to feel afraid in his room. At the time she had felt very afraid, but had known too that he would never hurt her. "She was unharmed." She added on so he would know that he had not hurt anyone. Guinevère felt that, that was important for him to remember when hearing the story. At lest it should be important to him to hear.
(¯`v´¯) .`·.¸.·´ ♥ ¸.·´¸.·´¨) ¸.·*¨) (¸.·´ (¸.·´ .·´ ¸¸.·¨¯`·.♥
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Post by Arthur Pendragon on Apr 12, 2011 13:33:30 GMT -5
When she first started talking about someone who had come in to wake him and he had held a sword to their neck, Arthur still did not understand why that was enough to make him move it. He was thinking that it was probably just Merlin, or another servant, for who else would enter his room to wake him up? But why would that have been 'so bold', it was their job after all to carry out tasks such as that. It wasn't until the gender of the person was known to him that it slowly started to make sense. Guinevère used the words 'her' and 'she was unharmed' which immediately made sense. He must have almost hurt someone he cared about, someone he was close to . . . someone that he loved. "Was it, her?" She who remained nameless; she who Arthur loved. It must have been her. He could not see himself feeling so guilty over nearly harming someone, that it made him move his sword, something that had been in its place for his entire life. But to hear that he had it pressed against her neck, well that certainly made sense. Even though he did not know who this woman was, he felt a strange pang of guilt for having made her go through that. He looked at the sword once more, before putting it on the dresser, Since she would probably not be coming to his chambers tonight, there was no harm in putting it there.
Even if he did not plan on sleeping, it would be easily accessible should an intruder break into his room right now. He just felt far more comfortable having a sword in plain sight so that he could grab it and be fully equipped to defend himself. He did not feel the need to vocalize his thought process. She probably wouldn't be interested in hearing it. Once the sword was there, he just stood there, looking around his room, trying to see if there were any other little things that he should be aware of. Items of importance hidden somewhere. Belongings of other people -- mainly, the mystery woman -- that were kept in his chambers . . . basically anything that had changed within the past three years. "Is there anything else I should know about changes in my chambers?" He asked her, leaving it as an open ended question, in the hopes that she would provide him with more answers. His room was the most private place for him, other than his mother's storage room. Which was a topic that he still wished to bring up with her, though it was difficult to do so without growing angry at himself. Angry for having let anyone stepped in that room.
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Post by Guinevère on Apr 12, 2011 13:43:40 GMT -5
Was it her?! Was it her?! Her! Her! Her! Her! Guinevère turned to look at him with the words on her lips to tell it it was her! It was just a simple servant that he happened to love! There was no other her and she didn't want him thinking of another woman! however when she turned he was sitting the sword down in plain sight. So keeping HER safe was understandable but keeping her safe was not? "It was a servant." She told him, even though they were the same person.
She turned back to her flowers but only stared at them this time. "I am not sure, I did not spend allot of time in your room back when you remember it." She didn't use his title again but her voice was formal and growing distant. Good, she needed that distance right now. "Perhaps when Merlin returns then he can offer more assistance in that area." Or give them some sort of hope. "The colors are brighter." She knew that, "It's not quite so formal in here with the colors."
(¯`v´¯) .`·.¸.·´ ♥ ¸.·´¸.·´¨) ¸.·*¨) (¸.·´ (¸.·´ .·´ ¸¸.·¨¯`·.♥
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Post by Arthur Pendragon on Apr 12, 2011 13:59:09 GMT -5
It was a servant? That was odd. Why had a female servant entered his room when he had Merlin to do all the work? Why had he been so concerned with --- He looked at her. "It was you, wasn't it," he said, a mix of a question and a statement. It only made sense that she had been the one he had startled so much. If they were good friends, and she was already comfortable with going into his room . . . she must have done so that day, and he must have scared her with his reflexive yet threatening actions. If that were the case then he did continue to feel bad. He did not like to startle women like that, servant or not, especially someone that he was supposedly such good friends with. Should he apologize? They had probably already moved past all that. Though, if it really was her then would he have offended her by putting his sword back there? She did not seem to really care about that -- or he just did not know her well enough to pick up on her subtleties -- but either way, he left it there.
Arthur listened to her explain any major changes in his room that he should be made aware of. Nothing else big seemed to have altered in the years. But of course that could also only be because of what she said: that she had not spent that much time in his room before they became friends. It only made him wonder how much time he had spent in here following that development. He had not noticed the difference in colors, nor did he really overly concern himself with the color scheme. It was more the small things, like his misplaced sword, that he wanted to know about. But she was right; perhaps Merlin would be a better person to ask. Wherever the idiot was. He looked around, searching for something, anything.
An idea suddenly occurred to him. He went over to one of his desks and opened the drawer. There was a pile of papers stacked in there, and he remembered that this was often the place where he put his paperwork. He pulled out the stack, and carried it over to the table where he threw it all down. Without really saying anything, he took a seat at the table -- somewhat assuming that she would do the same, as he began to look through the papers. There were various maps, decrees, invitations, an assortment of different things. Maybe this would help provide him some answers. One of the first things he pulled out was a map and attached to it, a few notes. They were to the Perilous Lands. Why did he need to know how to get there? He doubted he had been for he knew the likelihood of return and well, he was obviously still alive. "Why do I have a map of the Perilous Lands?" He questioned aloud, almost now expecting her to have all the answers.
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Post by Guinevère on Apr 12, 2011 14:08:33 GMT -5
She chose not to answer his question on if it was here or not. He seemed to have guessed the answer but not cared enough to put the sword back up. She wasn't going to encourage conversation about their past either. Not while he still saw her as a servant rather then a friend.Guinevère watched as he moved to the table where she was but she didn't speak nor did she in turn sit with him. She had been the one to offer to let things be as he knew then rather then as she knew them. Servants did not sit at their master's tables. She watched as he looked though all the papers for a moment before picking up the flowers and moving them to another place in the room, taking the distance she could keep. Being close to him made her forget that it was not an emotional close.
She sat them down just as he spoke. "Every prince has to do this quest in order to prove he is worthy of the crown, yours was to go to the Perilous lands and bring back the fisher king's trident." She had been so proud when he had done it, and glad that he was not dead since that was about the time she had begun to see Morgana for who she was. "I think it's displayed on the wall in the throne room at the moment." Having not been distroyed when Morgana nearly brought the walls of the city down.
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Post by Arthur Pendragon on Apr 12, 2011 15:15:53 GMT -5
Arthur noticed that she did not sit down. But he had been distracted by her answer. He had thought of various reasons as to why he had those maps, but what she told him had been the furthest thing from his mind. It was the last thing he would have thought of; completely unexpected! He slightly widened his eyes from the surprise of it, and continued to skim through his notes. He had been planning out his journey, taking into account every detail of the trip. He was not sure how he felt upon learning that he had done the task that he was meant to do; that he had gone through the most important moment in his life; that he had survived what would prove his worth as a future king. On the one hand, he felt proud that he had succeeded, that he brought back the fisher king's trident. He had traveled the land that no one else had returned from, and he felt proud of himself for doing such a thing. The Perilous Lands were known as extremely dangerous, and he had succeeded!
On the other hand, he hated that he could not remember it. Of not having any knowledge or recollection of such a victory . . . it was horrible. Arthur fought the urge to go to the throne room right this instant if only to look at the trident. He wished he could remember it; that night of meditation of entering the trance so that his task would be revealed to him. The actual journey itself, making his way through the unfamiliar lands where he was determined to bring back the object. To having that feeling of holding it in his hands, victorious, successful . . . that strong level of achievement. To returning to Camelot, and seeing how proud his father was of him. He spent his life trying to make the king proud, and to fulfill what he was meant to do, that one step towards being a worthy king, would have undoubtedly made his father so very proud. But Arthur could remember none of these emotions. One of the most important times of his life entirely escaped his memory.
He continued to look through the notes, not really reading them, but using them as a distraction to conceal the pain over never being able to gain this experience back. Of course, it paled in comparison to other things she had told him, but still. He wanted to remember the good if only to cope with the bad. "It must have been quite a journey," he thought aloud. He was not sure what else to say about it. He had more questions pertaining to this trip, but the details of it were something that she could not provide him with. No one had been there -- not even Merlin would have been permitted to accompany him. This would have been one of the few -- if only -- trips that he was obligated to take completely on his own. No aid from others, no company, nothing. It was his time to show the whole kingdom that he would be a worthy king to them. No one else could fill him in on the specifics of how the journey itself unfolded. This was one experience where only one person knew about: him.
So what else was there to ask. He broke his gaze from the papers, unable to look at them anymore and rested them on her instead. She was not sitting. He wondered if this was out of respect over their agreement for them to take a few steps back in their friendship. If that was so, then he appreciated it, yet it was unnecessary. They would probably be spending the entire night together, talking, trying to put things together -- well, him more so and her just aiding him, so he would have to grow accustomed to at least a few of the actions that came so naturally to her as a friend. "Feel free to have a seat," he told her, gesturing to the chair near him. She did not have to stand this entire time. There were quite a few papers to get through and even if it would be an odd sort of feeling to have her sit at a table with him . . . no. It was not the oddest thing of the night. She had sat here several moments ago so there was no need for him to feel uncomfortable with her regaining that position.
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Post by Guinevère on Apr 12, 2011 18:27:32 GMT -5
Guinevère hear the unspoken words in his tone and knw that there were some details she could give him "It was, you faced many dangers. Fell into quicksand, fought dragon like creatures." She also knew what would make him smile ( or so she hoped) and in that moment she so wanted to make him him smile. "I am sure there is more that I do not know about but I do know it took Merlin two days to shine your armor after that."
That was something that had not changed, Arthur and Merlins special relationship where they sought to annoy the other the most. Maybe that would give him comfort? She had so little to offer him and she hoped that maybe knowing that would help him. "Merlin and you still try to annoy each other all the time. That has not changed."
When he offered to let het sit down at his table she gave him a soft smile. "Thank you." However she did not move closer to take the seat. She needed the distance and she needed to keep her hans busy in order to keep her mind from running. Instead she picked up one of the discared shirts and folded it, putting it in the pile to be washed in the morning.
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Post by Arthur Pendragon on Apr 12, 2011 18:58:24 GMT -5
That did make him feel a bit better. He gave a hint of a smile as he listened to her explain basic, and vague details of what happened on his journey. Quicksand. Battling creatures. Sounded rather adventurous; one that would have been exciting to share with others . . . and not he was deprived of the opportunity to tell others how such an important task had unfolded. He knew she was trying to make him feel better though, which he greatly appreciated; which was why he was not going to whine about it. There were far more important things that he did not remember, and this was not a major loss compared to those. "That at least sounds familiar. Merlin taking his time to polish my armor." It was Arthur's attempt to lighten the mood a bit as well, to make things less intense. If he just kept everything bottled, kept dwelling in them, then he would surely go insane.
"It must have driven him insane that he could not come along," Arthur said jokingly, teasing his man servant. Merlin tended to impose his presence on Arthur wherever he went. It was his habit, and it was something that the Prince had grown used to. It would have certainly been odd for him not to come with him on this particular trip. But of course he couldn't; no help was permitted during this ultimate test of worthiness. He wondered where the idiot was anyway. He could be putting himself to better use by being here and helping him piece things together. If he remembered correctly -- a rarity tonight -- then Guinevère said he was off helping Gaius find a remedy for his, situation. At least it was reassuring to hear that his and Merlin's relationship had not drastically changed, or at least that was what she suggested.
At least some things were familiar; some things remained a constant. "Has anything significantly changed with Merlin?" He asked, genuinely curious, wondering if there was anything he needed to know about the man he considered to be one of his closest friends. He noticed her not take him up on his offer. She did not take a seat but rather began folding a shirt. "You don't need to do that right now," he told her. Just because they were going back to the way things were -- if that was even possible -- didn't mean she had to start cleaning or keeping such a significant distance from him. He didn't want to encourage the touching, but he wanted her to at least sit with him so that she would not have to stand this whole time. "Please," he added, once again, holding his hand out towards one of the seats, urging her to sit down and not begin to clean his chambers. If nothing had changed with Merlin, then it was his job to do such things.
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Post by Guinevère on Apr 12, 2011 22:15:01 GMT -5
Merlin was a good thing to talk about with him. Familiar and warm, it could put him at ease. "No, Merlin is pretty much still the same person he always was. I think he has a bit more weight on him, but after . . . . the last few weeks who doesn't." Merlin and Morgana had been friends too, and she knew it had to have hurt that Morgana had betrayed him as well. Even if he had known longer. "He is a good man. Loyal to a fault, and even if neither of you want to admit it, I think your the best of friends."
They always gave her a look when she said it, one of mock disbelief. "Merlin has been a hero a few times. Saved your life a few times and even the whole kingdom once!" She bragged remembering the time that Merlin had helped free the king from the troll's love spell. He's done it by faking Arthur's death. She still recalled the pure fear that she had felt when she heard Arthur was dead.
She was about to fold another shirt then he asked her to come sit down. She gave him another smile but started to shake her head no, planning to simply give a polite no thank you. She needed the distance. "Please," he asked her and she paused for a moment. Guinevère watched his face, and knew that he was trying to be nice to her. "Thank you, but it feels better to keep busy." She wasn't completely lieing. "Feels like I am doing something, rather then just waiting for Gaius or Merlin to come and save the day." She joked.
(¯`v´¯) .`·.¸.·´ ♥ ¸.·´¸.·´¨) ¸.·*¨) (¸.·´ (¸.·´ .·´ ¸¸.·¨¯`·.♥
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Post by Arthur Pendragon on Apr 12, 2011 22:39:54 GMT -5
That made sense. Anyone who had been close to Morgana was probably feeling the weight of her betrayal. Arthur was no exception to this but he had to continue to distract his mind. He could not wallow in the devastation of the thought of his adoptive sister going against them, to claim Camelot, killing people . . . Arthur quickly tucked away these thoughts. Morgana was not someone he wanted to talk about right now. The focus was Merlin and that was always an easier subject to discuss. When she called them the best of friends, he made a bit of a face at those words being used to describe their relationship. It was true, Arthur knew it was but this truth was better shown in actions rather than described in words. It seemed that if nothing else, he and Merlin had grown closer in the years rather than further apart. It seemed that Arthur grew close to a lot of people that he never would have expected to . . . Guinevère being the perfect example.
Arthur gave a very short chuckle when she spoke of Merlin having been a hero; having saved the kingdom. He did not disbelieve her. Merlin had proved to be a hero in the past, such as when he saved his life at the feast where 'Lady Helen' had been singing. Or when he warned him about Sir Valiant in that he was using magic. Or even when he drank from the goblet intended for the prince, knowing it was poisoned. Yes, Merlin had done a great deal to aid Arthur and he was not about to doubt his capabilities. It was actually quite a relief to hear what he had done and that he and Arthur were close, if not closer. He only wished -- as he did everything tonight -- that he could remember what Merlin had done; what the nature of their friendship was now. "That doesn't surprise me," he said with a bit of a smile in reference to her claim that he saved his life and saved the kingdom. "What did he do?" Arthur inquired, wishing to know more about the heroic acts of his friend.
Arthur still wished she was sitting, but if keeping her self busy helped . . . then so be it. He could not force her to sit, even though it seemed so easy before for her to just be at complete ease in his company. Oh well. He could not complain for he had technically asked for this; for distance; for less familiarity between them. Maybe as the night progressed, things would change but for now, this was the way it had to be it seemed. "You are doing more than you realize," Arthur added in a lower voice, though still loud enough for her to hear. She was helping him, in ways that others could not. She was providing him with answers where his mind was so vulnerable. When this was over, he would thank her tremendously for all her help. She did not have to have the cure to his situation to save him.
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Post by Guinevère on Apr 12, 2011 22:54:19 GMT -5
What Merlin done? "When he saved the kingdom?" She asked just to make sure that was what he wanted. She paused for a moment, trying to decide on the bed way to tell him that his father had married a troll. "It's a long story, it was about . . . . two and half years ago. Maybe not quite that long ago, but a troll got a hold of a changing spell and came to the Castle while pretending to be a lady of the court. She then put your father under a love spell."
She bit her lip and watched his face before she keep going. "He married her, and in marrying her made her the queen. The spell was strong. He became her puppet. Before it was done, she had Merlin wanted for execution, you disinherited, and taxing the people so hard they could barely feed themselves. You stood up against her--before we knew she was a troll. She didn't like it, and she made your father disinherit you."
"Merlin stayed instead of running for his life. He found a way to break the spell. It wasn't easy. In order to break the spell he had to make the king cry real tears." Guinevère gave a shiver at the reminder of thinking Arthur was dead. "You, Merlin, and Gaius formed a plan to make him cry. They gave you something to make you appear as if you were dead, and the king cried. . . . . we all cried, as no one else knew it was a ruse! Merlin just barely got you the cue in time to wake up up and let you kill the troll and her . . . . f-friend like person . . . " Or was he a pet?
(¯`v´¯) .`·.¸.·´ ♥ ¸.·´¸.·´¨) ¸.·*¨) (¸.·´ (¸.·´ .·´ ¸¸.·¨¯`·.♥
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Royal
"For the love of Camelot!"
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euphoria
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Mar 27, 2023 19:09:32 GMT -5
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Post by Arthur Pendragon on Apr 12, 2011 23:20:21 GMT -5
They KILLED him?!? That seemed to be what stuck in Arthur's mind the most. He had to refrain from blurting that out for he had a feeling he knew how Guinevère would react. So instead, back tracked a bit, her words replaying themselves in his head so that he could pick something else to comment on rather than the fact that Merlin and Gaius had temporarily killed him off -- even if it was only to break the spell. That was when other words began to register in his head. Like troll. Marry. Queen. Love spell. Disinheritance. Ohhhhh so that's why he had been disowned! Arthur had to admit that was a massive relief; to hear that he had not disappointed his father but rather, his father had been under the influence of an enchantment. That made complete sense! Alright, so many not complete sense . . . for there were still a lot questions and concerns he had over the thought of his father marrying a troll. How had that even happened?!
She seemed to explain it in a clear enough fashion. A changing spell had concealed her true identity; the enchantment made his father fall in love with her; and a plan -- that had KILLED HIM -- had broken the spell. It all was fairly clear . . . so why did Arthur still have so many questions he wished to ask about it? He supposed it rose from not being able to have witnessed it for himself. The fact that he had missed having had a step mother, and Merlin having become a fugitive, and then he get disinherited, and then 'KILLED' . . . to think that he had no recollection of any of that. He would have felt insane had he not known that this was all part of his unexplainable condition of severe memory loss. He felt at a loss of words, thankful that he was sitting for if he was not, he would have stumbled around for a chair. It would not have been the first time it happened tonight, nor would it probably be the last.
It just seemed like he was hearing more and more crazy things. Was there truly any end to it?! It was a great deal to take in, and yet he didn't need to take in any of it . . . for it was all in the past. Everything had worked out it seemed for the troll -- and whoever her minion was -- was dead and . . . and his father was no longer married to a troll. His father had been married to a troll! Suddenly, the most amusing mental image entered Arthur's mind. Apart from everything else he had heard, the more intense details, the amusement in the image of his father actually marrying a troll temporarily blocked everything else out. Arthur began to laugh. He was not sure if it was solely the amusement of that situation, or perhaps he had finally cracked under all of this pressure and stress, over not having remembered, to being told what had happened. To almost reliving certain situations, without knowing exactly how they played out. He did not know the reason, and he could not stop himself. He just laughed.
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