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Nov 11, 2022 18:28:10 GMT -5
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Post by Camelot on Aug 2, 2011 20:33:14 GMT -5
Hello [#username],
Pick that moment in time that you can not fit into a thread and write it out! Maybe it's the longing look from across the room, or a father sitting back a sick son's bed. Perhaps it's that moment when your muse just stood at the window and stared out into the world around him (or her!)!
Requested by Guienvere Come on [#username]! See if you can test out our writing skills on this one! Just post a reply.
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Jan 2, 2022 18:42:54 GMT -5
Tag me @gwen
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Post by Guinevère on Nov 21, 2011 5:22:34 GMT -5
Then withdraw. You have to withdraw. Don't you understand? I can't withdraw. The people expect their prince to fight. How can I lead men into battle if they think I'm a coward? Valiant will kill you. If you fight, you die. . . . Then I die. How can you go out there and fight like that? . . . . . . Because I have to . . . It's my duty.
Guinevère heard the words fade and saw Merlin walk out of Arthurs room. She had a ketel of hot water in her hands. She stood there and watched Merlin walk down the hall, wishing she could go to him and embrace him into a hug. Comfort him.
The prince's door stood open and Guinevère paused there before silently entering, and sitting the ketel down over a cloth that she carried with her. She also had a small bowel, and other ticker cloths. Pouring the water into a bowel, she placed the cloth in it so they could soak. She worked silently, her eyes darting to the princes back. Her job done, she turned to walk away but pauses at the door to look back at him once more.
Guinevère had not been told to bring hot water and soaking clothes to him but she had wanted to help. They helped her fathers muscles relax after a long day. It keep him from being too sore and muscles too tight to move properly the following day.
She wanted Morgana to marry Arthur, but if this was what it was to be noble and royal then she was glad to be a servant and not Morgana. Worry for him pitted in her belly as she whispered a very soft "good luck, sire." And bolted from the door. Not wanting to know if he had heard or not
(¯`v´¯) .`·.¸.·´ ♥ ¸.·´¸.·´¨) ¸.·*¨) (¸.·´ (¸.·´ .·´ ¸¸.·¨¯`·.♥
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Jul 31, 2013 11:44:21 GMT -5
Tag me @caitrin
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Post by Caitrin de Archer on Dec 28, 2011 15:20:22 GMT -5
Payton de Archer poured himself out another goblet of wine. It was only early evening, but it would brace him for the task ahead. Already his men were preparing his things; he had business to attend to on Mercia’s borders, but there was something, or more someone, he had to deal with first. Sipping back his drink, he didn’t sit down, he merely perched on the edge of his desk. He didn’t like being looked down on, and this would be no exception. The knock on the door came right on cue and Payton tried to stop the smile curling up on his lips, this was the make or break really.
“Enter.” He called back and the wooden door was pushed open by his youngest daughter who, like she had been taught, closed the door behind her and swept into a low curtsey,
“Father.” She looked upwards, and Payton nodded at her, gesturing to get up off the floor. She did so, but remained quite still. Caitrin was only fifteen years of age, only just, but she was already too fiery and stubborn for her own good. Payton had hoped he had knocked it out of her as a young girl, but unfortunately not. Instead it had merely grown within her. Really it was of no consequence to him, it would be someone else’s problem after today. “You asked to see me my Lord.” She pointed out, rather irritated at the silence. Payton nodded at her,
“So I did.” He just left it there for a moment, watching the irritation build with her features before he stood up fully, inspecting his daughter. “You are being sent to live with your Uncle in Camelot.” He said rather bluntly, not turning away from her as he spoke, “He has already agreed to take you in.” Caitrin looked on at him in pure disbelief, she had known her father had been thinking about Camelot, but she hadn’t thought that he was being serious. Mercia had been her home since birth, and now she was being expected to leave it in a heartbeat? “You will leave tomorrow.” He finished off and turned back to his desk, signalling that this conversation was at an end, but Caitrin wasn’t ready to finish it quite yet.
“I’m not leaving.” She said as bluntly as her father had spoken to her. Payton looked round with raised eye brows,
“I beg your pardon.” His voice was cool and cut through the air, but Caitrin did not falter,
“I will not go to Camelot.” Payton chuckled, he had been expecting something like this. He rifled through some papers on his desk until he found a handwritten letter bearing the seal of another nobleman. Caitrin took a few steps forward until she was by her father’s desk, so she could see the letter. Payton pulled it from her view, “What is that?” She snapped and Payton made a tutting sort of noise at her and cleared his throat,
“It is an offer of marriage, by the Lord Montfort’s son, for my youngest daughter.” Caitrin’s heart was in her mouth and she just remained very still for a few moments. She’d been evading this moment for months. He’d tried to marry her off once before and that had just ended badly. Payton studied her with a grin, he had been expecting a reaction like that. “I have not replied yet, but if you are so determined to stay in Mercia you can go and warm his bed.” He didn’t care that he was being crude, he could be as crude as he wanted because she was his daughter and she would do what he wanted. Caitrin just fell very silent and she looked up at her father with nothing but hatred in her eyes. There had never been much love between the two, but now it was coming to a head, and Caitrin didn’t care much for it. “I thought as much.” Payton said in a rather satisfied way, “The servants are already packing your things for Camelot. I ride out tonight, so I suppose this is goodbye.” There wasn’t much empathy in his voice, his daughter had been nothing but trouble for day one, and now the rest of his children, aside from Jeffrey who kept popping home, had flown the nest, she was the last one to fully get rid of.
“I suppose it is.” Was all Caitrin could manage. Uncharacteristically her cheeks had gone red, and she was trying not to get emotional in front of her father. She hadn’t cried in front of him since she had been a young girl, but then she had grown up, and she was stronger now. Whenever she had recovered from a bruise from his slaps she had got a little stronger, and now she would not falter as much as she was tempted to. Breathing in slowly she took a few steps backwards and curtseyed quickly, “Goodbye father.” She didn’t care for formalities now, this was probably going to be the last time she laid eyes on the man for years, if even forever, and it didn’t ail her in the slightest. Instead she just turned on her heels and ran up to her room, where she could cry in solitude.
...
Timeline: Pre series- Caitrin is sent to live in Camelot[/size]
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Jan 31, 2013 12:42:51 GMT -5
Tag me @yassia
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Post by Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha on Jan 15, 2012 13:30:34 GMT -5
The low murmur of voiced that filled the room was annoying. More than annoying even. Why couldn’t they just GO. AWAY?! Yassia thought angrily, but her anger was short lived. Then the sadness took over again, and the helplessness. With a long, weary sigh, she wrang out the wet cloth and dabbed her father’s lopsided face with it, gently, lovingly. It was the only thing she could do for him. There was no hope. King Diodore’s death was only a matter of hours. They all knew it… that was why they were here, the members of the crown council, assembled inside the king’s bedchambers to pay him their last respects. Diodore had been a strong king, a loved king and had ruled Ailantha for more than thirty years. And he was leaving this world well before his time. Vigorously, Yassia blinked away the tears that burnt inside her eyes as she gently stroked her father’s hair. The crippling stroke had made him age into an old man inside a few days. A week before he had been full of live, energetic, strong… and now he was reduced to someone who couldn’t even hold his fluids to himself. A thin line of saliva dribbed out of the dead side of his mouth and however often she tried to dab it away, it always returned.
There were moments when Yassia thought she could hardly breathe, when she felt her heart being squeezed together by a giant fist, until all she wanted was break down and cry, void of all strength she might ever have possessed. And yet she could not. She was Ailantha’s princess, and right now assumed heir to the throne. Heir to the throne… as if she ever had wanted this burden! After Diodore’s second marriage with the Contesa de Fremente everyone had been sure he would conceive another son and even live to see him grow up. But all their plans, all their dreams had shattered, and were now dying inside this man who once had been the stronghold of an entire nation. No one knew if he even would awake once more, or if he just would breathe his last, quivering breath while still hovering in the land of in between. Yesterday he had tried to speak, but his words had been well nigh unintellegible, as he could only use one side of his face. It wasn’t much for remarkable last words of a king, but they would have to do. Once again Yassia had to fight down a surge of tears that just wanted out, and her hands quivered with the effort of staying strong. It just wasn’t fair! Why this way? Why rob Diodore, a man who had been so proud, of everything, and even his dignity in his last hours?!
And then her father stirred. It was not much, but Yassia who sat on the bed, right at his side, could feel the twitching of the muscles, and then his eyelids fluttered. Leaning closer, Yassia found at least a little of her energy returning. “Father…? Can you hear me?” The murmuring inside the chamber died down almost immediately. Everyone shuffled closer and listened with pent up breath for a sign of life from this dying body. The silence grew thicker and thicker, a blanket of suspense and tension sinking down on the room, until… ”Yassia….” It was no more than a breath, a whisp of wind, but in the dead silence all around it rang clear like a flourish. ”I am here, father.” The princess’ voice quivered with pent up emotions, and she squeezed her father’s hand almost too tightly. “I am here…” Diodore needed a few moments before he could summon up enough strength so speak, but his words were surprisingly clear. Everyone could hear them. ”Good… don’t cry, my daughter. I am… not afraid.” He tried to return the squeeze of her hand, she could feel the attempt, though it was no more than a flexing of the muscles. He had grown too weak.
”Don’t speak too much father…” That was the healer inside her speaking, while she still yearned for every word that would leave his mouth before he would close his eyes for ever. He couldn’t leave her alone… she needed him! He was all she had left! She needed his guidance, his strong will, she even needed his feared temper fits… anything… anything at all just so he would not desert her, She could not carry on without him, she was not strong enough! As if he had read her thoughts, Diodore tensed to summon up the strength for one last message to his daughter, and to the whole realm. ”I do not fear for you, Yassia. You will make your way. I know it, so I die in… in peace.” His dead lips turned up into a half-smile, and he gave Yassia’s hands one last squeeze. Then his eyes closed, and with a long, almost relieved sigh, Diodore Dyfrène de Ailantha gave up his soul to the stars who would welcome him amongst those who had been and were yet to come. ”And so did die King Diodore Dyfrène de Ailantha, fourty-seventh king of this realm, on the second day of the Harvest month, in the third hour of the night.” A male voice broke the reverent silence. “May the stars guide him home.”
”May the stars guide him home”, Yassia replied mechanically with all the others in the room. She didn’t feel the hands that softly pried her father’s dead hand away from her own to cross it over his still heart, she didn’t feel the cool night breeze that blew through the room as someone opened the large casement doors towards the royal balcony, to allow her father’s soul to soar towards the sky. She didn’t feel anything at all. But she saw. Like everyone else she saw the flaming tail of a huge star that ran across the sky from South to North. And like everyone she knew what it meant. Her father, the king was dead. And it had changed someone’s fate forever.
Timeline: beginning of the s2/s3 gap - King Diodore's Death
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