Arthur wished this could be his life -- their life. It almost had been. When she had agreed to leave with him, this was how he had imagined things would go. They would walk in the marketplace, buy some bread, and just . . . enjoy each others company. But once again, reality came crashing down when the knights asked him to return. Arthur knew he couldn't avoid it forever, and bid Guinevère farewell for the time being. Since, he wasn't certain he'd see her again that day. And he had not. His day was filled with a very long council meeting. Or perhaps meetings was the more correct term. He had met each member of it, and he better acquainted himself with the knights. His brothers of heart had been given guest chambers -- upon Arthur's request -- and when night finally came, Arthur was shown to his chambers. His . . . very large, very extravagant chambers. It was overwhelming, to say the least.
The size itself seemed like the size of some towns! And the furniture was, extremely detailed. Made of the best quality. All the craftsmanship was incredible. The carpets, the details . . . it all oozed riches and . . . now more than ever, Arthur felt he didn't belong. He had grown up in such a small home, and he had been happy there. Here, it was all too much. All this, for one man?! He tried not to think on it, and instead, starting doing some studying. Studying the laws of the kingdom, the maps, regions, everything that he should know. Politics. Alliances. It was all too much for one night, but he had at least gotten started. One part in particular he had looked up was the knight's code. And once reading upon it, he knew he would have to break some laws. But surely, it would be worth it. When his eye lids finally became too heavy, Arthur changed into whatever night attire was available.
He eyed the bed, deciding he couldn't do it. Not yet. So instead, he searched for a blanket. And that was when he found something under the bed. Curiosity got the better of him as he pulled it out -- not failing to notice the weight of it! When it was out enough that he could lift it, relying on the set of keys he was given his eyes widened in shock when he saw what was inside. Gold! And an abundance of it. Arthur didn't stare at it for too long, quickly locking it up and shoving it back under the bed as if it was breaking the law just looking at it! But . . . it was in what was now his room, under what was now his bed. Was it . . . his?! There was definitely no way he was sleeping above all that gold. So once he found a blanket, he curled up on the carpet in front of the fire place with a small pillow under his head, and fell into a light sleep.
He woke at first light, slightly disoriented when he first opened his eyes until he remembered. He remembered it all. Getting ready for the set he set out to the market -- not even aware that a servant would have been sent to help him dress and serve him breakfast. He instead, bought some goods from the market place, and found himself at what was Guinevère's father's former forge. Now owned by Tybalt. Truth was, Arthur was enjoying the familiarity, and had even helped with a couple of things before he knew he had to return to the castle. Once he did, a worried knight said that the council was looking for him. Arthur went immediately to them and they explained their concern. It was clear, that Arthur's life did not seem to be his own anymore. After the hours dragged of listening to everything, he was told that the royal tailor would be sent to his room to take his measurements and make clothing. But Arthur refused. He wished to support the local people, knowing they needed the support and coin.
They in turn, told him that they would sent the city's best tailor. Arthur expressed his gratitude and went to his chambers to wait. He put away the folded blanket and couldn't help but eye the chest that remained under his bed. Yes. This was all too much for one man. A knock at the door nearly made him jump as he made his way to it. Opening it, he couldn't help but immediately smile. "Guinevère," he greeted. And for the first time, felt as if he could breathe easier with her near. "Come in. I am just waiting for the tailor to come," he offered, stepping aside so that she could enter. He was still struggling to see this place as his room. How he perceived it . . . was that it was a common room. A place for anyone to enter. Which, he knew deep down was not right. But it would take time before he could accept all . . . this.
Guinevère was surprised when a knight came and told her what the king wanted. She had made all of Morgana's gowns, and even some of other nobles. Once, one for Uther even. Yet it wasn't her job, there was a royal trailer for the king. Yet she could well imagine why Arthur was ending for her. They were courting. He was trying to offer her a job because of it?
She was escorted to his door (not that she didn't know where it was) and he opened it. Her old concern about him hiring her because they were courting were erased. "I am aware." She told him, and held out her basket. "I brought you something." Once he took the basket, Guinevère removed her cloak; knowing what he would find inside. Sewing things. Measuring things. "Which is why I am here. Apparently the king wished for some clothes?" She wasn't sure how that came about. Arthur wasn't the type that would just summon clothes to be made. "Apparently he wishes to look more like a king?" Her voice was teasing now, knowing that CLEARLY someone had talked him into this.
Reaching for the basket, she turned to sit it and her cloak on his table. Opening it she set out her things before turning to look at him. "How has the first day gone?" She asked, having wanted to ask it first thing but made her self wait for the best time!
She was aware?! Did news of the king needing new clothes really travel to everyone? That was a bit . . . embarrassing. She held out the basket and he took it, looking inside and then what he saw coupled with her words finally made it clear. "You're the seamstress," he both stated and asked with a breath of amusement. This was who they had sent when they spoke of the best seamstress and well, he could hardly be surprised. Guinevère was a woman of many talents it would seem.
"No," he quickly said when she asked him of wanting to look more like a king. "I mean . . . yes," to him needing clothes. He made a bit of a face trying to sort out his thoughts, setting the basket on the table. "It's just . . . " He stepped a little closer to her, as if about to admit something -- which he was. "I don't have any clothes." What little he had, was left at his home and they were the attire of a blacksmith. "They said they would send the best tailor in the city," he said smiling, clearly not having realized it was her. Also trying to ease the embarrassment of admitting he had nothing to wear. He just wanted something simple. A couple of shirts and trousers. That was it!
She then asked him about the first day and he tried to think of where to begin. "It was . . . " He thought over everything that happened yesterday and today. "A lot." Overwhelming, but he did not wish to sound ungrateful. "I'm learning a great deal." He wanted to tell her of some of the decisions he had already made, especially after speaking to his friends to ensure this was something that they wanted. "And I know I still have a great deal to learn," he added on. "Such as the fact that you are a seamstress," he said with a bit of a teasing tone.
"I make all my own dress," she told him, not expecting him to know but so he could see her type of work. He was also asking for . . . . what?! He had no clothes! She should have realized before but hadn't! "I should have realized you came here with nothing extra." Admitting that he had nothing, or left everything behind couldn't have been easy, but at least with this she could help! "I can begin by making some of the basic parts of the wardrobe; trousers, and shirts. Socks. Then move to a few vests. You will need a coat, and there is a wonderful coat maker in the city. He can make you a few." Guinevère looked at him for a moment, her eyes appeasing. "I know you are not find of red right now, but I think blues, and whites to begin. With one red just in case you need it. A black vest would go with anything. Perhaps a brown one too?"
Clearly Guinevère enjoyed fashion! And she did! She enjoyed making dresses and styles. She liked making them too!
Though she did pause to talk about what else he had said. It was a lot. "You've only ever had to think about yourself. TO think about the short distance into the future. In a few days you've gone to having to think for thousands, and to think beyond your time here. It's expected that you will be learning. It's expected that you will make mistakes. No one is asking that you be perfect. . . . in fact, a blacksmith told me just this morning that he'd seen you. In a forge. Helping him." She told him, smiling up at him. "Morgana walked the market, and people were afraid to catch her eye. You are already are helping ease their fear of their leader. That is worth more to them right now, then any gold."
She began to list all the things that could get made for him. He was just expecting a couple of shirts and trousers, yet she spoke of vests, and coats and . . . so much that Arthur just stared at her. It was clear that this was a passion of hers and he quite liked getting to learn more about Guinevère. Her hobbies and what she so clearly excelled at. "That . . . sounds like too much," he said, voicing his thoughts. "I think just a couple shirts and a pair of trousers will do," he said, not wanting to work everyone too hard to make him so many different garments. Surely, he would not need all that? Though, she was right. He wasn't particularly fond of the Pendragon colours. He still refused to wear the cape, despite what the council said or tried to encourage him to do. "I really do not need that much," he added, wanting her to know that it came more from his previous simplistic lifestyle than any rejection of her offers, that he felt he did not need so many shirts, coats and vests.
Her next words caused him to pause and think of them. Really, think. She was right. He went from living for himself in a sense, to now being responsible for so many thousands of people. Knowing that every decision he made, had an impact on them. Even if it was just one person, that was still a great pressure. But her assurance that it was ok to make mistake,s that he was learning, certainly made it easier to . . . embrace. Not fully, but to hear her speak so comfortably about the ease of making mistakes, was indeed reassuring. He couldn't help but smile more when she spoke of visiting the forge, of how he was already helping ease the fear. Oh how he hoped that was true! And yet, something told him that Guinevère wouldn't have said it if it wasn't. He couldn't help but look at her, soft adoration in his gaze at how touched he was by her words. By the way she spoke of him. How she had always encouraged him. Held faith in him.
"Thank you," he said softly, finally speaking. "It means a great deal to me, to know that the people's fear is starting to ease." That they surely must have held fear of another Pendragon taking the throne, but such fear was slowly starting to ebb. "Being at the forge, felt like home," he told her truthfully, wanting to open up to her about that and also . . . hoping that she didn't feel it was any sort of invasion of her family's memories there. "But I also know it is the life I left behind." He had made that choice, even if sometimes it didn't feel like one. He had embraced it. And now, he had to face the consequences.
"I still have a lot to learn, about everything," he further admitted. "But there are some decisions I have already made, which I feel in my heart at right, even though I know logic dictates differently." The knights. His brothers of heart. Her brother of blood. He knew he owed it to her to tell her before it happened. Perhaps, she could give some insight, for just from what he knew of the council . . . they may not approve of it. "I plan to knight Elyan, Gwaine, and Percival." Because despite their non noble blood, they held all the traits of a knight. And a man should be judged on what is in his heart, not the blood that runs through his veins. Arthur was living evidence of that.
He might not wish more, but he was a king now, and she would make sure that he looked the part. Still, knowing that he would not wish to do so much she gave him a reason. "I enjoy making things, and I would enjoy making them for you." Besides, she didn't exactly have a job right now, so she would enjoy something to fill the time. "You are a king now, and I am the lucky girl who gets to help you look the part." She teased him, trying to help him feel more at ease with the fact that she was going to make him a whole wardrobe with clothes that were fit for a king! Her mind flashed to him in a night shirt, and she felt her cheeks blush, but she hoped he didn't notice! She would need to make him that as well.
He spoke of his heart, and she smiled. That was how she knew he would be a good king! His heart was good. She'd known it since he helped the little boy. He could help all the little boys now. All the little girls. "I plan to knight Elyan, Gwaine, and Percival." That made her smile pause in surprise. He was going to knight her brother!? Elyan?! It took her another second to realize that he was speaking of knighting commoners. Something that would have Uther rolling over in his tomb for. He was planning on changing things that defined nobility! Things that had defined them for ages! "You're going to knight my brother?" she asked softly, looking up at him. After a few seconds she began a slow smile. That turned into a bright smile! A blacksmith for a a king! Courting a servant! Knighting farmers! There would be some who resisted this, but . . . .
She didn't know how this would work, but she liked the idea. Giving others a chance to bring goodness to the kingdom. "Have you told him?" She blinked, and realized her eyes were watering. Her father never would have seen this as a future for his children. He had worried over them so much, and she wished he was still here. Wished he could have seen.
The lucky girl. Arthur smiled almost shyly at that, knowing he was not worth anyone feeling lucky over! "And apparently, I'm the lucky man who has the attentions of the best seamstress in Camelot," he praised. He didn't know if it was better for a stranger to do it, or her. No. It was better for her. She knew him. Understood him. And . . . it gave them an excuse to spend more time together. Upon his reveal, he watched Guinevère . . . nervously. Bated breath as he tried to search her face for any reaction. Would she hate the idea? Would she tell him it was wrong? Would she speak of how he couldn't be breaking such traditions?
He gave a slow nod as she asked him, assuming it was a rhetorical question and that was when he saw her smile. And he let go of the breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. She approved. While he was confident in the decision, this provided him with even more confidence. "No," he answered when she questioned if she had told him. "But I did ask him," he added with a bit of a smile. He wanted her to know that he did not wish to force this upon the men. That it was their choice. "They all agreed." It was not just about them serving him, but rather, having the support of his brothers of heart. Of having them in the castle for justified reasons. Of . . . granting them the recognition that they deserved.
"I believe, that what makes man . . . a king strong, is having the people he cares about closeby." As a support system around him. "I can not do this without them." How he wished his mother was still alive for she had been the strongest support he'd ever known. Yet, in her absence, he had found others. "Just as I know I can not do it without you," he added on with a soft smile, taking a couple of steps towards her. It didn't matter that she was a servant, or that they were commoners. They were at the very least, his friends. And he was stronger with them near. All of them.
Guinevère knew he had called himself lucky to have her make his clothes, but she could think of that right now. She was too caught up into his plan to turn her brother, and his friends, into knights! Because they had stood by him no matter the rank he held! She stepped closer as well, moving to rest her forehead on his chest as she felt so much in this moment! Her brother was going to have to stay in order to be a knight, and it would finally give him purpose! Arthur was giving him that! Giving him that chance to be more then a blacksmith's son--which was something Elyan always needed!
Looking up at him she knew she needed to say something but it took her a moment. "I think that giving men the chance to be what their hearts lead them to be, is worth more then bloodlines. If bloodlines were all that was needed, Morgana would still be queen. We've seen enough of the old; it's time to give Camelot a chance to be lead by her own people."
By the men and women who lived and worked in her. Arthur would be a king for the people of Camelot, and not just the land of Camelot. She hadn't realized until this moment how different the two things were. "Please inform them that if they dare ask anyone else for help in making their new clothes I shall be very cross," she teased!
Arthur let that relief continue to wash over him as she moved closer, her forehead resting on his chest and he could not help but gently rest his hand on her back, as if to hold her against him. As if to embrace her in his arms. He took in her words and smiled, finding them to be incredibly true. "I agree," he said softly. "It is not one's blood that defines them, but rather their heart. Their actions. And we have a chance to honour those who show such strength." We. They. Camelot. The people. No longer was it just kings and queens born into ruling.
It was about elevating the people who deserved it. Not those who were entitled to it. Not those like Morgana who condemned the people in a tyrannical reign. Or Uther who who ruled through fear. Arthur lowered his head a little, his lips brushing the side of her head, close to her ear where he spoke. "Perhaps, it really is time for a new era." A time where history no longer dictated the laws, but where they learned from it. Letting the words sink in, and his confidence in what his first order would be as king build, her next words caused him to chuckle as he moved his head back a bit so that he could look at her. "They will most certainly need it," he stated, joining in the teasing towards his friends. "Gwaine's been in the same shirt for days." Another joke yet . . . Arthur wasn't entirely certain his words were untrue.
Guinevère liked his hand on her back. A lot! She liked how warm it felt, and how (even though it was bigger and stronger then her own) it made her feel safe! She laughed when he teased her about Gwaine! Surely not! Then again, she didn't know for sure! "Then I better get to work," measuring him and getting everything ready!
Reluctantly, she pulled from his grasp and turned to pick up her tape meant to measure him. She walked back toward him. "First your shirt!" She said, and reached to move his arm to hold it out; then running her measurement tracker over his long arm. Her fingers skimmed his skin, and body as she did. Marking the length once she had it. Letting her self stay close, she moved to his other side and repeated it. "I will need to get close," she whispered softly, finding she enjoyed being close to him.
He gave a short nod and lowered his hands from being around her when she began to move for the tape, and then proceed to measure him. Arthur lifted his arm out where necessary, a soft gaze upon his face as he just watched her. Taking in each movement, so incredibly grateful that she had come into his life. For it was in this moments, where he did not feel like the burdens were suffocating him.
It was in these moments, with her, that he felt genuine happiness. And . . . he had never felt that way, about anyone before. It was a new, and incredibly exhilarating feeling, and Arthur was only too glad that she agreed to be with him so that they could further explore this . . . for each moment with her, had his feelings growing more and more. When she spoke of needing to get close, a soft smile touched his lips. "Get as close as you need," he encouraged, almost teasingly but he knew that it was for measurements. "I don't mind," he added on softly, meaning it but there was also a slight tone of flirtation in there.
Guinevère liked touching him, so his words only made her smile. She marked off his arm span, and then looked up at him, "I need to measure a lot of you," She explained, still smiling as she stepped into him, wrapping her arms around his chest and pulling the measuring cloth around him. Her fingers again brushed him but this time over his ribs and chest as she pulled the measurement from behind him and marked it off.
"And I should warn you," she told him in a low voice, her fingers lingering over his chest, "That once I finish measuring for your shirts," she let go of the cloth so it fell from around him and hung in her fingers. "That I will need to measure you for your trousers." Which meant she would be close, and touching, and lingering . . . everywhere!
It would be a lie to say that Arthur was not enjoying this. The way her hand brushed over him -- even if it was purposefully aimed to take measurements -- there was still something rather comforting about her touch. She told him that she needed to measure a lot of him . . . and that after she was done measurements for the shirts, she would move on to his trousers. "Oh," he said nonchalantly. That is, until realization dawned on him.
"Oh," he repeated this time in a tone that demonstrated that awareness of where her hands were be. "The last woman who took my measurements for clothing was my mother." He paused for a moment . . . unsure why he had even said that for it did not compare; it was a totally different scenario. "Which is . . . obviously completely different." To now. Oh dear. He was starting to ramble wasn't he?! "To, this." He was making it worse. "To you." Where was a sock to put in his mouth when he needed one?! He just cleared his throat, eyes glancing at the ceiling as if to will himself to stop talking.
Guinevère smiled up at him softly, as the idea of her measuring him for trousers made him loose that confidant manner he spoke. Guinevère bit her lip to keep from smiling more up at him as she really liked the idea that she had that power over him. One she'd never abuse, but just enjoy the thought it was there. "Tell me about her," she asked to distract him, even though she liked his uneven words.
She listened while measuring his neck, and taking notice of how strong even the weakest part of him was. She liked their size difference. As a blacksmith he was strong, more so then most men of his size. Some men used this for power over others, were as others--like Arthur--used it only to protect. Now he'd get to use the strength of his heart to protect as well.
My name is Catherine by the way; Call me Kate. *Smiles* You're lucky to have your mother, I ... wish I had at least someone I can talk to, You know? At least i have Arthur. *sits by the window and looks out*
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