Guinevère stood in the hall waiting for the doctor's to leave. It felt as if it was taking forever! So much had happened recently, and she wasn't sure how they were meant to take all of this end. The kingdom slept, until Arthur saved them--only to find Morgana gone. He'd spent a year looking for her, and finally got her back. Then . . . then this happened. This horrid thing to happen to anyone!
Pacing slowly she twisted her fingers while staring at the door. Doctors were in there now. In there with him. Arthur. She didn't know what would happen when they left but she'd waited days--DAYS--to find out. You see, Arthur Pendragon, the man she loved even though she knew that he could never be her's had been injured. For the last few days he'd had a bandage around his eyes, giving them time to heal. No one knew the damage and she now waited out n the hall for the doctors to leave. For there to be some sign!
Finally the doors opened, and she jumped to grab the picture of (once warm) water that she would be using as an excuse to enter the room. Uther exited quickly followed by the doctors. She waited for them to turn the corner before she stepped closer and knocked on the open door. "My lord," she greeted, using his title in case someone else was in here. Though, it seemed it was just him. "Arthur?" She asked, wondering what they had said.
Arthur did not fear death enough to run from a fight. Everyone feared the end of living yet Arthur embraced each battle, knowing the risks. Knowing it could be what drew his last breath. But this time, his father had called him foolish for it. Because . . . the consequences were severe. And this time, Arthur was terrified. He did not regret what had to be done in order to defeat Cenred's men. They had come far too close and Arthur knew the only way was to charge forward. But this time, he did not come out of it uninjured. The bandage had finally been removed and his hope had been that after spending days in darkness, he would finally be able to see. But, such was not the case.
The physicians -- multiple for his father had called anyone who held knowledge in the area -- told him that there was a good chance that his sight would return. To give it a few days. Arthur held onto the hope but the time spent in this darkness, had his entire body fill with fear. That question of what if his sight does not come back forever lingering in his mind. Everyone eventually left to rest, and he could practically feel his father's own fear emanating off of him. Arthur just desperately hoped he did not fail the king. That he did not fail Camelot by rendered so . . . useless. And right now, he felt restless. He was not permitted to leave the room, for his father did not want anyone to know of his injuries. Rumours would spread and it would make Camelot vulnerable if others were to discover that the prince and heir had lost his vision -- even temporarily.
A light knock on the door distracted him from his thoughts, turning his head a little when he heard the voice that followed. Guinevère. How he longed to see her -- figuratively -- and yet, how he didn't want her to see him like this. He felt weak. Crippled. Hindered. He attempted to sit up a little, fear coursing through him. He was meant to be strong, for everyone in the kingdom. For her. And right now . . . he couldn't do anything. Parting his lips, he knew he could not keep this from her forever. That he shouldn't. "Enter," he told her, wanting to reach for something -- anything -- but knew it would only make him seem more clumsy. "Guienvere," he greeted, keeping the fear from his voice. She after all, always had a soothing effect on him when her presence was near.
No one was in the room, so she turned to shut it and put the picture of water down. Turning back toward him she hurried over with quick steps. He was sitting in his bed, and she had to lean over to reach him better. Her hand touched his cheek. She knew by his voice that it was not the news he hoped for. He hide it well, perhaps too well, which was how she knew. His voice lacked the light, pleased sound that would go with new goods. Yet lacked something that would suggest bad news. So she wasn't sure what ti make of it.
"What news did they bring?" She asked, almost afraid too, but needing to know now. She couldn't wait any longer. She wasn't sure how he would react if this was perminit. She wasn't sure how Uther would react. He was already unset over Arthur's injuries. He seemed both worried, and angry at the same time. She knew Uther loved his son but she also believed that he was a bad father. Not evil, but not good. He put too much on his son. Arthur on the other hand, put too much on himself. He took it all on his shoulders.
The whole kingdom looked to Arthur recently, and she'd been so proud of how he handled it. Yet, it had cost him so much.
He heard her light but hurried footsteps approach him. The scent of her near him. And then, he suddenly felt her touch. The only surprise being that he could not see her move to touch him. But her hand was soft upon his skin. The softest he'd felt and the only comfort granted to him in this challenging time. She asked what news they had, and he wished it was better. Better, being that his sight had fully returned when they took the bandage off. Apparently, the embers of the fire had a longer lasting effect than they had anticipated. "They say there is a good chance that my sight will return," he told her, trying to sound optimistic. His words only weighted by the fact that nothing was certain; and that there was also a possibility that his sight would not in fact return.
His head turned a little, leaning into her touch. How much he wished he could see her. That he could rest his eyes upon her and take in the sight. "Only a few days," he added, giving whatever details they had given which . . . was not a great deal. He raised his other hand to reach for hers, only so that he could hold it and feel that constant comfort. "What of the people?" His father would not tell him much. Arthur only knew that his father's sanity had returned, and that the kingdom was not lost. But no one would tell him how the people were recovering, and whether most survived the battle. And it certainly didn't help that Arthur was not allowed to see them.
There was a good chance! She softly exhaled in relief at that, knowing that they could handle this for a few days! Arthur would take this hard if it had been forever, but she could help him for a few days. Even distract him fromt he waiting. "A few days is not so long to wait," she tried to give him hope. His hand sought out her's and she moved her hand to where he could find it. Her fingers tightening over his.
"What of the people?" They were strong for their prince. Worried but until they had a reason to fear, they weren't thinking of the worst. "Despite your father's best effort, they know you are injured. They do not know how, but in a few days they will see there was nothing to fear!" Arthur had been injured before! And he was strong! He would over come this, and one day it would just be a memory. "Your father is keeping this from them. He does not want anyone to know your injured." He seemed to think this make Arthur weak. Nothing about Arthur was weak. Uther didn't understand how this trail could make him stronger for the effort!
They knew he injured. That worried him. What if his father was right? And Arthur just remained a waiting target? Though, he also knew that his father would have men stationed at his doors, to ensure that no threat entered and that Arthur did not leave. It would not be the fist time he had confined him to his room. He just hoped Guinevère's words were true; and that these days, would not be long ones. "Yes," he said quietly, knowing of his father's desires to keep this under wraps. At least the people did not know the nature of his injuries.
"He has prohibited me from leaving the room. And only those most trusted are permitted entrance." With Guinevère's long lasting presence in the castle, and as she was close to Morgana, she would be granted entrance. Or the servant's quarters was an option. Merlin had a key to it as it was to be kept locked. Arthur tried to reach towards his bed side table, yet misjudged the distance and the upper half of his body nearly fell from the bed. Fortunately, his free hand quickly caught the edge of the table, as he took a deep breath of annoyance. Frustrated, that he couldn't even do a simple task as opening a drawer. "There is another key in the drawer," he finally said quietly, stubbornly making another attempt to reach for it.
His father was not someone Guinevère was friendly with, but even if they were the same rank she doubted they would be friends. She didn't think he was doing to best he could. He was only doing the best for him. "Your father loves you, Arthur." That was true, "and he knows that you will heal better with rest." Uther was many things, but he did love his son. Even if he didn't know how to best show it.
Arthur almost fell, and her arms moved to help him gain his balance. He was growing frustrated with himself already. Guinevère reached for both his hands, and held them to make him stop. Leaning forward she kissed him, a slow but light kiss. She hoped is distracted him enough that he could not get frustrated in this moment. "When you fell, you caught yourself on the desk." She reminded him, her lips close to him. "Don't think about it. You've reached into the drawer countless of times in the dark." If this had been permit, then he'd have to relearn. Yet since it wasn't she could help him calm himself enough to look for the key. "Kiss me, and get your key." His eyes would have been closed for that anyway, maybe it would help him think less.
If you had to be locked in your room for a few days, they could make the most of this time.
He believed that his father did indeed love him, but he also knew that he had failed him. And that his father was upset. Worried. Arthur only wished he could bring ease to his mind by recovering, and assure him that his 'foolishness' -- apparently -- would not have long lasting effects. Such thoughts were set to rest for the time being when he felt the softness of Guinevère's lips upon his own. If the kiss was meant to distract him, then it was successful. With the absence of sight, he felt every other sense heightened. Taste. Touch.
So he basked in the feeling of her lips before he pulled away, telling him not to over think. To simply, react. That his spatial skills would help guide him as he had reached for his drawer so many times before. He wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe that he would not be rendered so useless. She told him to kiss her and he took in a slow breath, bracing himself for the latter rather than the former. The first part, he did not need to be told twice. Leaning forward he easily found her lips, kissing her again as if her very kiss gave him strength . . . as it always did. Hesitantly easing out of it, he rested his forehead against hers for only a moment, before swallowing, and reaching out to feel the handle of the drawer.
When he did, he reached inside, rummaging for the key. Eventually, finding it. His lips curled into the slightest of smiles as he pulled it out, and resumed his previous position. "Perhaps I should kiss you before attempting any task," he said teasingly, as he held up the key for her to take. "For you." It would allow her ease of access without constantly having to explain to the guards why she was entering. And if they saw her, the excuse of Morgana could easily be used.
His kiss never failed to take her breath away, and Guinevère almost forgot what she'd ask him to do. Yet, when she broke the kiss there was the key, even if he'd found it fumbling. Smiling she reached out to touch his wrist and slide her fingers up to take the key from him. He'd given her a key! To his chambers! "It will never leave my side." She promised, for two reasons. One, she liked knowing that any time she felt it in her pocket or around her neck that she could come see him--and two, she would never leave it somewhere so that someone with ill intent could get to him.
"I know a kiss will not distract you from everything. That this is hard for you, but they said only a few days!" She tried to keep the hope and smile on his face. "So until then, I will be your eyes when I can," and help him do whatever he needed to go. Her fingers slipped her fingers up his wrist, until just the tip of her fingers were under his sleeve. Touching him where his shirt covered. "Lets get you out of bed. We can sit at the table or before the fire together. I will not be missed for a while." She might, but nothing could pull her from his side right now.
She wasn't sure what they could do, since he couldn't see, but moving around might help him rest better later. Help him feel normal??
Arthur gave her a small smile when she spoke of how it wouldn't leave her side, feeling her touch upon his skin. In the absence of one sense, he felt as if all others had intensified. That her touch felt softer than ever. "A few days," he repeated, knowing that nothing was certain and that there was always a risk of it being longer. Yet her hopeful voice gave him just that: hope. Perhaps it was dangerous to hold onto but . . . why worry unless there was reason to. Arthur's curled his fingers around her hand, raising it to his lips where he kissed the back of her hand lightly, before just casually resting it on the bed, fingers still intertwined.
He remained composed when she suggested moving, though internally, he felt a sense of . . . panic. The thought of moving from here, of tripping or stumbling and thus, looking like a complete idiot. Looking weak. He would need to practice on his own before attempting to move with company in the room. While he knew Guinevère would never judge him, he still did not wish her to see him acting so . . . pathetic. "Perhaps we can just remain here?" He both questioned and suggested. The fire and table suddenly felt too far away. "Though, you are welcome to come closer," he said almost teasingly. He obviously wouldn't do more than just hold her, but he wished for her to be comfortable as well.
She loved it when he held her hand, and just let their hands rest together. It was such a casual thing to do, and she longed for such things. Guinevère smiled at him, taking this time to memorize his face since he could not tease her for staring so at him. She'd always believed him to be handsome, but it was more then his looks now. It was HIM. His heart, and his bravery, and his kindness. They all made her think more more handsome then before. More everything then before.
When he declined her offer to stay in bed, Guinevère paused. He showed no signs of fear or worry--but she knew him well. Arthur rarely denied her anything she asked for. She wondered if he didn't wish to move around the room. Had this been for more then a few days she would have pushed. Yet right now, she did not. "You wish me to lie in bed with you?" She asked, her voice teasing but pleased. "And what shall we do there?" Slowly leaning forward she knew he'd feel the bed shifting as she moved in to brush her lips softly over his before kissing his cheek.
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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