Sins of the Father

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur's emotions could not be described in mere words. He could not even properly express them. All he could feel was them slowly building up inside of him. Waiting to just explode. He had never been so filled with rage before. He never had such dark thoughts of his father. Not when he threw him in the dungeon for getting the flower for Merlin. Not when he drugged him and locked him in his room. Not even when he disowned him -- as at the time he did not know it was an enchantment. Nothing could ever compare to the anger he felt right now; the hatred he was consumed with. He was going to confront the king and yet, all Arthur could think about was drawing his sword to him. For he knew, even in this state of irrational anger, that his father would admit to nothing that he was accused of. But it was not just anyone who accused him . . . it was his mother. How could he deny word for his mother? She herself had said it. Arthur himself believed it. Uther would pay for it.

With these angry thoughts of betrayal and lies, Arthur was making his way to where he knew his father would be, with one hand on the hilt of his sword. Ready to pull it out. He did not stop. He did not even turn his head to see who else was around him. Not even when he made his way down the hall and Guinevère was there. He did not notice her. For the first time since he had fallen in love with her, he did not notice or acknowledge her presence. He just kept walking forward. Nothing and no one was going to stop him. Not Merlin. Not Morgana. Not Gaius. Not even Guinevère. For he was determined right now. He was bitterly angry. He was . . . not going to let his father get away with this. He would pay the price of being a hypocrite. Of killing everyone associated to magic, when he himself was guilty of it. He should kill his own son then, for Arthur was of magic. This thought alone sent a chill down his spine. To think, that he was responsible for his mother's death. . . that it was not just a simple, inevitable complication. That she was going to die, because it was part of the balance of life.

The thought made Arthur sick to his stomach, and desperate to find an outlet for all this anger. He knew the perfect one. He was going there now. Even though he had literally rode all night, sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. It was not a luxury he was going to grant himself for his mind was too flooded with thoughts that would prohibit any sort of rest or relaxation. He was in such a trance of anger that it was a shock that he managed to compose himself as he was doing so right now. But anyone who knew him well enough, would be able to tell that something was not right. For he truly, had never been this infuriated in all his life. And it was not going to go unnoticed for someone was going to pay the price. And that someone was: Uther Pendragon.


_{Setting: The Castle of Camelot
Time of Day: Morning
Timeline: During Sins of the Father
Tag: Guinevère}

[Guinevère]

Today seemed to be a wonderful day. Mostly wonderful, she was worried about Arthur as she very time that he left the castle but Merlin was with him. It wasn't as if they were doing something dangerous, they just went off--somewhere--to meet a the woman warrior. If she had wanted to kill Arthur then she had her chance. Surely that mean she did not mean him harm. Besides, the sun was shining and it was a rare warm day when you did not need a cloak but nor were you sweating. Wonderful! Simply wonderful!

Morgana had even been sleeping well! No nightmares, no beheading, no danger, just sun shine and laughter!! Guinevère was humming a bright song as she pulled the sheets from Morgana's bed and took them down to the wash. She picked up some sheets to be taken to another room and started walking down the hall with them. They were a silly little orange color and Guinevère was deeply glad that her own sheets where not of this color. If this was what having money brought (orange sheets) she would keep to her faded tan ones.

She hummed as she walked down the hall, her steps light and moved with out though to the song she played in her mind. As she got to the end of the hall she and turned out into the covered walk by the courtyard she saw Arthur walking her way. A bright smile flashed over her before she noticed he looked very upset. Had his father's men brought him back and made him break his word? Noticing that no one was around she spoke openly rather then as a servant. "Arthur?" She called but he did not seem to hear her. Nor did he seem to see her. "A-arthur?"

Guinevère stood there, staring after him in slight shock that he had not even glanced at her; but also in more worry then shock. What was wrong? What had happened? He'd come to her when he was angry before, and she liked to think they were at lest friends. More so if her heart spoke rather then her mind. Why had he not stopped and said anything? Or even looked her way? After he was gone she turned slowly to go back to her chores but this time there was no song in her mind, only dark thoughts.

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[Arthur Pendragon]

Things had taken a dramatic turn. More dramatic, more intense than Arthur could have ever imagined. With as much rage as he had been filled with . . . he had challenged his father to a fight to the death. It was not one that either could win, for it would ultimately end in the death of a Pendragon. That feeling of being so close to killing him; to holding the tip of the sword at his father's throat, fully prepared to insert it, to kill him. Would he had regretted it later? Who knows. He had been so enraged that he did not even consider the repercussions his actions could have held. He could just think of bringing his mother to justice. He could only think of how his father, the man who's life lay in his hands, had killed her.

But as filled with anger as he had been, perhaps he had been holding out for that shred of hope that somehow, everything could be misinterpreted. And it had been. Thanks to Merlin, the truth was revealed. The fact that it had been a ploy conjured by Morgause all along. Suddenly, his father was no longer the evil one . . . that reputation rest on the sorceress, the one who dared create false illusions of his mother for the sole purpose of chaos in the kingdom by one Pendragon killing another. It was an unimaginable kind of deception, one that deemed Morgause to be Arthur's true nemesis . . . more than anyone had been before. In that moment, he fully despised the woman. How someone could play with the memories of his mother like, was beyond him. How someone had the cruel audacity to do that . . . it was inhuman, to say the very least. He wanted to kill her. She should be the one who he was fighting right now, not his father.

The mix of emotions this time did not fill him with intense anger, but more so . . . just hurt. Hurt that his feelings over his mother had been used against him; appalled that he had doubted his father so much; shocked that he had nearly killed him. Arthur did not often cry, in fact, he hated it. He was raised with the notion that men crying was seen as a weakness . . . but he felt broken right now. Broken and torn; confused and conflicted. He needed to get out of this room, and just clear his head of all these agonizing thoughts. His father embraced him to comfort him, and while Arthur felt too weak to deny it, he just remained there and allowed him to. Arthur did not wait for Merlin and Gaius to leave. He was the first to stand up, and without looking at anyone, quickly exited the room.

He had almost killed his father . . . yet he could have sworn that the woman that he saw was his mother. How could this be?! Morgause was a manipulator, that much was for certain. But to not be able to trust what your eyes showed you, or to trust what your instincts told you, or even what your emotions dictated . . . was such a difficult thing to come to terms with. Arthur was no master at it. And for the first time ever, he agreed with his father's views in that magic was evil. For what else could have been the purpose of what the sorceress had done to him? What she had almost made him do! Arthur was still angry, but more at her and himself rather than his father. He tried to blink away the tears in his eyes, not wanting anyone to see him this upset. Though that seemed it would be impossible now for on his way to his chambers, he saw Guinevère in the hallway.

It had not quite registered in his mind that he had seen her upon entering the castle. He had been so focused then on making his way to his father, that he had not paid any attention to his surroundings. Now, it seemed like the exact opposite. If there was anyone he wished to see right now, it would be her. Whether it was impossible for them to be together or not, he loved her , and he felt that she was the only one who could provide him with some sort of comfort right now. That she was the only one who possessed the ability to do so, whether she was aware of it or not. So when he saw her, all he wanted was to just be with her. He wasn't sure how fast the rumors spread, or how much she had known. What he did know was that the closed doors, and Merlin running to Leon saying that they were going to kill each other . . . could have generated a lot of talk. But that was not his primary concern right now.

As he was about to enter his room, and she was just passing him, he grabbed her arm and pulled her into his chambers. He closed the door behind him, granting them what moments of privacy they could steal. While he knew why he did it, he was not sure what to do after wards. He couldn't find the words to say. He couldn't find the actions to do. He wanted her company, and hoped that his action of pulled her aside showed that. But, he was still at a loss of what more to do in this instant. So, he just stood there, in his room, with her in front of him, as his gaze was directed at the ground, trying to get a handle on everything that was building up in him, and once again, threatening to surface.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère had turned away from the empty hall after Arthur had gone, but before she could get to the end of the hall Merlin burst down it. Unlike before she did not call out to the man passing her, only watched and felt the worry build in her belly. What was going on? Arthur was clearly upset and angry and now Merlin looked just as angry but also slightly hurried and panicked. She knew something was wrong and with them both heading to the council chambers it did not appear that all was well. Did it have something to do with the king sending the men after Arthur?

She turned to take the sheets where they went and return to the laundry to get more for Morgana's room and take them up there. She worked silently in Morgana's room while wondering what was going on down below! In her efforts to think of everything she found her self folding the same cloth too many times or putting things were they did not go. She was worried and she was finding that she could not work well while as such. What had caused Arthur to be so upset? And Why was Merlin in such a hurry? What had happened while they were gone?

She did not know how they had gotten away but she did know the king had been beyond upset to learn that someone had left the watch knocked out cold on the stone floor of the square. He had sent men to drag Arthur back, but she had not seen the knights in the courtyard so had they brought him back or had they never found him? Where had he gone? How had he even knew where to go?!

Her mind was going crazy with such thoughts and she did not even know where one began and one ended. It wasn't like she was trying to keep up with Arthur's behavior, but she loved him. She wanted him to be happy and worried for him when he was not. She wanted him safe and unharmed, too, but he had not looked harmed.

When Morgana came in, Gwen gave her a soft smile and did her best to appear non-distracted. Morgana did not know of Guinevère's feelings for Arthur and Guinevère honestly did not know what she did not tell Morgana other then that . . . . what could she say? Nothing. She could tell no one!

Making her excuses, Guinevère picked up some sheets and turned to leave the room. As she made her way down the hall, she noticed that Arthur was coming down the hall as well. Guinevère wanted to speak to him but she decided not to, since he had not wished to talk last time. She knew sometimes people needed space to deal with their troubles.

When his hand came around her arm, she gave a soft gasp, and then he was being pulled into his room. She spun around expecting him to say something or give some idea as to why he had done this but he only looked at the ground. Something was greatly and deeply wrong! Taking a few steps closer she dropped the sheets and put her hands on his arms, before sliding them between his arms and his body and stepping into a one sided hug. Guinevère said nothing, only held him as he no longer looked angry just soul weary and sad, with a hint of the former rage.

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[Arthur Pendragon]

As previously established, Arthur did not know what to do now. Which was why he was so grateful when she put her arms around him. He knew it couldn't be too comfortable as he was still clad in all his armor . . . and he knew that this was a slightly awkward situation for her. He had never been this upset. He had never asked her to comfort him. Most other times he was angry or hurt, she had sought him out, they had exchanged a few words, and that was it. He instantly felt better because of it. But this was different. He knew it would take more than a few words to alleviate this pain. But feeling her hold him -- in some form or another -- helped him better cope with this situation. Even if it was only on some small degree, it was a start. And as he knew before, this sort of solace could not come to him from anyone but her; from the woman he loved.

He did not at first put his arms around her. He lowered his head a bit so that his cheek rested on side of her head, just remaining there as closed his eyes tightly shut, forcing away the tears. Not wanting to have another full break down in front of her. But he was not sure how realistic that was. He did not know for how long he would be able to contain his emotions. He already had one outburst today . . . did he really have to have another. And in front of her. He did not want to. He had to control himself. He did not want her to see him so weakened and vulnerable. This was not how he should be. He had to be stronger than this. But he had already proved in the room that he was not one who could easily suppress such strong emotions. While he did not speak them, he acted on them.

Slowly, Arthur moved his hands around her. Though they more so rested on her hips rather than be firmly placed around her. It was very limited mobility but all he could do in this moment. He silently sniffed a mix of having just previously cried, and an attempt to take a deep breath in order to better control his state of mind, before his actions began to dictate his feelings. Before he lost control of himself again, for he was in Guinevère's presence and while he knew he would never hurt her . . . he just did not want to take any risks.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère felt his arms move and come to rest on her hips and not all the way around her. It made her heart skip slightly faster as worry built up with in her. She could not even imagine what was going on with in his head and life right now. She wanted to know, but right now he seemed to need comfort more then questions. She could give him that at least. Give him the knowledge that he was not alone right now, and that even if he didn't want to talk and open up then she would still be here. While she knew their friendship was growing strong she did not know if she even had the right to ask him to tell her everything going on in his life.

Rising up to her toes, as tall as she could make her self she moved her arms from his chest to around his neck. One of her hands came to rest on the back of his head as she made their embrace tighter. "Arthur." She whispered, just so he knew she was here for him, as she would be for the rest of her life. "Everything will be alright." She promised and hoped that she could keep it. She knew that no one had died, for that would be something that she'd heard of but something must have happened to cause this reaction in him. First of anger and this this frightening expression on his face that she still wasn't sure what name to give it. At the moment she only knew he was safe, and Merlin was safe. Everything else they could deal with, together. He'd never had to do it alone.

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[Arthur Pendragon]

Everything will be alright. Would it? Arthur so desperately wanted to believe that. These words held even more assurance and comfort coming from Guinevère . . . but he could not so easily dismiss his actions. He had experienced the darkest emotions he had ever felt; he had felt anger and rage that he did not think himself capable of feeling, and acting out in unimaginable ways. He knew his father did not blame him, but Arthur carried enough of the guilt to make up for it. How could he forgive himself? How had he been so . . . blind with rage? It terrified the young prince to think that he was actually capable of killing his own father. Solely based on the words of a stranger; a sorceress who he should never have believed in the first place. Did he think it would be alright? No. Because what had almost happened . . . would forever haunt him. All he could hope for is that they would somewhat alleviate.

He was still so ashamed of himself. What would Guinevère think if he told her that he had a sword to his father's neck, fully prepared to close the distance between the two? He knew she was understanding and compassionate enough to find the words to say to reassure him . . . but he did not feel he even deserved that right now. What kind of prince and future king would he be as he had just proved how naive he was. How easily manipulated he was. It showed a strong weakness in his character . . . and his father had almost paid the price for it with life. Arthur could not help but think of what would have happened had Merlin not come in. At the moment, he did not feel like he would have any sort of regret for killing him. He felt it was the least that his father deserved . . . and yet, that one shred of hope that it was not true, had prevented him from murdering him, as he instead listened to Merlin's words. It was not justification on Arthur's part, just thoughts that burdened him.

As she pulled them close together, he lowered his head a bit more, continuing to fight back further tears. He felt that if he spoke, it would only come out as a trembled voice. Yet, she should not have to be worried for him. With this thought however, came out the relief that she was. For it showed the developing feelings they had for one another . . . for a year ago, she never would have embraced him in such a way, and he never would have needed her comfort. He turned his head slightly to the side so that his face was a bit nestled in her dark curls. In this, he just closed his eyes and moved his hands from her waist to fully around her, wanting to be as close to her as possible.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère stayed up on her toes not caring about the effort it took to be that way. She only cared about the man in her arms and finding a way to help him though whatever was hurting him so deeply. Had it been a physical wound she could have helped bind it, seal it, heal it. With this, something so much more frightening she knew that it would not be as easy to heal and comfort. It would be something only he could do and not something that she would be able to carry for him no matter how much she might wish she could take in whatever hurt her felt and bare it as if it was her burden.

She pulled her arms tighter around him, doing her best to close him close with so much chain mail keeping her from being truly beside him. "Arthur." She whispered his name, so he knew that she was here with him. Guinevère still did not press for answers, knowing that he might not be able to give her any. Once he was not so locked in this emotion she would offer to let him share his burden. For now however, she knew that it might be to hard to share. "Your safe now." She whispered again, not even sure what she meant by that. Emotionally safe. In here alone with her. He did not need to fear anything. She knew that as a prince he had to be strong all the time, and that he had to lock most emotions away in order to appear in control. She was trying to tell him he did not have to be strong with her. He could just be Arthur. Just the man. Just the son. Just the friend. Just her love.

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[Arthur Pendragon]

He felt safe in her arms. And at the same time, he did not. He felt like he was on the verge of collapse, that he would not be able to submerge these emotions that he did not even know he had. Yet, here, in his room, with Guinevère . . . this could very well be his sanctuary. He never knew anyone who could produce such a calming effect on him. It only made his great grow fonder for her, as she was becoming a confidant to him in many ways. While she never pressed him for answers, he always wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to tell her what happened, but was afraid that she would think so lowly of him. He was ashamed -- to say the least -- over what he had done.

While he never doubted her words when she told him how much faith she had in him, hearing them for the first time when he was on the verge of death . . . he did know that there were things he was capable of doing that could alter her perceptions. And he never wanted to do them. Yet, he never wished to lie to her either. She was actually, one of the few people that he felt he could fully be himself with . . . which was not common for him. But it was something that was rather easy to grow accustomed to. He only grew more tired of fighting their relationship. He had probably surpassed all the doubt over them not being together . . . for he refused to accept it. Before, he had told her that nothing could ever be. But the thought of falling in love with another woman was impossible.

He said nothing for the moment, his silence a constant since he had first pulled her into his room with him. He just wanted to hold her tightly, as if she were his lifeline; as if letting her go would be what destroyed him. He just allowed himself to drift away in this moment, soaking in every emotion she brought in his heart. He felt tears sting his eyes. He no longer had the strength to restrain them. While they did not yet pour freely, the only thing keeping them from trickling down his cheeks was the fact that his face was concealed by her hair. This whole incident, only proved how weak of a man he truly was . . . and he hated not being that strength that everyone expected him to be. He hated to ever be a disappointment to anyone . . . especially Guinevère.

[Guinevère]

She didn't want to let him go, she only wanted to find a way to bring in all his pain and suffering into her self so she could spare him this. He held onto her as if he was falling and she was the only thing holding him up and that frightened Guinevère more then anything that had come before. Arthur was such a strong and sure man and leader that knowing something had shaken him or torn at him enough to cause this was both scary and madding. She was angry for him, and she didn't even know why she was growing defensive.

Guinevère wasn't foolish enough to think that she could right some wrongs done to him but she still felt angry for whatever or whomever had done this to him. Wither directly or indirectly someone had clearing hurt him; or some event had been horrid enough that he could not bare he weight. She wished she was stronger, like Merlin, and could have been there to help him. It seemed she could do so little for him.

Guinevère stayed up on her toes so she could better have reach to him. She let her fingers trail in his hair so he would know she was still here, and placed a few small kisses on the places she could reach while she whispered his name again. "Arthur," Just so he would know she was here for him, more then just here. She knew they could not stay like this forever and that she had to help him deal with this even if she could not ask why. "Let me help you." With everything. "Let me help you remove your armor. So you can move."

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[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur felt her lips lightly touch his skin as he continued to savor this peaceful moment. His emotions may be in turmoil, but she was slowly bringing him to peace . . . easing his mind . . . granting assurance . . . providing solace. He heard her soft voice urge him to help remove his armor. Admittedly, it would feel instantly relieving to have the physically heavy weight lifted from him, though his heart continued to remain burdened. He kept his position for a few more moments, knowing that they could not stay like this forever, no matter how much he so desperately wanted to. The thought of someone entering had not even crossed his mind. He just thought of her and how much he felt he needed her above all others. While Merlin had been the one to sway his mind, preventing him from committing the murderous act, it was only she who possessed the power to fully calm him and provide him with some semblance of serenity.

Prolonging the moment only a bit more, he slowly moved his head back so that he was facing her, though his eyes still did not rest on her. The fact that she was on her tiptoes gave a bit more height, but he still had to look down to fully see her. He at first looked further down, at the ground, so it was almost as if his eyes were closed. Remaining in this position only for a few seconds before his gaze slowly raised to meet hers, seeing the evident concern in her face, and wishing that he could just brush it off and tell her that everything was ok, so that they could enjoy what few moments of privacy fate granted them. But he could not force such a charade. He lacked the energy to do so, and did not wish to deceive her in such a way. Instead, he looked looked at her, his eyes redder than usual from the tears that were very slowly making their way down his cheeks. He gave a very light nod, an indication that he was in compliance with her suggestion, for right now, he still lacked the voice to speak.

[Guinevère]

She felt him start to pull back and she slowly lowered to her feet after making sure he was not going to need an instant hug again. He would not look at her at first and Guinevère worried at what this might mean. Why would he not look at her? When he finally did look up into her eyes she gasped softly--almost inaudible--as her face went to one of worry to one of heart break. Her heart was breaking for him, and whatever had clearly upset him beyond anything she had seen before. She reached up to frame his face with her hands as he looked at her.

She knew that she should pull him over to the bed and help him undress. Sleep would make him feel better, and she would sit by his side until he had rode out whatever emotion that was coursing though him at the moment. However she could not move when his look so forlorn, and sad. She brushed his hair out of his face a few times, while trying to read everything she could in his expression. Finally she knew she could not just do nothing. She had to do something to help him but she wasn't sure what. "I am so sorry." She whispered, not knowing what happened but knowing that she wished with all her might, on every falling star, and to the bottom of her soul that it had not happened to him. She stretched up on her toes once more but this time it was not a hug she found her self giving him but a soft comforting kiss.

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[Arthur Pendragon]

He cursed himself for making her be the one to apologize right now. He knew why she said it, but she should not have to. He should be saying that he was alright. That he had handled it. That everything would be perfectly alright. But all strength left him. He could not lie to her. He could not . . . dismiss or brush off what he had done. What he had almost done. What he had seen which caused him this intense anger and pain. His thoughts began somewhat distracted -- but not completely vanished -- when he suddenly felt her lips on his. Had the circumstances been different, he would have fully acknowledged the magnitude of this one action. That, even though they both belonged to such different ranks, even though he knew how difficult it was for her to do this . . . as it was for him to see her and know that nothing could come of them . . . she was embracing him, in the way that a woman who loved a man did.

He allowed himself to succumb to this sensation, of a woman's touch. But not just any woman: the woman that he loved with all his heart. The woman who possessed the power to calm him. Who was succeeding in doing so. The woman that . . . he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He knew now, more sure than ever, that he would not give up on them. That just because his father would not understand, did not mean he would not fight for a future with her. All these thoughts and emotions raced through him, now feeling so much more conflicting than before. As damaged and broken as he was, a single touch from her filled his body with a kind warmth, a loving sensation that no other woman had been able to grant him with . . . until her.

He did not deserve this. Why should he permit himself to feel such intense love when he had something so heinous. He could not allow himself such pleasures, for he felt entirely unworthy of them. He abruptly broke the kiss, not because he wanted to . . . but because he had to. Instead, he moved his head ever so slightly to the side so that his lips rested on the far end of her cheek. He just kept them there, not quite kissing her, but rather, allowing them to just be lightly placed against her soft skin. He still needed some sort of contact with her; he could not totally deprive himself of that. He had already proven how weak he was, this was just yet another example of his complete lack of emotional strength

[Guinevère]

When he broke the kiss, Guinevère looked up at him but before she could see his face he placed a lingering kiss on her cheek. It broke her heart and frightened her that he was hurting this badly. She wanted to ask so badly about what had happened but she also knew that the best comfort that she could offer him would be the silent support rather then pressing for information that he might be unable or unwilling to share. She pulled back to look up at him the best she could before letting her hands trail over his shoulders, down his arms, to take his hands and gently pull him toward the bed. "Come." She whispered to him, while they walked.

She gave a gentle push so he would sit on the bed, allowing her to reach his tall shoulders easier. She removed his gloves and unhooked his arm plates, before quickly setting them on the chest by the end of the bed. She then started to pull the chain mail up. "Lift your arms." Once she had the heavy links of metal off of him she she put that with the others. Moving back close to him she reached her hands up to brush his soft blond locks back from his face, leaving him long enough to fetch a shirt for him to wear since he now only wore the padding from his armor. "Here, you will feel more comfortable in a clean shirt."

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[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur effortlessly followed her, as she lead him over to the bed. She did not have to push hard for him to fall on his bed, now seated in an upright position. He knew without asking what would come next. As she began to remove each peace of armor, his gaze occasionally went from her, to the ground, undecided where he could just stare. He was still too ashamed to look at her directly. She was seeing him in his weakest moment, and she should not have to deal with his current state of mind. Yet she was. And he was eternally grateful for it. She was caring for him as a wife would care for a husband. For a woman to remove a knight's armor was an intimate action, but he could think of no other he wished to do so right now. She did not ask, but he knew she deserved answers. The fact that she was not pressing for him, only made it more evident that she knew precisely what he needed right now.

He complied with her gentle command for him to put his arms up so that the chain mail could be removed. He finally locked his gaze onto her when she brushed away some of his hair, and suddenly felt a strange wave of panic fill him when he saw her walking away. For a brief moment, he thought she would be leaving him, and that his dependence on her in this moment would be forced away. But she had only gone to retrieve a shirt for him. A clean shirt anyway. As she passed him a shirt, he slowly raised his hand to take it, though instead of taking the shirt from her, he curled his hands around her wrist and slowly pulled her towards him so that she was standing right in front of him, as close as possible. With her so near, he moved his body slightly forward, so that his head was almost rested against her stomach, practically hiding his face as his forehead was gently touching the soft fabric of her dress, his eyes closed once again. It was another position rather intimate for the two of them, but he could not help himself. He thought of nothing else right now, other than his desperate need to be close to her.

[Guinevère]

Instead of taking the shirt from her, he took her wrist and pulled her into him. Guinevère wrapped her arms around him as he buried his face into her mid section. Her heart broke so completely in that moment that Guinevère felt the warmth of tears on her cheeks as they finally fell over. She did not know what was hurting him so badly but anything that he felt she felt. Whatever it was was hurting her as well. She pulled him tightly against her, not wanting him to know she was crying as well. It was only a few tears, but she knew she needed to be strong for him right now.

"I don't know what happened," She whispered to him, in a promising tone, "But I can promise you that it's not something you have to deal with alone. I can promise you that your friends are with you. That I am with you. For as long as you need me here, I will stay." She keep adding promises that she knew she could keep, hoping that it gave him some small measure of comfort. She just held onto him in the moment, letting him take what he needed from her presence. "You don't have to worry. This is not something you have to do or bare alone. I can promise you that." If nothing else.

(¯`v´¯)
.`·.¸.·´ ♥
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(¸.·´ (¸.·´ .·´ ¸¸.·¨¯`·.♥

[Arthur Pendragon]

While he had not quite expected her to break away from him, he felt immense relief when she showed no sign of going anywhere. When she pulled him even closer to her. There were no barriers between them; no reasons for them to be apart. Right now, he depended on her to keep him from completely breaking. Her words -- just as her actions had -- held strong reassuring hope . . . he even dared to allow himself to find solace in where as before he could not permit himself to be granted with such relief. But how could he not feel strong comfort with her telling him that he was not alone; with her only touching him which in itself gave him such imaginable contentment and alleviation. He knew he did not deserve it, but the selfish part of him -- the vulnerable part of him -- latched on to her words.

He did not yet move, other than being all too willing to allow himself closer to her. His burden was slowly becoming hers and he did not wish to translate such pain . . . but it was too late. It had been too late for that the moment he had pulled her into his room without a word's explanation. And now, it did not seem like he even needed words for her to understand him; to understand precisely what he needed. Her. Only her. He moved his hands to either side of her waist, not having to see her to be familiar with knowing where to place his hands. He kept them there, for a bit of balance, for further relief. He wished he could stay like this forever; never wanted to move. Never wanting to face the world, and thus, his rash actions.

He was not sure how long he had stayed in this position for. It would have been seconds. Or minutes. Or hours. It was still too short but he knew he had to break from it. Keeping his hands at her sides, he slowly moved his head back from having been gently pressed against her midsection. He kept his head lowered for a moment, still too ashamed to look at her. But eventually, at a gradual pace, he raised his head a bit so that he was looking at her through moistened eyes. It seemed he was not the only who had shed tears. For he saw the tears in her eyes and cheeks. He had not wanted to make her cry, even feeling guilty for doing so. He moved one hand from her side and brought it up to her cheek, resting it there and using his thumb to gently wipe away the tears she had cried . . . for him . . . because of him.

[Guinevère]

When he pulled back, Guinevère looked down at him and tried to force out a smile but in the end she could only try to read whatever emotion there was in his eyes and on his face. What she could read there was going to break her heart, and she was afraid to know what had happened. She put her hand over his when he touched her cheek, turning her face into his hand more. Soaking up the comfort of his touch, even while knowing she should be the one comforting him.

After watching him for a few long moments she slowly smiled softly, though it was a emotional smile rather then one of joy. "Let me help you with your shirt. Then we can lie down for a little while. You don't have to say anything, just let me hold you." She whispered to him and brushed some of his messed up hair back down. "Everything will be easier after some sleep." Even if it was only a little easier, it would still be easier.

(¯`v´¯)
.`·.¸.·´ ♥
¸.·´¸.·´¨) ¸.·*¨)
(¸.·´ (¸.·´ .·´ ¸¸.·¨¯`·.♥

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur did not want to sleep. His mind would not rest due to recent events. But the thought of lying next to her; holding her as she held him, was far too tempting for him to decline. He was already weakened in this state but even if he was the strongest he had ever been . . . he would forever want to be lying next to the woman he loved. No. He was not going to refuse this offer. For it was the only thing that held the chance of him overcoming everything. She was the only person that could grant him peace of mind. It was so impossible to describe how much he loved her, how much he depended on her. He had never known what love was prior to the first time he kissed her, and now that he did, he was not sure how had survived before it.

With his hand still on her cheek, he gently pulled her towards him, knowing she would only have to lean over a bit as their height difference was great enough when he stood, so when seated on the bed, she only had a bit of height over him. He pulled her head to his, bringing her face close, but not to kiss her. Not yet. Instead, he just rested his forehead against hers, leaning against it as he closed his eyes. Just having her so near was something that he always desperately craved. Even though she had offered to help with his shirt, even though she offered to lie down next to him . . . he was savoring every single second he was blessed with her company for he was not sure when another opportunity such as this would arise. And the thought of it not being in the near future, terrified him to an unimaginable extent.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère wasn't sure what she should do. She wanted to get him to lie down but he seemed hurting so baddy that she was afraid to do the wrong thing. Arthur wasn't the type to cry and yell when sad or unset like this. He held everything in until he almost could not move. It broke her heart for him. "Arthur," She whispered his name--more just exhaled rather then real words.

After a moment she tilted her head and kissed his lips softly. Letting them linger there for a moment she hoped he knew that she loved him and that no matter what happened she was going to support him. Nothing so evil or so dark could come at them that would cause her to back away or give doubt. She just wanted him to be alright, to help him get past whatever demons held him tight.

(¯`v´¯)
.`·.¸.·´ ♥
¸.·´¸.·´¨) ¸.·*¨)
(¸.·´ (¸.·´ .·´ ¸¸.·¨¯`·.♥