Guilty Pleasures

[Arthur Pendragon]

He watched her for a moment before looking away so that she could dress herself in her robe. He also noticed that she was picking up his clothing to bring to him and as she did, he gave a small nod of gratitude. He then turned to the side, quickly slipping on his pants and tying them. This was growing more and more familiar . . . and he couldn't help but wonder if it was going to happen again. If they had the strength to prevent it from happening. Each time he saw her, it was getting harder and harder to show restraint. They both knew it could not continue, yet they had known that before as well. And they still found a way back to each other. What was he doing to her. He needed to be that king who did not let his emotions get the best of him. He needed to find that man again to spare them the pain of . . . all this. However, he could not regret the time he spent with her. Even if it was a reminder of what they could never have in their life. He heard her speak as he pulled his shirt on over his head.

She had promised him before to stay away when he saw Thomas . . . and he didn't want that. He did not want her to feel like she couldn't be with her son when he was around. But, he also understood why she was saying it now. "You can give him the lance," he told her, still feeling in some strange way that he was somehow over stepping a boundary with her son. "I will come visit him later." Not because she wouldn't be there. In fact, that was something he would miss. Though he knew he shouldn't. He couldn't help it now. And he knew that saying the words would only make this all the more difficult. He picked up his jacket, pulling it over him and then his cape which went over top. He was ready to leave, and he didn't want to. He looked at her, opening his mouth to say something . . . but he knew that words were useless. He couldn't say anything; and his promises were proving to be empty ones.

So he ended up just looking at her. They both knew what the other was thinking. Of how this couldn't happen again, and yet how they both wanted it so badly. He gave a strained smile, one of more sadness than joviality. If this was going to be the last time -- the actual last time -- then he did need to apologize again. He needed to get it out now so that he could be the king that Camelot needed. As he had told her about in their first conversation after years. His pathetic excuse of a smile faded, and his tone became more serious. "I'm sorry, if I hurt you." He couldn't say that he wished it hadn't happened, for he would be lying to himself. But he was sorry if he had made this harder for him. Because it had just gotten immensely more difficult for him. This entire situation had become far more complicated than he had ever thought possible. He had done things he never thought he would . . . potentially hurt someone he never wanted to hurt. So for that, he was indeed sorry. For whatever distress and pain he had caused her.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère watch him dress, taking in the man she loved. The sight of him, dressing to leave her one last time. It hurt to know that this was all that could ever be between them. That she would see him with her son and love him from afar. She hoped he would always remember her fondly. More then just a friend, and never ashamed of knowing her.

"Why do you always argue with me?" She teased in a soft voice, putting her hand on his arm as a form of goodbye. "Give him the lance, Arthur. It will mean more coming from you then his mother." Then he spoke of hurting her and she shook her head no slowly. "I love you." She knew she could not say more. She could not tell him how there would never be someone to replace him. That he would be hers forever.

[Arthur Pendragon]

"Why do you always argue with me?" He tried to smile at her soft tease, but it didn't quite come out. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so carefree and playful . . . without having to worry about anything. He didn't want to argue with her. He wanted to make her happy, but knew that it was impossible to do so. What few things he could do for her, he would. Especially if she felt it would benefit her son. He looked down at her hand, raising his own hand and gently putting it on hers, giving it a light squeeze. Remaining in that position for a moment, he gently lowered it from his arm. Instead of walking straight to the door, he went over to where the lance lay on the table, still shrouded by the cape. He tucked it back into his belt, where it had been before. If she wanted him to gift it to Thomas, then he would.

"I love you." Looking at her once more, he had to find the strength to walk away. "I love you too," he replied softly. The words were so easy, yet so hard to say. He had never said it to another woman with the same sentiment and sincerity he had said it to her. And being able to say it, felt like such a relief but also a burden. Because it was only a reminder of what would never be between them. That two people who loved each other would not have their happy ending. That years of heartache and pain, would only continue in the future. This was it. He couldn't kiss her again, knowing that he would just end back in bed with her, as he had no control of his actions when in such intimacy. With her. He walked towards the door, pausing as he held it open, turning his head to the side, to her. But in the end, once again, no words came out and he just looked away, walking out the door and closing it behind him.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère watched him walk out of the room and moved to sit on the bed. She knew that in a few weeks his wife would be returning and it would be harder to watch him from afar but she also knew that she had to do it. She had to be brave and honorable so not to hurt him and put in the place to be hurt by her. Twice now, she had though her self at him, and he'd given her what she'd silently begged for.

She wasn't sure what that made her, but she did know that it had to stop here. Rolling over to the place he had just moved from she curled up there and hugged the pillow to her, before starting to cry.

Guinevère made sure to avoid him for the next few days. Thomas however, seemed to be trying to sat under Arthur's feet. She had to make him not seek the king out every moment of every day. As she thought, the gift of the lance had meant everything to him. He showed it t everyone and told whomever would pay him attention that the king gave him a lance so he could start his jousting training.

A hand written letter was sent by her, though her brother, to Arthur. Thanking him for the lance and explaining how joyful Thomas was and how much it meant to them both. She had spent a whole day thinking about how to sign the letter. In the end, she signed it with only her name. No official seals or costs of arms. Just Guinevère.

It was shortly after that she'd head he was gone. She knew the knights were with him, and she spent every night in worry for him. Knowing she had no right to worry over if he was safe, feed, or warm. Times were dangerous, and she knew that they could fall into a war at any moment. She could only pray that they would not, and he could remain safe rather then go and fight someplace where she might loose him. . . .

Not that he was her's to loose.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Later that day, Arthur held true to his promise. He had gone to Guinevère's quarters to check on Thomas and gift him the lance. He sat with him for only a few moments, for he had council matters to attend to. During that time, he found himself disappointed that Guinevère was not there. He knew she had told him that she wouldn't be, but he'd stalled out his visit . . . in the hopes that he would see her. Unfortunately, he could only prolong it for so long and eventually, he had to leave for a meeting. He bid Thomas farewell, assuring him that when he was well and healthy again, he would teach him how to properly hold a lance. Since it was safer than horseback riding and he would allow enough time to pass before he put him back on the horse. He also made sure he spoke to everyone involved in the accident, demanding that they go to Thomas and Guinevère and apologize for their recklessness. Arthur knew they were good men, just young, rowdy and immature . . . just as he had once been. The next couple of days were a bit of a blur. He was trying to establish a treaty between another kingdom.

But he'd been informed of an obstacle they were faced with by one of the scouts. That Odin's men were waiting for him, knowing his route . . . the only route really, to get through to that kingdom. He was involving himself in the political affairs of Camelot and this was just unacceptable. The man was consumed with thoughts of only revenge and Arthur didn't know how much more attacks and assassination attempts he would be able to take. Never the less, he could not jeopardize this treaty. Even if Odin's troops were going to become a barrier from achieving it. Arthur knew he would have to dress for combat; for potential war. This would not be the first time he's fought Odin's men, and he doubted it would be the last -- unless the worst happened. These were the talks of council and he wished to waste no time. Within the next couple of days, preparations were being made. He'd sent word to Elena to remain in Gawant until this was settled, so that she would not be traveling during such uncertain times. The day had come where he had to prepare for departure. Going to his chambers, he began to prepare. Merlin aided him with his chainmail and armor, ensuring his sword was well sharpened.

He then dismissed him, telling him to remain here and not bother coming with them. Merlin was going to do what he wished . . . but there was going to be a battle. And Merlin was no knight. When his servant left, Arthur had a few moments to himself to collect his thoughts. He picked up the letter he'd received from Guinevère, thanking him for the gift. He tucked it safely away with the rest of the papers and contemplated writing her a letter, should he not return. But he knew that it would not help anything. He had told her how he felt about her . . . a letter would mean nothing coming from him. Instead, he walked towards his safe, and did something he had not done in years. Unlocking it, he took out the favor she had given him so many years ago. He had put it away as a way of no longer carrying her with him . . . but he felt the need for it. During this journey especially, knowing it was a further betrayal against Elena. So he looked at it for a moment, raising it, brushing his lips against it in a soft kiss before tucking it into his pocket. He was ready to leave. So with that, went to the courtyard, mounted his horse and rode off to battle.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère was arranging her flowers in her room and paused when she got to a small vase filled with white ones. She looked at them for a moment and knew that while it was time to let them go--she could not. She'd taken Thomas out to the fields to let her pick them and him run with a friend of his freely though the tall grass. Upon their return, they'd arrived just in time to see the knights ride out. She did not even have a moment to speak with her brother.

the wind had been blowing that day, and Thomas tried to run forward but she caught him, and pulled him back toward her, as she watched Arthur mount and ride out with his knights following him. For some reason, ever since then, she had not been able to let the flowers go. As if letting them die meant that Arthur and his men had been gone too long.

He'd made everyone apologize to Thomas, and had even come to see him himself. It meant the world to Guinevère, and she wasn't quite sure how to ever thank him. Something so small had given Thomas so much joy.

Ass he stared at the flowers, she heard the sounds of moment in the hall. Turning she hurried tot he door for this was not the casual passerby but running and hurried steps. Opening the door she noticed servants running to and from in many directions. "What's happened?!" She called to one of them, a young girl who'd she known from years ago. 'Oh! My lady! The knights are back they are! Many are injured! There was a big battle!'

Guinevère looked around and knew she had to help but she also had to find Thomas and make sure he did not see. He was too young to see these things! She hurried down the hall and noticed more and more bandages where being taken to the main halls. A hospital was being set up. "Gaius!" She called to him, "What news?" Gaius then explained that there had been a large battle, and he wasn't sure who'd won. Many were injured, and the scout who had made it to the city said to prepare for many wounded. "What you seen Thomas?!" She asked but he had not.

She turned and hurried back down the hall, asking groups of other boys were he might be, and servants and nobles alike. She could not ask for help finding him for everyone was busy. Yet she had to find him! Soon! He did not seen to see the blood. Not this early in life!

[Arthur Pendragon]

The battle was gruesome. They had lost many men, but in the end . . . they had defeated Odin's army. Odin was not there himself, and Arthur desperately wished he had been. Not to kill him, but to speak to him. To talk to him under civil terms . . . but alas, he would not see him. Which meant that this still remained unfinished. This one small victory was hardly a victory. Arthur hated resolving issues through violence, when he'd rather be achieving peace. Furthermore, he could not press on with his journey to the actual intended destination, for he had been wounded. It would have been far too much of a ride to continue on. So after the battle, they were forced to return to the city. The events of how his injury had come about were bit of a blur . . . for it had happened all at once. He'd been in the midst of battle, still managing to have remained on his horse, until he felt the blow of a mace right into his shoulder. He felt it pop out of its socket, causing him to cringe. In another swift motion, the man took advantage of Arthur's state of vulnerability, and he slashed his sword on Arthur's leg, causing him to falter and fall from his horse, intensifying the injury to his shoulder.

The only good thing about this, was that it had been near the end of the battle. Which meant Arthur did not need to fight any more in his wounded state. And his highly compromised position. He tied a cloth tightly around his injury to apply pressure to it and cease the bleeding. A makeshift bandage until it could be properly treated. They had to go back, for it was not only he who was injured. So many men were, and it took them twice as long to return to the city as it had taken for them to depart. Once they arrived . . . it was pure chaos. People were running about, tending to the men, and Arthur had been silent about his own wound, wanting his men to be taken care of first. Despite his position in the kingdom, everything had been so frantic that no one noticed him slip away. He needed a few moments to himself. Holding his shoulder with with his uninjured arm, he made his way through the halls, speaking only a few words to passing men and council members who were trying to determine what had happened. He offered a couple of words, most of them consisting with tend to the wounded, and that they had defeated Odin's army.

That was all they needed to know right now. And that the king was still alive. Finally, after what felt like forever, Arthur had managed to make it back to his chambers. He opened the door, and closed it right behind him, leaning against the door. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Finally. He could breathe again. Even Merlin had been distracted enough to not bother him right now. He did not have to worry about showing weakness, so allowed himself to slightly limp, putting less pressure onto his wounded leg as he made his way over to the chair at the table -- for it was closer than the bed. He cringed as he sat down, feeling the intensity of the gash. Slowly untying the cloth, he inspected the now exposed wound. It didn't look infected, which was a tremendous relief. And knew he would have to get it treated by Gaius soon enough. For the moment however, he just wanted to breathe. He put his head back on the chair, closing his eyes, and allowing himself to take a few minutes to compose himself, despite the surge of pain coursing through his leg and shoulder.

[Guinevère]

There was a very timid knock on the door that belonged tot he king, and it slowly started to push open, but stopped just as there began to be a crack. Whomever was on the other side stayed there for a moment, as if waiting for permission or courage to enter. Finally after a moment, the door pushed open a little bit more and a small head pushed in. He had short cropped curls close to his head and dressed in clothing that looked like something and elder child would wear, but sewn to fit him. The style was of a knight, and not of a child.

"Sire?" Thomas called, looking around the room as if trying to find him until his eyes found him in the chair. Walking into the room he held up a dirty white cloth, "You dropped this on the steps."

Guinevère on the other hand, was still looking for her son. In the end, she found Elyan. He was injured, but from a fall rather then the battle. He had been chasing one of the men and lost his footing. He ordered her to 'not tell' and then claimed to Gaius that he had fallen taking a blow from a mace. Shaking her head, and deciding if he was more worried for his pride then this hide she could leave him in care of Gaius. "I can't find Thomas," She admitted to him, and he looked at her. Elyan had this odd way of knowing people quickly and knowing what sort they were.

Tell me, Gwen, if your favorite knight was injured, were would you be? Elyan's words took a moment for her to think about. They stared for a long moment in silence before her eyes went from confused to wide. Arthur! She'd be with Arthur. Thomas. Would he really?! Turning, she hurried from the room.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur's eyes remained closed for a few extra moments after hearing a knock at the door. He cursed under his breath. They had found him. Damn it. But then the curiosity grew as to who it was. Whoever it was seemed . . . hesitant. Which meant it wasn't Merlin. Or Leon. As both had a tendency to just barge in. Another knight would have announced himself by now. Arthur opened his eyes and turned to look at the door to see who had entered. Oh it was only Thomas. Wait . . . Thomas?! Arthur showed no alarm, too weak to do so; instead, he just looked at the young boy as he shyly approached him. That was when Arthur noticed what was in his hand . . . the favor. He reached up his hand to take the cloth from the boy, not about to explain its symbolism, and just casually tucked it into his pocket.

"Thank you Thomas," he said with gratitude, a small smile making its way onto his lips. He tried to adjust his position so that the boy would not see his injured leg, knowing it was not the best sight for a young child to see. Did Guinevère know he was here? If not, then she must be in a frenzy searching for him. Arthur tried to sit more upright suppressing another cringe as he tried to sit so that he could properly speak to the boy. Since he lacked the strength to stand right now. "Does your mother know you're here?" He asked, just making sure . . . knowing how protective Guinevère was over her son. He did not want her to go through that unnecessary worry, when Thomas was of course safe here.

[Guinevère]

"I've not seen her since breakfast." Thomas admitted, to the king while watching him try to sit up. If he had not seen his mother since breakfast then he knew that his mother did not know where he was. "I saw the knights riding in. I wanted to help. Are you hurt, my lord?"

Guinevère took the steps two at a time . . . until the first few steps. She stopped for a moment to gain her balance deciding that she was not mean to take steps that much of a large step. As she hurried up the steps one at a time, she passed Rosa, and asked her if she had seen Thomas. Rosa admitted she had, and that he was heading up the western steps.

Guinevère knew what that meant. Elyan had been right. Thomas was seeking out the king. Turning back toward the steps she hurried to seek them out and stop him before he could bother Arthur.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Since breakfast. Was he supposed to be somewhere else then? Arthur wanted to ask, but the child continued to speak, saying he wanted to help and then questioning if Arthur was hurt. His smile remained in place at the boy's concern, and desire to help where he could. "Do you remember when you asked me, if I have ever fallen off my horse? Well, let's just say that I know how you felt. And I recognize now, how much courage you handled it with." He had told him something similar when having visited him, but being empathetic with it was different. Plus, he had told Thomas a story about how he had fallen off his horse when he was younger, to show him that it was an injury all knights suffered from at one point or another. Granted, there had been a reason Arthur had fallen off his horse, but there was no need to add morbid details.

"We should get you back to your mother." Arthur decided he could not keep Thomas here; that he needed to get him back to Guinevère. Or someone who could take him to Guinevère. Taking a deep breath, Arthur slowly rose to his feet, feeling the intense pain but doing all within his power to not let it show. Just as he had managed to do so walking to his chambers. In order to distract Thomas from noticing anything, Arthur continued speaking while trying to stand on his feet, needing to use the support of the table and handle of the chair to brace himself. "How is your arm feeling? Perhaps you are ready for your first jousting lesson soon," he added, sounding encouraging, trying to stay on a positive subject as he just focused on standing before he tried to take a step forward.

[Guinevère]

"Today is fresh flower day." Thomas told the king, "She spends all morning putting flowers in her room and in Elyan's and the others rooms too. I don't like flower day." He wasn't complaining but he wasn't sounding joyus. "My arm is better. When yours is better I will be ready! Will we go fast, my lord? I have been working on my aim! Mama held up an old bucket and I ran at it to work on my aim! I only hit her once!"

Guinevère reached the top of the steps and put her hand on the wall for a moment. While she could walk up the steps with no trouble any other day of the week, after running everywhere and then trying to run up the steps she was out of breath. Her dress, a soft pink in the new style of square cut, showed off too much of her 'motherly' areas. She feared if she kept breathing this deeply they would fall out!

She starting hurrying again, now on the same floor as the royal bedchambers. A place she had not been in years. She'd avoided it for reasons she didn't need to explain in her mind.

[Arthur Pendragon]

That sounded like his Guinevère. Always putting flowers in the room to brighten it up. He remembered when she had done that for him; just adding a small female touch to his chambers. And he found himself liking it. Because, it reminded him of her. And she always had managed to brighten up his days. He quickly stopped himself from his thoughts going past that. They could not. It was all in the past, where it ought to stay. Thankfully, the subjecting of jousting was not forgotten, and Arthur focused the topic of conversation on that, rather than Thomas's mother . . . a dangerous subject for Arthur to discuss. Even with a four year old child. "We will not go too fast in the beginning. First Thomas, you must learn the art of the game. The rules. We will start from there." Arthur paused for a moment, looking towards his shelf, knowing he had a book about jousting in there.

He would have to give it to him later. "Then once you are ready, we will start working on your aim." He first had to learn how to ride a horse before they worked on his speed. He needed to learn how to hold the lance and such. Arthur was not even sure if he would be the one teaching Thomas such things, but the conversation seemed to be lifting the boys spirits, and that was what he had intended to do. He seemed so eager to learn, even using his mother to help with his target practice. Knowing that he would have to get a move on, he took a step away from the table. Then after that, he took another step, wishing he could move faster but after having finally sat down, and all the adrenaline having worn off, he was finding it more difficult to move than before. But still, he needed to try. So then, came another step. And another.

[Guinevère]

"Rules? Do you not just hit the other man with the lance?" She asked, and then looked toward the door as foots steps were running down the hall. Just a few seconds afterward, the door he'd left open showed how was there, "Thomas!" Guinevère called, glad to see him and knowing he was not allowed here! He'd worried her, but she knew now he was safe. It wasn't as if he had see--

Arthur! For a moment she took him in but she saw almost right away that he was injured. While he was not showing it to Thomas, Guinevère was able to see more as an adult. She could tell from the way he stood that he was favoring one leg over the other and as she took a few steps in and tot he side she could see his leg. A half second after she called her son's name she called Arthur's name and ran over to him. "Your injured!"

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur was about to answer Thomas question, knowing that as a child the complexities of the game were not quite understood. And would not be understood until he got older. But at least he would obtain what knowledge he could about it. Before he had the chance to answer however, he heard footsteps running down the hall and paused, hearing them drawing closer and closer to his chambers. That was when he saw her. Looking at frantic as he had predicted. "Guinevère," he greeted in a low voice. It was a tone of relief really, for he would not have to search for her, and she could just easily take her son back home. But he saw the concern in her eyes, and the way she was looking to see where his injury lie, her worry evident in her tone. He knew how she worried. It was in her nature to be so caring towards others.

No. Arthur had to stop making his mind praise her . . . though it was impossible to stop. He tried to stay formal. Formal! But that hadn't worked in the recent past all too well. "I'm fine," he said dismissively. Not wanting any focus to be placed on that. He would have Gaius take a look at it later . . . when he was ready to face all the chaos once again. Right now, he lacked the energy to do so. "Take your son home," he said in a softer voice. Knowing she could not stay here. Knowing that her primary concern was her son, and it would be best if he was not witness to all the blood and gore that would be what filled the attentions of most in the castle for the next few days. "And Thomas, be careful while practicing." Knowing he would practice more and hoped he wasn't too zealous when having his mother hold a pail to aim and hit at.

[Guinevère]

When Arthur told her to take Thomas home, his head came down a little, and he started walking toward his mother. "No." She whispered, and Thomas stopped and looked up at her with wide eyes! He wasn't sure what surprised him more. The fact that his MOTHER told the KING no, or the fact that they weren't going home! "Thomas go remove all the coverings from the king's bed. Do it quickly." Thomas smiled, spun and RAN to do his mother bidding.

Walking quickly over to Arthur, "Don't." She whispered to him, hoping Thomas could not here. "Your injured! I can see it in your face. Your pale." She was worried. "You need to lie down." She moved her hands toward him trying to help support his weight. She could not help but to remember all the times when Gaius had been the only one to be tell Uther what to do. When an injury was involved Gaius' word was above the kings. Stay in bed. Don't visit Morgana. Don't go back out there. Using that tone, she looked up at him, while trying to support him. "I will bandage it for you, then leave. Not before."

[Arthur Pendragon]

"No." No? "Thomas go remove all the coverings from the king's bed. Do it quickly." He knew Guinevère was not the kind to simply dismiss others when they were in pain . . . but he needed her to understand why she could not. Because all other times she tended to his wounds, there had been an element of intimacy in them. When he had been on his deathbed; when she'd saved him from the gargoyle creatures; when he'd pushed her out of the way from the dragon . . . and so many other times. She should not have to do this. He didn't want to put her in any sort of awkward position. "Guinevère," he began to say in protest, until she came to move his hand around her shoulder for support. He cringed from the movement of his shoulder. "Other arm, other arm," he quickly got out in a strained voice, briefly closing his eyes, trying to swallow to avoid allowing any more pain to be apparent in his tone of voice.

He knew she was trying to help him and he loved her for it but . . . no. That was it. He loved her for it. When she moved to his other side, as Thomas was still taking off his covers, Arthur took the opportunity to speak to her. "Just, help me to the bed. Please." He was trying to stay formal . . . 'formal'. Obviously nothing would happen in the presence of her son, but he couldn't allow this because . . . he didn't need to explain it. They both knew why. "Then I will wait for Gaius," he added, not wanting her to have to tend to him. Though at the same time, wanted it more than anything. "You don't have to do this," he added in a lower voice, hoping she knew what he meant by this. Because . . . they needed distance. That was what they had both been trying to place between them, yet he always found himself back with her, and found nothing more that made him happy.

[Guinevère]

His other arm?! She looked up at him, "How badly are you injured!?" She demand, trying not to feel around him for signs of broken broken but help him toward the bed. He then spoke of waiting for Gaius but after seeing it was more then his leg she knew she was not leaving.

"Gaius has a small army of men to tend to down below. I will bid your leg and then should he be needed, send for him." She told him, trying to be firm with him but knowing if he pushed she would back down. When he told her she did not have to do this she spoke again, "I know. I need to do this however. I can not bare the thought of you hurting."

Once they got to the bed she helped him sit on it. "Let me get your boots before you lie back. "Thomas, go put the wash water by the fire--be careful!--so it can be warming and then down down to our hall, and the linen closest there. Find something to use as a bandage. Bring it back here and hurry. Speak to no one and go no elsewhere." She told him, and then knelled at Arthur's feet to remove his boots. Thomas did as he was told, and disappeared by the time she was removing the last boot. "Lie back, I will help moved your leg over."

[Arthur Pendragon]

He didn't answer her when she questioned the extent of his injuries. Knowing that she would stay, and would therefore find out soon enough. Truth be told, he wanted her here. But he knew that was wrong, and yet had no will to argue with her. Because . . . how could one argue what their heart wanted? He had denied for so long, but now -- especially now -- he had absolutely no strength to show strong will. He felt too weak, physically and emotionally. Her logic also made sense, knowing that it would be time before Gaius would be able to see him, not wanting to be prioritized just because he was king. There were men who were more severely wounded than he was. He held his gaze on when she said she could not bare the thought of him hurting. Wanting to say something in return. Wanting to tell her that when he'd been wounded, all he could think about was her, and how he had wanted to tell her how much he loved her. But he stayed quiet, silently complying.

She helped him over to the bed and waited for her to pull off his boots, as she said she would, before giving orders to Thomas. This . . . felt like a family. He hated thinking of it, but he couldn't help it. Of what it would have been like had they had a child. Quickly pushing the thoughts out of his mind, he followed her next words, slowly lying back. His first leg went onto the bed with ease, but he did need help with his second, finding it was more weaker than he thought. With her assistance, he used what power he had in his injured limb to help move it onto the bed as well, wincing at the pain. But ones both his legs were on, and he was sitting a bit upright, he felt better. He felt much more at ease; much more relaxed. Without having to put pressure or strain on his shoulder and leg. He closed his eyes for a brief moment before opening them to look at her.

Her son was not in the room, and he needed to take this opportunity to tell her what he felt the need to say. "Guinevère," he began to say, taking her hand in his. It had started only to get her full attention, but then turned into him just holding it as he looked into her eyes. Pausing her action. Just looking at her intently. Whenever going off to battle, one never quite knew the outcome, or chance of return. When he had rode off, his thoughts had not been consumed with his wife . . . but rather, of Guinevère. Which was why he had carried the favor she had given him, rather than a token from Elena. Unable to fully say anything, he just brought her hand to his lips, gently kissing the back of it, leaving it there to linger for several moments. "Thank you," he said softly, as he finally released her hand. Knowing it was not much . . . but it was all his aching heart could do right now. Knowing how he had wanted to really thank her; how he had wanted to really greet her upon seeing her again after so long.

[Guinevère]

When he said her name she paused and looked at him, as he took her hand and looked at her. Guinevère felt her heart beating stronger and watched him as he raised her hand to his lips and then thanked her. Pulling her hand away she framed his cheeks with her hands and kissed him. She'd been the one to kiss him first during each encounter, knowing she never gave him a choice.

Yet this time she knew nothing could come of it. Thomas would be back soon and his injuries were too great. Pulling back she looked at him, brushing his hair back. "I was so worried about you. When they said many were injured, I . . . . " She could not finish. Looking down with out pulling a away she tried to see his leg. "How did it happen?" She asked, looking back up to his eyes. "Your shoulder too?"