Guilty Pleasures

[Arthur Pendragon]

Pulling back from the kiss, he once again rested his back against the board. When she began to move the pants back, he inwardly cringed for a second but it was not enough to show. The cut was hardly painful compared to his shoulder, and the warm water had soothed it. She found himself glad to hear that she did not regret the nights they spent together either. Which he knew, only made them feel worse . . . yet happy with each other at the same time. An odd contradiction, and one that he was not capable of explaining. Nor did he have to because she understood. He was unsure of what would happen today. But all he knew was that he was glad to be able to spend time with her, even if it was just to talk. And to steal a few kisses, as he had done just now.

"Do you have anything in your room that I can use to cut this?" That would certainly be easier. He motioned towards the drawer at his beside. "There should be a blade in there," he told her. A dagger that he kept close for emergencies. Just as he slept with a sword under his bed as well. One could never be too careful. Especially since people were known to break into the castle. And as king, it was all the more important to be prepared for the unexpected. He looked down at his leg to see how deep it was. It wasn't too bad. It would heal with some time. And as they had struck a deal, he would have the rest of the day to let it heal.

[Guinevère]

Next to his bed? So close. Guinevère remembered when she'd walked in on him sleeping once and had found such a weapon turned on her. While she had been unhurt, she had been rather frightened. She did not reach for the the blade right away but instead, looked back up at him, "Before Thomas returns, there is something I want to say."

"We might not be able again and I don't want you to . . . . I love you. I have for so many years now. I would give anything to be the woman in your arms every night for you are the man in my heart." There was a rather large 'however' in her tone, one that no one would have missed. "I want you to find a way to happy. Don't talk about it, just think about it for a few days. Think about what you find joy in, and make it yours. If that is a child--" It hurt to say this, so much! "Then when your wife returns you should try again. Find that joy, Arthur. Find it, and hold it tight."

She turned and reached for the blade, looking away before he could reply.

[Arthur Pendragon]

He looked at her attentively when she revealed that there was something she wanted to say. He braced himself for it, knowing whatever it was . . . it would not be easy to hear. He just stayed silent during her words. Wanting her to know that he felt the same way. That he loved her. That he would give everything if only to be with her and no other. That he wished he was not married to someone he did not love, and that he could claim her to be his wife. But he just waited for her to finish. And her next words between the brief pause . . . hurt more than anything. Because she was encouraging him to try for another child. And, only Guinevère was capable of saying something like that. It just proved why she was the woman with the greatest heart that he would ever know. She was telling him to find happiness, even if that meant having a child with another woman . . . which meant he would have to lay with her. After his intimate nights with Guinevère, laying with Elena was not even something he wanted to think about.

He didn't know what to say, so taken aback by her words. By her selflessness. When he knew how much they must have hurt to say. He had asked her if she would remarry, but never would he have the courage or strength to encourage her to marry another if that was what made her happy; if that was what would keep her protected. It showed how much better than him she was. How much stronger. He wanted to promise her that he would never be with another woman; that he would not have a child with another woman . . . but he could not. And that was what hurt the most. "I love you," he said in a soft voice, not even sure if she heard him for she had turned to reach for his blade. But he needed to say it, because it was all he could reassure her with. He wanted to promise her a world where it was only him, her and Thomas. That he would not have a child with someone else. But he couldn't make false promises like that. They both knew they could never be fulfilled.

He wasn't sure what is was. The rush of emotions; the years of suppressing his feelings. But whatever the case, he felt tears come to his eyes. He had broken. After years of keeping his guard up, he could not keep up his strength. He felt overwhelmed with so many things. The joys, the pain, the pressures, the heartache . . . everything good and bad hit him at once. And he knew, that he would never show this side of him to anyone else. That Guinevère brought out what was truly in his heart, even if right now it was tears. He no longer had the power to swallow them back. So a few tears escaped his eyes, slowly trailing down his cheek. The last time he had cried . . . had been when his father died. Since then, he had refused to show any such emotion, for it was weakness. But he felt, so unjudged when he was with her. As if he could be who he really was. And if that meant showing emotion, and showing tears . . . then so be it. Because he loved her. Because she loved him. And because . . . he never felt so alive unless he was with her.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère reached over and got the blade, and turned with out looking at him to his leg. She had even began cutting the leg away. As she glanced up at him, she froze, then dropped the blade to the floor and moved up to sit on the bed, and wrap her arms around him. "Arthur!" She whispered, knowing and not knowing why he was crying at the same time.

His tears evoked her own. She had been fighting this feeling for so long and seeing it was this hard on him, and knowing how unfair all this was pushed her emotions over the edge. "I love you." She whispered into his neck, were she was burring her face. She cared no that anyone could enter, or Thomas could walk in and wonder what was going on. Nothing mattered in this moment other then Arthur Pendragon being in her arms. His pain was her own, and she wanted to find a way to ease them both from the suffering. "I love you . . .

[Arthur Pendragon]

As always, she seemed to know exactly what he needed. Sometimes it was through words. Sometimes it was through a gesture. He never needed to ask her either. She would always know. And right now, he needed nothing more than to hold her in his arms. So he did just that. When she came to sit on the bed next to him, wrapping her arms around him, he wrapped his arms around her. He didn't care that one of his arms could barley move. He put it around her anyway, fighting through the pain, which hardly felt strained for he was so filled with an array of other emotions. The most overpowering one being his love for this woman. A love that could break spells, save lives, give eternal happiness . . . a love that they were both now deprived of. He knew what he was missing. Every day he saw her he was reminded of how cruel life could be. How you could not always get a happy ending. What had she said to him.

Find that joy, Arthur. Find it, and hold it tight.

He had found it. And he was holding it tight. And he never wanted to let go. He heard her whisper into him that she loved him, not once but twice. Yet the tears in his eyes and emotion in his own self caused his breath to catch and he could not talk. He could only hold her, finding his grip tightening around her as he kissed the top of her head, not moving it away but just resting his lips there. Even if he wanted to so badly show her how much he loved her . . . her son could walk in. But he was needy enough to still need some sort of contact with her. So his arms stayed around her, and his lips stayed on her head, and his tears continued to fall from his closed eyes.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère felt his lips on her forehead and after a moment she pulled back enough to frame his face with her two hands and kiss him. Not a kiss that said goodbye, but one that said I love you. One that hold him and showed him how she felt. It was deep and bitter sweet, and it lingered.

She knew nothing could happen, and she knew that his leg needed to be bound up before it bled all over his bed. yet she could not pull away. She could not move back from him. She could do nothing but hold him close and kiss him over and over again. Finally, after many long moments she broke the kiss. Looking at him, she tried to say something but could not make sound leave her lips. Giving up, she leaned forward and took his lips again.

[Arthur Pendragon]

The way she then kissed him was not short, nor was it bittersweet. Because everything else in this moment ceased to exist. It was just the two of them, and all he could think of was how much he loved her. How she brought out the best in him. He returned the kiss with as much affection as he possibly could. He could feel the tears slow because he was with her. And every emotional need he had required in the past few years -- not even having realized that he was in need of it -- was being fulfilled, by her. Which was why he could not break away from this kiss, and when she did, he felt like he couldn't breath, that he was suffocating . . . until her lips met his again and that instant warmth filled his body. That instant relief and reassurance, that he was not alone. That it was alright to let someone into his heart. His need for her grew, surpassing a simple kiss.

While all other thoughts fled from his mind, so did thoughts of her son. But right now, nothing felt wrong. Everything felt as right as . . . it had been last time they were in bed together. Allowing his emotions to continue to pour themselves into his kiss, his hand moved along her stomach, to her waist, to behind her back . . . finding her laces. But stopping before he pulled any out. Apparently, he was capable of thinking after all. Even if he was entirely unaware of it. His hand instead moved forward again, slipping in between her arm and just resting there, having recalled the last time he'd been massaging her in this area when she'd hurt her arm. But was now caressing it for an entirely different reason. Not allowing it to linger too forward, too low, nor anywhere that would give him access to removing her dress.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère felt his hands moving and she moved closer toward him, pressing her self against him. She didn't even think of his arm or his leg or his wife in his moment! Nothing mattered but his kiss and how she had wanted this for so long! His hands moved toward her lances and then away. It was her first reminder that they could not do this. "You're injured!" She protected between kisses.

There was no way they could do this! His leg was opened and bleeding and his arm! It had to be killing him. The pain alone should be enough to take down a weaker man! How did he forget about such a pain? His hand where it was, was killing her! She wished he'd push her away enough for air to come between them and remind them both that there were things they should be doing! Besides each other.

[Arthur Pendragon]

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[Guinevère]

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[Arthur Pendragon]

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[Guinevère]

She was pleased that she had managed to give him something that both eased him and did not hurt him. After many long lingering moment of just being in his arms she pushed up to kiss his lips and then slide off the bed. Once she was standing she leaned over to kiss him again. "I love you." She told him, a smile bright on her face.

"I need to bind your leg before anyone comes looking for you." Mainly her son. Brushing his hair back from his face she could not stop one last short kiss from being placed on his lips. Then she moved back down to his leg, and picked up the dagger to cut his pants away in that area, and return it to it's home. Taking the cloth of (now cooled) water, she cleaned it a little better. "Tell me something." She asked, "Tell me something I don't know about you." It was a random hard question to answer she knew, but she wanted to hear him talk, and talk to her. About anything. While he spoke she could wrap his leg, and bind it tight.

[Arthur Pendragon]

He knew that eventually the moment had to come to an end. But that did not ease the immediate deprivation he felt the second she was out of his reach. She kissed him again, and then once more before she fully shifted positions and go back to tending his wound. Something that he had long forgotten about. But when she was out of his arms, he remembered. All too well. He watched her lovingly, as she proceeded to clean his wound. Tending to him like . . . a wife should. He refused to think that it was not so between them right now. Her actions had left him highly satisfied, and in an extremely good mood. He did not want to think of anything that would tamper with that. Not for the moment anyway. He wished to enjoy what more stolen moments they could be given.

She wanted to know something about him, and Arthur was unsure what to tell. She knew the small details about him. And he didn't know what bigger details would interest her. He had not spoken to her casually for some time. And he wanted to keep the conversation just that: casual. Light. For they had already engaged in the deeper and more intense conversations, and he did not want to hinder the mood. "I use to dream of what it would be like to leave Camelot, and become a farmer." It was random, but it was also something he never shared with anyone. How he had dreamed of leaving everything behind . . . for a more normal life. Such thoughts had entered in his mind, more so when he'd fallen in love with Guinevère. Wishing their lives could have been just so much easier and simplistic.

[Guinevère]

She was wrapping his leg, making sure the kin stayed allinged and tight as he spoke. Looking up Guinevère was surprised. More then surprised. "Really?" She questioned, "You, a farmer?" She tried to see it in her mind but could not quite bring it up and see it there. He was a KING, and had everything he could want . . . no, not everything. "What would you have done as a farmer?"

She was not teasing him, but asking him. She wanted to know how he saw his life, how he saw the life he wanted. Was there a family, children? Was this a big farm, or just something that one man could work? "For some reason I can't quite see you toiling away all day in the sun." Now she was teasing him, but in the kindest of ways. An encouraging way she hoped.

[Arthur Pendragon]

The surprise was not difficult to detect. As he knew when saying these words, it was not something he readily admitted to everyone. It was just a thought he often had. Wondering how his life could be different. How it would never be . . . but just a small escape from reality. Much like his time with her was. "What would you have done as a farmer?" He paused for a moments as the vivid image of how he had envisioned it to be entered his mind. "I would have a small quaint home in the countryside." Much like hers. For it had grown on him, and despite the small size . . . he had found it cozy and warm. Mostly because she was there. He would much prefer living in a one room small house with her, rather than in this massively large castle without her. With his father gone, and the loss of a sister, the castle felt less like a home to him. Missing that feeling of love and warmth he had grown up with.

"Live with my wife, children." He paused again, looking at her for a moment, knowing that every time he dreamed of this life . . . it was always with her as his wife; and as the mother of his children. "For some reason I can't quite see you toiling away all day in the sun." He softly smiled at her tease, knowing it was not an easy for anyone to imagine . . . since he didn't do such work in all his life. He couldn't even cook. "I can't quite see myself doing that either," he said, not entirely kidding for it was the truth. "It was only a dream though. A thought." One that he needed to think of sometimes . . . and then cursed himself for allowing such dreams to enter his thoughts. But right now, he felt at peace enough to talk about it. Especially to the woman who was in most all his dreams. Especially ones of an impossible but most desired life.

[Guinevère]

She wondered if it was reading too much into it, to assume he was dreaming of a life were he could be the person she was trying to encourage him to be. One who bad friends and a family he loved. Who did not follow the rules set for him but did what he wanted to do. Even knowing it could not happen, she wished it for him. Wished it for him very much.

"It sounds like heaven." She told him, hoping that he understood that she meant it and was not just saying that because he'd showed her a part of him that she had not seen seen before. "You should find a place, right out side the city and just visit it sometimes. Unofficially. Tell everyone you are going hunting and go there to . . . read your book of riddles. Or watch the sun set. Or . . . " Be with her. Yet she knew that would be taking this to a new level. Something they could not do. "Or whatever you wished to do."

[Arthur Pendragon]

"It sounds like heaven." It did. It sounded like a perfect world. One that could only exist in his mind. She understood what he had meant; the implications behind his words. She knew him well enough to be able to understand him without him having to spell everything out. Which was why he was certain that no one knew him as well as she did. Making it so much easier to be with her. Because he didn't have to try and be someone he was not. And even when he did, she saw right through it. He appreciated her suggestion, knowing she was just trying to help. By telling him to get away from the city every now and then. But he couldn't do that. For several reasons. Not only because he was king and he needed to be here . . . but also because, the purpose would be defeated.

"It's not the same," he told her softly, looking at her intently. Once again, he was relying on her ability to understand the deeper meaning behind his words. He knew he could not ask her to join him; to be with him in such a small peaceful place. To hide from the world. It was too much, and too much of a risk. And no matter how badly he wished he could arrange such times with her, it could not be so. Not trusting himself in this moment to not ask her -- aware of how vulnerable he was, and how much he loved her, and how these two things combined was dangerous, he decided that he needed to shift the conversation. "Tell me something about yourself that I do not know." Because now he wanted to hear about her, rather than speak of himself.

[Guinevère]

she did understand, perhaps more then he knew she did. It was not the same because the freedom would only be for the moment. It would not be real, and permit. She wanted to suggest other ideas and try to find a way for him to have a little taste of his heaven but he asked for something he did not know.

Guinevère wasn't sure what to tell him but knew fair was fair. She waited until she had his leg bound tight and tied off before looking away from her work. "Something you don't know?" She wanted something deep and personal like he had given but she wasn't sure there was anything such in her life.

Something no one knew . . .

"I miss my old life." She admitted to him, "I love my life, please do not misunderstand but . . . I miss cooking every night, and having a home rather then a room. I miss being able to do things that I could do there. I miss the working." But she could not go back. It would be easier if she had someone she loved to help distract her but there was no one but Thomas. "I stay for Thomas. This life would be a million times better for him. But I miss my home."

[Arthur Pendragon]

He listened to her begin to answer his question . . . and was surprised by it. She missed working? He knew she prided herself in being a servant, and he had never once been ashamed to have fallen in love with her for it. She was hard working, and compassionate, caring for everyone when she worked . . . when she was Morgana's maid. This was why she had such a great heart. Because she would make sacrifices for others, in this case her son . . . to offer him a better life. Arthur knew now more than ever that he would not distance himself from Thomas. Because she was giving up what she wanted and missed, in order to give Thomas what he wanted. He also knew that she could not so easily return to work. With her status as a knight's widow, a knight who was one greatly honored in all of Camelot, it would not be easy to resume being a servant.

"What happened to your home?" He asked. Either way, no taxes were ever collected from it. Was it now vacant? He wondered if she would be more comfortable there, regardless of how much he loved seeing her here in the castle. "Can you not return there, and still give Thomas this life?" Arthur would help in what way he could. Make sure the boy was not distanced from his destined role as a knight, even if he was not living in the castle. He knew that Guinevère's home held sentimental value to her, for it had belonged to her father. He could easily understand the need to be somewhere so comfortable, and from her words it seemed she wished she could raise her son in the home she grew up in as well.

[Guinevère]

She shrugged her shoulders softly, "Lancelot had wanted to be a knight since long before he first came here. When you knighted him, he had that. So we moved here." Besides, that was where Arthur had kissed her and she had memories with him. Strong ones. Ones that would have really invaded her marriage had she lived there with Lancelot.

"It was in the lowertowns. I couldn't do that to Thomas, he loved it here. Knights live here." Or well their estates, but with the new knights who had no estates they stayed here. "One day he will be a knight and I do not wish to cause him embarrassment with where he grew up. How he lived." She never wanted a reason for her son to be ashamed of her. It would be hard enough if someone one day reminded him that nether of his parents were nobles. That his mother was the right hand servant of the blood trader. She did not wish to cause him more trouble.