I Can't Live With or Without You

[Arthur Pendragon]

"I do not wish to see him." Arthur didn't believe her. But nor did he dispute her words. If there was any semblance of truth to them, then it was because she had been caught. Both of them had. She did not wish to see him because she -- and Lancelot -- both knew how Arthur would react. Not well at all. She wouldn't be able to see him anyway. Arthur was not going to allow them to have a long drawn out goodbye. Call it continuous jealousy on his part -- something he was not proud of yet, could not ignore. Not any more. With Lancelot near, he would never trust Guinevère's whereabouts. And now, it was not only about her. It was about the child. He did not want another man putting a hand on his growing child in her womb. He would die before he let that happen . . . again. After several moments, Arthur turned to look at her continuing to speak. The subject of Lancelot now gone, as he did not wish to dwell on it.

"All those who hold knowledge of tonight will be sworn to secrecy." So that her reputation would not be tarnished. So that there would be no question as to the legitimacy of his child, even if he still didn't fully believe her. Time would tell. "You will be expected to as well." Keep silent about what had happened tonight. For tomorrow would be their wedding. A ceremony that Arthur now wanted short and brief so that they would not have to stand before so many people and lie. Was this the honorable thing to do? He wasn't sure. He had nearly killed a man in cold blood, in a fit of rage. While he had a right to condemn both Guinevère and Lancelot to death . . . there was nothing honorable in taking a life like that. Just like there was no honor in giving his vow for all to witness, and then not meaning it in his heart. The thought of such a lie sickened him, and he just had to keep reminding himself why he was doing this. For the sake of his child.

[Guinevère]

"All those who hold knowledge of tonight will be sworn to secrecy." Could he do that? Were rumors not now spreading like wild fire? How did you stop something that no one would say to your face? You could not. "You will be expected to as well." The fact that he even had to ask it of her--or demand it--meant that he really did not trust her at all. That hurt to know.

She had not thought it would end this way. They they would be broken and parted because she was foolish and weak. Because she failed their love more then anyone could ever fail. Arthur might have left her for not being appropriate, but she had done far worse then just try to be honorable. He was a good man. Far better then she deserved. Ironically, his words had always left this fear in her that he had been right that night, but it was her own actions that proved him right."I wont tell a sole." She whispered, "I swear."

[Arthur Pendragon]

"I wont tell a soul. I swear." This time, he believed her. Not because he trusted her, but because surely, she would not want her reputation damaged either. Not with her being married to him, only in the ways on paper. It was ironic. Before, she was his wife in all ways except on paper. Now, that would be the only way she was his wife: legally. For the other benefits of marriage would not be a part of them. The emotional connection they had was gone. It was one that he valued above all others . . . and now? Now they could hardly look at each other without seeing the hurt in one another's eyes. To know that she had thrown away years of being together for one night in another man's arms. Or perhaps more than one night in the year Lancelot had been here. Arthur was oblivious to the both of them . . . and now, he knew what had really gone on. "Tomorrow, your chambers will be prepared so that you can move into the castle." Not his room.

Because . . . so much had changed since they had made plans. They had even started moving a couple of her things into his room in excited preparation for their married life. They had thought they would be breaking more traditions by living in the same room. By calling his chambers, their chambers. But now, he fully intended to have the queen in her own quarters. Her own space. Her own privacy. How could they live in the same room when they could barley even look at each other now? It would not work. It would not be as successful as it other could have been. "Your coronation will be the day after tomorrow," he reminded. That still had to happen as well, otherwise it would arouse suspicion. But Arthur didn't want her to feel obligated to do anything in this position. While he knew she was still a good person at heart, the only purpose to this sham of a marriage, was for their child to be brought into this world in a stable environment. All other sentiments that a husband and wife should otherwise have, were lost when she kissed another man.

[Guinevère]

"Tomorrow, your chambers will be prepared so that you can move into the castle." Her chambers. She had known of course that they would no longer share this chamber as they had once planned to but the reminder of it hurt. She'd earned that hurt however so she had no one to thank but her own self, and her own actions. She'd made her bed and not she had to lie in it. Odd, that expression was casual before today, and now she would forever cringe when people said it.

At least with the queen's chambers she could spend her time there. It was large enough she could make it a home, and use it to not face people for a while. "Your coronation will be the day after tomorrow," Which would have her facing too many people. She didn't want t do it. She didn't want that attention when she would not remain his wife nor his queen. Yet she was afraid to tell him no about anything in this moment. She had tried to tell him she would not marry him, but he had used the child as the reason. Guinevère still wished she could find a way to spare him these times married to a woman he did not love, but as she had told him once; you can't always have what you want.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Again, she was silent. And again, Arthur knew that was probably for the best. It would be like this from now on it seemed. Him telling her things, and her too afraid to speak against them. When otherwise, she had been very bold and very vocal in her thoughts. All except ones that had led her to Lancelot's arms tonight. He wished she could have been more honest with him. Why. Why hadn't she just come to him and told him she was having doubts. That she was having uncertainty. He would have understood. He would have been hurt, but not half as much as he was by catching them in the act. Under the roof of his home. A home that was meant to become both of theirs. "If there is nothing else you need to know, you can go." The most he may have ever dismissed her in his entire life. Even when she was a servant, he had not dismissed her -- mostly since he hadn't really spoke to her either.

It was her last chance to ask anything about what would happen in the next few day, and even months. Nothing would happen between them. Their relationship would only be focused and solely centered around their child. They would have to keep up appearances, so be forced to share at least one meal together . . . but he would not spend nights with her. He would not lay with her. That was not the purpose of their marriage. The hardest part, would be getting through tomorrow and the day after. That, would be when they would need to fool everyone. He didn't know how successful they would be. He only knew that they didn't have any other choice. "Have a guard walk you home," he added. Or Elyan if he was with her. Either way, Arthur was not going to make the offer. As soon as she left, he would need to seek out his uncle, the knights, and the councilmen who all knew what had happened tonight. And would be forbidden to ever speak of it again.

[Guinevère]

"If there is nothing else you need to know, you can go." Guinevère visibly flinched at this words, finding his dismissal painful to hear. "Have a guard walk you home," Yes, her home. The last night she would spend there, for tomorrow she would be his wife in name but not his wife in bed. After nodding, she turned toward the door and walked toward it. Pausing she looked back at him. "I am sorry that I hurt you," She whispered, not knowing if he would hear but not waiting around to find out.

Their wedding was--she feared--beautiful but horridly awkward. She tried to smile and look pretty but she had not slept well and the fear of the night to come (and what his plans were for that night) made her unsettled all night and day. By the time it was time for them to retire she feared she might be ill with the way her belly churned and twisted. Not knowing what to expect from, and how their short lived lives together would proceed left her so unsure of everything that Guinevère honestly wished he would boss her around, and made demands--just so she'd know how things would be.

The walk to her chambers was painfully long, and Guinevère was still afraid to speak about anything, but the silence was getting to her. "The sun made the day pleasantly warm today." She said softly, and awkwardly. The weather? On her wedding day?! The words along brought embarrassed and guilty tears to her face.

[Arthur Pendragon]

The wedding was . . . horrible. Horrible because it was not how he wanted his wedding to be with Guinevère. It had been a spectacularly grand event. But he had hardly been able to look at her. While she looked breathtakingly beautiful . . . it felt like there was a large wall up between them. Even the kiss they shared to solidify their union had been brief. He knew he could use the excuse of there being so many people that they were not comfortable in having a drawn out kiss. And no one seemed to notice anything was wrong. Just as they didn't during the banquet that followed. But, this entire event was one of the hardest things that Arthur ever had to do. Pretend to be a happily married man, when all the while knowing in his mind that this was not what she wanted. That she wanted another man. Another who was . . . dead. A fact he had not had the opportunity to tell her yet. He had taken his own life because it was the honorable thing to do. And Arthur didn't know how to tell her that the man she truly loved, was now gone from this world . . . again.

He would have to see her cry for another man, again. The first time had been in the woods after rescuing her from Hengist. He had seen the way she cried for him the, but . . . it had been understandable. For Arthur had no claim to her. He wished that day, he had gone to find Lancelot. To bring him back to her. So that he could have spared them all from the pain that filled evreyone's heart just last night. The second time she had cried for him had been at his funeral, when he'd give his life up for the kingdom. Arthur knew now why she had really been crying. The third . . . would be when he told her that he was dead. For good. Such thoughts were what filled most of his night, though he tried his best to force a smile on his lips and appear to be enjoying the festivities. Until the inevitable night time approached. This was another thing he was not looking forward to. When it should be a most special night between husband and wife . . . they would be doing nothing of the sort.

He walked her to her chambers and knew for appearance sake, they would have to spend the night together. Even if it was in total innocence. He could not lay with her while he knew her mind would be directed toward another man. He would never force her in that position again. He need only worry about the child growing in her womb. "The sun made the day pleasantly warm today." The weather. That, was what tonight resorted to. The weather. He ignored her statement. Not having anything to say and not wanting to encourage the awkward conversation. Though he knew that probably wasn't wise . . . since the entire night would be filled with it. When they arrived at her chambers he opened the door for her to enter before he followed her inside, closing it behind them both. "We must keep up appearances," he said simply, hoping she understood what he meant by that. That he would not actually lay with her. But that it looked like their marriage had been consummated.

[Guinevère]

Arthur did not reply to her, and she felt the awkwardness even more. It built and churned and she was on the edge of panic when they reached her door. At least she would be safe here, and he could leave her to cry alone. But instead, he entered her chambers and closed the door. "We must keep up appearances," There would not be escape tonight. "I understand." She whispered and stood there for a moment by the door before she decided that one of them had to walk away from the door first.

"I will . . . I will just change behind the curtain, and then . . . be changed." Be changed?! "I will sit by the fire." Not that anything would warm her. Turning she walked toward the changing screen, pausing to glance back at him before disappearing behind it, and dropping to her knees there. She was not strong enough to bare this night and if she had her choice she would be the coward and spend it in this hidden place where she did not have to look upon him.

It was a good long moment before she could move again, and her hands pressed to her belly. The baby. She had to be strong for her child! With that in mind, Guinevère stood up so she could change. This was her own fault and Arthur was suffering for it. She owed it to him to make this easy as she could for him!

[Arthur Pendragon]

He didn't watch her walk to the changing screen. He forced his head to casually turn the other way. To say that he did not want to lay with her . . . would be a lie. He still loved her. He still wanted to be with her. He still found her the most beautiful woman, inner and out, that he had ever met in all his life. He had to keep reminding himself of . . . everything. Laying with her was not even an option, yet it was what every man -- and woman -- thought about on such a night. The thoughts crossed his mind, and then he inwardly cursed at himself for having such thoughts. She had made her decision, it had not been him. It had not even been honesty. How could to be with someone like that? How could he make love to a woman who would have another man's name on the tip of her tongue. No. He couldn't do it. It would put neither of them in that position. Even if he never lay with another woman for the rest of his life . . . he would have a child. He would be a father. Perhaps he would not be a husband, but he would be a father. That would count for something.

Aware of the long time she was taking -- and rather grateful for it -- he began to take off his cape and crown, draping the cape over the back of the chair while he set his crown down on the table. He then seated himself, sitting in the chair, hating how awkward this entire arrangement was, when he had spent so many years thinking of how tonight would be one of perfection. Instead, it felt like something straight out of a nightmare. And this time, there was no one to blame but themselves. They could not blame his father, they could not blame magic . . . they couldn't even blame Morgana. It was their fault this time. And it proved, that they were just not meant to be happy. He propped his elbows up on the table, putting his head in his hands, trying to remain composed. Trying not to lash out at her. Trying not to say something he would regret. He knew one thing for sure: that tonight was going to be the longest night of his life.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère took a deep breath and walked out from behind the screen. She didn't raise her eyes to look at him, and instead walked over to the fire and stood. Knowing she had forgotten her sewing things but not waiting to keep walking around the room Guinevère stood there for a long moment, trying to just absorb the heat from the flames.

When she had built up her courage, she turned and walked over to her basket, before taking it back to the fire. As her courage failed her, she ended up almost running to the fire, and once there she sat quickly down and tried not to look at Arthur at the table. She wanted to reach out to him, and try to talk again, but she also wanted to wait for him to pass and his anger was not so great. Only then could she try to truly apologize for her weakness, and folly. Until then, she was afraid to speak.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur raised his head form his hands when he heard her walk from behind the screen. He glanced at her before looking back at the table in front of him. He wished he could have brought some documents with him, some paper work . . . just, something to help pass the time. He also knew it would look far too suspicious if anyone saw him enter the queen's chambers with a handful of papers. He didn't know what he was going to do to pass the time tonight. When, it really should have been a no brainer. No one need ask how a newly wed couple would spend the night of their wedding. It had been the night before that had damaged it. Arthur rose to his feet and walked over to a small table where there were two goblets and two pitchers; one filled with wine and one with water. He filled one cup of wine for himself and set the pitcher down.

Before walking away, he paused, not looking at Guinevère but his words were obviously directed to her. "Would you like something to drink?" He offered, his voice filled with more formality than anything else. Just because they were not on the best of terms, did not mean he was going to be dreadfully rude. She was carrying his child. He wanted to make sure she was well and healthy during her pregnancy. Though every day, he would wish that things were better between them, happier . . . that it would be what they had waited so many years for. And every day, following these thoughts, he would then think of why they could never be happy.

[Guinevère]

"Would you like something to drink?" Guinevère looked up from her work for a moment and tried to think of something to say. Something besides this awkward talking, and something besides the words that were in her heart. The ones were she begged him to forgive her. The ones were she swore on everything there was to swear by that she loved him and no one more then him. But was was there to say until he was ready to hear? "No, thank you." She replies softly.

Looking down at the sewing her her hands she decided the only safe thing to speak of was the child and her sewing. For she was sewing a blanket for the babe. The fabric was bright red, and soft. She was sewing to together in layers so it could be warm enough to protect something so small from the chill in the air. "I am sewing a blanket for him . . . or her." Guinevère whispered, "I wanted to put a gold dragon on it as well." To show pride in her child's name. Pendragon. A bloodline of power and grace and of men and women who did great things. . . . . most of them did great things.

[Arthur Pendragon]

When she said that she did not want anything, Arthur still remained close to the small table. Taking a few more sips of wine, he set his cup down to refill it. He knew he would not get drunk -- as he had never been as such in all his life -- but it was the only thing he could think to do to occupy his time. Drink whatever was available right now."I am sewing a blanket for him . . . or her." He paused, looking over at her -- or more specifically, at the blanket in progress, clutched by her hands. He looked at it for several moments, the idea having a child seeming so surreal. He wasn't even sure it had fully registered in his mind. He had been so consumed with anger . . . so much anger, that he had found it difficult to embrace the joy of a child. Perhaps with time, they were grow more used to this arrangement . . . as much as they could for the sake of appearance anyway. He hoped that during that time, he would be able to find that happiness in the fact that he was becoming a father. Rather than lament in all that they had lost . . . all the sentiment, and the emotional connection between them.

"I wanted to put a gold dragon on it as well." Pendragon. A name that she had never wanted as much as another, and one that he had now forced upon her. He looked away, at the cup he was clutching in his hand, trying to force out such thoughts . . . even though it was impossible. "As you wish," he said nonchalantly, taking another small sip. Swallowing . . . he knew that this night would be more bearable if they perhaps tried to make plans for the child she was bringing into this world. Rather than sit in this painful silence. And he needed to make an effort, as she was making one. "The names that we had once discussed, are you . . . still willing to keep them in mind while determining a name for the child?" He wanted to ask, to be sure . . . knowing that much had changed since that conversation. Amaren if it was a boy. Anna if it was a girl. The names they had once talked of when everything seemed so impossible. Yet, for entirely different reasons. Before, they could only blame his father; now, they could only blame each other and themselves.

[Guinevère]

"As you wish," As she wished. Not that he approved or disapproved or even liked the idea. Guinevère wished that he would give her more in the terms of telling her what he wanted for his child but she also knew it was too soon to push him for things. Everything was too fresh. Everything being her actions, rather then his. "The names that we had once discussed, are you . . . still willing to keep them in mind while determining a name for the child?" Amaren. Anna.

She wished she was bold enough to say 'as you wish' but knew she was not. Besides, this was her fault, and she was going to try to make it easy for him. . . . .

And she wanted to be honest with him, as she always had been until last night. "They are the names my heart has held for a week." For she could name their child no other. Names of their love. "Or since that picnic in the woods." When they first spoken of them.

"Do you hope for a boy or girl?"

[Arthur Pendragon]

"They are the names my heart has held for a week." A week. There was no anger in the fact that she had kept it from him for the duration of the engagement. In fact, had tonight been what it was meant to be, it would have been a night of perfection. For her to reveal that she was with child on the night of their marriage would have indeed been wonderful. The anger that only grew within him was due to the fact that she had been intimate with another man . . . while it was Arthur's child in her womb. That, was what infuriated him. "Or since that picnic in the woods." He tightly gripped the stem of his goblet when she brought back such a time. Where shortly after, she had agreed to wait for him. Wait for him, because Lancelot had not been in the picture. And once he returned, once she was realized the commitment she was -- or should have been -- making to Arthur, she discovered she wanted another more. Arthur took another large gulp to prevent himself from saying anything harsh. "Amaren or Anna then," he said bluntly. "Do you hope for a boy or girl?" He still could not look at her.

What was he to say? Had things been different -- happier -- he would have teased her that it was a son. That a father just knew these things, though he would love a daughter equally. Now, he could not tease her with such playfulness. And doubted he would ever be able to again. "I have no preference. So long as it is a healthy child." Because there would only be one child between them. They would use one name or the other, and that was it. He knew that the formality in his tone was keeping the pure happiness of being a father. It was the circumstance that was dampening the mood, and he knew it would never change. Because what is done, is done. Neither of them could alter the past. "And you?" He asked casually, keeping that formal tone in his voice, returning her question of whether she wanted a boy or girl. She had often spoke of wanting to give him a son . . . but now, it was not about that. They had created a life together, and that was the only thing that kept him from banishing her . . . from removing her from his sight. He hated that this was how they would bring a child into this world -- with so much tension and unease between them -- but there was no other choice. None that Arthur would be willing to consider.

[Guinevère]

"I have no preference. So long as it is a healthy child." She prayed for that as well. A child that was healthy and well. "And you?" Guinevère looked down at her belly, placing a hand over it as if she would be able to tell in that moment what the child was. She feared this would be her only child, for Arthur planned to leave her once the child was born. Knowing she could not lie with another man, not call one husband, she was aware that this would be her only taste of parenthood.

"I am not sure," She admitted, trying to decide if a boy or girl would be what her heart wanted. Either would be wonderful, but Arthur needed an heir. Still, a daughter would be someone she could be close too. Having missed a mother in her childhood, she wanted that special bond with a daughter. "I wish for one of both." She whispered, knowing it was not going to happen that way. "For my heart cannot decide which it wants greater. A son to be like his father, or a daughter to make clothes for, and to teach to sew."

[Arthur Pendragon]

"I wish for one of both." Twins. Wouldn't that be interesting and extremely convenient if she gave birth to two children of each sex. Though she did not stop there, and gave more description than he had in his answer. Had he not been so angry, and perhaps a more talkative person, then he would have returned the favor. And, if he was more of a bitter person . . . he would have thrown out words along the lines of Then I hope it is a girl so that their son would not be a fool like his father. But Arthur was not that bitter. Nor did he ever want to be. "Perhaps it will be one of each," he suggested, knowing that it was just one of the many possibilities. And an extremely unlikely one because . . . no one ever got what they wanted. No one could predict the outcome of anything.

The more someone wanted something, the less likely they were to get it. Which is why he kept his answer simple: a healthy child. Because surely, that was not too much to ask for. "At least that way both names will be able to be used." Because this would be their only child. It would either be an Anna or an Amaren. Or, as she suggested, both. "Throughout the next few months, whatever you require for yourself or our child, then you only need inform one of your maids or any of the other workers." He wanted to be sure she was well taken care of . . . since he wouldn't always be there to take care of her personally. Not only because of his duties, but because they would not be sharing a chamber like they thought. He would spend time with her, because he wanted to be near their unborn baby as much as possible . . . at the same time, it would not be like it was before. It would never be.

[Guinevère]

"Perhaps it will be one of each," That was not going to happen but she knew they were just humoring each other! "Perhaps!" She offered, trying to sound positive and helpful rather then pointing out what they both knew. "At least that way both names will be able to be used." The reminder of her own thoughts were painful, but Guinevère knew that it was her own fault. She'd gone to see Lancelot, she'd broken Arthur's trust and faith.

In truth, she was surprised at how kind he was being. Thought why she was surprised she did not know. Arthur was not his father, and would never be unjust in anything he did. "Throughout the next few months, whatever you require for yourself or our child, then you only need inform one of your maids or any of the other workers." Because he would not be around? Or not around her at least. "I am self sufficient enough to keep busy, and make sure everything is taken care of." She tried to joke, but it fell flat and came out more emotional. Guinevère knew what he was asking, or telling her.

He would stay away, and she was to keep away. Tell someone else to give him the message rather then seek him out. "I . . . " Am so sorry! "I --I think I will sleep after all." She whispered, standing and turning to get what she needed to prepare. Deciding that she rather pretend to sleep and be the coward for tonight.

[Arthur Pendragon]

That much was true. If Guinevère was anything, it was independent. She had taken care of her father while he was alive, and had lived on her own for so many years after he had passed. He knew she could take care of herself. At the same time . . . she would grow weaker with a child, and she wanted to be sure she was well tended to. Her maids would take care of that and . . . he would do what he could to help. For their child. He had to focus on that, because he still felt the strength of the pain and hurt of her actions every time he looked at her. He needed to see her more as the mother of his child, rather than the fiance who betrayed him. Fiance, now wife. "I --I think I will sleep after all." Arthur glanced at her as she said this, hating this night even more. He hated it, because things were not supposed to be this way. It was the most unromantic wedding night and with her, he had wanted things to be perfect and romantic.

A night to show that every moment they had waited for each other would be worth it. A proper way to thank her for waiting for him. But it was so far from that, and to be quite honest . . . Arthur couldn't wait for this night to end. He set the cup down on the table his gaze shifting from the table to her. "You should get as much rest as you can." Concern for her due to her pregnancy. That would be his primary concern and focus. The bed had been prepared for them, so hopefully she would be able to rest in comfort. "I will be gone before morning," he told her, more as an assurance to her rather than a bitter remark. It was even more awkward, to just sit here while she slept in a bed that should have been theirs. A bed that should have held intimate moments and memories that they could start to build on the night they united themselves through the bond on marriage. But now, it would be a piece of furniture only for one person, only for the purpose of sleeping.

[Guinevère]

"You should get as much rest as you can." Yes, she should, for she doubted that she would get any rest. Her nerves were stretched to tightly, and she felt the unease in the room. She could not help but to think of that first time he had spend the night in her bed, and her on a stack of things in the back room of her father's home. Her home. A place she almost wished she could be in now.

"I will be gone before morning," And their days of solidarity would begin. She knew this was her fault, and she feared that she would not be able to ever undo this, if he kept his word to undo this marriage after the child was born. Good Night, Guinevère. He had once said their first night, and she had replied with Good Night, My Lord.

Odd how that night held less awkwardness between them then now. Her wedding night. "If you wish to rest, I could put some pillows and a blanket by the fire." She offered, Knowing she would always wish to take care of him.