I Can't Live With or Without You

[Arthur Pendragon]

/*/*

[Guinevère]

/*/*

[Arthur Pendragon]

/*/*

[Guinevère]

/*/*

[Arthur Pendragon]

/*/*

[Guinevère]

/*/*

[Arthur Pendragon]

When he finally felt her release, he felt his world spin as he was out of breath, desperately trying to catch it. He remained tucked inside her for a few more moments, knowing that the second he pulled away . . . that would be it. The second one of them spoke . . . that would be it. So he just remained like this, keeping his head nestled against the crook of her neck, feeling her whole body pressed against his. Taking in her scent and the wonderful ecstasy she had caused to fill his body and soul. The comforting gesture of her running her hand through her hair only added to the wonderfulness of this moment. Of how it felt like to be with her. To show her how much he loved her, how she made him feel. How no one woman could possibly stir such euphoria and intense feelings in him. Only her. It had only ever been her. He focused on slowing his breathing, on allowing it to return to steadiness. He never wanted to move from this position. He wanted to stay close to her, holding her, kissing her, feeling her. Everything that he had longed for in a married life together, was here. Most of all there was love. Something that they now celebrated. Something that ---

"Take me to bed."

That was when it all came crashing down. It was not her words that had caused reality to hit him like a pile of stones. But rather, the realization of how badly he wanted to comply with her request. He wanted to get dressed, help her put her dress on, only to remove it from her once more when the found the comfort of a bed underneath them. His heart and body longed for nothing more than that. But even though this is how it should be, it was not how it could be. He shouldn't have done this. He knew the repercussions of his actions, the emotional pain it would cause both of them. Though in these moments, he had been utterly selfish. He was thinking of only his desires, without even considering the aftermath. And it was now, that the guilt weighed heavily upon him for such a thing. For breaking his own silent vow of never laying with her again. Keeping his face hidden for a few seconds longer, he took the opportunity to compose himself. Slowly, he drew his head back, his eyes meeting hers for only a moment before they fell down to his trousers as he moved his hands off of her, and pulled up his pants, tying them. He knew his reaction could mean either a yes or no, so he would have to use words. Words that he wish he did not have to say.

"I . . . can't." They couldn't. And he despised himself all the more for what his actions had done. What they implied. That he made love to her only to scratch and itch . . . only to satisfy a craving. When that wasn't it at all. He cared about her, he loved her more than he could ever say or express in actions. But, how else would it look? Would she understand? Would she feel he had used her? Would she feel violated? Arthur could swear that he had never felt more dishonorable then in this moment. He kept his gaze downcast, though his trousers were already tied. "I'm sorry." As if one word could make it all better. He knew he could not. He knew he had only made things worse for her. And he was a coward, for not being able to look at her. He then turned around, out of respect for her modesty -- not that he could ever expect her to believe he respected her after his actions. But none the less, he would not make it worse by helping her dress, knowing, that he would only undo his actions once more. For he was weak when it came to her, and at the same time, so very strong. Instead, he picked up his own shirt and pulled it over his head, loathing every second of what had caused them to be like this: so unable to enjoy married life.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère felt him shift under her hold, and she let him go, hoping that he would take her to his bed. She wanted to stay there, and work on moving past these emotions. She wanted to build a life with him and spend every day trying to prove him how how sorry she really was. When he spoke however, she turned cold. "I . . . can't." And felt suddenly exposed to his gaze. Her arms folded over to shield her as he adjusted his trousers and would not look at her.

So this would be it then? "I'm sorry." He told her, turning from her. Tears swelled in her eyes, and her heart broke. Dropping down she gathered her dress, pulling it up to her shoulders. The laces were in the back but it would at lease cover everything. There was an entrance to the queen's chamber just across the hall, and she knew no one would be lingering out in the hall after Rosa left.

So she ran from the room, and across the hall before she broke down crying before him. She said nothing, for what could there be to say? She had not even paused to pick up her shoes. When her door was shut, she locked it, and moved to lock every door--both the main doors and the servant's one--before climbing unto her bed, and crying herself to sleep.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur did not have to look at her to know that she was crying. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, still too cowardly to look at her in these moments of heart break. He shouldn't have done this. He should have controlled himself better. He knew that the aftermath was not going to be easy. He knew that one instance of making love was not going to make everything better . . . no matter how much he wished it so. And he hated hurting her. He hated seeing her cry because of his actions. Waiting until he knew for certain she had fled the room, he turned to pick up his belt put it around his waist, before slipping his sword inside. He then proceeded to put on his jacket, and ran his hand through his hair to make sure he didn't look too dishevel-led. Giving a final glance around the room that would one day contain their child, he exited, returning to his duties for the day. Only the day had gone on horribly. He tried to focus on his tasks, but all he could think about what was he had done.

How he had managed to make things worse between them -- who knew that was even possible at this point. Guinevère did not dine with him that night. Nor the next morning. Nor the next afternoon. And not the next night. In fact, he had not seen her at all. It came as no massive surprise, for he had hurt her and had expected this kind of reaction. He would never forgive himself . . . just as he could not yet forgive her for actions with Lancelot. How had it come to this? So much pain, so much hurt. Arthur did not go to see Guinevère in any of the following days or nights. He would give her the space she needed, for nothing good would come of seeing each other right now. But that didn't mean that he didn't walk past her chambers at a purposely slow speed, hoping that the door would be opened and he could catch a glimpse of her -- only he had never managed to achieve this. Nor was he successful in his attempt to see her as he walked by their child's nursery, in the hope to see its progress.

There was no progress made on it, and he could not bring himself to enter the room . . . because of how he had hurt her in it. Every night when he dined, he would wait for her, only to receive message that she would not be joining him. No one thought it odd, not even Arthur -- considering the circumstances. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary, until he was approached by Gaius, a week after the nursery incident. Gaius informed him that Guinevère was unwell and this immediately raised strong concern in Arthur. The physician informed him that she needed to start eating and become more healthy, otherwise she and the baby would suffer. Arthur was told that she had hardly eaten or drank anything in the week's past, and that she was too weak to get out of bed. And Arthur knew only he was to blame for this. He thanked Gaius and made his way to Guinevère's chambers. He paused outside of them, trying to keep his composure. He lightly knocked before entering and saw Guinevère lying in bed. If he was not told of her weakness, it was not something that was difficult to detect.

She looked paler than usual, the color drained from her face, and she looked frail. Arthur feared for both her and their unborn child, and knew that he needed to do everything he could to make sure she ate and took care of herself once more. Because he had not been here to take care of her. And he wasn't sure he could be. Though right now, it was all he could think to do. Rosa excused herself and made leave, while Arthur moved closer to the bed, looking at his wife before taking a seat in the chair that was positioned near the bed. He didn't care if she did not wish to see him right now, for all he could think about was how she was ill, and how he needed to help her get better . . . if he could; if she would let him. "I was told you've been unwell," he began to say, his voice slightly softer than the tone he had spoken to her with in the past couple of weeks. How could it not be? She was ill, and he couldn't bare to see her like this. Despite everything, he loved her so much and she was his wife. Maybe he was not first in her heart, but she was most certainly first in his. Just as their child was too.

[Guinevère]

Her heart hurt. That was the only way she could describe the pain she felt. Her heart hurt. Guinevère had kept her door locked that whole day and for part of the next day. When she unlocked it, she was embarrassed and coming to see her marriage was truly nothing but in name. She had a few slight bruises, and proof of that day in the nursery. They did not hurt but stood out as beacons of reminders.

She could not go back there. Not yet.

Then the sickness came.

Normal for mothers she was told, that some felt it more then others. It made it hard to keep anything down, and the lack off food kept her feeling as if she had no energy. Gaius said that walking down to the gardens and getting some sunlight would help arise her spirits and make her feel better, but she could not. She did not feel the joy she normally felt in life.

She knew that she would come out of this sadness, but right now she simply could not. When the babe grew larger, she would be able to grow excited and happy with the idea of meeting this perfect person. One would would not hate her for mistakes, and one who would let her love them with her whole heart. Completely.

Rosa was telling her of the news from below, Guinevère sad up in bed, with a book on her lap but she could not even tell Rosa the title when asked. That was when the knock came and her husband walked in. Rosa also excused herself, and Guinevère wished she could call the younger friend back but could not.

it would make her a coward. "I was told you've been unwell," His voice was softer then before, and she looked down a the book, unable to meet his gaze. How much she loved him, and the sight of him after what she had done to them hurt her. So very much. "Al mothers feel such illness I am told." She said softly, not wanting him to worry.

[Arthur Pendragon]

"All mothers feel such illness I am told." He had heard that too, but he also knew that it was more than that. From what Gaius had told him -- and from what he could see -- it was more than that. Gone was that bright happy smile that she always wore, that seemed to light up her entire face. He knew he had not given her reason to smile, and prayed that the joy of a child could return her joviality . . . where it had been stripped from them both. Sitting in his chair, his eyes also went to her book, pausing in a pensive silence. He didn't want to argue with her today. He didn't want to start a fight. He just wanted to help her get better. He hated seeing her so ill . . . and hated even more so than he could not take care of her as he once would have. As he was meant to. As a husband should. His eyes slowly went to hers, looking at her expression, seeing the way her own eyes averted him. Not that had expected anything else.

"I was also told that you have hardly eaten this past week." Again, from what Gaius had told him, sickness associated with pregnancy came and went . . . but there was something that was making her sickness more severe. Not something, someone. Him. His actions. His rejections. His disregard. Just . . . him. He knew that stress was not good during a pregnancy, and he also knew that he was only contributing to it. He needed to find a way to be better; to be more supportive. To not do things that would compromise her condition . . . like he had done a week ago. He could not take it back. He wasn't even sure if he regretted it . . . though he did regret the hurt it had caused her. For if this was the result, he wished he had done a better job of telling her as well as showing her how much he loved her. Rather than make himself look like such an uncaring and heartless man.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère's fingers pulled back the corners of the pages in the book, before letting them fall. She did this a few times while using the overly simple movements to not look up at him. In truth, she missed him. She missed the sight of him. Ever since that night, nothing had been the same, and ever since that day in the nursery it only seemed to get worse for them. Nothing was simple or sure anymore--and her and Arthur used to be the most sure thing she ever knew. It was as constant as the stars above them, and the beating of her heart.

Now feared the end of them because she had been weak, and foolish, and stupid! Why had she gone there that night? She wasn't even sure herself. "I was also told that you have hardly eaten this past week." His voice broke her out of her silent thoughts and she suddenly felt the need to apologize for not taking better care of their child. The days had just . . . . .

She knew better now. She knew she had to force herself to try harder or risk her child. She would do it! Yet apologizing to him felt wrong, for she did not wish him to think she though he was trying to demand she do better. She could tell in tone that he held worry, but she also knew that Arthur would never stop wanting her healthy and alive.

He simply did not want her near him.

"Gaius left some medicine to help calm the feelings from the babe." The churning of her belly. The medicine would help her kept food down. 'In a few days I will well again." She Arthur need not worry for her. He had enough else to worry about, she didn't want to add to his burden.

[Arthur Pendragon]

"Gaius left some medicine to help calm the feelings from the babe." While Arthur was relieved to hear that she had been given something to help ease the pain, he still knew she had to eat something to keep up her strength. He could not bare to be the reason that she was so emotionally worn, which was playing a part in her apparent physical weakness as well. There was so much between them, and he didn't know how to make it better. He didn't know how to ease the tensions between them . . . for instead, he just kept hurting her more. He knew that his presence right here could be hurting her as well . . . but he couldn't help it. He had been maintaining a distance from her during their marriage thus far, but this did not only concern him and her. They would bring a life into this world and he needed to be able to support them both.

Not only in the means of giving stability in their lives . . . but emotionally as well. So far, he was doing a terrible job of that. "When is the last time you have had a proper meal?" He asked with concern, wanting her to know that he was well aware that the lack of appetite was not only due to her unsettled stomach. She would still be up and about, for he knew what she was like. She was too restless to just lay in bed. Which was precisely how he knew that it was more than the natural sickness associated with carrying a child. And he'd made no effort to help her through it. Had they been happily married, had they been sharing a room, had everything been different . . . she would not be like this. Nor would he. They would have had a much stronger relationship, and he wouldn't have had to hear from Gaius that she was unwell. He would be laying next to her in bed, holding her as she got as much rest as she could.

[Guinevère]

"When is the last time you have had a proper meal?" Guinevère felt herself having to think in order to answer honestly. It wasn't that she had not eaten a proper meal in a while, it was that she had not been able or feeling well enough to eat. At first it had been her churning emotions for Arthur, and then when she could tell something was wrong, it had been that she could not keep anything down. It seemed simpler to not eat large amounts at one time and try to eat small things.

Yet Gaius said she had to try to taken in more. He suggested some foods easy on the belly for women around this time in pregnancies. In truth, the last proper meal she had--had been the night before she had been caught. "It has been a few days," That wasn't a complete lie, she hoped. "Gaius told me of some foods that will be easier to keep down. He said he would tell the kitchens what they are as well. So they could fix them. Things with no spices and are a bit more bland."

[Arthur Pendragon]

The fact that she had to pause in thought . . . or perhaps it was her way of stalling knowing that he would not like the answer. "It has been a few days." And sure enough, he did not. They had not dined together since . . . that incident in the nursery. He had just assumed that she was eating in her chambers, or at her own convenience. Had he known she was not eating at all, he would have come to see her far sooner. Arthur looked down for a moment, trying to calm himself, though the worry consumed him. She was weakening, and he was terrified of losing both her and the baby. It was one thing to have lost her emotionally . . . but losing her physically was a whole other matter. Their child would need their mother, healthy and strong. Exhaling, he looked at the side table where there was a pitcher of water. He proceeded to pour some in a cup.

She looked at is she hadn't eaten, and judging from the discoloration of her lips and skin . . . she looked massively dehydrated as well. "You need to eat Guinevère." Though it wasn't something she didn't already know. He however, planned to stay here and make sure she ate. Even if he had to feed her every single bite. "Will you at least drink some water?" He asked, slowly moving the cup to her lips, prepared to press her if she rejected the offer. "You must take care of yourself, for the child that grows in you." And for him. But he had a feeling she was less inclined to do it for him . . . especially after how he had treated her when he had weakened and taken her against the wall. So instead, he would focus on their child. The only thing that was seemingly keeping them together right now.

[Guinevère]

Arthur looked down and sighed, leaving Guinevère feeling as he was even more greatly disappointed in her. She felt a pain feeling in her heart, and it made it slightly harder to breath for a few moments. Arthur had once told her she was as brave as any knight of Camelot. He'd once told her that she was the one he trusted above all others and that it was her opinion that he wanted more then any other one.

How far she'd fallen. to be this mess of a girl before him now. "You need to eat Guinevère." She nodded, but then saw him move. Pouring water, and lifting the cup up to her lips as if he thought he was going to have to force her to do things. "Will you at least drink some water?" He wasn't being rude, or harsh or anything but she felt that she had let him down so greatly, that there would never be a chance for anything else. It seemed everything she did now let him down. Her hands came up to pull the cup into her own hands--making sure not to touch him. When she held it, only then did she drink from it.

"You must take care of yourself, for the child that grows in you." She knew that, but hearing made the disappointment he must feel for her seem more. "I'm sorry," She whispered, reaching a hand up to wipe a tear away. She had not know she was even crying until that moment.

[Arthur Pendragon]

She took the cup and with it, offered apologetic words. His hands hovered near the cup for a few moments, making sure that she had a firm grasp on it. "I'm sorry." These words were so simple and yet . . . not. He knew they were sincere, but he also knew that they were unneeded. He didn't want her to apologize. "As am I." Because he was fully aware that this was not the life she had wanted. He had forced her into a marriage because she carried his child, and now he was making it worse by expressing his love for her . . . only to later reject in. He was only making this already difficult situation, ten times more difficult. How could they live like this? He would need to make drastic changes, that much was for certain. Because he could not bare to see her like this . . . knowing that it was his actions, and both his affections as well as his non affections that caused her to be in such a state.

"For many things," he added, his eyes meeting hers so that he hoped she could at least see the sincerity in it. That he had not wanted them to be like this. That he was being selfish in letting his desires take control . . . not even thinking of the emotional repercussions in the moment. Letting his intent gaze remain for several moments, he finally broke it, looking at the cup and then casually back at her. "We need only focus on the the future of our child." Meaning, the months to come . . . where it would grow larger in her until it was ready to be brought into this world. "And ensure that you are getting adequate food, drink and rest." And he had to help make sure of that. He could no longer be a coward and ignore or avoid her . . . he needed to be there for her. For the sake of their baby.

[Guinevère]

"As am I." Guinevère looked up at him when he spoke, knowing that he should not be apologizing. Arthur had done nothing wrong, but instead had been wronged. "For many things," She shook her head, knowing she could not let him apologize for her faults. Arthur was a good man, and this proved it. He would apologize for things that were not fault. She wronged him and he apologized for it.

"We need only focus on the the future of our child." Because the child was all that was between them now. When once she had been someone he sought out. "And ensure that you are getting adequate food, drink and rest." Guinevère knew that she should not need someone to stand over her to make sure she did such thing but these last few weeks had proved she was unable to do it.

"You should not apologize, Arthur," She whispered, drawing up her knees and forcing her eyes to his. "None of this is your fault." None of it! "It is mine, and I promise I will do better." For their child, and for him. She was stronger then this! She would not let it break her! She would not stay here weak in bed.

[Arthur Pendragon]

"You should not apologize, Arthur." He should. He had done many things that an honorable man would not do. In a way, a very horrible way, he had taken advantage of her. And would never forgive himself for it. "None of this is your fault." He didn't want to hear this right now. "It is mine, and I promise I will do better." He didn't want her to blame herself. Though, he did blame her. Her and Lancelot for their actions. And that was where the blame for himself came in as well. But he did not want this conversation to go there. His heart could not bare it. He was trying so hard, to just be in the same room as her . . . and it only grew easier because by being near her, he was also near their unborn child. He knew he would have to make a greater effort. That he would have to put his anger and hurt aside . . . that he had married her. And needed to take care of her and their child. That was all that mattered right now.

When their baby was brought into this world, and he and Guinevère were no longer bounded by marriage . . . then they could stop all this pretending. While his love for her was very real, he was no where near forgiveness right now. "All I ask, is that you take care of yourself." He needed to find a better way to avoid letting the conversation go back to apologies, and blame, and guilt and everything else that would cause his already broken heart to shatter all the more. "Tomorrow, why don't we go to the market and buy some things for the nursery." Some fabrics and materials. "Fresh air and a walk may do you good." He had failed thus far in taking care of her and their son or daughter . . . he did not want to make that same mistake for he saw the result of her. An ill Guinevère. And he could not stand to see her in such a state. Hence the reason he had made such an offer, though it would be easier to just avoid it . . . that, was no longer an option for him.

[Guinevère]

"All I ask, is that you take care of yourself." She would, she would make herself. For the baby was the one to suffer for her lack of care toward herself. Guinevère knew it would be hard, but she also knew that she loved her child more then herself, and that alone would be reason enough to make sure she did a better job then this! She would be stronger, and so as Gaius. "I promise," She told him, though wasn't sure if her word meant anything to him anymore.

"Tomorrow, why don't we go to the market and buy some things for the nursery." Her eyes widened slightly as they moved to his face, and for a moment--other then his tone--she had almost thought . . . bu no,, he wasn't asking because he wished to spend time with her. "Fresh air and a walk may do you good." He was trying to make sure she took care of the baby. "I'd like that. I know you are busy, I can ask Rosa to walk with me." She he would not have to go himself if he really wished to not too.