Time Softens But Doesn't Heal

[Arthur Pendragon]

Her answer came almost immediately after his question. To hear such confidence was . . . reassuring. He just wished she could give him an answer about that night. But knew that there was no point in asking it again. She had been overwhelmed with relief, though he still did not comprehend how that was enough to make her find her way to his arms. Perhaps it was something he would never understand. But he did not want to dwell on it. He did not want it to destroy all the years of happiness they had together. He'd almost killed the man out of pure jealousy and anger for his actions. Had Guinevère not intervened, he would have killed Lancelot. To hear her say that she did not love Lancelot . . . what was it then, that had drawn her to him? That had made it so easy to forget all the years they had been waiting to be together, willing to destroy it in the span of one night. All that they had fought for . . . had seemed to flee her mind within a couple days of another man's return. But he didn't want to bring this to voice. He didn't want to stay fixated in this time, when they had been through so much together.

They had been married for almost a decade; they had created two beautiful children. He began to step toward her, unsure if they resolved anything . . . but hated fighting with her. "That night almost destroyed us once Guinevère," he began to say, his voice void of placing blame for that was not what brought forth his words. He began to step closer to her, walking toward her . . . until he found himself standing right in front of her. "I do not want it to destroy us again." Because they had worked through it. They had fought long and hard. Years. For years they had struggled to be together. And now that they finally were . . . it seemed that even being married and having children didn't mean that their happiness wasn't temporary. He wanted to move on. He wanted to keep this event in the past, where it belonged. "Can we not just leave it in the past, where it belongs. And focus on our lives now. On the happiness we find in each other, in our children." Because he didn't want this to be a constant source of discourse. He wanted it to be over and done with, and just . . . let it be forgotten.

[Guinevère]

"That night almost destroyed us once Guinevère," Arthur moved closer until he was right before her, leaving Guinevère feeling safer and less vulnerable. Stronger to have him near. "I do not want it to destroy us again." Even with his words, of asking her in a way, if they could go back to never speaking of these things again, she felt stronger with him by her side. Arthur had that way about him. Always had. Even when they were at odds, Guinevère felt stronger and safe with him near.

That was the power of love. She knew what it was to live with out him, had done it for months. It wasn't something she could do again. "Can we not just leave it in the past, where it belongs. And focus on our lives now. On the happiness we find in each other, in our children." Their past was not in their past, it was before them. It was between them.

"You are the strongest man I have met, Arthur, and how you are able to give off such strength even while being gentle has always amazed me. When we fight, I feel stronger with you near." She told her, looking up into the blue eyes that she loved so very, very much. "I do not know how you lived with me for years if you thought I loved another more, and I pray one day you will believe my words. That one day, the millions of good moments--both big and small ones--will come to mean more then that one mistake, that one night. And that you will believe me, like you used to, when I tell you how very much I love you and have loved you since we begin our relationship."

"But my heart is breaking." Because he did not believe in her love for him, "And I cannot ignore it . . . . I am not even sure how you can ignore yours." She reached a hand up to touch his injured shoulder before letting it fall back to her side. She hated how it terminable. "I will be in the queen's chambers tonight, and perhaps tomorrow, we will see a way out of our darkness." Turning from him, Guinevère forced her feet to move, and take her away from the one place she wanted yo be.

His arms.

[Arthur Pendragon]

From the first words she said, he knew that she was leading up to something. And it was not good. He knew her well enough to know that if everything was fine, if everything was resolved -- or at least not so tense -- then she would have embraced him and put this behind. But she was not going to. Because things had only gotten worse. The entire time she spoke, he was bracing himself, knowing that at one point she would say something that truly revealed what this had done to them. And he was just waiting for that moment. Those words. Afraid for them, and just waiting for her to get them over with. "But my heart is breaking." And when they came, he felt as if an entire castle of stones had fallen on him. He had broken her heart. As she had once broken his . . . it had been mended, and they found a way to be together. But now, she was hurt. And if it was to this extent, then there was no way to heal it. What did he say? Apologize? No. She did not want to hear apologies right now. He had tried, but the magnitude of his words would forever remain with her.

Their marriage was destroyed.

Perhaps one day in the far future this would not be so strong and painful . . . but they had a long way to go. And even then, it would never be fully behind them. He had failed in maintaining another relationship that he held so dear to him. He didn't know what else to say to tell her that he did not doubt all their moments together. But only that things could have been different, and that he'd accepted that. She could not even give him a valid reason as to why she betrayed him. He didn't understand it. He wanted to, because he felt that in understanding it . . . he would know where she was coming from. But he didn't. Because she could not tell him. And until then, they would never move past this. Tonight, being a prime example of it. He remained silent the entire time, and did not look at her as she left their chambers, announcing that she was going to the queen's chambers for the next few nights. His eyes moistened with tears but did not fall, as he swallowed them away and blinked a few times to force them back. His marriage was destroyed. After that night, he had wondered if she ever felt trapped in a relationship with him.

Now, he feared that every day following this one, she would be with a man that she could not even bare to look at. He couldn't live like this. Not as a husband, or king, or father to their children. Waiting several moments to ensure he would not see her in the hall, he left their chambers -- feeling the coldness of it tonight more then ever. And sought out his daughter. His beloved Anna. He nodded toward the guards that were always stationed outside her doors, and entered her rooms that had a doorway leading straight to Amaren's. He would not wake Amaren tonight for he knew his son would be excited and want to know all about the battle. Instead, he went to Anna's bed and watched her sleep for a few moments. His perfect princess; the image of her mother with the exception of the bright blue eyes she had inherited from her father. Quietly removing his boots, he carefully lay next to her, putting an arm around her and pulling her close to his chest. She was so small, so fragile. He kissed her cheek which caused her to stir a little and sleepily open her eyes, looking up at her father.

"Papa?" She asked in a soft voice that indicated she was half asleep. Arthur gave a small smile and gently brushed a stray curl from her cheek. "Go back to sleep princess," he told her in an equally soft voice. She let out a heavy, content sigh and nestled close to her father, her body snuggled against his chest. Arthur closed his eyes, but sleep evaded him. Despite his exhaustion he could not even think of sleep right now. His mind was burdened, not with the flashes of violence from battle, but from his wife's pained words. He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he opened his eyes again. He felt his forehead covered with tears of sweat and his whole body warm. There was only one logical explanation . . . and it was what caused him to look at his wound. It had opened and a little bit of puss and blood was leaking through the bandage. He slowly moved his arm from around Anna and even more slowly and carefully rose to his feet once more, quickly putting on his boots. He exited his daughter's room, walking back down the hall, only now feeling the fatigue from the past few days, and even more drained and worn from his recent conversation with Guinevère.

Perhaps he would seek out Gaius after all to get something to help him sleep. While this was his train of thought, he found himself back in his bedroom, and knew why. There was that remote hope that Guinevère had changed her mind and that he would find her sleeping in their bed. A strong hope that was only shattered when he opened his door, closing it behind him, walking to their bed . . . and seeing it empty. He stared at the vacant bed, as if looking at it would some how make her miraculously appear. He walked over to the side that she usually sleeps on and sat down on it. Once again, he kicked his boots off, feeling an overwhelming tiredness consume him. Maybe he wouldn't need Gaius after all. What he did need, was the comfort of his wife -- however selfish that was in the moment. Tonight, would be the first time in nearly a decade that he would go to sleep, alone. So all he could do was lie down on the side that was usually covered with her body, and take in what little comfort he could from the scent she left behind. He closed his eyes, finding it massively insufficient, but right now . . . it was all he had.

[Guinevère]

"Mommy," Guinevère heard the vote voice, and opened her eyes. "Anna?" Her daughter was standing there, "Mommy, Papa is home! But he is very tired!" Guinevère smiled softly, moving to sit up. "Is he home?" She asked as if she might not know, "We should get him some breakfast and serve it to him in bed!" As hurt as she was with him, she could not--would not--hold back from him with their children. "Yes, yes, yes! Cause he is tired!'

Guinevère smiled and rose to walk and check her hair in the mirror before she ventured into the public halls. "That is because he just got home, he will need some rest before he can keep up with little girls." She teased, and Anna laughed, 'When he wakes up, we can feed him!' Guinevère smiled at the thought of Arthur waking up to Anna trying to feed him.

Once she was presentable, Guinevère turned to her daughter. "Now, let us go to the kitchens and get a morning tray, and then we shall let you jump on the bed to wake him." Anna laughed, 'It will take more then that! I already tried.' That was the moment Guinevère's heart did a small drop, as she knew something was wrong. "What do you mean you already tried?"

'I had a dream, Mama, that Papa came to see me last night. When I looked this morning, he sleeping in bed! I jump and tried to wake him but he would not wake up! He is vveerryy tired!' Not that tired.

Guinevère hurried the door, and she could hear her Anna calling after her but she had to check on Arthur. She knew--in her heart the way women and mothers sometimes did that something would be wrong the moment she entered the room.

Pushing open their door she looked at the bed, to see Arthur there, looking slightly pale. "Arthur!" She yelled, running toward the bed and sitting by his side, while touching his face. It was burning! "Arthur! Arthur please, wake up!" She tried shaking him gently, and calling to him but he did not stir! "No! Please! Arthur!" 'Mama?' "HELP!" Guinevère yelled, moving to her Daughter, and pulling her by the hand to the hall. "Help!"

Anna was crying, clearly frightened, and Rosa came running down the hall with guards at her heels. "Take Anna to her brother, keep them there!' Then to the men, "Summon Gaius and quickly!! RUN!" She was panicking and she wasn't sure how to help or what to do but Guinevère knew she had to try!

Running back to Arthur, she began trying to remove his shirt and that was when she noticed the dirty bandage! No! She should have made him seek Gaius out last night, not try to do it herself! "Arthur! Wake up please!" She begged softly, unwrapping it and feeling tears on her cheek as she saw how over night it had turned ugly, and the color had spread down to his chest. "Please, Arthur!"

Sometimes later Gaius came in, and one of the knights gently pulled her a few feet back, while Gaius looked over her husband. The news was not good. Poison. The arrow that had hit him, was going to kill him. Arthur was dying. Days. He had but a few days, but the potion had reached his heart. There was no cure. . . . .

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur was not sure what was happening. What he did know was that when he felt himself slowly regaining consciousness, his eyelids felt heavier than ever and he felt an overwhelming weakness that made it difficult to do something as simple as open his eyes. Or -- dare he try -- lift his head. He forced himself to return to the world though, and very slowly, opened his eyes. At first it was only for a second, as it felt too difficult to keep them open. Then, it was for a while more . . . long drawn out blinks. His vision was hazy, but the first person he saw was someone he recognized even if darkness was all around them. He wanted to open his mouth to speak and ask what was going on, but he felt too weak to do so. His eyes went to her, to . . . Gaius? And a couple other men who Arthur was too drained to keep his focus on long enough to recognize them. Instead, his gaze went back to his wife, as he attempted to lift his head.

His entire body protested, and he returned to letting the back of his head rest against the pillows once more. Something wasn't right. That much he knew. "Guinevère?" He questioned, hoping she could give explanation . . . despite their conversation from last night. Which even in Arthur's hazy mind, he had not forgotten. But that wasn't it. It was not about that. Gaius was here, other people were here . . . his children were not. Something was wrong, and the sooner he got answers, the better. In him slowly regaining consciousness, he found the pain intensifying in his chest and managed to lower his gaze to look. His injury. The wound had gotten worse and it had not only discolored the skin around it, but seemed to spread around a bit more. Arthur attempted to sit up once again, this time not letting his body's objection stop him. "What's happened?" He asked in a voice that came out far weaker than he had intended.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère sat on the edge of the bed, Arthur's hand pulled into her lap as she turned her hand over around his own. Her fingers linking, and turning, and holding on to his. Over and over, her worry making her need to feel the heat from his hand in her's. She was watching Gaius talk with the council members, as they tried to decide what needed to be done. Merlin had given her a suggestion earlier, and while she had turned it down . . . . .

In her mind it was all she could think of. Gaius confirmed that because the poison had touched Arthur's heart that there was nothing he could do to undo the damage. It would kill him. The only medicines he knew of would slow the workings down and give Arthur a few days. Though he warned they would not be pleasant.

Merlin ask her to clear the room, and let him send in a person of magic to heal Arthur. After what happened with last king and his death when one tried to help . . .

She could not risk it, but nor could she loose him. They had been fighting, yes, but she still rather fight with him then live without him. She needed Arthur. Needed his strength, and his kindness. She needed the softer moments and she didn't even care in this moment if he did not believe her love. She was still hurt by the knowledge, but she would not think of it while he was dying.

Should she trust Merlin's 'friend'? What if it was the same man whom killed Uther? Merlin claimed this Emrys or Dragoon person had only been trying to help and his magic had failed or not come in time yet . . . . Could she risk this on Arthur? Was their someone out there who could save him, and their would be no risk?

There was another more guaranteed way, but she knew there was a high cost for it. A cost that was so high, but would work with out fail. She would only have t--"Guinevère?" Turning to face Arthur, She let his hand go, only so she could raise her own hands to his cheeks. "Arthur!" He was awake!

Arthur was trying to push to sit up, "What's happened?" and she moved her hands to his chest, avoiding his injured shoulder to push him back down. "No! Please, just stay down for a few moments. You've been sick and need rest!"

"Just drink some water, then we can speak of things," Gaius was there handing her a cup, and the other men moved in a bit closer as well. "Here, drink this." She moved to help him, since it was hard to drink while lying back. Her fingers stroked his hair back while she did so.

[Arthur Pendragon]

He physically lacked any strength to protest, so silently complied when she put her hand on his chest, and he lay back down. Though his confusion grew all the more. He had been sick? How sick? Clearly he had been ill enough to call for the attention of the council members, and to worry his wife. Even . . . after everything they had been through. Though he did not doubt that she cared for him. He only wished he had done a better job of expressing that he was aware of that . . . rather than say words to convince her otherwise. He glanced at Gaius, and then raised his head to drink from the cup she offered taking a few small sips before resting back on the bed. He looked at Gaius . . . and his face was as unreadable as ever. The council men however, looked far more concerned. Should he ask them? No. He wanted to speak to his wife. He wanted to hear what his condition was and when he would be able to get out of bed. "Give us a moment please," he said to Gaius and the council men.

The physician looked at him with a bit of a reluctance, but all the men complied, exiting the room. Even though they closed the door behind them, Arthur didn't have to look to know that they were hovering outside. He then looked at his wife, his hands stroking his hair back giving him an abundance of comfort, though still did not answer any questions. He slowly reached for her hand that was stroking his hair, and held it in his, bringing it to his lips to lightly kiss it before just casually holding it. He knew it was a bold action, seeing as how she had been clear about wanting to place distance between them. But he couldn't help it. She looked so worries and . . . he just wanted to move past this. All of this. "What did Gaius say?" Arthur asked, able to feel the pain, but unsure what Gaius' expert diagnosis was. "How long must I be confined to my bed?" He further inquired, a slight jest in his tone for they both knew his stubborn ways. And he wished to at least attempt to lighten the other wise sombre mood.

[Guinevère]

"Give us a moment please," Arthur had drank the water, but he seemed to know that something wasn't right. How could he not? If is was dying would he feel it? Was he in pain? Arthur was so stubborn! Would he admit to being in pain? Would he be take the pain and try t spare the people around him? Guinevère waited until the door was shut, but knew that then men were just on the other side. They would not go far. The king was dying and they needed his attention on many things.

Arthur kissed her hand, and she bit her lips while trying to hold back the tears. "What did Gaius say?" That he was dying. That he had but days! "How long must I be confined to my bed?" Bending forward, Guinevère kissed, his lips lightly once, then twice before pulling to sit back up. She had to tell him, but wished he'd have let Gaius do it.

"The arr--the arrow that hit you . . . . it was poisoned." Or had poison on it. It was not a detail she knew enough about to explain. "Gaius gave you something to slow it's spread. . . . . but it---it has . . . . " Tears fell over her cheeks. ow did you tell a loving father and a GOOD man he had but a few days to live? How did you fight for him? How did she stay strong for him? "Gaius cannot stop the spread. Only slow it."

She shook her head slowly, "I am so sorry." For all the years he would miss, and the kingdom that NEEDED him more then it had needed any king before him or any king after him. For the children he could not see raised and the friends that he would be parted from. For them. For the life they would miss. Her hand gripped his as she watched his face. "He says it might be a few days before . . . . before it stop . . . stops your . . . . . " His heart.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur watched her face carefully. She did not encourage any joking, or teasing In fact, he could already see the tears welling in her eyes and the hesitation in her voice. Poisoned. The arrow had been poisoned. That would explain the discoloration and the pain that was coursing through him right now, though he had a feeling that Gaius' medicine had helped numbed that. It was her next words that were all he could focus on. "Gaius cannot stop the spread. Only slow it." . . . Oh. It was . . . he was . . . that was it then. Arthur looked at her, blinking a couple of times as his mind attempted to process this information. Days. He would have days. He would have days to make a lifetime to his wife. To beg for her forgiveness, when not being able to give her a lifetime.

He would have days to explain to his children how much he loved them, and why he would not be there when Amaren became a prince, or when Anna rode her first horse. That was all he could think of right now. The welfare of the kingdom was of course important, but it was not without a successor. Who would succeed him as a husband, as a father? He knew he needed to say something, but the shock of her words left him voiceless. What did one say to their wife after being told they had days to live. Not years, not months, not even weeks . . . but days. He forced a soft smile on his lips, though any joviality was missing. It was an attempt to comfort her, more than anything else. He raised his hand not gripped with hers to her cheek, and gently brushed away the tears before just keeping his hand there to feel the softness of her skin.

"Don't cry," he urged in a soft voice, hardly even a whisper. In fact, he didn't even know if it could be heard. He didn't know how to act in these moments. How to process all of this . . . how to spend his last days in this world. "The children . . . " He had to pause in between his question, unable to say it in one sentence. "Do they know?" It was so different, years ago . . . when he had been a prince. He would ride out to danger because it was what his duty entailed. He would embrace potential death because it was expected of him. Ever since falling in love with Guinevère, marrying her, and having children . . . his greatest fear was losing one of them. Now, he would lose all three. There was only one good thing that would come out of all of this: that Odin would no longer target Camelot . . . that it would mean his family would be safe from at least his wrath. That, in this moment of devastation, was something that gave Arthur comfort.

[Guinevère]

"Don't cry," Do not cry? She had thought yesterday her heart was breaking, and now she knew just how far from breaking it had been. For today she was seeing what true heart break really was. Her husband was dying! The first heartbreaks she knew they could--with time--come to live with or heal from, or find some way to handle it. They had the time.

Now she had no time.

She wished that he had stayed. Last night could have been their last night together. Their last moments. Instead she had walked away. While she still felt hurt by his words, the hurt seemed lesser then the fear of now. "The children . . . " Amaren. Anna. "Do they know?" Yes and no.

"Anna found you, and could not wake you." She whispered, her hand coming to cover his on her cheek. "They do not know, but they know something is wrong." How did you tell a child their father was dying?!

"I cannot loose you." She whispered, bending forward again to rest her cheek against his own. She was afraid, and with everything that they've said these last few weeks she was worried that these would be the memories that would haunt her for the years of cold and alone that she had to face without him.

[Arthur Pendragon]

"Anna found you, and could not wake you." That had been his mistake. He didn't want to worry his young daughter in such a way, and had he not gone to her last night . . . then she would not have tried to wake him this morning. He had no idea how he was going to tell them. Amaren and Anna. How could he explain that he would not be there for all the promises he had made them? To train Amaren to become the best knight that Camelot had ever known. To attend Anna's 'tea party' that tended to take place every other night. To even tell his wife that he was planning something special for their ten year wedding anniversary which he could not even now tease her about. That would be his greatest regret. Leaving his beloved family behind. They would have to tell them. But how . . . when . . . he did not know. "I cannot loose you." Arthur closed his eyes for a moment, feeling even greater comfort with her cheek against his.

He slightly shifted up, and gently pulled her on the bed so she was half on his lap and leaned back so that he was rested against the head board. He turned his head to brush his lips against her cheek, before moving it back a bit so that he could look at her. "I can not bare the thought of leaving, with you believing that you were not good enough." That she wasn't stronger. Wasn't more expressive in how she felt. Words she had used to him . . . because that was what his own slipped words had implied. "Please forgive me, for ever giving you reason to doubt in us." Because he didn't. Had he not been certain of their love . . . then he would not have married her. He would not have created two children with her. He would not have been happy. But he had married her; he had created two children; and he was happy. More happy then he had ever been in all his life. "I have never known, nor can imagine, a greater love, then what exists between us." He could not . . . leave this world, with their last conversations being that of heartbreak.

[Guinevère]

"I can not bare the thought of leaving, with you believing that you were not--""Don't,""--good enough." She whispered when she knew what he would say. She didn't want to talk about their recent fight. She didn't want to fight with him anymore. Not about anything. "Please forgive me, for ever giving you reason to doubt in us." "Arthur," She begged him in another whisper, but she also knew that when her beloved husband wanted to say something that he would.

"I have never known, nor can imagine, a greater love, then what exists between us." Tears fell down her cheeks. Closing her eyes for a moment Guinevère summoned the courage to give him what he needed to hear. To summon the strength to even speak. Arthur would let his emotions be guided by the situation. She knew that he felt this way, for the fear of loss. Opening her eyes she forced a sad smile on her cheeks. "I know," She whispered honestly, "I do not doubt in our love." She said, almost completely honest. She knew they were in love, she just knew that he believed there was another she rather be with.

Arthur did not need to hear her thoughts, and pain however. He needed to know that she loved him, and that she would not think of the last few weeks forever--or at all. "We do not need to speak on it. I wish to only fill theee----these days with good things. For it will be the--the--the only ones I will hold in my he-heart."

[Arthur Pendragon]

To hear her say that she did not doubt in their love, gave him unimaginable courage. He knew . . . that he had given her reason to doubt. His words had done so. So to hear her at least acknowledge that, gave him peace of mind. Had he not been . . . on his way from this world, then he knew it would take more time to work through the tensions that had arisen between them. And he agreed with her. He did not want to spend these last few days, fighting and arguing. Talking about things that would cause tears in their eyes, and make them seemingly forget all the wonderful times they had together. That was what he wanted to focus on. Since they could not focus on a brighter future, he would emphasize their bright past. Granted, filled with dark moments time to time, but she had constantly been his the light in every darkness and his hope for the future. He was not ready to leave her, to leave the children. Even if he had lived to be a hundred years old, he still would not be ready. "Then we will speak of it no more," he confirmed, wanting her to know that they were of the same mind . . . at least on this.

"I wish only to be with you and the children these next coming days." His last days. He caressed her cheek with his thumb, still wiping away the tears that continued to fall. Not wanting to dwell on all this sadness of the moment, Arthur slowly pulled her toward him, holding her in his arms, hugging her against his chest. He did this partly to give comfort. To take comfort. And so that she could not see the tears that were forming in his own eyes. He looked up at the ceiling, trying to maintain his composure. Not wanting her to see him cry. Focusing on keeping his voice steady as he tried to lessen the intensity of the moment. Was that even possible? "You do recall when we first picked out names for our children?" He asked, a small smile on his lips; a genuine and sad one at the same time. "It was our first formal date I believe," he added, trying to lighten the moment. The picnic in the woods by the river. They had only picked out two names for their children; a girl and a boy. As it seemed to be fated that they would have two . . . and only two.

[Guinevère]

"Then we will speak of it no more," Good, for she did not think she could speak of it and keep the lie up, of everything be fine between them. She had so many regrets in how she could have done things differently, but she didn't want him to know what. She only wanted him to see her strong. "I wish only to be with you and the children these next coming days." The children. She didn't want to tell them. Should they?

"We should tell them only that you were injured and sick for a while." She whispered, trying to be strong and his arms around her helped her some. "At least for today." Let them bask in the enjoyment of their father being home. Give them time to make the best memories they could! "You do recall when we first picked out names for our children?" That made her shoulders shake once, with the sob that almost came out. "Yes," "It was our first formal date I believe," And almost their last, for it would be a long time before they dared be so public again.

"You saved me from the wasp," She whispered, remembering how utterly charmingly foolish he had been that day. How she had loved every moment of it. "And wished to be a farmer."

[Arthur Pendragon]

That would be for the best. Not telling Amaren or Anna, just for today. If Gaius' medicine helped slow the spreading poison then they would have a few days together. They could always tell them tomorrow. Or the day after. He just . . . wanted to be at peace with his children and his wife. Knowing, it would be his last moments here. "You saved me from the wasp." The memory caused a faint smile on his lips. "And was rewarded with quite the gratitude," he said somewhat teasingly . . . as she had kissed him for it. Even if that was what had gotten them caught in front of his father, he still cherished that day. How they had been able to escape the city, just for a little while. Be themselves, in each other's company . . . acting if nothing else and no one else existed in all this world. "And wished to be a farmer." His faint smile remained, as he ran his hand on the back of Guinevère's head in a soothing manner, his fingers running through her hair. "I still wish for such a life." Or, wished. Past tense. Had he been a farmer, then she would not have had to face the pressures of being queen.

Then . . . they would have had more time together because Odin would not have found him as easily. So much could have been different; simpler. But it was never in his destiny to have a simple nor easy life. "Though I would not trade a single moment of our time together." The better times. Their marriage. When all had been solidified and happy. Until . . . he cleared his head of it, for now. Preventing it from surfacing. He only regretted how it now ended . . . when he had believed for so long that they would have their forever. Just yesterday they had been talking of when Anna would learn of the darkness in this world. Guinevère had just yesterday spoke of how he would be there for her, as an overprotective father. Now, only to be unable to give her comfort and support. Weakening, he felt a tear fall from his eye and took a deep breath to cease them. "Will you tell the children . . . " That he loved them. That he wished he could be here. That . . . so many things, that he shouldn't be mentioning right now, but the words slipped out against his better judgment. "Every day," he finished. Knowing, Guinevère would understand what he meant.

[Guinevère]

He spoke of still wanting to be a farmer, and Guinevère could not help but to wish they had ran away together. Then there would never have been any betrayal between them. Only love. And forever. She would not have proven to be so weak that ONE day, and he would never have lived their marriage thinking she was thinking of another man, before him in her heart.

"Will you tell the children . . . " "Yes!" "Every day," "Yes! I promise. Twice a day." That their father loved them, and he would be proud of them. Moving so she could place her lips on his, Guinevère kissed him lightly. "I cannot do this." She admitted, "I cannot loose you." She was trying to be strong but she was afraid, and hurting, and wanted him to make everything alright only this time he could not.

She thought again of Merlin's words and wondered if there was something in her power to do to save him. "I cannot even think of a life where you are not in it." And she wouldn't! She would save him! No matter the cost! She would pay it!

"The council needs to speak with you, and then we should spend the day together. With the children." Or what was left of it. "We can picnic on the bed, and let them stay up past bed time."

[Arthur Pendragon]

He gave a small nod when she confirmed that she would tell the children. Every day. That their father loved them. That he wished he could be there. That he would be proud of them. He knew she would understand him, even without saying the words. For no one knew him better than Guinevère. Arthur watched her, not even closing his eyes when she kissed him so tenderly. The embrace sent a strong warmth through his heart, but he did not want to close his eyes for he wanted to memorize every feature on her face . . . as he had done so a million times before. "I cannot do this." Yes she could. Arthur knew she could. "I cannot loose you." His fate was sealed, and he wished there was way to alter it. He wished that Gaius had a remedy that would somehow cure the poison . . . and that all this, was not necessary. He wouldn't have to say good bye and he would not have to feel his heart breaking while doing so. "I cannot even think of a life where you are not in it." He knew that if the situation were reversed . . . he couldn't even begin to image such a life.

"Guinevère," he began to say, wanting to say these words now for he was uncertain of when another opportunity to say them would arise. His hands went to either side of her cheek, ensuring that she was looking right at him, and so he could look at her. "You are the strongest person I know, with the greatest, most kind heart." It had been what drew him toward her . . . that, and so many other things. "Don't ever change." Not because of this. His father's spirit had broken when Morgana betrayed him . . . he had seen what a loss can do to someone, and he did not want his of all of them to change Guinevère from the brightness that always radiated from her. He leaned forward, lightly kissing her forehead before continuing. "The children will get you through this. I know they will. I know that they will get their strength from you, as you will get yours from them." If there was one thing he was thankful for, it was that he was leaving behind a part of him; a part of both of them, in the form of two little miracles. Two beings that symbolized his and Guinevère's love for each other.

She spoke of the council wanting to meet with him, knowing that was also important -- though had not been what he wished to prioritize. "I like the sound of that," he admitted. Just, being around his family. Dealing with the politics of the kingdom so that there would be no uproar when he passed. He had an heir, and Guinevère would take that role until Amaren was of the mature age. He was not worried for the kingdom he was leaving behind, for he knew he could not have left it in better hands. "I'm sorry Guinevère. For, all that I leave behind." For leaving her as a single parent . . . raising two children on her own. For leaving the entire kingdom to her, when he knew she had always been uneasy with the notion of being queen. His wife, yes. But no queen. And he wished he did not have to burden her with such. "I could ask for no one better to entrust such things with." The future of his children, and the future of this kingdom. "Come back, as soon as you can." With Amaren and Anna . . . because he wanted to be with them every waking moment. So much so, that he couldn't even let go of her right now.

[Guinevère]

Arthur was telling her how brave and strong he thought she was but the only thing she felt was fear. How did she live without him? Arthur was her husband, her best friend, and the one person she felt whole with. He might not believe her, but there had been nothing she loved more or felt stronger about. "I will return in an hour. Tell the council they can have you until then. After that you will be with you family." She would kick them out if she needed too.

Guinevère knew she had not commented on his apology, for she did not plan to let him die. There had to be a way to save him and she would find it and keep her husband alive. The kingdom needed him, his family needed him, and she could not face a life without him by her side. He was her everything.

So instead she kissed him deeply, and then forced her self not to cry until she had parted the room. After a few moments, she told Rosa to ready the children in their favorite clothes. Then she told the kitchens to ready Arthur's favorite foods....

And then, Guinevère went to do something on her own. She knew magic had rules and a price, and she needed to know she had to do. For tonight she would see it done. Arthur would not die while she had a chance to save him. Maybe that made her weak, to not be able to watch him die. Maybe it made her a selfish person. But she would do it none the less..........

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur watched her as she spoke of returning with the children after an hour. He noticed she did not comment on his words, but her actions said enough . . . as she leaned forward to kiss him. Arthur of course returned the kiss, slightly raising his head to do so, closing his eyes and fully embracing the moment. He felt the immediate deprivation of her touch when she pulled away, and furthermore, rose to her feet to leave. Arthur let out a heavy breath, wiping a tear from his eye that threatened to fall. He did not want the council to see him so . . . emotional. But then, surely it was not weakness to be in such a state when one received the news that he would be parted from his family forever. Parted from this world. Arthur had never been in this situation. The last time he believed to be facing imminent death was when he had rode to the Isle of the Blessed to give his life to close the veil and thus, save the kingdom. Apart from that, he had always been unconscious while 'dying'. He never realized how much that had been both a blessing and a curse . . . until now.

Hearing the door open, he turned his attention to the council men. He could see it on their faces, the sympathy. The uncertainty as to what to say. He managed to convince them not to make any formal announcement to anyone right now. To spare his children this day. They were in agreement, but Arthur knew it was not something that could be prolonged too much. Not that he had a great deal of time for it to be so. They agreed to wait until tomorrow . . . and while it gave Arthur no comfort, it gave him the day with his children. For the hour he was from his family's company, he spent it speaking with the council, signing documents, going through his will and what would happen in his permanent absence. Guinevère would rule until Amaren was of age, and his family would of course inherit everything in the Pendragon family. While there was more to do, the moment Guinevère and their children arrived, he dismissed the council and there was no protest from them . . . because they completely understood. Giving a small bow they left the room, and Arthur spent the rest of the day -- one of his last days -- with his beloved family.

The day both went slowly and quickly. Everything felt surreal . . . as if he was not in this world, not in this reality. For every smile that was on his lips from an action that either his son, daughter or even Guinevère did . . . faltered at the realization that it would be one of the last days he spent with them. That he would miss so much. His appetite was practically non existent but he ate with his family none the less, feeding Anna as he found it difficult to put her down for a single moment during their day. Even when night fell, he was cradling his daughter in his arms as they sat in front of the fireplace. She was sleeping so peacefully, and Arthur gently rocked her forward and back, too afraid to let go. He was averting his gaze from Anna who was comfortably in his arms, to Amaren who had fallen asleep between him and Guinevère. How was he going to tell them tomorrow. He felt as if he was more terrified of that then death itself. He never wanted to let her go, yet knew that this was an opportunity to talk to Guinevère, as he had much to discuss with her.

Not only in terms of the council matters but . . . everything. Then again, it was impossible to compensate the rest of their years together, in the span of one night. Arthur knew that if he did not put Anna down now, then he never would. He carefully lay her on a large pillow next to Amaren. She was so small that the pillow served as a bed for her entire body. He gently brushed his thumb across her soft cheek and leaned down to kiss her forehead before doing the same to his son. "They look so peaceful," Arthur said in a low voice, thinking aloud his previous thoughts. The innocence of children was such a remarkable thing . . . something that Arthur wished he could preserve. But knew that now leaving them in this world, they would have to grow up faster. They would learn of death far earlier than he would have liked. Just recently, he had been talking to Guinevère about sheltering Anna from all the darkness in this world . . . and now, she would learn of it with such great force. Arthur could not describe the guilt he felt in leaving his family in such a state . . . and would continue to pray for a miracle until he drew his last breath.

[Guinevère]

Every moment could be another memory for them."They look so peaceful," Guinevère looked from the fire that she had been staring at, down to her children. They did. They looked so happy and full of life. She could not let them lose a father! She could not see the hurt in their eyes when they learned that their Papa was not going to come play with them any longer. That he was gone from them. Arthur and her both knew the loss of a father and mother. It was not something you moved on from. You just learned to live with the whole in your heart.

Knowing what she planned to do, Guinevère had spent the day building memories of her children. Though she knew they would last them longer then herself.

"They do, today was special to them." But they didn't know that it might be their last one of happiness for a while. No! She would not let him die! She needed him, and could not live with out him! She wasn't strong like he was! She wasn't able to lead kingdoms, or stand strong, or fight Morgana, or inspire a nation! Guinevère knew even without the kingdom, she still would not be able to live without her husband.

Arthur might not believe her--and it was breaking her heart more so now then before--but he was her one and only. "How is the pain?" She asked softly, "Do you want to move to the bed, or lie down here?"