Time Softens But Doesn't Heal

[Arthur Pendragon]

"They do, today was special to them." It may be special for them today, but this would not be the day that would be burned in their memory. It would be the day they were told of their father's death. He would deprive them of that figure in their lives . . . and wished that he did not have to teach them of such strong loss at such a young age. These were the moments he would cherish, as he did all the moments with his family. He never took them for granted, but had been so afraid of the damage his own words had caused. But now . . . time was no longer something so freely given. It was something growing shorter and shorter by each passing moment. "How is the pain?" Unbearable. But it was not the physical pain that he was feeling. It was his heart, breaking in these moments. "Do you want to move to the bed, or lie down here?" It was this question that would be easier to answer than the first. For he did not wish to lie, nor did he wish to evoke sympathy.

"Lets move to the bed," he suggested. He didn't want to part from his children's sight, but had to speak with Guinevère about today's matters. Gaius said that he still had a few days, but who knows how reliable that was. The poison had taken days to spread before, to the point of causing him to fall unconscious in his sleep. What if he never woke up after tonight? Giving his children one last glance, he rose to his feet, and offered Guinevère's hands to help her up as well. Things may be awkward, and he may not have forgiven himself for causing so much doubt . . . but as they had agreed before, neither of them wanted to fight. Once she took his hands, they walked over to the other side of the room where the bed was, and finding his energy weaken, he sat on the edge of the bed almost immediately. Though he did not let go of her hand and hoped . . . that she would sit next to him.

[Guinevère]

"Lets move to the bed," Good, she wanted him him comfortable, and resting. A low heart rate would keep him alive longer. Maybe. She wasn't sure! Guinevère wasn't a doctor but when nursing injured men they wanted them to relaxed. For if their heart was pounding then they lost more blood faster. If the poison was in his blood then surely a relaxed environment would prolong everything?

They walked over to the bed after Arthur held her to her feet, and Guinevère hoovered slightly when he sat down. "I am going to give you just a little bit of willow bark in some warm water. I know you do not wish to sleep--but it will ease the pain, and with any good will and luck, keep you rested and here longer." For it would keep his beating heart resting at a slower pace.

Guinevère leaned forward to kiss him, before moving to the other side of the room to get the willow bark. It was used to ease pain and make people sleep but in small amounts should keep him awake. . . . . .

. . . . . . . Yet she needed him sleeping. Guinevère had gone and learned what all she could from whom she could in her hour away from Arthur today. She did not know much, but she formed a plan.

She was going to save her husband, and in order to do so, then she needed him resting. Arthur would not let her do this if he knew. Walking back to him, she paused before him, "Drink this, Arthur, so you can hold me with out too much pain." She wanted his arms around her, until she had to leave. Knowing that he loved her made her strong, but she wished he knew just how much she loved him. That no man stood taller or brighter in her heart then her husband. "Please."

[Arthur Pendragon]

He didn't want to take the willow bark. He didn't want to sleep. He wanted to stay awake every possible moment, even if it was just to feel alive for these next few days -- knowing they were his last. He didn't want to sleep while holding her, but just to hold her. And forever feel that sensation of having her in his arms. That, was how he wanted to pass from this world. Not by taking medicine that would lure him to sleep never to wake up. He did not protest right away, but rather, just watched her as she went to get it and then return with it. He looked at the cup, and then at her, and then back at the cup. He was often too stubborn to take medicine . . . but whenever she pleaded with him to do so, he often complied. This time it was different. This time, there were very specific reasons he didn't want to take it. He took the cup from her hands and looked down into it.

"I'm afraid to fall asleep," he told her softly, a faint smile crossing his lips. He did not like to admit his fears, but if there was anyone he knew he confess such things to . . . it was his wife. His confidant. His heart. His everything. Bringing the cups to his lips, he drank the content of it in only a few gulps. Not to ease the pain he felt, but so that she would lie next to him without worry of him being in any pain. Setting the cup on the side of the table, he took hold of her again, his hand gently grazing her forearm before his hand just gently held hers, his eyes then going to her face. He then slightly shifted back on the bed a bit, leaving room for her to move onto it as well as he lightly pulled her toward him. "Let me hold you for the rest of the night." Now, he was pleading with her. That he knew she may not be entirely comfortable with him, that there were still things unresolved . . . but he loved her. And he knew she loved him. Tonight, that was all he wanted to think of.

[Guinevère]

"I'm afraid to fall asleep," Raising her hand to her lips, Guinevère covered her mouth and closed her eyes for a moment to try to hide or block out the pain that his words made her feel. When she opened them he was drinking it. How honorable could she be? He was afraid to sleep and she'd given him something to make him sleep. She felt low and cold, but she also knew that this would be the hardest part of her night. This goodbye.

"Let me hold you for the rest of the night." Yes, hold her. Arthur moved back so they could climb int bed, and Guinevère moved in with her husband but when she moved to lie next to him--tucked up into his side--she was tense, and her upper body was propped up on her elbow so she could look down at his face. Her eyes took in his face and eyes. Every detail she loved so much.

Guinevère hated to think of anyone in pain. Anyone. Though knowing with her actions that Arthur and her children would morn her, she still would change her mind. Before this moment, she had dared not think of it in such terms but looking down at Arthur she spelled it out in her mind.

She was going to give her life for him.

She loved him, and if she could save him--she would. He would protect their better then she could ever. The kingdom needed him, his men needed him and . . . and she could not recover from his death. Arthur would do so many great things, and she wanted to be able to see them. But if giving her life meant he could live--that he would be able to do them, and she could watch from above with so much love and pride then she would! She would pay the cost. For the man she loved. For her love for him.

Maybe this made her a coward, but she had to try. "Arthur . . . " She whispered his name, " . . . . . " The words did not come. She had to tell him goodbye and she knew how quickly the willow bark would take affect. He would be sleeping deeply with in the next half hour, if not less. She had given him slightly more, to make him sleep slightly longer.

While they had been a family tonight, she had wrote three short but heartfelt letters. One to her son, and she told him how proud she was and how much her heart swelled with love at the just though of him. One to her daughter, and she spoke of the joy that only a mother could feel at a daughter. The last was to her husband, and she told him--begged him--to believe her when she told him that she truly loved none before him. That she would choose no man above him. She told him that the night before their wedding, when he found her with Lancelot had just been overwhelmed emotions. That she could not explain them, but had never felt them before or since. She begged him to believe her, though made sure the letter was written in a way that would ease her passing rather then leave it with guilt.

Now there was only the goodbye to her husband. "I put extra of the willow bark in your drink, to make you sleep. I am sorry. I had not known before that you were afraid to sleep. But you should not be afraid to sleep. You will wake up. This I can promise you."

"I'm going to make sure of it."

[Arthur Pendragon]

When she came to lie next to him, he draped one arm around her while his other gently caressed his cheek, their eyes meeting. He knew he should tell her what the council and him discussed . . . but it all seemed so irrelevant right now. He didn't want to talk of politics and business. He wanted to just look at her, gaze upon all her beauty. Think of every single wonderful moment that they had together. Dream about it, and pray that he woke up for another day that he could spend with his family. Throughout the silence, he could feel his eye lids growing heavy. But he fought it. He would fight to stay awake for as long as he could. Until the medicine took effect and he would have no other choice but to fall into a deep sleep . . . perhaps permanently. But not yet. It was too early. He didn't want to -- "I put extra of the willow bark in your drink, to make you sleep." This surprised him and he looked at her curiously. Why had she put extra? Why did she want him to sleep, when all he wanted to do was stay awake, or at least wake up as early as possible so that he could spend as much time with his children and her.

Why would she make sure he got more rest? "You will wake up. This I can promise you." How could she promise this? How could she tell him such things when his life was slipping with every passing moment? "I'm going to make sure of it." She was what? It was in this moment, that a bad feeling suddenly overwhelmed Arthur. Enough to in his increasingly drowsy state, cause him to abruptly sit upright, his hand falling from her cheek as he looked at her with concern. He knew her well. Extremely well. And he knew to trust his instincts when he got a bad feeling about something . . . such as now. "Guinevère . . . " he began to say, panic slowly rising in him. There were some things that one just knew. While he may not know what she was planning . . . whatever it was, it was something she knew he would be disagreeable toward, for she would not made sure he would sleep so much otherwise. "What do you mean?" He asked, strong concern in his voice. Even before her answer he knew that he was not going to like where this conversation was heading.

[Guinevère]

"Guinevère . . . " He knew. "Yes?" She whispered softly, almost guiltily but she was strong in her tone. She knew she was taking the coward's way out by not telling him until he would be sleeping soon but she also knew she would not change her mind. She wasn't perfect! She was far from it! Guinevère made mistakes-some big some small--but ever day she made some. While she could say that her mistakes never cost people harm, and she never hurt someone on purpose, she knew she still faltered when others would stand stronger. She could be brave, but it was harder for her then tit was for the knights and Arthur.

She knew that because of these things, Arthur would be able to better protect their children, the kingdom, everyone. He could lead them to great things but these were not the reasons she was doing this. They were only the things she found to confirm her own though. In truth--she could not live without him. She was not that strong. "What do you mean?" "I am going to save you," She whispered, "I am taking the cup of the Druids--that saved Sir Leon--and I will use to to keep you here." If she could, then she would do so without giving her life. The waters from it surely could save him. Yet if she could not--then she would give her life for his.

[Arthur Pendragon]

"I am going to save you." How? In what way? Gaius had said that there was no hope; that it was too late for the poison had already spread. "I am taking the cup of the Druids--that saved Sir Leon--and I will use to to keep you here." The druids. The cup of life. Magic. While Arthur had freed the druid people, he was still uncomfortable with the use of magic. It had after all claimed his father's life -- though he was well aware that Odin had a helping hand in it, as he did with Arthur's soon to be death. She was going to seek out the druids and find the cup of life? This task was not easy. He recalled trying to do so when his father had wanted it . . . and he had failed in the important mission. But he would not have Guinevère go out searching for the cup. She seemed so determined, yet he knew that this was hopeless. That it wouldn't make a difference. That he needed to stop being in denial and accept his fate. And . . . he wasn't sure why, but something inside of him told him that there was much more to this plan.

"It's too dangerous," he told her. Dangerous, and useless. For it was not that simple. Nothing would ever be that simple. He brought his hand back to her cheek, giving a small smile though it lacked any joviality. "I want nothing more than to live Guinevère," he began to say, wanting her to know that he wasn't discouraging this idea of hers because he wanted to die. "I wish with all my heart that I could stay here with you, with the children." With his family. "But, my fate has been sealed. And I only ask that you be strong, as I know you are. That you stay here, with me in these remaining days so that we can all be together for a little while longer." Because he would prefer to spend his last days here with her, rather than have her off on a futile mission. "Please," he continued to say. "Just stay with me."

[Guinevère]

"It's too dangerous," She was aware of the risk, but she would risk it all for him. "I want nothing more than to live Guinevère," And she wanted nothing more then for him to be so. "I wish with all my heart that I could stay here with you, with the children."

"But, my fate has been sealed." No! She would not believe that! She would not stop trying! Guinevère would be strong for him, but in a way that meant she could fight for him. Save him! Arthur was her hero every day, he saved her all the time and took care of her. Now it was her turn.

"Please," Guinevère turned her head so she could place a kiss on his wrist, "Just stay with me.", before she pulled back enough to reach her two hands up to hold his one. "I know that it might be hard to find the cup. After Morgana used it and it disappeared. . . . . . "

"Which is why it was only part of the plan . . . . Arthur I love you. more then anyone really knows." He did not even believe her when she told him that she loved him more then anyone else. "I cannot loose you. I will not." Tears slipped down her cheeks. "Which is why I did not let it be my only plan." She would give her life for him.

"On the little island, there is said to be a magic dwellers sometimes. . . . I will go there." She held his hand tighter, knowing the hardest part of this plan was telling him. "I will make sure you stay safe."

[Arthur Pendragon]

Hard? It was near impossible. And he didn't want her to endure the dangers of the journey to attempt to retrieve something that was impossible to find. He hoped that the druids had it by now, and if so, then he knew for certain it was safe. But still difficult to track down. Not the kind of mission that Guinevère should embark on. He was already leaving the children without a father . . . he didn't want harm to come to their mother. "Which is why it was only part of the plan . . . . Arthur I love you. more then anyone really knows." These words peaked his curiosity and caused that pending bad feeling in his gut to intensify. Not from the wound of his injury, but because she was leading up to something. And he believed, this something was the very thing that was causing him to have that very bad feeling. He looked at her intently, curiously . . . worriedly. The way she said the words, refusing to loose him, sounded far more confident than denial.

It was deeper than nonacceptance. But . . he still could not figure out how or why. That was when she continued, and he could have sworn his heart skipped a beat at the shock of her words. She was sparking of . . . he knew what she was speaking of. And yet, he couldn't acknowledge it. Maybe he was completely misunderstanding her. Maybe he was misreading the underlying message in her words. Maybe . . . he didn't know what to think. He just looked at her, seeing the tears fall on her cheeks, feeling her grip on his hand tighten. "No." His voice was blunt, filled with a strong tone of finality . . . more than he'd ever spoken to her before. A sharp pang of fear coursed through him, and did not seem to lessen despite its consuming effect. "No." He added more firmly. "Guinevère whatever you are thinking . . . no." Because he could not stress that enough. Because . . . just . . . no.

[Guinevère]

"No." If only that word held the power they both wished it did. No, Arthur would not die. No, no one would have to die. "No." But he was dying. Slowly. Gaius even used the words painful when he was trying to described how the last few days would be. That once the poison started getting though places they would stop to work. Arms, legs, and control of his body. It would be an embarrassing and painful way for him to slowly dye over the next few days and she could not--she would not watch her husband face these days.

Gaius could slow it, but in slowing it he also admitted that it was prolonging the pain, making Arthur feel it longer while he was alive.

"Guinevère whatever you are thinking . . . no." He knew then. He knew what she planned to do. Looking up into the face she loved, Guinevère wished that No really held the power they wished it did. "I cannot watch you die, and I cannot face years without you. I am not as strong as you think me. I cannot lead a kingdom, nor face years of missing you. I cannot breath just thinking of loosing you. I have lost many people in my life, but you would be the one that I would not get over. . . . . "

"I will save you. I will do what I need to too save you."

[Arthur Pendragon]

His breath trembled when she began to tell him that she could not watch him die, that she could not face so many years without him . . . that she could not lead a kingdom, that she couldn't breathe. "And you think I can?" He asked almost immediately. Did she think he could live without her? That his heart could beat without her? No. No good would come of this arrangement for if she left this world, he too would die. His spirit would be broken and he would waste away into the darkest of places . . . detaching himself from all this world. For how did one survive when the greatest hope, greatest strength, and greatest love leave them? The answer was simple: they did not survive. Arthur moved closer to her, putting both his hands on either side of her cheeks as his forehead rested against hers, keeping their faces close. "Please Guinevère," he said in a breathless voice.

Breathless from all the fear and worry that overtook him; from the weakness not only in physicality, but now emotionally as well. "I am begging you Guinevère, please don't do this." He couldn't let her. Yet . . . she had made sure he couldn't stop her. "The children need their mother." More than they needed their father. For a mother and child's bond was incomparable to anything else. Anna was still young. She still relied heavily on her mother and . . . Arthur could not deprive them of her. "Is this about what I said before?" He asked, his voice filling with desperation, trying to use anything and everything he could to deter her of this plan she had. While he often loved and admired Guinevère's trait of determination . . . right now, he prayed that he could weaken her resolve and convince her not to do this.

"Because I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You have nothing to prove Guinevère." She did not need to do this to prove that he was first in her heart . . . though he knew that was the most simplistic way of putting it. "My father gave his life for me." As did so many others. And each person -- especially his father -- who died so that Arthur could live, was something he never would forgive himself for. "I can not let you make this sacrifice. I am begging you. Prove to me that I was always first in your heart, but granting me this last desire. Do not do this." He didn't care if it was low of him to suggest that if she did go through with it, her actions would suggest otherwise. He was desperate. So very desperate to just rid her mind of this notion of giving her life for him. He couldn't. He wouldn't let her die. Not for him.

[Guinevère]

"Please Guinevère," Her hands came up to let one rest on the side of his neck, while the other comfortably brushed his hair back. Arthur's face was close enough that she could feel the emotions he was feeling, rather then just see them. Perhaps it was only an emotional feeling of his own emotions instead of physically feeling them, but she felt cowardly, instead of heroic.

"I am begging you Guinevère, please don't do this." "I have too," She whispered back softly, "The children need their mother." "We both know fathers can raise wonderful children. Yours did wonders." Uther had many, many faults. Yet he had many great things that he did as well. Uther built a kingdom, while raising a son like Arthur. Many called the king cold, but he loved his son with more passion then most fathers. He had been a hard man, but he had, had to be. The kingdom needed that then, and now they needed Arthur's mercy and open mindedness.

Not her. "Is this about what I said before?" "No!" She whispered, trying to assure him. "Because I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You have nothing to prove Guinevère." It wasn't her trying to prove anything! She should not have too! He should believe her because she had been by his side for years before that one night and years after!

"My father gave his life for me." She had disliked his father, bordered hating him at time but seeing his love for his son--the man she loved made it hard to truly hate him. Uther protecting his son, and giving his life for Arthur made her grateful for the fallen king. Now it was her turn. "I can not let you make this sacrifice." "It's not a sacrifice to my mind, but something I do willingly for the man I love. I am not giving up anything, but willingly giving it."

"I am begging you. Prove to me that I was always first in your heart, by granting me this last desire. Do not do this." His words hurt for they suggested he still did not believe her. Closing her eyes Guinevère did not speak again, for she would not make any hurt words, be the last ones he had of her. She would not speak of her breaking heart in this moment. Arthur needed this last moments to be of her strong, and willing. Not spiteful and broken.

Though his words hurt more then she could express.

[Arthur Pendragon]

She closed her eyes, and he was no fool. He knew his last words had upset her. He had not meant them in the same way as the slip of the tongue a few weeks ago. He had meant them in a desperate attempt to not let her do this. To heed to his plea. To prove that he was not worth this . . . that he was not worth anyone dying for. He was just a man, and he would not have another person die in his place. This was his fate, how it was meant to be. His time had come, and that should not change at the cost of his wife's life. He slightly moved his head back, only so that he could see her better, though his forehead still brushed against hers. "Guinevère, look at me," he urged softly. He wanted her to see the sincerity in his eyes, the desperation, the pain of how her death would destroy him more than any words were capable of suggesting. He leaned forward again, his gaze dropping to the small space between them.

"I did not mean my words. Not in the way you think." Not in the ways he had said them now. "I can not endure this world, knowing that my life has cost yours. I cannot live without you." While she had said similar words to him . . . it was different. Because Odin's assassin had caused his fatal wound. But he would be the one responsible for her fatality. "Please, don't make me tell our children that their mother had to die so that their father could live." How could he possibly live with himself? How could he tell his children that he was the reason their mother was dead. Just as he was the reason both their grandfathers were dead. He could not do that. He could not live through this world with that realization. He couldn't live without her by his side. But the power to do anything about it was slowly slipping through his fingers, as he could feel the medicine starting to take effect, yet he would fight with every breath to stay awake. Until she gave him her word that she would not do anything to alter his inevitable fate.

[Guinevère]

"Guinevère, look at me," Taking a deep breath she opened her eyes, but it was a few seconds before she could lift them to his own. Her courage was failing her. "I did not mean my words. Not in the way you think." She knew how he'd meant them. His feelings had not changed from two weeks ago, nor from last night. Arthur would not have said them, if he had not meant them. While she knew he would not have said them--ever--to hurt her, the single slip had rocked the faith in the marriage. They both knew the other loved them, but Arthur thought she loved another more then she did him, and Guinevère could not move past the knowledge that felt such with her. It broke her heart, and she had waited their last normal night together in pulling away.

She would not wast another moment speaking of her pain, when he only needed to hear of her love. Her heart hurting would stay locked in her chest, and not be brought up between them. "I can not endure this world, knowing that my life has cost yours. I cannot live without you." She could not bare knowing that she'd lost him. The kingdom needed someone strong, he could protect their children from his half sister, and the other great foes of the kingdom. She grew flowers! She sewed gowns! While she was not helpless by his side and she did many things for the kingdom they were not defensive, and were more in helping give another opinion to his own actions.

"Please, don't make me tell our children that their mother had to die so that their father could live." Her children! Oh that really would break her heart, knowing the pain this would case them! She loved them and know that she would miss so many things broke her in more then just simple ways. Amaren her little knight, and Anna the littlest princess. She would miss them growing up, and their first of many things. Skin knees, broken hearts, points won, politics made, balls given, jousts won, marriages, children of their own. She would only see that from afar!

Arthur could give them more then she could, and if she did not firmly believe that in her heart and soul then she could not have done this. He could protect them and let them stand tall, and help them and guide them in ways she could not. "Tell them that their mother loved her family so greatly, that she would fight for them. Tell them that she will be by their side every day, until they are returned to her arms." When they were old and grey and had lived full lives. "I wrote letters to them, they are on your desk. When they are old enough, give them too them. . . . . There is one for you as well, for when you ready to read it."

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur closed his eyes where tears were starting to form. He lightly shook his head . . . he would not say these things, because he would not lose her. He couldn't. He would never forgive himself. He would never move past her death. And neither would his children. Her brother, her son, her daughter . . . there were so many that would miss her far too much and would crumble by knowledge of her death. And every tear that fell, every heart that ached . . . would be his fault. His own would break and he would be destroyed. The kingdom would be as good as leaderless. "I can't," he told her in a whisper, his eyes opening once again because if he kept them closed for too long . . .he feared the deep sleep he would enter. And he feared even more the world he would wake up to. His eyes even briefly went to the side table, looking for a sword or dagger, or something that he could just end his life so that she would have no way to bring him back.

His gaze went back to her face, a tear, and then two, falling from his eyes. "Let me go Guinevère." Because he couldn't let her do this. If waking up meant being in a world without her, then he never wanted to open his eyes. With his hands still no her cheeks, he leaned forward, their lips meeting in a passionate embrace as so many emotions filled him . . . that he wasn't even sure how to describe the emotions that filled the kiss itself. He may have ended the intimate embrace, but his lips still brushed against hers. There was just enough distance for his mouth to form words and speak. "Let me die." Because better him, then her. His words filled with such a deep plea; begging her with all his heart to let him just be. To let him just drift away from this world so that she could raise their children. So that she could be the wonderful mother. sister, friend, and queen that she was; .

[Guinevère]

"I can't," He could! He was so strong! Arthur was such a strong, man and he had done so many wonderful and imposable things. She didn't want to leave him--she wanted to stand by his side--but if giving her life for his meant he could do all the wonderful things he would do with his life then she'd give it. For him! This was love. The unconditional giving of yourself--your whole and complete self--to another.

"Let me go Guinevère." She would not! Never! Arthur kissed her, and she felt her lips almost tremble under his in the emotions she was feeling in this moment. A kiss that spoke of their fear, and loss, and love. "Let me die." "I will never not fight for you, Arthur!" She reminded him, hoping that he would not doubt in that, and knowing that Arthur never had doubted in her like that. He knew she would stand by him, and for him. He knew she loved him, and wanted to be with him. He only foolishly believed she would do all this for another.

"I love you. So much!" She stressed the last bit before framing his face and kissing him again, one of deep need and desperation for what she feared might be her last!

[Arthur Pendragon]

"I will never not fight for you, Arthur!" He knew that, of course he did. For she was the strongest person he'd ever known. But this was not about fighting for him; it was so much more than that. This was about dying for him. The guilt of his father's death was a burden that would never leave him. It was Guinevère who had aided him through that loss. Just as she helped him through so much. For she was his everything and he couldn't . . . wouldn't live in a world without her. What kind of world would it be? One void of light and happiness; one void of hope and strength. How could he be a father to his children when he had no spirit for it was destroyed by what he had let happen. Her death. Amaren and Anna may not understand it now but one day they would grow up and realize that their father was responsible for their mother's death. When Arthur had thought that his father was responsible his mother's death, he had nearly killed Uther.

He could not bare his children to feel the same. For at that moment, he would have truly lost everything. Though his everything was encompassed in the woman before him. She could not die. She could not leave him in this world with only guilt and self loathing. He knew it was selfish of him, but . . . he could only think of how undeserving he was of this sacrifice. Of her sacrifice. Of her. He felt more tears form in his eyes, knowing that nothing he said could discourage her. He could not sway her mind and he could already feel his heart breaking. He returned her kiss with a passionate frenzy, not sure how else to beg her to stay. To not do this. To leave him to his fate. "I love you," he whispered in the short moment between her kiss, and one that he initiated immediately after his words. "Don't do this." He would not stop trying. He wouldn't. He could not. His lips went from hers to her cheek, to her ear.

"Don't leave me Guinevère." It may be pitiful of him, selfish of him, and so many other things that his incoherent mind could not think of right now . . . but he needed her. Even if he was not here to say that, he needed her to raise their children. He needed her to stay in this world. He turned his head so that it was nestled in the crook of her neck, lightly kissing where his lips was against her skin. "Please don't do this," he added, a slight tremble in his weakening voice. He was drifting, and no matter how hard he tried to stay awake, he knew it would be to no avail. The medicine was too strong for his weak body and mind. All he could do was let the few tears left in his eyes fall, whispering more begs and pleading for her not to do this, in between whispered words of how much he loved her. But his voice grew weaker . . . quieter . . . before no more words came out, and his hands fell from their grip on her sides, to the bed. Though his head remained in place for even in his unconscious mind, he didn't want to let her go.

[Guinevère]

She was a coward and a fool, and this proved it. Arthur begged her not to do this as he feel into to the drug induced sleep that she'd forced on him. "I'm sorry," She whispered, as Arthur's hands feel to his bed. "But I love you more then I love myself. If I had to choose, it would be you." Always would be Arthur. Always.

Wrapping her arms around his she eased him back on the bed and then placed light kisses along his cheek and brow. "Forgive me," She whispered, knowing he could not hear, and then she moved back. She walked to the fire, and lifted Amaren up into her arms, holding for what might be the last time as she walked him over to the bed to let him sleep at his father's side. "Be brave," She whispered tot he sleeping child, before tucking him into his father's right. Then she walked back and lifted her Anna into her arms.

Anna who was so small, and so young. Tucking Anna into her father's left, Guinevère pulled the coverings high. 'Mama?" Guinevère looked up to see her son, watching her sleepy. Her heart was breaking at the thought of losing them, but she knew Arthur would care for them better then she.

"Rest, my son, you will need it." 'Are you coming to bed, Mama?' "No, I have to go do something. I have to go on a trip, you sleep." 'Why are you crying?' Guinevère tried to force a smile, and hoped it look real. Reaching for Amaren's hand she held it for a moment. "Because I do not like leaving you." Amaren smiled, 'Don't worry, Mama, I will be here waiting for you when you come back.'

Closing her eyes she felt more tears fall, and Guinevère forced her hand to let go of her son's. "I love you, Amaren Pendragon. With my whole heart." 'I love you too.' "Tell Anna, that I love her. And your father. Tell them both!" 'I will. I promise.' "Goodnight," 'Goodnight, Mama, travel safe.'

Guinevère bent and kissed his forehead, before moving around the bed again to place a kiss on Anna's, and to brush Arthur's hair back--her fingers lingering over her husband "I love you. All three of you." Then she forced herself to turn and walk from the room. Walk from her family. She would be strong for them, and make sure their father was alive to keep them safe. TO love them. Be raise them to be like he was--strong and brave.

It was almost an hour before she could walk out of the queen's chambers with out breaking down crying. Dressed in an older traveling set of her's, Guinevère went tot he stables and had two horses readied. One was her's and one was for the guide that would help her find the Isle that she needed. Once they were readied, Guinevère and the guide and set off. She knew others might stop her, so she made sure to tell no one.

A few miles out, she turned to look back at the castle that served as a beacon of hope to everyone for miles. When her father first had taken her and Elyan to the city, she had fallen in love with it. The city, the castle. Guinevère had told Elyan that she wanted to work int he kitchens, for she loved to cook. It had been her home in one way or another for over ten years. More then half her life. Remembering the first time she'd seen it, Guinevère feared this would be her last.

'Handmaiden.' A warning voice came, and Guinevère turned to look at her guide who was calling her forward. He knew who she was, but she also knew why he would not call her by a name that would draw attention to them. "We will need to hurry. Someone will notice that I have gone." With that, they rode, traveling, and chancing horses where they could to travel more, and reach the Isle Of The Blessed, to find a blessing of her own.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur's sleep was far from restful. Though he was drugged with so much medicine, the entire time he struggled to wake up. Violent flashes raced through his mind and feeling two small presences near him somehow managed to calm him half way through the night. He didn't know how long he slept for. It could have been minutes, hours or days . . . but when all his fighting finally paid off, his eyes shot open and he sharply inhaled. For a moment, everything felt like a dream. For everything was hazy around him. He blinked rapidly, raising the upper half of his body so he was sitting up. Looking on either side of him, he saw Amaren and Anna, who were still sleeping so peacefully. He watched them both for several moments, trying to calm his heavy beating heart and shortened breath. Was it all a dream? It must have been. It, had to be. Because . . . because the alternative was too painful to consider. Yet it did not answer that very determining question: Where was Guinevère?

Arthur carefully moved from the bed, holding his breath to avoid from making sounds of pain as his injuries were far from healed. He was awake though, and he was not going to just lie in the bed uselessly. He needed to find his wife. Fighting through the pain of his wounds, he readied for the day: quickly putting on his shirt, his pants, his sword belt, his boots and finally, his sword and coat. He looked at their two children who were still peacefully dreaming away in their slumber. Arthur quietly left the room and entered the hall. The first place he went was to the queen's chambers. He knocked on the door before opening it, and finding the room completely empty. It was not too rare for Guinevère to be out of the chamber. No. She was probably in the gardens, or something. He stepped further into her room, the events of the past few weeks beginning to weight heavily on his mind. Perhaps she was with her brother, or preparing a meal for the children. With that brief hope, he vacated her room and returned to his own chambers, being sure to enter extremely quietly so not to wake his children.

He needed to seek her out, for his own peace of mind. He needed to find a way to apologize to her, for if these were his last days, he did not want her to have any doubt. Had they briefly spoken of it yesterday? It would have had to be sometime after the children fell asleep. Perhaps when -- . . . it was in that moment that Arthur's thoughts froze. His body numbed with fear and realization. On his desk, he saw three letters. Sealed, folded and even from this distance, he knew what names were on them. I wrote letters to them, they are on your desk. When they are old enough, give them too them. . . . . There is one for you as well, for when you ready to read it. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't just a bad feeling. It was . . . Guinevère! Without so much as looking at the letters, the adrenaline -- caused by this sudden fear and panic -- raced through his body, causing him to run out of the room without so much as reading the letters. He didn't need to open them to know what was inside. Passing Leon in the hall, he looked at Arthur with a bit of surprise as to why the king was out of bed.

"Sire you--" "Guard my children with your life Sir Leon," Arthur ordered him, hardly even stopping to offer more words than that. He wasn't even wearing his armor. He didn't have time to put it on. He needed to leave immediately. Arriving at the stables, some of the knights were preparing to head on patrol and without a word, Arthur leaped on one of the horses and rode outside the city gates as fast as he could. She couldn't do this. He had to stop her! The sun was already up though and his heart was beating so hard he could have sworn that at any given moment it was going to burst out of his chest. He couldn't think or focus on anything else in these moments, other than his task to stop Guinevère. She could not do this! He refused to let her give her life so that he would live. It was wrong. So very wrong for anyone to make this kind of sacrifice. And Arthur would not let the woman he loved do this. The children needed her, the kingdom needed her . . . and he needed her, even if he was not alive to tell her every day just how much.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère let go of the hand that helped her into the ore-less boat and she held it's sides as she guide pushed her as far into the water as he could. Turning to look back at him, Guinevère watched his face until the thick white mist blocked everything but the island from her view.

Turning back around, she put her hands down on the sides of the boat and tried to push it forward. Yet it seemed to move on it's own. Going past the shores and into the castle it's self. Turning down small corridors and talking her to a doorway. There the boat stopped.

Magic.

How else could it do this? Taking in a deep unsettled, breath, Guinevère stepped from the boat and took a few small steps into the ruins. "He-hello?" She called. Silence greeted her. Looking back at the boat, she almost turned around--but the boat was gone. There was no turning back.

Guinevère turned and walked deeper into the ruins, walking almost aimlessly, as she looked around at the tall half fallen walls. "Hello?!" Passing by one door way, Guinevère stopped and backed up to look though it. Whatever the large open space once was, now it looked like a large space of grass with a stone alter of some sort in the middle.

There beside the stone was a person that she had not quite expected. Her heart beat so quickly, that she felt the ground move under her. She had to force herself to stand tall and walked forward. "You." She whispered, surprise and slight fear touching her. "I . . . . . I have come to make a deal."

"My life, for my husbands." . . . . "Please."

From there, everything happened slowly, but quickly. Words were shared, thoughts expressed, and before she knew it the spell was being casted. Would she be in time? Would Arthur awake and find himself well? Guinevère felt the wind pick up, and she looked at the woman before her. "He will live?" She asked, needing to make sure. The elder woman look at her, and Guinevère felt panic and fear. Did she dare trust this woman? Was it already too late? Would she be true to her word?

After all, the much elder woman had once been banished from the kingdom for magic, then returned only to be arrested for poisoning the king. "Alice?" She asked, feeling the world spinning. "Will Arthur live?!" Gaius' once true love looked at her, 'For years to come.' She promised, and with the deal struck and sealed, Guinevère felt the world go dark . . . . .