Guinevère was staring at the bed--the prince's bed--and thinking about the odd feelings that arose in her from sleeping in a stranger's bed. But was he really a stranger? No. No he was not. The prince . . . A-Arthur. He had asked her to call him Arthur. She could tell he was not a stranger too her, and after the way his men treated her she believed that--and worried that she was indeed his mistress.
What else could she be to go from a servant that knights ignored to a woman that they would look at with respect and worry. The largest one would give her bright smiles sometimes, and she thought there might have been a friendship forgotten there. Just as the knight with the thick hair and whom talked quite a bit to her, or anyone whom would let him. The rest of the knights she didn't recognize. Guinevère had over heard one say that Sir Leon would be riding out with more men to welcome them home and they should intercept perhaps tomorrow just outside the city.
Everyone seemed on edge for an attack these days too. Though to make things even more confusing for her, they seemed to watch over her. A servant. She had all these knights of Camelot protecting her and she wasn't sure how she'd earned that. She hadn't. Or . . . had she? What was she to the prince? "Guinevère," Turning she looked at the door, and took in a deep breath to call out but paused for courage first. "Y-yes?" Oh, this was his tent! He might need something! Saying enter sounded too commanding, "You can come in . . . . if you'd like."
Post by Arthur Pendragon on May 16, 2012 22:28:17 GMT -5
When he heard her say that he could come in, if she wished he wondered if she was saying that out of obligation, or if she really didn't mind his entrance. Either way, he had to take advantage of it because he needed to speak to her. Pausing for a moment, he pulled back the flap to enter, and saw her standing near the bed. A bed that should be theirs, but for now was only hers. A bed that he wished he could lay next to her in, as he had missed her beyond words this past month. It was going to be hard enough to tell her that he was her husband; the last thing he was going to do was place pressure on her, or have any expectations. Though with the child coming . . . he would have some. In terms of being a father to their baby. Though it was also dependent on how long this memory loss of hers lasted.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you," he said softly, wanting her to feel free to kick him out . . . though he hoped she didn't. Not only because he had to speak to her about important things, but also because he wanted to be near her. He wanted to be close to her. Physically, if it could not be emotionally. "I just, wanted to speak with you." About the life she would be entering. About who she was now, and the relations she had with others, which was so massively different than what she last remembered. "Please," he said, pulling out a chair for her from the small table in the middle of the tent so that she could sit. "Have a seat," she needed to rest as much as possible . . . especially with what he was about to reveal to her.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you," Arthur said after entering. The tent--which was large--felt smaller with him in it. Warmer almost. "N-no! You're not. I was just--" she glanced back at the bed then blushed, recalling she was thinking of him in it, and then tried to cover her actions with her words. "-just resting." Wait! Not in his bed! "In the chair." Yes, in the chair. "Over there." Away from the bed.
"Have a seat," She wondered what he wished to speak to her about. "Thank you." She said softly, "Will you join me?" In sitting, so she did not have to look so high up at him. Guinevère walked to the chair and sat, with one hand on the table and one hand her belly to hold it still. Not that it moved, but sometimes she felt off balanced with the weight. She was sure she might have learned to move with the baby, but she didn't remember what she'd learned. "I hear we are to arrive in the city tomorrow?" She asked, starting a casual conversation, and filling the silence between them.
Post by Arthur Pendragon on May 16, 2012 23:40:10 GMT -5
Arthur wished she did not feel so nervous around him, though he knew it was understandable. For her mindset was that she was a servant and he a prince. She didn't not remember all they had been through, all the intimate nights they had spent together, all that they meant to each other. To her, they just had an impersonal and formal relationship. When she sat down, Arthur did the same, taking a seat across from her, with the table between them. Though it was not a large table, any distance between them felt so great to him. He'd just found her after so long, and even still . . . she was a million miles away. That didn't mean he wasn't glad she was safe. He'd rather she be safe and healthy, even if it meant not remembering who he was to her.
"I hear we are to arrive in the city tomorrow?" A good opening to the conversation that would soon come. "We are," he confirmed, pausing for a moment so that he could gather his thoughts. "Guinevère, I had told you before that home is not how you remember it. I feel that I should tell you just how much has changed. And . . . I warn you, some of it will not be easy to hear." Her father was dead, who she believed to be her best friend was now Camelot's greatest enemy and . . . she was married to a man that she hardly knew. Well, in her current frame of mind, she hardly knew. Which was ironic, since she knew Arthur better than anyone else.
Arthur spoke of wanting to explain things to her, about how much the city had changed. Guinevère had been planning to ask her father to explain things, but the prince seemed to think it was important for her to know them now. Why? The fear made her heart beat faster and she blinked back some tears. She knew what was coming. She knew why the prince would give her his tent, and worry for the child. She knew why he would need to explain how things where before entering the city.
Why it would be important. Why her being kidnapped would matter. His hands had gone around her when he first saw her in Hunith's home and then had gone to the baby. She wasn't stupid, she knew enough to know men just didn't do that! Noble men didn't do that! Prince's didn't do that to servant girls! A tear fell over her cheek and she bit her lips for a moment before speaking. "I know what you are going to say . . . " She was his mistress. His very pregnant mistress. The child was his? How had she come to that? When had her morals and everything her parents instilled in her allowed her to join a man in bed when she was not his wife.
Post by Arthur Pendragon on May 17, 2012 0:22:57 GMT -5
Arthur saw the tears form in her eyes, and could no longer withstand the distance between them. He knew he had put it there to be safe . . . but he hated to see her cry. He hated seeing her upset, and he wasn't strong enough to just sit here and watch any tears fall from her eyes. Not when he had wiped away so many, and when she had done the same for him when he needed consoling. Without thinking before acting, Arthur rose to his feet and walked over to hear, crouching in front of her so that he could look up into her moistened eyes. She knew what he was going to say? Which part? As judgment continued to fail him, he raised a hand and gently wiped away the tear from her cheek with his thumb, letting it linger for a moment before rationality snapped him back into reality . . . realizing how inappropriate she may think his behavior to be, without knowing they were wed.
"Sorry," he apologized, lowering his hand. He was not sorry for loving her, or touching her, or trying to offer her the comfort that a husband should to his wife when she was upset. He was apologizing for any discomfort he may have caused her by her actions. He rose to his feet again, this time pulling the chair closer to her so that he was not seated so far away. "What do you know?" He questioned softly, wondering if she had overheard one of the knights say something. It was better to hear everything she knew before throwing more information on top of that.
He moved forward, and put his hand on her cheek. Another sign. It both worried her and oddly, was something she was starting to take comfort in. He apologized and pulled back, just as she had lifted her own hand to rest it over his. How different it was! Apologizing to a servant! Unheard of! How completely unheard of for a noble! She looked at him, and debated on how right be believed her thoughts were, not wanting to say something that would only embarrass them both.
"The child is yours." She said softly, watching his face for any sign of confirmation. Did she even have a husband? If she did not then how did she hold her head up around anyone? How did she look herself int he mirror? If she did, then did he love her and she betray him--or was he just used to cover the actions of a prince? How her life had changed, she thought, but how far off the path of who she had thought she was had she fallen?
Post by Arthur Pendragon on May 17, 2012 0:58:19 GMT -5
"The child is yours." She knew them. Had his actions been too forward? Probably, since the first thing he did when he saw her was wrap his arms around her and then put his hand over her growing womb. Was it enough to upset it? To cause her distress? Again, probably. For she did not know of the relationship they shared. The depth of it. His eyes fell from her face to her stomach,where they child -- boy or girl -- grew a little more every day. A child that she would bring into this world; the greatest gift she could ever give him, apart from her love. Keeping his eyes there, he slowly nodded his head. "Yes," he confirmed in a low voice. That meant . . . she probably knew he was her husband.
"I know it is difficult to understand," he added after a moment's silence. "But you carry a life within you that is part of both of us." Their child. Amaren or Anna had been the names they'd selected for a boy and girl respectively. The husband bit . . . was a bit more complex to explain. Perhaps he best let this news properly sink in before he gave details of their marriage. What she knew now was that they were married -- or well, he assumed that she knew that -- and that she was carrying their child. The rest he would slowly reveal, but that in itself was quite a handful indeed.
Yes. Guinevère did not hear anything else he said other then yes. Her eyes closed as she tried to take in the meaning of this. She was the prince's mistress. How? Why would he even look at someone like her? She was no one! The daughter of a blacksmith and a chamber maid! Not one that princes' even would think of, much less know her name. Much less show her kindness. Or say her name in such a lovely way.
His father must not know. No, Uther would have her killed for such things! Or did he know? No, surely not. HER FATHER! Oh! Guinevère felt more tears fall at that thought! Oh she had shamed him so! "Ho---How did this h-happen?" She asked trying to wipe her tears away, but not able to bring them to a stop just yet. Morgana? What would she think?
She would have thought that Arthur would have been more arrogant, and distant from any woman he was close too. Morgana was one of the few he could be at ease around, even as a servant she could see that. Had she betrayed Morgana? Did Morgana hate her now?
Post by Arthur Pendragon on May 17, 2012 1:31:29 GMT -5
"Ho---How did this h-happen?" Another question with a very detailed answer and he wasn't sure how much detail she wanted. It only seemed to upset her more, finding out that he was her husband and father to her child. Had he really been that bad? . . . From what she told him before -- even in teasing remarks -- he must have been. Even still, it hurt to see her cry over the fact that she was with him. When he only wanted to give her happiness, he was now giving her sorrow. "It started a few years ago." he began to explain. He still remembered their first kiss. Every detail of that moment. How she had given him the favor that he still carried around with him, and how beautiful she had looked . . . how heavy his heart beat in those moments. And how when their lips touched, nothing else existed in the world.
"I was entering a tournament in secret and remained in your home for the duration of it." Where she had taught him the error of his ways and where he had learned the first series of many valuable lessons that she had and would teach him. "It was there that we . . . " Kissed for the first time. "Saw a new side of each other. And developed into something greater than before. Something that has only grown and strengthened since then." To the point of marriage, and happily spending a life together. Would such a thought still cause tears in her eyes? Would she find any hope in seeing just in these past few days how different of a man he was? Or would she feel doomed with him?
"It started a few years ago." Years? Really. That was a long time ago. Years. He had said she did not recall more then five, but she began to wonder just how many more then five. Touching her belly she looked down at the growing child, and wondered if he was happy about the baby. "--Something that has only grown and strengthened since then." Love? Was he speaking of love?
He had stayed in her father's home, and she had shamed all three of them? "It's . . . . It's lov--" How did you ask a prince if he loved you? Taking a breath she asked hesitantly, "It is love then?" She had loved him and fallen into his heart and bed? A part of her was grateful she had not done it for coin or by orders. She could tell that he cared for her by his actions but the other part of her wished that she had been stronger then to bed a noble knowing she could not wed him.
Arthur seemed very kind, and worried for her--which meant he must care for her on some level--but his father surely had to be furious with her. How had he allowed the prin--Arthur. How had he allowed Arthur to come looking for her himsef?
Post by Arthur Pendragon on May 21, 2012 0:12:46 GMT -5
"It is love then?" He looked at her when she asked this question, slightly confused by it. Did she not know? Did she not know that he loved her? Did she . . . not know that she loved him? He had thought that with her awareness that he was the father of her child that she would have assumed they were married too, but it seemed she did not know. She still didn't recognize him as her husband . . . and he knew she had to be told the truth. For when they returned to the city, it would not take her long to realize it. People would refer to her with formal titles and make many assumptions, and he didn't want her to be any more confused than she already was. Although the truth may only raise more questions. He paused in a pensive silence, trying to mentally formulate the appropriate words to say to answer her question accurately.
Until he realized that there was no delicate way to put it. That he just had to come right out and say it. "It is," he answered softly. It felt so odd to tell her how she felt; to dictate her feelings to her. But he knew that she loved him. He never doubted that, even if they had their doubts about many other things in the past. And of course he loved her, more than anything. "We, would not have gotten married otherwise." He watched her carefully, feeling nervous for her reaction. She had been told of a husband, and now he had just revealed who that husband was.
"It is," It is. "Oh," It was love. She had fallen in love with Arthur, the prince of Camelot. Looking at him she took in his features and tried to imagine what love was like--the real sort. The sort that a woman felt for a man rather then the love of a daughter to father, or brother or friend. Did it give her butterflies? She had them sometimes when he looked at her. Did it make her happy? Did she make him happy?
"We, would not have gotten married otherwise." Married? There was surprise on her face for a few seconds as his words clearly shocked her. She had married him? Relief slowly filled her face for the shortest of moments as she realized her baby wasn't being born out of wedlock as she had married the man she loved. Married the man she loved?! A slight hint of pleasure tilted her lips for another moment, before the final detail sunk in.
She married him, the man she loved and was to give him a child. Him. Arthur. The crown prince of Camelot. A slight gasp fell from her lips as she stared at him. He married her!? A servant?! His father allowed this?! "You're . . . you're a prince . . " She tried to tell him what was going through her mind . . . .
Post by Arthur Pendragon on May 21, 2012 0:31:22 GMT -5
Arthur noticed the way she seemed to relax for the briefest of moments, before the shock of his revelation kicked in and she reacted to it. It was evident not only in the way she gasped, but in the way she looked at him. He knew he could expect nothing less than surprise . . . but it only reminded him of how much of her memory was missing. That she didn't remember all the trials and tribulations they were faced with that strengthened their bond, nor did she remember the wonderful and more romantic moments like their first kiss, their wedding, or the day she told him she was carrying a child. All of the good and bad memories were vacant from her mind, and instead, she was forced to deal with the fact that she was married to a man that she perceived as arrogant and spoiled. For such a perception was no secret to him; she often teased him about how he seemed as such, before the two of them got to better know each other.
Her words made him realize that he needed to bring another thing to light. That he was not a prince, nor she a princess. That their station was higher than that; their rank was above that. For he was a king, and by revealing this . . . she would realize that she was queen. He knew that the thought of being queen had unsettled her, but at the same time, she had fit into the role wonderfully, as he knew she would. It was different though. They had such a strong relationship that they could endure the pressures and stresses together, as a team, as a single functioning unit. And now, her memory had no recollection of that. "Actually, I am now king." And with these simple words, came more of the truth; of how different home was now. For she was his wife, and she was queen of Camelot.
"Actually, I am now king." "Oh." He was king now. . . . and her husband. "Oh!" So his father had not allowed this, because his father was no longer with him. She was both . . . she everything. There was not one nor two single emotions that could describe the emotions that filled her at the idea that the prince of Camelot was now king and she was his queen.
The room seemed to move, and tilt. Or was she moving? Guinevère put her hands on the table and closed her eyes for a moment before opening them, and trying to stop thinking for one moment, when in truth it only made her think more. It was too much for her, and she couldn't begin to think about everything this meant. "I . . . . " Yes? What did she need to say?
Her hands moved to the child, whom was reacting to her emotional turmoil by moving rapidly. She was a mother. A wife. A queen. How? When? . . . . How? Looking up at Arthur she wished she could ask him for a moment alone but knew one didn't ask a king to leave--even if they were somehow a queen! "Why me?" She asked, it not having been the question she meant it too be, but it was what came out.
Post by Arthur Pendragon on May 21, 2012 19:45:03 GMT -5
"Why me?" Her question was a difficult one to answer. Not only because he wasn't very good at vocalizing his emotions . . . but because there was too much to explain. How did one explain it? Arthur could not even explain in words what it was that had compelled him to kiss her for the first time. It was just in that moment, the way she looked . . . the way he felt . . . a combination of so many things that had drawn him to her. But to put that in mere words, was something he could not do. To go through every event that brought them closer together, and every emotion he felt for her . . . seemed impossible. He tended to show her how much he loved her, rather than spout off poetry or use romantic words. Though, he had gotten better at verbalizing his emotions, thanks to her. Yet the question now was so hard to give a decent response to. And while he knew she deserved one, she deserved an adequate one. Not one that was flustered and random.
"Because I have never known a greater love, then what I feel for you." In some ways it answered her question, and in other ways it did not. It was entirely true of course, but at the same time, wondered if she wanted more detail than that. He didn't want to tell her how she felt by telling her that she loved him -- though he knew she did -- but at the same time, didn't want her to think that she was forced to be with him, because he was a king. There was a time in his life where he had thought that, but that was well in the past. And would stay there. He never doubted her love for him, though wanted her to feel it herself, rather than have him tell her. She was still the same Guinevère, but not on the surface. And all he needed to do was help her delve into whatever was blocking out all her thoughts of the past and the emotions associated with them.
"We're happy," he added, feeling that was the best way he could describe their relationship. That they loved each other, without making it sound like he forced her to be with him, or that she didn't love him. "We're happy together," he added. They were happy. Ever since their wedding, and now with a child on the way . . . he knew that she was happy too. Now if only she could remember that, then she would not have to endure this shock and distress over discovering all the changes in her life. As well, he wanted her to know that despite the more darker events he would have to tell her about -- mainly Morgana and her father's death -- that there was still some good in her life. Though he was uncertain if she would see being with him as something good yet.
She was the greatest love he had ever known? The pressure of living up to such a woman was starting to weight on her, and Guinevère wished that she could remember everything from the plus five years. He loved her that much, and did she? Was she happy? How did one make a man with such high standards as him happy? Or had more changed in the years that were lost to her? "We're happy," He seemed to know just how to ease her thoughts.
"We're happy together," Good. She wanted . . . things she didn't know how to want. Guinevère watched him for a long moment before she was able to speak, and when she did her eyes moved down to the child growing with in her. "I would give anything to know such a love." She said softly, wanting more then anything to feel it in that moment.
Looking up at him again, her eyes held some tears but they did not fall over her cheek. "What . . . . what if I never remember?" She asked, knowing that this also could not be easy for him.
Post by Arthur Pendragon on May 22, 2012 22:44:20 GMT -5
"I would give anything to know such a love." She did know. It just wasn't on the surface yet, but he didn't believe it vanished. It was just tucked in the back of her heart. Though her question was a fear that was strong in Arthur. What if she never remembered. What if this was to be how they were for the rest of their lives. Once again, he found the distance too great between them and rose to his feet, walking over to her and once again, crouching down in front of her. He paused for a few moments, trying to think of the appropriate words to say. Not ones of discouragement, but encouragement. Even if he was afraid of the same thing, didn't mean he believed that it would come true. "You often tell me to have faith, and hope in the better." Words of wisdom that she always offered him; council and advice that he strongly valued.
Arthur slowly moved his hand toward hers, hesitantly, almost pausing but decided to very gently place one of his hands over hers, prepared to pull away at the first sign of discomfort on her part. "No matter how long it takes, I will be here to help you gain your memory back, or fill in the missing pieces. Not just as a husband, but as a friend. As whatever you need me to be." He knew that for now, it would be easier for her to have a friend, rather than a lover. There were far too many expectations associated with that, and he would not pressure her in any way. He had missed her beyond belief, and this month had been torturous . . . but she was still enduring that torture. And he would not do anything to make it worse. He wanted to help her, however he could. In whatever way she needed. And right now, it seemed it would all be less confusing and worrisome if he offered his friendship, rather than his love.
He stood and came closer, when Guinevère really just wanted space. She wished she could be alone to think for a moment, and let her mind sort out everything. Watching him speak, and how he touched her hand, Guinevère found her mind going over and over his words. He was offering friendship to her. Offering to help her remember everything, or explaining everything to her. He never grew annoyed when she needed to slower, or he had to do something for her.
It was then she knew her mind to be a lie. She did not wish to be alone or have space. She wanted a friend near, and family. Surely with the help of Arthur . . . her husband, and her father everything would be easier? With that thought she lifted her hand that his was not covering and hesitantly placed it over his own. "Thank you." Watching him for a moment, she decided to be brave, "This cannot be easy for you, I'm sorry, but I am grateful for your kindness."
Then the child moved swiftly and move her hands jerked to her belly for a moment. Blushing deep red, she realized that he had to be worried for the babe as well. "They are a bit restless tonight." She admitted, "I am still finding myself surprised every time they turn or move."
Post by Arthur Pendragon on May 22, 2012 23:31:10 GMT -5
Arthur gave a soft smile when she put her hand over his and thanked him. "Do not apologize," he told her, not wanting her to feel bad about something that wasn't remotely her fault. "You are safe and home." That is what matters and everything else, would come with time. Even though this wasn't the home she remembered. He wished he could find familiar faces for her, but knew that only those she remembered were long gone. Whether it be from this world, or emotionally -- such as Morgana. He noticed her hand abruptly move to her stomach, as his eyes followed, watching her growing belly that carried their child. His smile remained when she spoke of how restless there were. Their child. Anna or Amaren. Would she still want those names? Would she want to name him or her something else?
He knew he shouldn't be thinking about such minor things right now, but it was the smaller things that seemed to enter his mind. Though no amount of words could express his relief in knowing that the baby was safe, and the fact that it was moving was a sure sign of that. "May I?" The words escaped his lips before he had time to think about them. He knew it was utterly selfish of him, especially after he had just told her that he didn't have any expectations as her husband . . . but he wanted to feel the child. It was a joyous feeling, to feel the child move under his hand, that he'd been deprived of this past month. He looked at her, trying to sense any sign on her face that would indicate she wasn't comfortable with him touching her in such an intimate way. Even if it was their child . . . he would respect whatever boundaries she wished to set in place between them.
In Character Chat
This chat box is for IC [In Character] Chat! It is a place for members to muse and converse as their characters with lots of IC shenanigans! Happy Chatting Everyone!
My name is Catherine by the way; Call me Kate. *Smiles* You're lucky to have your mother, I ... wish I had at least someone I can talk to, You know? At least i have Arthur. *sits by the window and looks out*
How are you ? Forgive me, I'm Princess Emily Dawson of Anglia, I'm here to a visit with Arthur! *Smiles light Curtsy *
Feb 24, 2019 21:03:14 GMT -5
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