Echoes Of Who We Once Were

[Guinevère]

What did he know of his father? That was a bit easier and harder to answer. Easier for the answer was simply, he is too young to know of things. Harder for, ever little boy knew the tails of the knights of the round table. "He is too young to know," She explained, "If he told someone wrong, or someone learned whom he was too you . . . . He's not asked who his father is, he is still too young to notice that role missing in his life."

She picked up some more toys and moved about cleaning the little house so it would be neat for Arthur to meet his son. "However, his favorite stores of the the bold king who fights evil dragons and trolls. Every little boy in the village will pretend to be knights. They fight with sticks and run around. He is too small to keep up but that does not stop him from trying." His son already wished to be a knight. "He reads bedtimes stories of you, and if you tell him your name, he would know who you are." His king, not his father.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Amaren didn't notice. Arthur wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Probably a good thing, for it meant that Amaren was deprived of nothing. Though it made Arthur feel as though he would not be able to contribute anything good. What would he give Amaren? Confusion, potential danger . . . things that he was better of without. Yet how could Arthur walk away from his son? Possibly the only son he would ever have. Her words became no easier to hear. For he did not miss the fact that Amaren was told stories of Prince or King Arthur. Not of Arthur. There was a difference, and she seemed adamant about stressing that difference. He wished that Amaren knew nothing of him. That he would not have to fear seeing his son one day bow to him, or call him Sire . . . as Guinevère had once done.

"Then he knows me as a king, and not a man," Arthur said with a slight smile, though it was far from jovial. A sad smile, as he forced himself to focus on cutting the bread. "Is that how you see me now as well?" As more of a king than a man she had once loved. He couldn't look at her while asking the question . . . fearing the answer, though did not regret his words. Had it been his years of unexplained absence that upset her? Or the last conversation they had had prior to today? He knew he shouldn't be asking such things right now, but he couldn't help it. He did not want to be seen as King Arthur to her, or his son, or anyone else that he loved.

[Guinevère]

"Then he knows me as a king, and not a man," Arthur said and Guinevère wished she had another answer to give him. Something that did not mean his son knew nothing of who his father. The only hope she could give him was that Amaren was still so young and Arthur could still shape who he was as a man and the memories of his childhood. It was better he found him now rather then in a few more years when it might had been truly too late.

"Is that how you see me now as well?" Arthur asked her, making her actions pause and her eyes turn to his. Grateful that he did not see the expression on her face. Looking away she tried to keep her voice clam as she replied, and make sure that there also was no judgment in her tone. "It would be inappropriate for there to be more." She told him, with his own words. Not to be cruel but to remind him why they could not be together.

"Give Amaren time and he will not see you as the king from the stories. He will learn to see you from how you treat him, learn to treat others by your example. He will learn to do many things with your guidance, and through these memories no longer think of a mythical king, but a father. You only have to give it time with him."

[Arthur Pendragon]

"It would be inappropriate for there to be more." That was when he knew for certain what was upsetting her. That night. That conversation. What he said to her . . . how he had ended things. Yet she did not know how he thought of her. How in what he believed may be his last day of life, his thoughts were of her; of how he wished he could have taken back what he said that night. Arthur could feel all the emotion building up inside of him, and had never felt so . . . emotionally vulnerable. He had learned to keep things to himself, to suppress them. But with Guinevère, he never could. And whenever he tried, he failed. She spoke of how in time, Amaren would not see him as a king but a man . . . possibly a father. He knew she meant it to be encouraging, but they were difficult to hear. For he was told of a . . . mythical king. A warrior capable of fighting.

That, was what his son knew of him. He would rather his son only know him as a stranger, until Arthur earned the title of father. But no. He would have to go from a man he knew in myth . . . to one who was of his blood. A transition that he never thought he would have to go through with his own son. "So I must go from a mythical king to a man in my son's eyes." Mythical king. There were so many interpretations to that term . . . and Arthur didn't like it. Because this was his son, and because it was his son with Guinevère. "That is all I am. I am just a man Guinevère." Yet . . . no one saw him as that. If Morgana saw him as just a man and not a king, would she not be so vindictive; would she try to give him a chance rather than merely see a crown and a throne? If Agravaine saw him as just a man . . . then would he still side with an enemy, rather than recognize that Arthur was his sister's son?

"For I bleed when struck, like any man. And I fall when weak. And just like any man, I make mistakes and poor decisions at times." Like putting his trust in the wrong people . . . and like what he had said to her that night. He was no longer cutting bread at this point, just staring at the surface of where the food lay . . . because he was cowardly and unable to look at her right now. "There are many things I have said and done that I am not proud of. And I have many regrets. But what I said to you that night, is one of my greatest ones." Taking a deep breath, he finally turned to look at her, so that she knew he meant his words. "I can not expect your forgiveness--" Because he knew he had wronged her. "All I ask is that you see me as just a man." Not a mythical king. Not an immortal warrior. Not King Arthur Pendragon. Just . . . Arthur.

[Guinevère]

"So I must go from a mythical king to a man in my son's eyes." That she regretted for him, for she knew it was her fault. She had assumed he would wish his son to know of him rather the never hear anything of him. So she had filled his bedtime stories with one of knights and heroic deeds. She had assumed it would be what he wanted. At the time he had only spoken of wanting to be the king his father had been, even if not in so many words. She had told his son stories that she assumed Uther would have wanted his son to know.

"That is all I am. I am just a man Guinevère." Her name. The way he said it . . . . Forcing the thoughts away she closed her eyes for a moment before looking again at his back. Arthur would never be just a man, and she did not envy that of him. He would always have to be more then a man. A king. He would bare that weight for the thousands that looked to him.

She had once hoped to ease that weight, but she knew that she could not now. "What I said to you that night, is one of my greatest ones." He told her, as he finally turned to look at her. Her own eyes fell as they made contact for a moment, before she looked away from him. It hurt to look at him and hear these things. Things that she once would have begged to hear.

Yet her eyes slowly found their way back to him. "I can not expect your forgiveness--" She wanted to ask him to stop! Not to say these words! Her heart beat painfully in her chest and she just wanted to run away. "All I ask is that you see me as just a man." No! She could not. He would break her when she lost him again, and she feared that day.

She had not seen the other one coming. She had given herself to him in mind and body and heart and . . . . it had not been enough. Yes, he was here now but only because he discovered he had a son. He was here for Amaren, not because he could not bare life with out her. She knew the rumors, Vivian was back and pressing for marriage. While she knew there was no love there--Vivian was a princess.

"I am sorry if you rather that I had not built your name up with Amaren." She told him softly, feeling a traitorous tear slip over her cheek to show just how affected she was at his words. "I will do whatever will help him see you as a man--as a father--and not a king." She wasn't going to be bitter and make his son hurt him for hurting her. " . . . . but neither of us an afford to forget again that you are a king . . . and that I am the daughter of a blacksmith. A servant."

Another tear rolled down and she dropped her eye to the things in her hands.

[Arthur Pendragon]

His words had no meaning, for she would accept them. It was evident that he would never be a man, at least not in her eyes. Nor in the eyes of all others. It was clear that he was not entitled to make mistakes, or have doubts; to be uncertain or lack judgment. No. His father had always told him that a king must be confident and sure of himself . . . and the people would accept that. Kings did not make mistakes. Kings were always sure and confident and never wavered. What they said was law, and they were not entitled to make mistakes. Because if they were . . . then perhaps Guinevère would understand that one night of a misguided decision, did not undo everything. That was all it was; one night. It was in this moment that Arthur knew how right his father had always been. King's did not have friends. Love shouldn't have anything to do with marriage. Because he was and forever would be everyone's king. Nothing more and nothing less. The realization of all this was overwhelming and even the joy of soon seeing his son could grant him no comfort in this moment. He turned away from her, proceeding to cut the meat.

"He will never see me as just his father. I will always be a king first. For if his own mother can see me as nothing but, then how can I expect him to." Children took after their mother, especially in this case for he was a stranger to Amaren. Guinevère could hardly look Arthur in the eye or speak to him with a warm tone. He could not expect her to make the transition from king to father any easier or more swift. While Arthur loved his own father . . . they had a very formal relationship. They seldom hugged, and Arthur rarely called him without title in public. He didn't want that kind of relationship with his son. When he'd thought of it, he wanted his son to call him father. He wanted him to be able to come to him when there was a problem, and not fear his judgment. Amaren would now only admire Arthur as a king, a warrior. Perhaps never a father. And Arthur would have to learn to accept that, knowing that he had done all this damage and there was no way he could repair it.

[Guinevère]

"He will never see me as just his father.
I will always be a king first.
For if his own mother can see me as nothing but,
then how can I expect him to."

His words filled her heart up with feelings she could not name. "Because he is not his mother!" She told him, her voice stronger for she believed her own words in this moment. "Because his has never known anything but honesty and goodness. He is too young to see titles, only men. He will learn to know the difference because you will show him that. He will not know judgment, and bloodlines."

Her voice grew softer as it grew more personal between them, not just about their son but about them. "His heart has never been broken. He has never known the loss of yo . . . " She paused unable to eve breath without crying in this moment. Holding her breath she waited, counting to contain her emotions in this moment. Her eyes lifted to his back, knowing that they might as well clear the air now and know where they both stand. It would be easier then forever not speaking of it. "You broke my heart. You promised me a life with you, and love and then . . . . and then told me I was inappropriate for a king to be seen with."

"I dreamed every day until I received the false letter that you would come riding into the village with a change of heart . . . then I stopped. I knew I had lost you and somehow I managed to keep breathing." Though it broke her, and she was still healing from that. "I cannot do it again. I cannot."

"Do not judge the son by his mother." On rank or heart. "Do not, not give him this change to be your son because I am too weak and afraid to give anyone my heart again. Let him love you. Let him know you."

[Arthur Pendragon]

She was right. Amaren had known nothing but honesty and goodness; humility and modesty; love and affection. Because of her. Arthur would introduce him to many more things as he got older, and even if he could one day see him as more than his father than a king . . . what would he have to offer? His mind returned to his own fears about what exactly he was contributing to Amaren's life, when the boy was perfectly content in this life. Arthur remained silent, trying to formulate the right words to say . . . but her next words caused him to pause. "You broke my heart." That night. The horrid night he had gone to her and said things that betrayed all the promises he'd ever made to her. He had broken his own heart that night too. He had also killed a man in cold blood. He'd also been responsible for the death of so many men, women and children: families. Peaceful druid families.

It had taken a war to teach him how wrong he was to have killed King Caerleon. It had taken Elyan's possession -- and near death -- for Arthur to do something drastic to express his regret for what happened. For Guinevère . . . it had taken a moment to realize how wrong he had been. It had taken a broken heart to learn what was needed to make it beat again. But none of it mattered. Stopping a war would not bring back Caerleon. Freeing the druids would not bring back those who had died. And saying he was sorry would not gain Guinevère's trust or affection. He was not going to stand here and beg for her forgiveness when he knew he was undeserving of it. He'd made a grave mistake, he knew that. And he would not make it sound otherwise. Once again, gaining the courage, he turned to look at her. "There is no excuse for my actions that night." He couldn't blame his uncle or anyone else for he had told her then and there that he was his own man and made his own decisions. Little did he know that that man he thought he had to be . . . was one that he'd loathed.

"But have you never had doubts? Have you never been unsure? Confused? Not knowing what was best or what needed to be done?" He knew she had. For when they'd first began to develop feelings for each other, she had told him it could never be. Over and over again, yet his selfish persistence had been what completely ignored her words. He was not holding such things against her, he was trying to make her see . . . once again . . . that he was simply a man who didn't always do the right thing. The kingdom held him on a pedestal, eyes watched him at every moment, lives hung in the balance of his decisions . . . and he was not as strong nor confident as his father. Which was why the kingdom had been taken over by Morgana, and why traitors like Agravaine could make their way inside the palace walls. "What I said, is unforgivable, I know that. But please do not think for a moment that it was what I had wanted." It was not lack of love that caused him to say it . . . just, his own weakness.

"I regretted what I said to you, more than words are capable of expressing. I wanted you to come home, I wanted to build a life with you." Which is what he'd sent in the letter . . . which was where his uncle's interference had commenced. Without even realizing it, Arthur had begun walking closer to her, knowing it was foolish judging from the words she said . . . but was now standing in front of her. "Had I known you were here, I would have come to you a long time ago." He wasn't just here for his son . . . but knew that he couldn't expect to bring her home. Which was why he was not asking her to move back, nor to give him another chance. Second chances were for those who deserved them, and were not so dishonorable as to make promises and vows . . . and then allow a single piece of bad council to go back against everything. "I do not ask you to trust me again, nor give me another chance. I merely ask that you never believe I am more a king than . . . a man who loves you." Dangerous words, he knew . . . but if this was the only conversation they would have about them, then he needed to say it.

[Guinevère]

"There is no excuse for my actions that night." He must have had them at the time or he would not have said what he did. "Not knowing what was best or what needed to be done?" They both knew that she had, in the beginning she had feared that he would have to marry another because she was a servant and he was a prince to be king. She had been right. Yet she had not wanted to be right. She wanted to be with him, and be in his arms. Yet he had told her . . . . he made her feel as if she had not been good enough to stand on his arm. Even if it had not been his heart speaking, he believed it enough in that moment to tell her goodbye.

"I wanted you to come home, I wanted to build a life with you." He never came! His actions spoke louder then words. She knew it might have wanted to, and might have wished she was near but he had not come. He had instead been the king his father would have been and not come for her. Arthur moved closer to her, and her breathing quickened as she felt on edge and torn from running--away from him and too him.

"Never believe I am more a king than . . . a man who loves you." He told her and she watched him, a few fresh tears on her cheeks that she could not hold back. She started to turn toward him, her lips moving as if say his name softly while her eyes were open and emotional. Yet there was a sound that came and caused her to turn toward the window that allowed it in.

She'd almost broken open by his word! She had almost stepped into his arms and just cried. Yet the sound of a child's laugh drifted in and spoke of someone approaching. "Amaren comes." She said softly, grateful for the escape. "I should so meet them at the door." She felt in a daze as she moved away from him, her heart breaking.

Pausing she turned to look at him from the door. "I need some time to think." She admitted, "Not about Amaren but . . . " them. "I am afraid, and I am not sure I can . . . . I just need time to think." With that she opened the door and somehow made it out to go and greet her son.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur wasn't expecting anything, nor would he pressure her for anything. In time, perhaps they could move past this even if they could not be together. He just wanted her to believe all that he had said. When she moved to the door, Arthur took a deep breath, looking at her as she stepped outside. There were so many thoughts rushing through his mind, and an array of emotions racing through his heart. Was this the only family he would ever know? So broken and disjointed? So much tension and uncertainty? Guinevère was the only woman that he had ever been truly able to picture a future with. Even now. How could he return and tell the council that he would marry. He'd rather spend the rest of his life waiting, having that hope that they could be together . . . rather than marry another and ruin any chance he may have.

But she had made it clear to him, that he was a king and she was a servant. And their status difference was just as much of a barrier now than it had been back then. Perhaps even more so. Arthur tried to push aside these thoughts for the time being . . . for he could hear Guinevère's voice, and a younger one just outside the door. He felt his heat beat heavier in his chest, knowing that soon, he would meet his son. And the anticipation was so great, that he felt nervous and . . . and so many other things that he wish he didn't feel. Because the first time he should have met his son, was when Guinevère brought him into this world.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère stepped out side and inhaled the air deeply to clear her emotions from her face. Fresh air always had been able to clear her head a little, and even now she felt it help clear some of the signs of tears from her cheeks. 'Mama!' And the little voice did the rest. Guinevère noticed that Mary and John the elder couple who watched him had not walked up the hill but rather was letting Amaren do it on his own. They were getting older and it was kind of them to watch him. "Thank you!" She called with a wave, and waited as Amaren ran up the small hill to her. 'Mama I got a rock!' He said with pride!

She never understood why little boys were in love with rocks and bugs but Amaren was forever trying to fill the house up with both! 'It a secret!' He told her getting to her as she bent down and hugged him, lifting him to her arms. "I will let you hide it when we get inside." She promised. "You have dirt on your noise!" She reached up to clean it off. He needed to be clean for his father! 'Sorry, Mama.' He said as she turned to walk to the door. When she reached it she paused. "I have a special visitor for lunch today." She told him, and Amaren.

That was when she knew what she could do for Arthur. To help him. She would never call him Arthur, never call him a king. Only ever Papa. Or your father. He would never see Arthur as a king before a man like Arthur feared, for he would never know his father was a king until Arthur was ready. "He's your Papa." 'My Papa?' He asked, clearly not understanding. "Yes, your Papa. He is trying to make lunch but might not be very good. Will you help Papa out?" Papa sounded like a name when they said it, rather then a form of father but with time she knew it would be spoken with love. 'I want little bites!' He said, not even thinking about the man, "Then tell Papa." With that she opened the door, knowing Arthur would have heard.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur heard the conversation, for the most part. The small adorable voice. Talking. Amaren was talking. Arthur had missed his birth, missed his first step, his first word . . . so many things. And time was something that could never be retrieved. Guinevère had said that they could only focus on the now, on the future . . . and while Arthur would do that, it didn't mean that his heart didn't ache at all that he had missed in his son's life. He . . . heard Guinevère refer to him as Papa. A title that Arthur had not earned, for helping create his life was not enough. Yet hearing his son say the word . . . filled Arthur's heart with so much emotion. So much pride, even though he knew he was still undeserving of such things. The door creaked open and Arthur's eyes fixated on it . . . as Guinevère stepped inside, with Amaren in her arms. In that moment, Arthur froze. He felt his entire body numb as he just stared at the beautiful baby boy. One who resembled his mother greatly -- thank goodness for that. For he had the curly dark hair, and dark skin. His eyes were large and . . . he looked absolutely perfect.

Arthur's vision became slightly blurred and that was when he realized that tears were filling his eyes. He had held them back during his conversation with Guinevère, but in this moment of seeing his son . . . of seeing her hold his son, it was too much. A tear slipped from his eyes as he raised his hand to brush it away, not wanting this to be Amaren's first impression of Arthur, of his father. He gave a small smile as he slowly took a step closer, trying to compose himself in this overwhelming moment. He was so happy and yet so sad at the same time. A strange mix of emotions that he wasn't even going to bother trying to understand, for he knew reasons of both. "Amaren." The word was spoken in a soft tone. He wasn't sure if it was a greeting or acknowledgment. All he knew was that ever since that night, he never thought he would have the honor of looking at his son named Amaren; a son with the woman he loved. It made right now feel so surreal, yet whenever the happiness of it all would cloud his thoughts, the harsh reality of it all would soon clear them. That was how it was possible to be so happy and so very sad . . . and he didn't know what emotion was being given off more.

[Guinevère]

"Amaren," Arthur greeted, and she felt her son lean into her slightly but he did not take his eyes from 'Papa'. She waited a few moments before she spoke up, "Do you wait to show him your toys while I made lunch?" That might go easier. Amaren looked up at her and then back at Arthur before nodding a little. Guinevère turned to walk over to his bed,, and sat him down, though she knelt down as well beside him.

"I bet he would love to see this one." She said pulling up a wooden toy of a man that did not bend not move in anyway, only looked like a man with a sword. "And this one," She paused before reaching for another one, almost pulling her hand back but in the end reached for the dragon. The story of Arthur and the dragon held personal meaning for her, for Arthur had saved her that night. Amaren took them and looked at the man before taking a hesitant step closer and stretching his arm out with the dragon. "He wants you to be the dragon, while he is the king." She explained, knowing Amaren did not know who was before him. "He wants to slay you."

[Arthur Pendragon]

Guinevère's words seemed to help Arthur snap out of it, though his gaze did not move from his son as she went to gather the toys. Once again, he didn't clue in as to what was going on until a tiny arm was holding out a wooden toy of what appeared to be a dragon . . . while Guinevère provided him with an explanation as to what Amaren was silently asking. He was going to be playing with his son. Something that he never thought possible, and every second he spent in Amaren's company . . . was a moment that Arthur would forever cherish. Deciding that the height difference was too much, Arthur went to his knees as he took the toy from Amaren's hands. "Thank you," he told him. As he had expressed before, he didn't want Amaren to see Arthur as a king, and Guinevère seemed to be making sure he did not.

Something he was very grateful for . . . but unsure how to express that gratitude for words did not do it justice. "Hmm, now you're going to have to help me out here," Arthur said inspecting the dragon. His tone was more animated so that he did not sound too serious or intimidating to his son. For he was after all, still a stranger in Amaren's eyes. "What is it that dragons do?" Of course Arthur knew the answer, but he was trying to help encourage Amaren to speak, to tell him . . . to give him that feeling of intelligence that he had the knowledge to enlighten a complete stranger. "Oh I think I know! They can spit out water, can't they," Arthur stated with a bit of a nod and a light smile, just waiting for Amaren to tell him otherwise . . . wondering how shy the boy was.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère watched Arthur kneel down with Amaren and take the dragon. She brushed her hand over her son's curls in a comforting and encouraging manner in hopes he would open up some. "What is it that dragons do?" Arthur asked as if he did not know, when both he and herself knew that he more then knew what dragons could do to kingdoms and people's lives. "Oh I think I know! They can spit out water, can't they," That caused Amaren to turn and bury his face into his mother's dress as a bit of high pitched laughter escaped him.

Guinevère smiled softly, before biting her lips to keep from crying at Amaren laughing at his father for the first time. Then he poked his head out and held up his hands as if they were claws before going 'Rawr!' At him, as if to tell him they were scary. Slowly Amaren was opening up. "I think dragons breathe fire." She matched her tone with Arthur's trying to help as she gently pushed Amaren closer. "And try to eat brave knights." The reminder of that night caused her eyes to fade as she recalled it. "But the knights win."

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur watched his son, the same emotion from just moments ago causing him to pause. His laughter was so musical, the most incredible sound he had ever heard . . . and knowing that it was Arthur's words that had caused it, made his heart swell with pride. When Amaren looked at him once more and held up his hands like claws, making a sound . . . Arthur's eyes widened as he pretended to move back a bit from the 'fear' of Amaren pretending to be a dragon. "Woah! They seem pretty scary!" He exclaimed . . . grateful, that his son would never have to experience the true fear of a dragon. It was bad enough that Guinevère had to endure the danger and fear of it, but not their son. Helping to encourage their play, she spoke of how she believed that they breathed fire, and tried to eat knights . . . but that the knights were always victorious.

"Well, we'll have to see how brave your knight is," Arthur stated as he moved the wooden dragon around in the air, acting as if it was flying. "Because if the dragon is all the way up here," he said, holding the dragon a few inches above the knight's head. "Then how will the brave knight defeat him?" Arthur asked, more in an encouraging way than having any sort of teasing in his voice. "Will he . . . use his sword?" Arthur further inquired, to help Amaren along with the game, as he was still understandably shy.

[Guinevère]

"Because if the dragon is all the way up here," Arthur asked flying the dragon around in the air, "Then how will the brave knight defeat him?" Leaving Guinevère smiling softly. Arthur trying to be logical with a two year old was surprising rather endearing. Amaren however failed to see why the knight could not get to the dragon as he stepped forward and swung the knight at Arthur's dragon as if knights could fly.

"Sword!" He repeated as he swung the little knight again at Arthur's dragon. Then Again. Upon the third time the wooden dolls met for a moment and then Amaren held up his knight as if that was all it took to slay a dragon, "King wins!" He cheered and jumped some before dropping the doll and then reaching over to hit Arthur and then run away to the other side of the house. Quickly Guinevère explained, "It's another game. Chase. You chase him and he try to evade you. He tagged you to mark you as the chaser." She rose to her feet, to give them room to play.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur smiled when Amaren made his knight fly and slay the dragon. Of course this was just a game, and it was about encouraging a child's imagination and play. When the wooden pieces hit, Arthur moved his dragon to the floor, admitting defeat. "And the brave knight killed the dragon!" He stated, But as he was looking down at the now slain dragon, he felt something -- or someone -- hit his head and run off. It left him stunned for a moment at the unexpected action as he blinked a few times. Guinevère once again explained the nature of this game. A chasing one. The house was incredibly small so there was not a great deal of room to run in, but they could easily make the most of it.

"Thank you," he said in a soft voice, but his tone held more sentiment to it than merely thanking her for giving her instruction. He was thanking her for giving him this opportunity, for letting him spend time with his son . . . for allowing him into Amaren's life. After holding her gaze for a few moments, Arthur rose to his feet and began walking backwards, purposely looking in the opposite direction that he knew Amaren was in. "Now where can Amaren be?" He asked, continuing to walk backwards, knowing that with each step he took behind him, Amaren would be somewhere there . . . but kept his gaze focused forward to give the boy a chance to hide or escape.

[Guinevère]

"Thank you," he said in a soft voice, and she felt her heart beat a few time quicker. "I am sure you'd have caught on soon enough." She said even softer, knowing that was not what he meant but finding it easier to let there be a misunderstanding there rather then speak of them before she had time to think. Letting the boys play she turned to finish the meal, looking over at them every few moments.

"Now where can Amaren be?" She was trying to give them space but she did not wish to miss a moment. Amaren was hiding under the table as he always did. She herself always took a few moments finding him, to let the game build. Trying to help build the moment she spoke up, "Did you let him go outside?" She asked, suddenly everything was feeling domestic and it hurt. Because this wasn't the life they were meant to have. This half life of not knowing what they were meant to be. "Or maybe he grew tired and went to bed?"

[Arthur Pendragon]

"Did you let him go outside?" Arthur gave a bit of a smile as he thought out loud. "I don't think I did. I'll have to check there after I've searched everywhere in here." And with that, Arthur began 'looking' for Amaren. He turned around, placing a pensive expression on his face in case Amaren was looking at him. "Could he be . . . " Arthur opened a random cabinet, as he spoke. "In here?!" He saw only a few simple dishes in there, though he knew well before opening it that Amaren was obviously not in the cupboard. Never the less, he wanted to build it up and give Amaren the idea that his hiding spot was an excellent one. Closing the cabinets, Arthur turned around, looking around him.

He took a few steps, closer to the table where Amaren was hiding, though did not look under it. "Oh, I know where he is!" Arthur stated confidently, snapping his fingers in realization. "He's definitely under here!" He said as he looked underneath his bed. When he didn't see him, Arthur gave another disappointed look, and remained positioned on his knees as his gaze was in the opposite direction of the table. "Maybe he did go outside . . . for I can't seem to find him anywhere," Arthur said, though did not move to head outside. Instead, he just remained on his knees, a bit of an exaggerated look of defeat on his face . . . to give Amaren the impression that the boy had won.