The Dark Knight

[Arthur Pendragon]

It had all started with what Arthur thought was going to be a tryst. He had been following Merlin, noticing he was sneaking out of the castle and not taking long to realize that he was following Morgana. Well out of the castle walls. Arthur's suspicions that Merlin felt something for his sister of heart had come into existence many years ago. Though he thought they were past that. Well . . . apparently not. For he was sneaking around at this hour and Arthur of course had to follow him and then warn him later about how he could not do this. Perhaps it was hypocritical of him, considering his feelings for Guinevère . . . but how could he not be protective over Morgana? She was a sister to him. So this had to be stopped. Yet when Merlin reached his destination with Morgana standing there, he noticed Merlin not join her. Someone else did . . . someone that had made it feel like Arthur's heart stopped beating. He had almost revealed himself with that same protectiveness over Morgana, but it was not soon after that he saw: Morgana and Morgause, as allies.

Everything had only gone downhill from there. From the shock of Morgana's betrayal, and all those times they had believed there to be a traitor in the castle . . . it had been her. She tried to do so many things; trying to get killed the people that loved her. Him, his father, Guinevère . . . it was all too much. And yet it had not been the end. The revelation of the truth of his birth, of the truth of Morgana's birth . . .being spoken about so casually. It was not the first time Morgause had offered this information, yet somehow . . . it felt undeniable this time. For they did not know he was here. They did not know they were being heard. And in the midst of this, Arthur's eyes darted to Merlin, who seemed so . . . unsurprised. He didn't seem shocked by this. Why was that? Arthur's entire body felt numb, hurt, confused . . . so many things. But somehow he managed to make his feet move when the group dispersed, following Merlin back to Gaius' quarters. What he overheard there . . . just added to the load.

He discovered that Merlin had magic. Not only that -- not that it wasn't enough to deal with -- but that Merlin had known about everything. That the dragon was not dead. And that he and Gaius had been harboring such secrets and speaking of them at this hour when Arthur's presence remained unknown. He didn't know how he felt in this moment. As if in a trance, he returned to his chambers and had spent the night sitting, staring at nothing. Just . . . feeling everything build inside of him. He spent the entire night and the entire morning . . . until Merlin came to greet him for his daily duties. Arthur's silently watched him, offering no teasing remark or playful comment. It had taken days for the shock to subside enough for Arthur to function. He used the excuse that he was unwell, and refused to see anyone. Not his father. Not Merlin. Not Morgana. Not even Guinevère. He just spent days in his chambers, trying to process everything until he realized that there was no way he could humanly process it.

It took at least a week before he could face the world, and pretend that he knew nothing. He had to force himself to be detached, guarded, strong. Yet inside, everything felt broken. Every time he looked at Morgana, or Merlin or his father . . . he felt hurt. Devastated beyond belief and how they could all just lie to him like this. Even if Merlin's intentions were good . . . Arthur just didn't know what to do. His first thought was that he needed to protect Guinevère. Not seeing her for these past few days, while he knew it was for the best, killed him. But not as much as his next actions would. He spoke to his father, and said that he felt it best that Guinevère be dismissed from her duties as Morgana's handmaiden. That Dragoon had enchanted them and perhaps it was best that they distance themselves just in case there was some sort of aftermath of the spell. Arthur knew that was not the case. His feelings for her were real and genuine. He loved her, but that was why she needed to keep away from Morgana.

It was why he needed to keep away from her. Because all the danger she had been faced with, all the false accusations of her . . . were because of him. Were because of his love for her. His father seemed impressed with his son's initiative and of course Morgana falsely protested, but hardly with any effort. Only because Arthur knew the truth. Eventually, she 'gave in' and Guinevère was thus fired from her duties. He hated himself for all this. For promising her a future, for fighting for them . . . knowing now that the best thing he could do for her, the safest thing, was to let her go. He told the guards not to let her enter his chambers, ever. Not even to clean it. She was not permitted on the levels of the royal chambers. He did not ask where she would work, where her demotion let her, for he knew he would just seek her out. He could not have anything to do with her anymore . . . because he had caused enough damage and pain in her life. He would deal with all this on his own, and it was what was slowly causing the young prince to deteriorate. It was what was making him more and more detached from all those he loved and cared about. He felt lost and hurt and confused, yet knew that there was no other choice. That he needed to find a way to change things, drastically.


_{Setting: In the castle, may move around
Time of Day: Night time
Timeline: Shortly after Queen Of Hearts
What If: Arthur found out about everything before it was revealed publicly.
Tag: Guinevère}

[Guinevère]

Guinevère life fell into a bit of a pattern. She had been 'let go' by the king, and given coin for her silence on anything regarding his son. She had not taken on the coin on pride alone, but she also knew she could not be without a job for long. It was in the form of an old friend from the kitchens that she was able to get a few hours a day working. While she made considerably less then what she was used too, she knew how to save and she could survive.

She did not understand it. None of it. Something was wrong but she could not see how to fix it. Arthur had sealed himself in his chambers, claiming to be unwell for so many days. Then she was let go and by Arthur's own command she was not allowed anywhere near the royal floors or where they might be. She had even tried to be bold, and ask Merlin to for help in arranging a meeting. Yet nothing as of yet had happened to allow her a moment close to him.

Work in the kitchens was hard, and she had spent more hours in the laundry working too. Wrapping her cloak around her, she began the walk home. Pausing on the edge of the courtyard, she looked up at the windows were she knew would lead into Arthur's chambers. Her heart was breaking a little more every night. They had been in love, had they not?

He had kissed her, spoken of promises. She had promised to wit for him, and wait for him she would . . .

Even if sometimes she wondered on these cold nights alone if she would just be waiting to hear of another princess he would wed. Turning away from the window, she turned to walk home. It did not take long before she noticed she wasn't alone, and her steps began to quicken.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Sleep eluded Arthur most nights. Even when he closed his eyes, he would only see the most horrific images haunting his mind. He missed Guinevère. More than words could say. Not seeing her in all this time, unable to have a conversation with her, or kiss her, or just hold her . . . it was just something else that was weighting heavily on the young prince. But he knew this was for the best. He knew that he as doing what he needed to in order to protect the woman he loved. He need only remind himself of that. Plus, he was not sure he was even the same man. It may have not taken long but he felt like he was forgetting all the joy and happiness he had otherwise found in life. For what joy was there now? None found in the teasings of a sister. None found in the playful bullying of a friend. None found in the moments of bonding with his father. And none found in the arms of the woman he loved.

He moved from his desk to the window, leaning against the wall and just staring at the empty courtyard. His eyes rested on a cloaked figure and even in the dark even at this distance . . . he knew it was her. Guinevère. He had to fight the urge to run down to her and just hold her. Yet soon the urge turned into necessity. For he noticed another man closely following her. Too closely. But that was also because Arthur's guard was always raised. To a passerby, he may just look like a wanderer. But he did not believe in this kind of coincidence. Especially when he knew that Morgana plotted against him and those he loved. He grabbed his sword and hurried through the halls, making his down inconspicuously through the courtyard. He quietly followed them, not wanting to make himself known to tip off the man following Guinevère. When they neared her house, he noticed then that the man grabbed her and pushed her inside. There was no more need for being inconspicuous.

It took Arthur only a few seconds to quickly follow, the door automatically closing behind him as he raised his sword and charged at the man. Yet the man seemed to be more of a trained assassin for his reflexes were quick. He grabbed Guinevère, standing behind her with a blade in his hand that was right near her neck, the edge of it just touching her skin without it cutting her. Arthur froze, his eyes narrowing with stern aggression toward the man who was now taking her as a hostage. He didn't need to ask who sent him. He knew already. So any sort of talk was completely trivial. Arthur was past giving these kind of men a chance to surrender and escape. Especially not with him holding Guinevère in such a manner. With each step he took back, Arthur countered it by slightly stepping forward. Her house was not large and with the furniture that filled it up, there was very limited space.

The assassin was going on about how if Arthur took once step closer, he would cut her throat. But Arthur knew it was a bluff. If he wanted to kill her, he would have by now. But he was using her as leverage against him. Therefore, he would not harm her, knowing that he would be left to face the consequences with no hope of escaping. Not that he had much hope now. As he spoke, Arthur kept his sword raised and inched toward him as he continued to step back. He was near the table and from the corner of his eye, noticed a vase of flowers sitting there. Something that she had such a passion for . . . something that he loved seeing her arrange. He could have spent hours just watching her arrange flowers with such care and concentration. But right now, it was his weapon. In one swift and quick motion, he grabbed the vase and threw it directly at the assassin's face. The strength of the throw and the impact was enough to make the vase shatter on his face, cutting him on his skin and impairing his vision.

Arthur took full advantage. He lunged forward, pushing Gwen to the side so that he now stood between the assassin and Guinevère. And without an ounce of hesitation or uncertainty, Arthur pushed the tip of his sword into the man's chest. His cry of pain from the impact of the vase on his face was abruptly silened by the sword in him, that only took a few moments to claim his life. He fell lifelessly to the ground and Arthur stared at him, pulling his sword out. His expression held no remorse or regret. There was no emotion in his face at all. He turned to look at Guinevère, his face ever so slightly softening at the sight of her. "Are you alright?" He asked, his voice not quite as soft as it should be . . . but he spoke in a tone that he had not used in weeks. Had he pushed her too hard? Did the man manage to cut her before Arthur ended his life? His eyes looked over her, searching for any sign of injury, apart from the emotional trauma of everything that she may be experiencing.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère's steps had quickened as she hurried to her door. The heavier steps a a larger man could be heard in the soft echo of the night behind her. Just as safety came into view, she felt hope. Yet as she reached the door, she felt that hope disappear. The man pushed her against the door, and forced his way in. Panic filled her as she looked around for a weapon of some sort. Anything to swing at him!

Before she could reach for her sewing, knowing there were a few sharp items in there, he grabbed her and spun her. She could feel his chest rumbling from his speech but the shock of who was also standing in her home numbed the fear for a moment. Arthur! Here! Her wide eyes stared into his blue ones while the man pressed his blade to her. Why was Arthur here?! She was grateful, as the fear was filling her again, but it was another part of her life that she did not understand.

Then everything moved and happened again. The vase smashed just a short half inch above her head. Her eyes closed and she felt herself pushed aside and to the ground. Turning she tried to watch the fight but it was over before it could even begin.

Arthur turned to her, and came closer. "Are you alright?" He asked, and she could only stare at time. Was she alright? No. "Y-yes." She whispered after a few long moments, and then She forced herself to stand. "I . . . Who was he?" Why was he and Arthur even here?

[Arthur Pendragon]

She said she was alright, but Arthur just watched her for a few moments. He wanted to go to her and pull her into his arms to comfort her . . . yet knew that he could not right now. He loved her more than anything . . . but it was his feelings for her that was causing her to constantly be in this position. He thought by that distancing himself from her, that she would no longer be in danger. What more could he do? Why did Morgana keep targeting her? Guinevère asked who he was and Arthur remained silent for a few moments, trying to think of the best way to explain it without explaining everything. "An assassin," he said bluntly, knowing he was stating the obvious.

"Sent by one of my enemies no doubt." Cenred, Morgana, Morgause . . . it was Morgana for certain.His looked at the corpse, knowing he needed to remove it from here, but also didn't want to leave her alone just in case there were more men who had been hired for the job. In the meantime, he looked at the shattered vase on the floor and the spilled water and flowers. "Sorry about the mess," he said in a low voice as he bent down and started picking up the flowers since the shattered bits would have to be swept.

[Guinevère]

He explained, but it did not explain why they came for her. Had he not left her? Why would they think she was important to him now? Arthur moved to pick up the flowers and she began to reach forward, "I will clean it." She paused when she felt the fabric move oddly over her shoulder and noticed the seem had ripped open slightly. If she was not careful then she rip it more and the fit would not be so simple.

Her hand moved to hold it too her, and she looked back at the body, and then around the room. "I should . . . " Change her dress before more damage was done. She wore her old yellow one now, for the kitchens would ruin the other newer ones she had made when she was a ladies maid. "Thank you." Her mind finally began working and she could think enough to say the words that should have been said first. "Thank you for saving my life." No matter what was between them, that should be spoken first.

He might have broken her heart, but he had still saved her more times then she could count. She only wished she could thank him in stronger way. Do something to help him as he had helped her.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur looked at her when she moved forward and then stopped, as her hand covered the shoulder of her dress. It had torn and Arthur forced his gaze away from her, looking back to the task at hand: gathering flowers. Even though he would much rather look at her, he knew it wasn't right. He knew they could not be together but that didn't mean he should not have come. He was relieved he'd been able to just in time. She thanked him and he paused for a moment, gripping the broken stems of the flowers in his hand. "Do not thank me." He knew his voice came out stronger than he had intended it to . . . almost making it sound like an order rather than a request. He did not bother softening his words by saying that she need not thank him, or that it was not necessary to thank him. His words were blunt, and he hated the tone he used with her.

But he could not help it. He rose to his feet, purposely avoiding her gaze as he tossed the crumpled flowers in the waste bin. He would wait for her to get changed so that he could dispose of the body. And in the meantime, stood with his back to her to give her the opportunity to do so. This was not how he wanted things to be between them. And despised every moment that it was. She thanked him for something that she should never express gratitude for . . . because it was his fault that she was put in this position. He did no favor to her, apart from counter the consequences of his own actions. Yet it was hard to explain his words, so just stood there, waiting for her to move out of sight.

[Guinevère]

"Do not thank me." He said in a harsh tone, and she rocked backwards for a moment, surprised at his tone. She wanted to thank him again, just to spite him or reinforce how she felt but something in his face gave her pause. Arthur kept his back toward her as he moved away and tossed her flower away.

Guinevère stood up and edged around the body to change her dress. Drawing the back curtains closed she kept her cloak around her while she removed her dress. She could hear Arthur moving, and even leaving the house. He'd gone? Pausing Guinevère tightened her cloak around her since she wore nothing but her skin and looked out the curtain. Arthur and the assassin were gone. The only trace that they'd been there was the missing vase, and the broken bits.

Turning back to her little space, she used some cold water to wash with before looking at her clothing. She pulled her white night gown on, even as she knew there might be little sleep for her. Then she cleaned up the broken bits of the vase. Guinevère nearly jumped when her door opened with no knock! Yet she saw it was only Arthur who was returning . . . . and she had just put on her nightgown!

[Arthur Pendragon]

When he heard her move, he turned his head a little to make sure . . . and saw that she was changing. He took the opportunity to lift the body and drag it out of her house so that she would not have to look at it and so that the smell of blood or death would not stain her otherwise cozy and warm home. He carried it out until he noticed some guards who rushed toward him. He told them to dispose of the body and ask no questions. They did not argue with the prince, and they hurried to fulfill their orders. Arthur watched them until they were out of sight and then slowly walked back to Guinevère's house, looking around carefully for anyone who may be lurking about. When he opened the door, he looked at her and saw that she had changed into her night gown, and was startled to see him back. He had never seen her in her night gown before and it felt . . . oddly intimate. Yet he knew nothing could come of it.

That of course didn't mean that he couldn't think about it. That he didn't wish for it; desire it. "Sorry," he said in a low voice. "I just wanted to make sure that there were no others." That the assassin did not have an accomplice who may try to finish what the other had failed in doing. He looked at her, before forcing his gaze away and closing the door, but still standing near it. "You should get some rest." How he wished he could just lie down with her and offer her comfort to help the trauma of her attack slowly fade away. But he knew that the way it was now, was surely a better way of protecting her. Rather than let the selfish desires of his heart cause more harm.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère's hands moved over her dress, while he seemed to stare at her for a moment. It wasn't until he looked away that she breathed in and realized she seemed to have forgotten to breath at all while he looked at her. "I doubt there will be sleep tonight." She knew that she was too on edge. After tonight's . . . . events, she would not sleep well for days. Perhaps she was ask Elyan to sleep at the house instead of at their father's forge.

Elyan was always welcomed here but he was working to rebuild the forge after years of it being unused. He stayed there most nights, and only on his days off did he come here to sleep. With her job loss, Elyan seemed to be trying to take up more to help.

Yet none of this was on her mind for she could only see Arthur. Here, after so long. Why did he push her away like he did? Speak to her like this? He was keeping her from him, and the ones she had thought to be her friends. Why? She knew if she asked he would not tell her, Arthur tried to be like his father, and bare it all alone. Carry the weight alone. Whatever it was on his shoulders, she feared it was breaking him, and for it he had turned away from everyone. Had she done something to cause him to need space? Had they almost been caught again?

Why did he not tell her? "Do you still love me?" The words fell from her lips without warning from her mind, and she hated them. How they sounded from her. "Did something happen between us to make this happen?" She had not been close enough to him to ask before, and she feared this was her last moment.

[Arthur Pendragon]

She said that she would not sleep tonight, and he felt more guilt pierce his heart. He was about to ask where Elyan was, wondering if he could spend the night with her to keep her safe -- since Arthur had seen the blacksmith with a sword and he showed great skill with it. But before he could ask the practical question, she brought another up. One that caused him to freeze for a moment, cause his jaw to clench and his shoulders to tighten. Did he still love her. He knew his actions showed otherwise, for he had practically turned his back on her without a word or explanation. She deserved far better than that, and he hated himself for having to take it to such a drastic degree. Unable to even offer a single explanation or reason for his actions. He knew the answer. Yes. He still loved her. He would never stop loving her. But he knew that while this was the truth, it was not the simplest answer.

Nor could he lie to her and say that he did not . . . even if making her hate him would be all the easier for them. He could never lie to her. He took a deep breath, trying to keep himself composed and not let it show how much the questions she asked truly affected him. "What I feel is irrelevant," he said, unable to look at her . . . like a coward. "I thought I made that much clear to you." He hated himself, more so in this moment than any other. He had made it clear to her indeed by refusing to see her, by lying to his father about why she could no longer work for Morgana. By not telling her what was slowly destroying him inside. Would it really be easier to just be cold with her and make her despise him to the point of never wanting to see him? Could he really do that? He had pretending not to want anything to do with her through avoidance . . . but when face to face with her, it was more difficult to pretend. More difficult to turn away from her. Just like right now, with this confrontation.

[Guinevère]

"What I feel is irrelevant," So felt something for her still?!! "I thought I made that much clear to you." Guinevère noticed he did not look at her, just as she had noticed his jaw tense and his back become straighter. He didn't want to do this. This was not Arthur. But why?! WHY?! She wondered again if they had almost gotten caught or if the distance between their stations had come between them or if something else had happened.

"Arthur," She his name softly, begging him to look at her. The tears evident in her tone made her lift her hand to wipe the ones that she had not even known had fallen from her cheeks. "Please," She needed him to explain this. "I gave you my heart. Can you not even tell me why?" Why he pulled from her? Why he did things to keep her from his side. "I still love you. Whatever this is . . . that makes you seem so cold . . . this is not Arthur Pendragon. What happened?" To make him ill, and then turn away from everyone.

[Arthur Pendragon]

He heard her say her name . . . in a way that made Arthur's heart break all over again. He hadn't even realized it could be broken again, but it was happening, right now. Because of what she was saying and what he was forcing himself to do. He could hear the tears in her voice and hated being the one to cause them. Yet how many had he caused? How many times did she cry for the actions of Morgana, fueled by her hatred for him? He closed his eyes, hearing her speak of how he had given him her heart . . . how she still loved him . . . how this could be dealt with. It couldn't. It was too much. Her mere question of what happened far too complex to even begin to answer. He could only keep his eyes closed, fighting back the emotions that he had been forcing himself to keep contained with him. Guinevère knew him better than anyone, and he had expressed his dreams and what was in his heart to her more than anyone as well. And right now . . . it was working against his efforts of keeping distance between them.

"Guinevère . . . " He began to say, knowing his voice was softening slightly because he was breaking. Not that he wasn't already broken. "I am begging you not to do this." Not to make it sound like he could share this burden and ruin her life for her. He couldn't do that. He could never do that. He had done enough harm to her, for what had he offered her? He couldn't give her a defined time of when they could be together -- for his father would never approve. He couldn't even properly protect her . . . only be the reason she fell in constant danger. What had he given her? His heart . . . something that only endangered her life. Tonight was a clear example of that. "Just let me be. Because I can not make you happy." He could not promise her the life she deserved. She deserved so much better, and while he did not believe anyone was good enough for her . . . he knew that there had be someone who could protect her better than he did. Yet he knew, that no one could love her as much as he did.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère heard his words, but it broke her heart a little more. He could not make her happy? "What you stopped waiting on me then? You said one day things would be different. Why did you stop?" She took a few steps closer, and tried to keep her eyes on his face but it was hard. "You made me happy. Every moment of every day that I knew I held your heart I was happy." So very, very happy.

"You were ill? I wanted to come to you, help tend you but I could not. Then you push me away. I need to understand why. Please. I cannot let you go." Why was this happening to them? "This is not you. The Arthur I know found joy in little things. You look as if you've not smiled in months. Why are doing this to yourself?" To them both. Had something happened, had this come after she was arrested for 'enchanting him' then she could see why he was pushing her away--she would not have liked it, but she would understand.

This she did not understand. This just broke her heart.

[Arthur Pendragon]

He would never have stopped waiting for her. He would rather wait for the rest of his life than commit to another woman. But things were different now. Everything in his life had drastically altered and while that may sound dramatic, it was the truth never the less. His relationships with those he loved and cared for were changed forever and he didn't know if any of them could be redeemed. Guinevère had done nothing to him apart from love him and teach him so many valuable lessons; she had only graced his life with happiness and love. It was him who had done everything to her . . . because even though she said she was happy . . . how could one be happy when in fear? Like tonight. Or when she had been in the dungeon cell awaiting her execution. Or banished for his confession of loving her. Or in Cenred's cell when kidnapped and forced with an ultimatum.

So many times her life had been put in danger . . . and he had caused that. But he knew that she was too good and her heart was too strong to ever lay the blame at his feet. Even if he told her now, she would never blame him. But that didn't mean that he didn't blame himself. She spoke of his period of illness . . . more of an emotional one that had also affected him physically. And then said how she couldn't let him go. Neither could he. How could he let her go? How did one truly let go of the person they loved and cared for more than anyone else in all this world? Their one serenity. He had to though. He needed to be strong right now, because she was weakening his resolve to keep her out of his life, in order to protect her. He opened his eyes yet still could not properly look at her.

"The Arthur you knew no longer exists Guinevère. You can not help me, for there is nothing that can be fixed." He would not burden her with what plagued his heart and weighed him down and . . . as she had said, prevented him from smiling or finding any joy in this life. "If you love me, then you will respect that and keep your distance from me." He knew it was a horrible thing to say and this of all things were what he spoke while looking at her. He wanted her in his life, so badly. And he was fighting the urge to just blurt this out. That he loved her and needed her and to just be with him. Yet it was not that simple for in being with him, he was asking her to sacrifice far too much. Potentially, her life.

[Guinevère]

"No," She whispered, then spoke louder, "No. If you love someone you cannot stand by and watch them hurting." And he was hurting, for something and him holding back from her. If she had to guess she would say he was holding back from everyone as well. Yet it wasn't something she could know for sure, for he not only withdrew emotionally from her but made sure she physically kept from him.

"You do not have to do this alone, Arthur." She reminded him, "We said we would do everything together. That we would wait for each other, and one day we could be together as man and wife. I could help you. I want to help you! Be there to ease the troubles that is weighing down you heart. You cannot even explain why you do this?"

"Please Arthur," She moved closer again, and this time reached out to put her hand on his arm, "You don't have to anything alone. I love you. Let me help you. Even if it's only for tonight. Only someone to help ease a troubled mind."

[Arthur Pendragon]

"No. If you love someone you cannot stand by and watch them hurting." That much was true. Which was why this entire conversation was so difficult. Because he was hurting her and he knew he was doing it. He didn't want to. He wanted to see her smile and laugh and be happy for if anyone deserved that, it was Guinevère. She had once been like that. So joyous and carefree and filled with optimism and hope. While she still was, it had been weighed down some by his burdens. Whether it be things he told her to help share that burden, or from his enemies taking advantage of his feelings for her. He had been so selfish this entire time and the dark secrets he kept now . . . how could he possibly share such a load with her? And to what, make himself feel better? Talking to her always did so, for there was no one who advice he trusted and valued more . . . there was no one he trusted more. But it would be such a price. To pour out his heart to her and make her carry the load with him. She was far too gracious and generous to ever discourage him from doing so.

Which was why he had to be the one to make sure he didn't. He felt her hand touch him and he pulled away. He couldn't grant himself the comfort of her touch, though he longed for it so much. More than he could say . . . and certainly more than what was reflected in his actions of withdrawing from her. "What good has it done for you Guinevère?" He asked, somewhat rhetorically. "When I say this, I do not want to hear you argue or dispute the matter," he continued, not wanting her to try and free him of the guilt he felt. He didn't want her to say it was not his fault. "How many times have you been in danger, because of what I feel for you?" It was not a question he expected an answer to, for he knew it had been numerous times. And even more so now, because of Morgana. "I will burden you no further. Not by being the reason you are in danger. Nor by talking to make myself feel better." Because the time for being selfish was over. "So do not dwell on this, or us. You deserve to be happy and I can not give you that." Especially not with the state and frame of mind he was in right now.

[Guinevère]

"Burden me?" She repeated softly as he continued on about the reason he was holding her back, refusing to even see her, speak to her, and even had gone so far as to cause her to need another job. It was nothing they had not known but she had thought their love was strong then the fear. "No." She told him, a strong mix of hurt, and anger in her tone. He had not even spoken to her! He would not even let her touch him because of his idea in his head!

"I love you, and I know in my heart that you love me too, Arthur." She would not let him claim other wise. "You might see this as a protecting me, but tonight proves that even if you withhold yourself from me, that danger can still find it's way to my door."

"You speak of the times that my life has been in danger but you forget that even before you loved me, things had happened. You saved me more times then the others put me at risk." She looked up into his face, and wished she could hold him. She wanted to give him comfort and help him deal with whatever was happening in his life. "If you have told me you loved another I would have let you go." It would have broken her completely, but she would force herself to accept things. "But this I will not."

[Arthur Pendragon]

She said that she loved him and knew that he did as well, proving how true his former thoughts were: that no one knew him better than she did. She was right though, tonight proved that his enemies had not yet stopped targeting her. Why? Did Morgana still believe something to be happening between them? Should he try to speak to her and subtly talk of how he had let Guinevère go, knowing it could never be? Would that make her stop targeting her and sending men to kill her? Arthur knew he needed to do something because bringing Guinevère back into his life was only going to complicate things . . . for her. It was just going to place her in that danger. While things had happened to her prior to their enemies learning what made him vulnerable -- Hengist for instance -- the attacks against weren't as frequent.

She had been good friends with Morgana and Arthur knew that Morgana's hatred toward Guinevère now was because of the fact that he wanted to marry her and make her his queen. Had that not been an issue . . . Morgana would have not tried to kill Guinevère so many times. He wished he could lie and tell her that he did love another. That he was going to marry another. But he couldn't. Even if it could save her life, he could never say that he didn't love her, nor dismiss his love for her to the point of lying by saying that he cared for another the same way he did for her. There would never be another and he did not plan to try and find one. In letting Guinevère go, he had no plans to marry. He would not revisit the arrangement between him and Elena, and would not seek out another princess.

But none of that helped him right now. It did not help convince her why she should not be with him. His mind wandered back to the discovery that she and Lancelot cared for each other and he wondered . . . what would have happened had he not left? She could have been happy, and safe and lived the life that she deserved. Thinking of her with another man made his heart hurt, his stomach churn and less than proud thoughts of jealousy race through him . . . but she could have been happy. Her happiness and safety meant more to him than anything and he knew he was doing a poor job of showing it right now. "Tonight will hopefully be the last time this happens," he told her, knowing he would have to find a way to bring up the subject with Morgana . . . though he had been avoiding most these past several weeks.

"I am sorry Guinevère. For any false hope that I may have given you or for how I mislead you." By encouraging their relationship. He should have just let her go after she had broken the enchantment with Vivian and saved his life in doing so . . . yet he would not, could not, regret a single moment he'd spent with her after that. A strange contradiction but one that existed none the less. It didn't matter that he saved her, because she should never have to be in that position of needing saving . . . not because of him. "But I had been naive to think that everything would work out." He had been naive about everything. Every aspect of his life. Every relationship that he had. He had been a complete and utter fool. So blind and so oblivious. "So do not do this. Do not keep holding on to a dream. For it can never be the reality of our lives." And yet, he would forever hold on to that dream . . . just not act on it. And it would just be something else that would slowly destroy him inside.

[Guinevère]

"So you will give up on us, without even fighting for the love we have?" She asked, looking up at him. He would do all this without even explaining things to her? Why? Why would be go so far?! Arthur was not a coward! He did not back down without a fight! What had happened? What made him think this was how to protect her? "I will not."

"I spent the first few years of knowing you, hiding behind Morgana whenever you came around. Whenever danger came around." She never had literately ducked behind Morgana, but she had never stepped up and been brave either. "But then I saw you. The real you." Not the arrogant prince and bully, but Arthur. "And I learned to take in your courage and strength. I learned to follow my heart, and fight for what was right and what I wanted . . . . I learned loved. Not the young girl's ideals of love, but the sort that keeps you strong when you weak." Tears filled her tone as she kept speaking. "The sort that keeps you warm when everything is dark and cold . . . "

"You said that I was that for you," Not in exact words, but he'd said it many ways. "So leave if you must. Keep yourself from me, if you feel you need to do so . . . but know that I will be thinking of you. I will love you, and still be waiting on you. You need me now, more then before. You hurting and I cannot not come and try to help you. I will help you, from afar or by your side."

"Because I love you, and it's what you do . . . when you love someone."