Seek Comfort In Me

[Guinevère]

"Arthur," Guinevère carried the try into her chambers that she share with Arthur and paused at the door for a moment, looking at the back of her husband whom was sitting in the chair. This was weighting so heavy on him, and she worried about how he would bare this weight. Arthur always took everything to heart, and she knew that was both why he was a great man, and a burden he carried. To Arthur it was never going to be as simple, for he thought not as a man but as a king in his every action.

Walking to the table she set the tray before him. "I thought you might be hungry, you didn't eat anything at supper." Because he had been thinking, and unable to eat. She was learning well the pressures that he had taken upon him in this whole life, and she only wished to help ease some of them for him. Guinevère moved to lean against the table, so she could watch his face and try to see what he was thinking, knowing that sometimes Arthur would give signs to what was in his heart. His guard was lowered while she was the only one here.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur couldn't focus on anything apart from what was in his hand. Or well, what it symbolized. He had tried so hard to bring justice and fairness to Camelot. To treat everyone equally. Yet those who judged him . . . constantly told him of his failure. First, it was his father. Arthur had taken his words to heart, only to realize that he did not want to be the king his father was. But now, the Disir told him of his failure as a fair king. What if they were right? Was he really so oblivious? In all that he was trying to do . . . was he in truth, failing? How could so many think so? Surely, there had to be some truth to them. Arthur had hunted the sorcerer that had killed his friend, yet it seemed Arthur was the one who was pitied . . . not the dying sorcerer. It didn't make sense. What he did know, was that he should not be so dismissive of their words.

But what could he do? What should he do? It was moments like these that he felt so lost. And as if she had read his thoughts, Guinevère entered their chambers. Her close proximity and words broke him out of his daze as he looked at her and at the plate, then back at her. "Thank you," he said sincerely, though food was the last thing on his mind. He hadn't been hungry there and he had no appetite now. "That's kind," he added. He knew she didn't have to do these sort of things for him, and would never take it for granted. He feared that he had been poor company for her at dinner, as he was right now. Yet if there was one person he never had to pretend around . . . never have to suppress his true feelings and thoughts, it was his wife.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère watched as Arthur glanced at the food but made no move to touch it. With the death of his friend, and now these words as judgment he was too lost in his thoughts to eat. It worried her for she did not wish to see him ill or weak because he was not eating. Not that missing one meal would make him so, but any time something weighted heavy on her husband, or bothered him then she wished to help ease him mind.

Sadly this time she wasn't sure how to help him. "He was a deranged desperate man, you said so you're self." She reminded him, trying to get him to speak of it too her, so she could learn what parts troubled him, and could help. Perhaps then he could eat, or she could get him to sleep some.

He had not seemed bothered at first, but the more that he thought on it, the more she could see it on his face. How he was thinking about it constantly. She did not wish for him to do anything without talking to her again, especially something risky. If only she knew the words to bring peace to him mind, the way he did her's.

[Arthur Pendragon]

That was what Arthur had initially thought as well. That he was just a deranged murderer. But now, having time to reflect on it, and hearing Gaius' explanation of the item he'd been given by him . . . it seemed there was more to that sorcerer than Arthur had initially assumed. "But Merlin was right," Arthur began to explain. After having withheld a secret from her before, he vowed never to do the same. Even if no peace could be brought to his mind . . . at least he would not have to keep anything from her. He wanted her to know what was troubling him, despite the lack of a solution. "He could have killed me but instead he thought it was more important to give me this," he continued, referring to the item that he had kept in his hand as he contemplated what this all meant. And what he could do about it.

"And he gave his life doing so," Arthur added. Clearly, he had thought it important . . . something worth dying for. He had not put up much of a fight, other than throwing Gwaine and Elyan against the trees. It just didn't make sense. The sorcerer had come to Arthur . . . he had approached from behind. The entire time Arthur had thought they were tracking him . . . but with how he had made his appearance, it seemed that the sorcerer had been tracking them all along. The thought of what this represented sent chills down his spine, for Arthur feared he was condemning his kingdom once again . . . and did not know how to make sure that didn't happen.

[Guinevère]

If what Arthur was saying was true, then Guinevère respected the man who gave it too him even less. He had killed men, and attacked the knights. Arthur's friend was dead, and it would seem the only reason the man took a life was to bring Arthur out in the open. She hated to be glad of anyone's death, but she was glad that Arthur was safe from the man's deed.

If only Arthur was safe from his words now as well. "Who can fathom the mind of a fanatic?" She asked, looking at the coin like object in Arthur's hand. Such a small thing to apparently hold so much meaning, or so very many. Yet she knew size did not matter when it came to the meaning something had. Looking back at Arthur, she wished she could give him more. Help him feel better. Perhaps a fully belly would help him, but he had yet to touch his food.

[Arthur Pendragon]

He knew her words were true . . . and would have said similar ones, had his instinct and this feeling he had in his heart not be telling him otherwise. "It was more. It was in his eyes Guinevère." He was trying to explain what was troubling him, though it was difficult. Not because he wasn't used to it -- as they had been married for three years and together for even longer. But it was just hard to form words, to explain why it was that he couldn't let this go. "There was no hatred there. There was something else." Some sort of emotion that . . . no. He knew exactly what it looked like. Though he had never seen such an emotion in anyone's eyes. Least of all a man who was mortally wounded. He had no anger, no bitterness, no rage . . . it was another emotion all together.

"Pity almost," he finished, finding that that word was the closest when it came to describing what he say in the eyes of the dying man. All he cared about was getting the object to Arthur. "Why would a sorcerer pity a king?" He asked rhetorically, for he knew Guinevère didn't have the answer. No one did. Except for the Disir. Should he try to petition them to save Mordred? Should he return, this time heeding Merlin's warning about respecting the sacred ground? He had to do something. He couldn't just let Mordred die. He couldn't let someone else sacrifice their life for him. He . . . couldn't lose someone else he cared about.

[Guinevère]

Why would he pity a king? Guinevère did not know. She had nothing to give him that could answer such a question. No guidance. She knew so little about these people, and their beliefs. Knew so little about what made them strong in their minds and what they saw as weak. How could they think a man who was bring peace to Camleot, and freed the Druids, and had done so much was not a worthy man?

"Come, you should eat something," She said softly, not trying to dismiss what he said but so very unsure about what she could say to him to give him that charmingly arrogant confidence that he lived with. She wanted him to to be happy, and sure. Guinevère hated she could not ease the thoughts in his mind tonight.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur was lost in his own mind again. He heard her urge him to eat, but hunger was still something that he did not feel. He didn't want food. He wanted peace of mind and heart. He wanted to know that every decision he had made thus far, wasn't totally wrong. So many seemed to think so. His father. Morgana. The Disir. And many others in between. He had only been able to justify his actions to his father . . . yet so many claimed to know him. Didn't they know there was no malicious intent in his actions? That he did not wish to hurt anyone, but just strengthen Camelot into all it could be. Now, he was threatened. How could the Disir expect his belief of magic to soften and consider it not evil . . . when they were passing judgment on him and making threats? Why was it only him who needed to meet these sorcerers needs? Why could there be no compromise?

His thoughts got the better of him as he continued to think aloud, rather than respond to her words about eating. "What if the Disir are right? What if I have transgressed in some way? What if I've put Camelot in danger?" Would the whole kingdom suffer for his misdeeds? He had thought he was doing what was best for everyone . . . but now was being told otherwise. How could he make everyone happy? How could he meet every ones needs? Was that even possible? The Disir spoke of him as if he was a cruel and heartless man . . . yet they had not shown him an ounce of compassion or kindness for him to form an opinion that differed from all those he knew who practiced magic. He had seen it used for evil more than good. Why could not someone just prove him wrong and show him that not all magic was bad.

[Guinevère]

Was that what was bothering him? He thought that they had judged him and found him wanting? Did he not know the truth? How could he see all that he had done in his life time and not know he was the greatest king there was? He turned bitter foes into trusted friends. He freed a race of people and made them so they were not hunted and they could live in peace!

"Arthur," He had taken a man who had swore to kill him and brought a truce between the lands when the only certain fate between them seemed to be a full pledged war. "You are a good and just king." She told him in a way she hoped that he could hear how true she believed them to be and how true she believed everyone to believe true.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Her words meant a great deal to him . . . because he knew she believed them. He had believed them -- to some extent. But now, he wasn't so sure. He didn't know what kind of king he was if such harsh judgment was passed against him. And he could not ignore the intense feelings that the Disir's words had summoned. Nor the significance of the object he was given. "The Disir don't seem to think so," he said in a slightly defeated voice. No longer playing with the item in his hand, he just stared straight ahead of him, unsure what to do right now. He was so very grateful for Guinevère's support, and it was moments like these that he wondered how he had survived without her. He may not have gained the solution, but never did he feel alone in his troubles.

He hated that he burdened her as well . . . but it was important to have the support of your wife; as she always had his. They were united, strong . . . in love. The latter being what gave them that strength. He knew he should not be talking about this anymore. He should just let it be . . . despite that nagging voice in his head. His concern lay not only with what they said, but with Mordred who's life was being drained from him each passing moment. Why should others have to pay the price for him? He wished there was a way to save everyone . . . and to make everyone happy. That, he knew was absolutely impossible.

[Guinevère]

"That," She begain as she moved to stand behind him, and rest her hands on his shoulders, giving him a slight squeeze and tried to help ease his thoughts, "Is because they do not know you like I do. If they did--" Leaning low over him her lips came to rest in his hair as she spoke to him, hoping he would hear more then just her words spoken to him. "--they would feel nothing but love."

For it was what she felt for him. Whole heartedly. Kissing the side of his temple, she stood back up, but let her fingers touch his hair, and stroke down the soft golden locks. He needed time to think and see things better, and she hoped he he did see them, that he would see how she felt about him, was how most saw him too. Honorable, kind, loyal, fair. He was a good man and he should not doubt that.

[Arthur Pendragon]

She spoke more encouraging words, but this time, with affectionate actions. When he felt her lips on his temple, he closed his eyes, basking in the emotions that he always felt whenever she kissed him. He opened them when her lips were no longer on his skin. He had no words for the moment, but instead, he leaned his head back a bit, toward her. His silent plea for her comfort, for her touch. He always heavily relied on it, especially in moments like these when he felt so lost. His non-verbal way of demonstrating his great emotional need for her. Her hands went to his hair, as he closed his eyes again in a long drawn out blink before opening them. He was not looking at her, but he could feel everything.

And it gave him a sense of calm that no one else was capable of granting him. Even in his troubled mind, Guinevère never failed to make him feel at ease. He would not talk of this matter anymore. He would not further burden her with his insecurities. He had just recently returned from one journey, and wanted to spend the night with his wife. Unsure of how much time had passed, he finally moved, raising his hand to take hers that was in his hair. He held her hair and brought it to his lips, lightly kissing it before turning his head to look at her. "I don't know what I would do without you," he said in a strongly sincere voice. He would not have made it this far, nor be as wise or strong without her. How blessed he felt to have her in his life.

[Guinevère]

He looked up at her and spoke about not knowing what he would do with out her. She had always answered him with the gentle reply of how he did not need her to be great, but over the years she had since learned to take his words to heart. She might not make him great, but she could help him bare the weight of that greatness.

Reaching forward she broke off a bit of bread and held it up to him, "Well, starve for one," She teased, trying to bring any form of a smile to his lips. "I've not seen you smile for hours," She told him, and move around to climb into his lap, so she sat on him sideways, her legs dangling a few inches off the floor and one of her arms around his neck. "You've been doing allot of thinking. You should not doubt in yourself."

[Arthur Pendragon]

She held the bread to his lips and knew that there was only so long he could deny her request to eat. Still not feeling hungry, but wanting to ease her concern, he took the piece of bread between his lips and ate it. Thankfully, she gave him something more welcome to help distract him as she shifted comfortably into his lap. This used to be a position that he would always encourage her in, as it had taken a bit of getting used to for her. But now . . . it was not something they even thought twice about. He casually put his arm around her waist from behind, keeping her close to him as she told him that he had not smiled for hours . . . that he had been extremely reflective. And that he shouldn't be doubt himself. He wanted to salvage the evening with her by not talking about the Disir or anything of the like . . . but could not pretend to have full peace of mind.

"There seems to be only one cause to smile these days," he said as he looked at her, making the meaning in his words fairly clear with his gaze. Her. In all the darkness that seemed to always surround their lives, she was the one light. "I'm sorry. I have been poor company this evening," he said, not about to deny that he hadn't been a very good husband. With everything they had just talked about, he was far more distracted than he wanted to be. "I do not mean to burden you with such troubles. But can not say I regret being able to talk to you about them." He wanted her to know that he appreciated all she said to him, even if he did a poor job of expressing that.

[Guinevère]

"I would not call you poor company," She told him and reached her hand up to touch his cheek for a moment, just be able to touch him. "I would simply say that I can tell you have a great deal on your mind. I am glad you can talk to me of such things, and I wish I knew more about that world so I could answer questions." Yet while she knew little of that world, she knew a great deal about this one.

"Gaius is a man we trust, and in your father's day served as a strong ally to both him and the people. He would not trouble you with things, if he did not believe them." There was a strong however in her tone. "I would not let their words give you doubts, Arthur. They see only one side how things are. If they sought to use magic for good, then why has there been so much death?"

[Arthur Pendragon]

He knew she would never call him poor company, but he knew he was. After having embarked on a dangerous mission, he should be embracing her properly, and setting his troubles aside to celebrate the joy of being together once more. Yet he had brought with him all these troubles to their reunion. He would make this up to her, somehow. For the time being he listened to her words that were never less than wise and insightful. What she said . . . was all true. Gaius had a vast knowledge in all things magic, yet as Guinevère said, they were only seeing one side of things. "I have only ever see magic being used for evil purposes," he said. There may have been one or two occasions where it was used for good . . . but weighed against the majority of its uses, it was not much. "To believe in something, I must have a reason to," he went on to say.

"I broke my father's traditions by knighting commoners, because I saw in them a strength of honor and heart that made them more than worthy to be knights." Something his father obviously disagreed with. "I fell in love with a woman who was not a princess in blood, but whom is the greatest woman I know. As both a wife, a friend and a queen." Her. For no other woman, royal or not, could even compare to her. "If one thing has not changed my shared views with my father, it is the practice of magic for evil purposes." He was willing to break all traditions . . . but he needed a reason to. "How can they judge me in my beliefs against magic, when that is all I have ever seen?" Morgana, being a great example. Did they not see her corruption? Could they not understand why he had to keep the fight against magic going? Because it had brought nothing but destruction to Camelot.