Royal
"For the love of Camelot!"
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Mar 27, 2023 19:09:32 GMT -5
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Post by Arthur Pendragon on Feb 2, 2013 11:47:31 GMT -5
Arthur was in a panic. He had been raised to suppress emotion, yet his eyes seem to constantly be filled with tears every time he looked at his father. How could this have happened? How could Arthur had let this happen? He had just lay there, watching the whole thing. The image of his father falling was forever burned in his mind . . . but he couldn't believe this was the end. No. The king had to live. Apart from Agravaine, his father was the only family he had. He couldn't lose him too. Despite the king's broken spirit this last year, Arthur was sure that he was on the mend. He had gone to his birthday and . . . had paid the price for it. Arthur wished that he'd never gone back to his father's chambers after the celebrations. Had he just been in his, then the assassin would not have killed the king. So much of this was Arthur's fault, and he would never forgive himself for it.
But he was also not about to give up hope. The city may be mourning, the council may be making preparations for Arthur to take the throne, Gaius may no longer be heavily treating him . . . but Arthur would not give up. There had to be a way to save him. Somehow. Letting Gaius tend to his father, Arthur needed to get some fresh air. Perhaps it would help him get some idea as what to do in order to save the king. He ignored any looks of sympathy he received from those he walked by. The city was busy as usual, but it felt different. Maybe it was just him. Maybe he just felt like everything was moving in slow motion. Perhaps it was a bad idea to come out here. He should be with his father. He should be at his side, trying to urge him toward consciousness to prove everyone else wrong. To prove Arthur right. That he would live. That by some miracle . . . he would live.
Arthur was determined to turn around, when he suddenly saw someone. A familiar someone at that. His mind flashed back to their first meeting, where he had been severely injured and on the brink of death. And she had healed him. She had . . . healed him. She had . . . that herb! What was its name?! The one she said was strong. The one that had saved him. Could it save his father too?! Arthur now realized why he had come out here . . . perhaps for once, fate was being kind to him and leading him on the right path. He walked toward her, continuing to remember their encounter, and trying to remember the name of that herb that was far more difficult to recall than her name. "Lucy," he greeted, not even having fully realized that he was standing right in front of her until he spoke her name.
Setting: Camelot cit Time of Day: Early Afternoon Timeline: During The Wicked Day Tag: Lucy Halacre
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Jun 18, 2013 2:46:55 GMT -5
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Feb 9, 2013 18:24:37 GMT -5
The great city of Camelot was in mourning. It wasn’t quite official mourning, after all, there wasn’t a dead body in the royal chambers of Camelot castle… yet. But King Uther Pendragon had been fatally stabbed and according to everyone who was anyone, the wound was sufficient to carry out its purpose. The whole city had been affected by the tragedy, naturally. The streets seemed darker now, an occurrence that wasn’t unfounded in Lucy’s mind, as most passers-by had chosen to display their grief by wearing black clothing of some kind.
She herself had abandoned her usual inconspicuous green cloak for one charcoal-coloured, but this too made her blend into the crowd. Grief was a surprisingly easy atmosphere in which to remain hidden. Grief and jubilance… times during a King’s reign when almost anybody could pass unnoticed. Times also which were surprisingly good for business. Selling had picked up that week, as though stab wounds were infectious. Tension in the city was fraught of course and inevitably tavern brawls had broken out, over support to Arthur or Uther, over bets on how long the old king would last and even the new king’s longevity too. Lucy had just departed the home of one such brawler, who had sunrise in his eye as shiny as the Crown Jewels. She’d put a spread of comfrey on the black eye, charged a few coppers and been on her way; she was used to being in the company of known rogues due to the amount of time she spent healing them, but she would never get used to their blatant disrespect towards the monarchy.
She was just going home to organise her stock – it was considered unlucky to leave the city, even to gather herbs, during waiting tension like this, one might miss the King dying and that would never do – when very suddenly somebody addressed her. “Lucy.” Deep. Masculine. Out of place.
Lucy looked up towards the face of the person who was blocking her path. Prince Arthur Pendragon. Heir to the throne and could be inheriting it within the day. Not the kind of person she could invite back to her humble abode for tea rather than making conversation in the middle of a crowded street. Especially not with his father dying. Unsure of what he wanted from her, Lucy executed an odd little curtsy, caught out by both the routine familiarity of her surroundings and the strangeness of meeting the Prince there.
“Sire,” she murmured quietly, bowing her head deferentially and sorrowfully, as was only respectful.
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Royal
"For the love of Camelot!"
Personal Text
Complicated
Relationship Status
Knight | Prince | King
Occupation
|
euphoria
Offline
Mar 27, 2023 19:09:32 GMT -5
Tag me @arthur
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Post by Arthur Pendragon on Feb 13, 2013 11:07:45 GMT -5
Arthur knew he could not waste too much time with pleasantries, and kept his tone polite so that it would not appear rude. A few years ago, he wouldn't even have given it a second thought. But much had changed since then . . . he had changed since then. And while he had always cared for the people, he had learned how to address them. Not with arrogance and authority, but rather speaking to them as they deserved: with respect and patience. Though the latter was difficult to implement right now for time was of the essence. Each moment that passed, was another moment his father was fighting for his life. And Arthur wanted to bring him to ease and lure him to consciousness. "Some time ago you found me in the woods, and used a rare and special herb to heal me." He could not remember the name of it, but prayed she remembered.
No. Surely she remembered. She had spoken of the herb and how it was difficult to find, and to keep the remedy between them so not to abuse its use. This could very well be the answer to saving the king. "Such a herb can hold the power to heal the king, can it not?" It must. It had brought Arthur back from what otherwise would have been certain death. "Do you have any of this herb? If not, I will search for it with you, give you a small army to find it." If it was difficult to find, he would provide the man power to quicken the search. "And I will of course pay you, whatever the cost may be." Gold was no issue. He would give her every last coin that he had if it meant saving his father's life.
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