King Arthur's Funeral

[Camelot]

King Arthur Pendragon has fallen. He was killed in the battle of Camlann at the hands of an enemy. Though his body was never returned and was lay to rest at the Lake of Avalon, the kingdom holds a symbolic burning. In the courtyard, a sword and Pendragon cape is burned in representation of Arthur.

The following day, the Queen will be named soul heir of Camelot (as it was scene in the show)

In this thread, all are welcome to post their reactions to the symbolic burning of their former king.

(Note: this thread is for reactionary posts only, that both canons and OCs may reply to. The board is open to threads set during the day of Arthur's funeral, or during the following day when Guinevère is being named as sole heir of Camelot)

[merlinus]

It felt wrong to be here, but it would have been a mockery to Arthur had he not arrived. That, and that alone, was the only thing that had Merlin standing in the shadows, looking on towards the funeral, his heart in torment. He wanted to be there... wanted to be by Guinevère's side, to help her through this difficult time, and wanted to desperately to let Gaius, and all others, know that he was safe - and that it had been foretold that Arthur would return. But he could not. Shame, defeat, and grief filled the young warlock, stopping him from being part of these plans.

Arthur's funeral should have been the grandest event in the history of Camelot. Merlin certainly hoped and prayed that Guinevère and Gaius, between them, would make it so. The King - Merlin's best friend and the best King the people had seen - deserved nothing less. He only hoped the people would remember. Remember all that Arthur had done, remember what he had sacrificed.

In the shadows, Merlin watched, and waited.

[Caitrin de Archer]

Caitrin Aubert was clad completely in black, all her family was here, all here to say goodbye to a much loved king. She had never thought he would actually die, he was Artur, and he was always okay, but they would not be here if that was so. She sobbed violently, clutching a small, drenched cloth to her eyes. Jesu, this was so much harder than she thought it would be. She had never allowed death to affect her in this way, not since her nurse had died, but now she could not help herself. This was not just, to her, symbolising the loss of a dear friend, but also of all the men who had died on that day, including her brother-in-law. At least they had recovered his body, and they had buried him, but Arthur would never have that honour. It was known he was died, but not where he lay. Caitrin sobbed, and placed her head in one of her hands; her other wrapped around her swollen belly. She was now five months pregnant, and she could not allow herself to become too distressed as she did not want to hurt the baby.

However, it was hard to keep herself composed under such circumstances. Arthur had been one of her oldest friends; he had been the reason she had been able to settle so well in Camelot when her father had sent her away from her native Mercia when she had been a young woman. She had been so alone, and Arthur had extended the hand of friendship towards her and she would never forget that. He had never ceased to be a loving friend to her, he had once visited her when she had been attacked by the dragon, and then, even when he had been heartbroken, thinking the Guinevère had betrayed him, he had still shared in the news of her first pregnancy. Caitrin had even named her eldest son after him, for she had been sure even then that Arthur would make a great king, and she had been right. Camelot had never felt as peaceful as it had done under his rule. They had had their problems, and yet, they had all been happy and well.

She couldn’t believe he was really gone. She had her son and daughter, Arthur and Esmae, clinging onto her skirts and weeping into them. She placed one hand on both of their heads, giving them a small gesture of comfort, for this was the first time they had ever been to a funeral. Alfie was with his father, standing beside her. He had wept a little, but he was too young to really understand; Esmae and Arthur were older and more mature, and had a grasp on the concept of death. They had all come here to honour a man who was worthy of every praise. It hurt to think that she would never see him again, and she had relived their last conversation over, and over again in her mind. It was hard to think he had left them, and he had sacrificed himself for them all. Caitrin would not be remaining long in Camelot; Griff was now the Duke of Glouchedon whether he liked it or not, and they had a duty to their family. The battle had completely overturned their lives, and though she did not want to go, she had to support her husband in this difficult time to them all.

As the flames lapped up the pyre, tears rolled down the young noblewoman’s face. Her children were still weeping into her skirts, and she put her arms around them, and held them close. “Goodbye Arthur.” She whispered to the empty pyre, as she sniffed back another tear. She would miss him, she would miss everyone who fell that day. Arthur had always been one of her closest friends, and Caitrin couldn’t help but feel more lonely now as a result of his death. Aside from her husband, there was now no one she could turn to in times of need. She had lost so much more than her king; she had lost one of her closest friends, and nothing could ever make that better.