Not Letting Go Again [Arwen]

[Guinevère]

He answered the first one, then the second one, and went off to the third one . . . all correct. While she might have been able to write off his knowlage of their children's would be names, it was Merlin's secret that she found the most telling. "Gaius told me, in the day that led to my husband's death. Though it was meant to comfort me, and assure me that Merlin would bring him home alive." Something that Merlin had been unable to do.

She never blamed him, but the false hope had hurt. Staring at him, Guinevère tried to force her mind to work around the numbing feeling that crept over her during the on-coming shock. Arthur? No! How? Was it really? Her eyes look at his face, and she did not know what kind of desperate expression that she had on her own. "How . . . . How do you know these things?" Surely there was another reason. "I do not . . . " Understand what is happening.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur listened to her explain how Gaius had told her . . . tried to reassure her that Merlin would try to find a way to save him. That ache he felt in his heart for what she endured only grew. The disappointment she must have felt. When he had given his ring to Gaius to give to her, he had known then. Known that he was not going to make it. The wound was unlike any other he had experienced. The pain was stronger, as if it was coursing through this entire body. It was more intense, and weakened him more than any other injury. He had held on for as long as he could . . . yet he had failed in holding on for just a little bit longer. Who knows if he could have been helped had he tried, but he had no life left in him. There was no lack of will to live. Only the strength to do so. "I'm sorry," he whispered in a soft voice, wishing that somehow, he had fought harder. He didn't know how he could have . . . but surely there would have been a way.

"He tried," Arthur continued, meeting her gaze. "Merlin tried to save me. He had so many times before, but this time, he could not." Merlin had often spoke to Arthur about his destiny, about how he was the once and future king . . . he had finally begun to understand that. "When I awoke, I was in the lake. And as I walked out from it, and lay on the ground, Merlin came. He was, waiting for me, as if he knew someday I would return." He knew there was still so much about Merlin he did not know. But hopefully now, he had the opportunity to learn. "I don't know how he knew, or how I am here, but I am grateful that I am. And that I am with you once more." With his love, his wife, his Guinevère.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère could only stare at him, as he began to explain things. His words only gave her more questions but in her mind she also felt the pull of doubt. What if this was a trick? What if she opened her heart to this man, and felt only the loss of him again when it turned out to be false? Blinking tears, she did not look from his face--the face of the man she loved more then her own life.

"I want to believe you." She admitted, knowing it made her weak and open to what every was happening here. "I want it more then my next breath." For this to be her husband, the man who loved her, the man whom she loved. The one that they had built a life together, and planned a kingdom together. "Please," She whispered, begging him for something more. Something to remove all doubt from her mind--though apart of her knew if she was doing this much, saying this much, then she was already believing.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur could see it in her face and hear it in her voice . . . she wanted to believe. But she was also afraid to. And it was entirely justified. He had been dead for years. He didn't even know the circumstances of his return; whether they were permanent or if he would leave once Albion was secure and Camelot was safe once more, free from all its threats. All he knew was that he was here now, with her. And that he had to keep trying to convince her to trust in what he knew her heart was telling her: that it was really her husband who sat before her. "Do you remember . . . " He began to ask. He'd asked words of a similar nature once, when he was preparing to ride to the Isle of the Blessed . . . and not return. When he'd believed that his sacrifice would save the kingdom. He had believed it was the last time he would be speaking to Guinevère, and thus, asked if she remembered the first time he kissed her.

A memory that he wanted her to think on, for it would be a happier one. He wanted her to remember that, and all they had both felt in that moment, rather than the loss of him. He had wanted to have the image of her smile, fresh in his mind so that he could use that as his strength. So that he could reassure himself that he was doing the right thing. He had been planning to sacrifice his life for the kingdom, yet it need only be Guinevère's life and he would have done the same a hundred times over. "The last time we were caught in a storm together, and found shelter in a place similar to this one," he said, continuing his words that he had begun. That last time they were in the middle of a storm, had been when he'd been planning to return to the kingdom to save his father. It had not been their first kiss, but a first of something else. Something wonderful. A soft and small smile formed on his lips as he recalled the night. It was one that he would never forget.

[Guinevère]

His words cause a sob to break from her lips, as she burred her face into her hands for a moment. Then she moved towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck. The scent of him! Something so small, and so powerful! It was something she had missed, and when it had faded from her sheets, and his pillow, it was the moment everything had become real for her. "Arthur!" Please be real! Yet she knew it already.

So many questions filled her, and so many emotions. How was this possible? What had happened? Was he here to stay? She felt joy, and euphoric, and frightened, and so very not alone for the first time since she had heard he was missing. Since she had been told he had died. "Please!" Please hold her, please explain, please kiss her.

She wasn't sure which she wanted more. Pulling back just enough, she looked into his eyes. The blue eyes that she had grown to love, which watching him turn from an arrogant boy, who bullied everyone but his father; the strong man who stood up for everyone against his father; and then Morgana. Moving forward, she kissed him, passionately.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur watched as she used her hands to cover her face, his mind working to find something else to say as further conviction. But it seemed to be unnecessary, for she moved forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. He did the same, wrapping his arms around her body to hold her close to him, as he closed his eyes and just let this moment sink in. He had been so afraid of losing her, so many times. And to know that she was now safe, with him . . . he let the relief and solace he always felt when holding her fully absorb him. The way she said his name, and the pleading word that followed . . . he knew they would have much to discuss. Did she want answers now? What ones did he even have to give? None. Other than he had just risen from the lake and was now here with her.

When she pulled back, he returned the gaze, silently staring at her. Letting the awe of her beauty fill him, as it always did every time he gazed at her. How was it possible that she seemed to grow more and more beautiful every time he saw her? And while he had not been conscious for the passage of time that they were absent from each other . . . it still felt like forever since he had seen her. He raised his hand to her cheek, gently caressing it and just watched her, wondering what was going through her mind. Wanting to do nothing more than to . . . well, as always it seemed as if they were of the same thought. For she leaned toward him and kissed him. He instantly reacted, closing his eyes and deepening the kiss immediately. This is what he had longed for ever since opening his eyes.

The familiarity and instant comfort her lips gave him as incomparable to any other feeling in the entire world. It didn't matter whether they were in the comfort of their bed, in the city somewhere, or even in Camelot. His home was wherever she was. And so now he kissed her; an embrace filled with love and the sign of fear for losing her, and the absence they had been forced to endure. She believed it was really him, and was grateful for that. And he could feel that belief in the way she kissed him. In the way she felt in his arms. He slowly and breathlessly pulled away, though hardly an inch was between. "I love you," he told her, finding these to be the most important words, ones that desperately needed to be spoken right now. Because despite everything, and no matter what, he loved her and needed her to hear him say that. Needed her to know it. And so when he said these words, he leaned forward once more to return his lips to hers.

[Guinevère]

And then he kissed her back. And it was everything she had remembered it to be. Her heart broke all over again, both for the fear that this might not be true and because she it was true, but now she could lose him all over again. She could not bare it if she were to face the loss of him again, when she had found him after so long. ”I love you.” His words spoken both in the tone, and way Arthur would speak them--as if he meant them from his sole and was still in awe of what they had made her begin to cry, even as she kissed him again. “And I you, Arthur.”

“I fear I had gone mad, and this only to be a dream that I wish to never awaken from.” One borne of her longing for him. She had thought she had seen him or heard him so many times that she almost fear he was not real. “But you feel so very real.” Her hands ran over him, his arms up to his neck to touch his face, then down his chest to rest over his heart. “You came home to me.” To their home. TO his wife. “Don’t let me go!” She moved forward again, wrapping her arms around him to kiss him again.