She stated that she only had one bed and that wasn't surprising . . . considering that she spoke of her father in past tense. Though, it also revealed that her brother was not with her. "No, I couldn't possibly," he told her adamantly. He couldn't even think of taking her bed when it was the only one. He was a guest in her home. "I am quite content on the floor," he assured her. "If you would just let me know where . . . so that I won't be in your way." Though he planned to up at first light anyway.
He couldn't just sleep the day away. He doubted sleep would even come easy tonight. He already missed his home. The home he had grown up in. The forge that he had worked so hard to start. He knew the others would be worried about him, and that he would have to return home to tell them of what was happening. Would news of his name have reached their ears? Would they put two and two together? Were they even safe or in danger like anyone else he crossed? So many uncertainties and yet, Arthur could only focus on one thing at a time. Right now, it was finding a place to rest his head so that they would be rested for tomorrow.
He said he couldn't take the bed, and Guinevère wished he would. She didn't want to fight with him about it either, so instead she nodded. "I'll make you up a place then," She offered, moving to get some extra blankets from the chest near her bed. She gave him her pillow, and made up a spot on some soft sacks of fabric that she'd collected over the years. The area was warm too, because it was near the fireplace.
Walking back tot he main room, she smiled a teasing smile, "Arthur . . . . if you do ever become king, will you do me a favor?" She asked, her tone clean she was teasing him. "Don't tell anyone you slept on my floor." She handed him a blanket, to help keep him warm. Then she stepped back so he could go to bed. "Until tomorrow." She told him, knowing she would not sleep well since there was so much happening tomorrow. She was too nervous to to sleep. She wanted this work too badly.
Had her tone not held clear tease to it, Arthur would have felt that same unsettling feeling resurface at the idea of him being king. But instead, he just smiled with amusement when she told him not to tell anyone that he had slept on her floor. "So long as you promise not to tell anyone the king sifted through laundry to find a disguise," he said jokingly.
It felt comfortable to joke with her, even if it was about such content as a notion that Arthur did not wish to embrace. "Thank you," he gratefully taking the blanket and moving to the spot she had prepared for him. He wouldn't need his cloak it would seem as it was warm enough in this place without it. He began to settle comfortably on the ground, a thought crossing his mind. "Your brother doesn't live with you?" He knew it may seem random, but he wanted to make sure that he wouldn't be coming in tomorrow to find a strange man sleeping on his sister's floor.
Guinevère laughed at his teasing, and hoped this was a good sign. That he was thinking about it, and not just going to disappear afterwards. She wanted him to be king so bad! He was good and kind, and after Morgana they needed good and kind. They needed hope. He would do so much good for the kingdom!
"No, he . . . he never settled well." She guessed that was a way to describe it. "I've not seen him for years." She missed him though. "Even if I did . . . I am Morgana's maid. My brother is a free thinker. He would not approve." She was sure that if Elyan knew, he would stay away on purpose. If he learned she was spying he might approve, but she wasn't sure he give her a chance to explain.
"What about yourself . . . do you live with your mother?" She assumed he wasn't married because of how he acted around her in the market. Yet that did not mean he didn't have someone he spent time. "A sister or brother?"
He listened to her explain about her brother. How he never settled down. He knew a couple men like that, back in his home town. It made him smile as he thought of them. Hoping they were alright. "I'm sure he would, if he saw all you are doing to help people," he told her. "Any man would be proud of a sister like that." Not that he knew. His own sister was the very tyrant queen that so many disapproved of. She asked about his own family and he fell silent for a few moments. He knew there was no point evading it or keeping the truth from her.
"I did," he answered in a low voice. "She passed." The house had felt a lot quieter, lonelier without her. She was all he had. After he passing, he had fully immersed himself into his work. It was a good distraction. "I have no brother and . . . well, I suppose I have a sister." He tried to make it into a joke but the weight of the word and who she was, was far too great. "Do you think . . . " He wasn't sure whether to ask the question or not. But curiosity got the better of him. "She ever thought of me as a brother, rather than a threat?" Even if it was just for the briefest of moments. He wondered, if there was any hope to find some form of familial ties with her. Or, if she was too fargone.
He said her brother would be proud, and she wished she could know for sure. Elyan had been gone so long that she wasn't even sure of he knew her father was dead or not. He never stayed in one place very long--or at least, he never stayed here long. He was the adventure type. Always looking for something to get in to.
Arthur said his mother was dead, and she wished she had known so she wouldn't have asked such a question. As he asked about this sister, Guinevère moved closer, and sat next to his make shift bed, on the floor. "She wasn't always like this, you know. There was once when she was a voice of reason. She protected the people from her father. You'd have liked her." Guinevère had. "There was once when they thought I had used magic, and she defended me. I owe her my life." Uther hated magic. "When my father died, she was there for me." Though by that point, she had begun pulling away too.
"I think if she had learned of you then, she'd have welcomed you." Thought she didn't know for sure. "Uther was a fair king, but he hated magic. Morgana has magic. She spent so long living in fear that he would find out that it turned her bitter and cold. Once she became queen, she was so consumed with making people loyal to her that it made her curl. When she did find out about you, I think she feared you. I think she still does." Feared that people would be loyal to him over her. And they would, because she had given them a reason to hate her. Guinevère looked down at her hands, and twisted them together. "She is afraid of losing her power, and you are the only one who can legally take it from her. Which was why she ordered your death, long before she knew your name."
"There was once when she was my only friend, and now when I see her do these things. When she has be stand beside her while she does them . . . I can't see her anymore. I only see the shall of the woman who I loved like a sister." Guinevère reached up to her cheek, and wiped away the tear. She didn't know if that was what he wanted to hear, but it was the truth. Perhaps a bit too much truth, as he hadn't asked about Guinevère and Morgana.
Arthur sat up a little as she moved to seat herself next to him, while explaining about Morgana. About how she used to be compared to how she was now. He had heard tales of the compassionate princess. Helping those who needed it from the king. Who, Arthur had also heard people call a tyrant. It seemed both of them were ones in their own way; sourced by the opposite reasons. One having a hatred of magic, and the other being corrupted by it. He saw the tear that fell from her cheek and suddenly felt a bit bad for prying about the queen. Reaching over her put his hand on top of both of her joined ones, in attempt to comfort her.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. Sorry for asking but mostly, sorry for what she went through. "She is my sister of blood, but I don't know her. She is your sister of heart and . . . I can't imagine what it must have been like seeing her change in such a way." From kind to cruel. To this level of cruel. Realizing he had kept his hand there for longer than needed, he slowly withdrew, still thinking over he words, as he looked at nothing in particular in front of him. "Power corrupts a person." No matter how kind they may once seem -- the queen was a clear example of that. "I think that's why my mother kept me so far from here." From the capital. From the castle.
"I have no pride in the Pendragon name." Which was why he would not use it. It seemed so . . . tainted. By the treatment of the people. "I do not wish to take her power," he added on in pensive thought. "I would rather try to make amends. Reconcile, so that she may once again be the person that the people loved." He had no desire for the throne and he wished, he could make her understand that, as well as the error of her ways. But . . . who he was? No one. He was but an insignificant blacksmith. "Yet I also know . . . it may be too late for that." For her to free herself from the darkness. And Arthur was not naive enough to know that such things were truly possible. It was merely wishful thinking.
Guinevère felt his hand on her's, and the heat warmed her. Looking at how her two hands fit under his, she found she liked his touch. Perhaps too much. Looking up, her eyes met his as he talked about Morgana and her friendship and how he wished he could save her. His heart was good. He didn't want power, he wanted a sister. Even knowing she wanted him dead. When his hand left hers, Guinevère's fingers stretched out, as if to hold him there but she let him go. This could not be.
"I wish you could reach her. I wish you could give her peace." Guinevère admitted, knowing she rather have her friend back then betray her. "I fear however, that if she will not hear me, that she will not hear you." Morgana was lost to herself, and Guinevère didn't know how to save her friend. The years of living in fear and bitterness had set her on her path. Guinevère didn't have the power to undo YEARS of damage.
Yet, it was also his other words that she replies too next. He had no pride in his name. "Uther was mad about magic, and it blinded him to reason," She admitted, "however, he was a good king." He made some hard choices, and ones she didn't agree with, but no one lived in fear. Most had food. All were protected. Taxes were not so high they couldn't be paid. "He did a lot of this kingdom." Arthur needed to hear that his father had helped build this kingdom into the riches kingdom around. "He is the reason why we know Camelot can be a kingdom of peace and prosperity for all. He did not seek to rule with an iron first. He did what he thought was best for his people. Made sure the knights protected them. Trained the knights to be as good as they are. I know it's easy to see the darkness, but Camelot wouldn't have such loyal people in her, if Uther had been a bad king." Though he was swift in his demands to be obeyed. None one was allowed to question him.
Arthur knew it was true. That if her closest friend could not reach out to her, than a long lost brother had little chance. Especially as she already felt threatened by him. Arthur wished he could convince her otherwise. Yet he feared that if he should ever confront her . . . from what he had heard, she would show no interest in exchanging words. It was as if Guinevère had read his previous thoughts, wanting to know about his father. He supposed in comparison to Morgana . . . he was a good ruler. He knew that he had built the kingdom to be what it was. And that being king, was no easy task. But Arthur could also not ignore all he had heard about the man. The fear that people still lived in under his rule. He wished he could have known who he was as a person. To see if his role as king and man, differed. To know . . . what he would have been as a father.
Arthur wasn't even sure he felt bitterness towards him for casting him out. Sadness, yet. Perhaps, for the sake of his mother, yet she sought no connection with him. Arthur knew why, and he did not blame her for it. "Just because one is a good king, does not necessarily mean they are a good man." And Arthur would rather strive to be the latter. He did not want to be king. He did not want to make those difficult choices that would compromise his conscience. Ones where he had to choose which life to place more value on. "Camelot is indeed prosperous from his actions," Arthur agreed reflectively. "But the people should not live in fear of their sovereign." And they did. Under both Pendragon rules.
He knew some kingdoms like Essetir was full of threat and fear. But . . . there was others. Like Gawant. Caerleon. Nemeth. Where people did not live in that crippling fear. Camelot was one of the strongest kingdoms, he knew that . . . but it wasn't just strength built through alliances. It was strength from a strong hold of its people. Arthur then let out a bit of a scoff at himself, a breathy laugh as he shook his head a little. "But then, what I do I know," he said in teasing towards himself. "I am nothing but a blacksmith." He paused. "Was." Because he was not one any longer. "I know nothing of a kingdom's politics. Perhaps to rule, you must instil some fear." But even as Arthur said the words aloud, he didn't believe them. And didn't even try. "I just hope, for everyone's sake, Camelot will be returned to a kingdom of prosperity." And peace. If it ever had been truly peaceful.
"Just because one is a good king, does not necessarily mean they are a good man." "No," Guinevère agreed. She would not defend Uther to his son. She would not give him a reason to hate the man, but she would not defend him either. Uther was responsible, in a way, for her father's death. "people should not live in fear of their sovereign." "No," She agreed again, that people should not live in fear. From anyone. "I know nothing of a kingdom's politics. Perhaps to rule, you must instill some fear." "No," she did not agree, but she didn't interrupt as he spoke more. "I just hope, for everyone's sake, Camelot will be returned to a kingdom of prosperity." "Yes," for that she agreed on.
"When you were a child, or learning your trade, did you obey because you feared them . . . or because you loved them?" She asked, knowing that love wove a stronger bond then fear. "You do not need fear to rule. You need something far stronger. You need compassion for the people, you need to want peace over power. People will be loyal to the king that loves them, over the king that smites them. Camelot is waiting for a good man. Someone who dose not want to see children punished for trying not to starve. Someone who does not see an insult as a reason for death." She paused and smiled up at him, "Sound like someone you know?" She teased him.
"You should rest. Tomorrow is an important day." She stood, and turned to leave but paused and looked back over at him. "I know you don't wish for power, and think you cannot be a good king; but I believe in you." Whatever that was worth to him, she wanted him to know. She was still a stranger to him, yet she felt as if he knew her better then most. Perhaps better then anyone. She'd opened to him more then she had to anyone in years. Let him see her, when she had spent so long hiding. "I think you're the king that could bring Camelot back to what it was . . . and then still make her greater. Because you care nothing about power over the people, or over other kingdoms. You only want what's best for the people."
And because she couldn't resit teasing (or perhaps tempting him) she added on, "Good night, sire." And she left smiling--hope in her heart more then it had been in years.
Arthur took in her words, speaking of not needing fear. And . . . saying she believed in him. It was, worrisome. That so many people believed to him be a king who could restore Camelot. Helping a couple of people here and there was different from helping thousands of them. No. He couldn't do it. But he didn't have the strength to reject her words again. Not when she spoke with so much . . . hope. How could he keep deflating that? For her, for the others. These knights. This, Sir Leon. How could he keep telling them that he refused to be king when they kept looking to him to step up and be one. So he just remained silent. Trying to not let the anxiety of what she was telling him come out in words.
He swallowed it back, further telling himself that once this was done, he would need to figure out what the next step was. And surely, it was not to sit on a throne with a crown upon his head. "Good night, sire." That was one thing he could not remain silent about. He knew it was in teasing, but the term was so very unsettling to hear. "Don't . . . ever call me that," he said in playful teasing but, there was a truth to his words again. Said with a faint smile, he still didn't like the title. Especially form her lips. They were equals. He was Arthur to her. Nothing more than that. "Good night, Guinevère." And with that, he turned to his side, feeling far too awake at the moment as he processed everything that had happened in the past few days.
Sleep did eventually find him, albeit a light one. He woke up at first light and once having eaten, he eventually met Sir Leon. He too called him with title but Arthur quickly corrected him. "Just Arthur." He didn't want to be more than that! Once they had an extensive conversation about the plan, Arthur found himself quite liking Leon. He seemed like a kind and honourable man. Perhaps they should put him on the throne, he had thought only to himself. Once plans were set, Arthur went out to do his part, finding the uniform of a guard, a helmet and whatever else he needed. Leon assured him that he would pass on the key to Guinevère, and that he would have weapons at the ready. There was a tunnel that led out from the dungeon that they could get out before any chance of the warning bells sounding. It was a great risk, but there was no other option. The executions were set for tomorrow.
So, glad in the uniform that felt incredibly odd to wear, Arthur casually made his way to the dungeons -- which weren't difficult to find after following the path that Leon and Gwen had instructed. He carried with him a bottle of drink, containing a sleeping draft that was smuggled out of the physician's chambers. "A treat. Courtesy of Sir Leon to help pass the night." Arthur felt nervous and hoped his tone wasn't consistent with how he felt. Besides, it wasn't a total lie. It would indeed help them to pass the night. The men looked at each other before eagerly taking it, filling their cups. Arthur took a few steps back, and it didn't take long for the draft to take effect. That exact moment, he heard footsteps rushing towards the scene. Arthur's hand went to the hilt of the sort, eyes widening and breathing in relief when he saw it was Guinevère. Her timing was perfect.
Guinevère found it hard to sleep, and hard to go about her day. Working for Morgana most days was hard--not from the work but from keeping her true feelings hidden. There were moments when things were easier, and Morgana was in a good mood. Yet even in these bitter sweet times with her former friend, Guinevère knew that others were hurting. That the men that Morgana used to smile at; she now had locked up waiting to die because she THOUGHT that they MIGHT have aided her brother in escaping her assassination attempt.
It wasn't until she could escape her duties, that Guinevère was able to make her way down to meet Arthur with the key to free the men--his men if she had her way. Sneaking down there, Guinevère came upon him and the sleeping guards. She watched them for a moment, to make sure they were asleep before letting herself pull the key from her pocket and hand over to Arthur. "Are you ready?" She asked, knowing the hard part would be in the moments and days ahead. Freeing the men, running away. She handed him a small bag, and in it was packed some bread and water. "Morgana is meeting with Helios now, you need to be quick while they are busy. Sir Leon will have more supplies when he meets you in a few days." If they were found, escape would be nearly impossible. Her heart beat so hard right now, and her knees shook slightly at doing something this bold, but she trusted Arthur and Leon--if this was their plan, she would see it done.
Was he ready? No, he wanted to answer. But there was no time for that. It was now or never and too much was at stake. He took the key and hurried to the cells. The knights immediately rose in curiosity, and Arthur did not bother introducing himself. He quickly unlocked the door and pulled it open, telling the first man who approached him. "There are weapons in the barrels outside," he explained. "Your horses are ready. Sir Leon will meet you in a few days time. You know where to go." Apparently, the area had been picked and spoken only once among the loyal knights. The man nodded in understanding and they started to race out of the doors. Arthur stood by the entrance of the dungeon, making sure each one got out of the cell before he closed it.
He had been planning to go with them and even followed the last one, when he heard footsteps approaching. "Hurry!" Arthur stated in a harsh whisper. Leon had loosened the outside gate from the tunnel so they were able to push it open. He watched them filter out, but the footsteps distracted him and he spun around, pulling out his sword. "Run!" He demanded of them, serving as a barrier between the exit and the men. The first man came at him in full force, Arthur blocking each blow and managing to knock him on the head with his elbow. The armoured elbow which caused him to fall to the ground. The next was a bit more difficult, as it took a few more swings and careful to stab him in a non lethal place, Arthur push his blade into the man's arm before hitting him with the hilt of his sword. Not before the man had managed to knock off Arthur's helmet. That was when the warning bells sounded, and almost immediately, he could hear the queen's voice approaching.
Arthur looked around, knowing he didn't have time to run and . . . the fact that Guinevère was here and could quite possibly get blamed. It was not a risk he was willing to take. He had to think quickly. Taking a deep breath, he knew this was the only way. "Forgive me," he whispered to her before pulling her towards him. Just in the nick of time. He stood with her back against his front, holding her arm -- not tight enough to hurt, but ensuring it looked real. And, for the most real part, the blade of his sword as near her neck. He ensured not to touch her skin, but the threat was there to an onlooker. That, was when he saw the queen approach and Arthur worried his fear might get the better of him. But, so long as it looked like he was taking Gwen hostage . . . she could not blame her maid, for any of this.
It was working! So far their plan was working. Some of the men looked surprise that she was helping, and some of them must have already knew. Maybe even some didn't care. None of them spoke to her as they hurried out for weapons. As arthur was the only one armed right now, when the men came running he stayed to fight. Guinevère stepped back out of the wau, and was about to leave when she heard it. Morgana ordering more men to her. Morgana storming this way. Turning to Arthur she told him to "G--""Forgive me," He spoek first, before she could tell him to go, and let her stall Morgana, and the he pulled her to him and lifted his sword to her neck!
Guinevère didn't have to pretend to be afraid. She was shaking at the idea of facing Morgana. When the queen entered the hallway, her eyes widened slightly. It was then Guinevère realized she was hoping out hope--that Morgana would save her. That Morgana would look worried for her friend, and save her. That there was still something good and wholesome there to save.
Instead, her face turned red and angry, and she spat out Arthur's name. Guinevère closed her eyes, fighting back silent tears at the loss of her friend. She felt Arthur jerk away from her, the sword only just missing her head! Turning she watched him tossed to the wall. Looking back at Morgana, she saw Morgana use her magic to drag Arthur to her! Looking behind her, she saw no one there to help. The knight might not even have known Arthur was supposed to go with them!
And now Morgana had the king!! "Morgana," Guinevère said her name, and stumbled to her, trying to distract Morgana from her wrath. Morgana looked over at her, and didn't reach out for her. Instead she ordered one of Helios' men to take Guinevère away, another to lock Arthur up. She would wait until he was fully awake to question him.
When the queen came into sight, Arthur froze. Not just because he saw the tyrant queen in front of him: but because, he saw his sister. It was the first time he had ever lay eyes on her, and she seemed to know who he was. Arthur wanted to say something, anything to find a glimmer of humanity in her. But instead, he felt an invisible force throw him back, his back and head hitting the wall as he collapsed to the floor. He wasn't fully unconscious. He still recalled it. Hearing her to take Guinevère away. Two men dragging him by either arm.
He tried to see what was happening to Guinevère, but judging from the queen's tone, it did not seem she suspected her. Good. That was something at least. Arthur felt himself thrown into a cell, his wrists bound with shackles that were chained to a metal ring on the ground. The door slammed shut. Arthur lay there on his back, trying to find a position that did not put too much strain on his wrists. His head was throbbing and he knew it would not be long until he succumbed to the darkness. He just quickly replayed the events. The knights escaped. Guinevère was unsuspected. The plan at least -- for the most part -- worked. And with that ease of mind, Arthur closed his eyes, falling into a state of unconsciousness.
The harsh footsteps approaching and the light peeking from the window was what pulled him from his sleep. He stumbled to his feet, feeling the aftermath of last nights collision against the wall, but that was the furthest thing from his mind right now. Morgana came to him, dismissing any others . . . except Guinevère who stood behind her. And Arthur did all he could, not to look at her. A brief glance told him she was ok, and after that, he fixed his gaze on Morgana. "Your majesty," he stated out of habit of addressing a royal more than anything else. It only seemed to agitate Morgana, as if she thought he was mocking her which he wasn't. She pulled her hand back, that same invisible forced aggressively pulling at the chains around his wrists which caused him to collapse to his knees. Bowing before her. She was using magic no doubt, and it unnerved Arthur. He looked up at her, meeting her gaze.
"I do not want the throne," he told her. This only made the queen scoff in disbelief, questioning why on earth she would believe him. He tried to appeal to her. Tried to tell her that he had no desire for power. But only, that the people live in peace. This seemed to anger her further. Her gaze like daggers piercing at his very soul. It was no wonder people were afraid of her. Rightfully so with the anger and hatred that he could feel emanating off of her. The sudden strike of a hard stone caused his head to sharply turn. A wave of a hand had caused a stone from the ground to strike his jaw. He blinked in surprise, keeping his head turned away from her. Ashamed to look upon her. Because . . . he shared blood with this woman. He shared a father with her. He tried to tell her again, that this was not what he wanted and she spoke once again of disbelief.
It was soon revealed though why she was keeping him alive, and it had nothing to do with mercy or any sort of familial obligation. "Who helped you?" Arthur was not going to deny that someone had for she already knew the truth. So he just clenched his jaw and looked at her. "This isn't the way." He felt another stone hit him, and another. Stifling any sounds of pain. "Tell me who helped you. And I promise to make your death swift." Arthur remained silent. Talking would do no good. He tried. He tried to reach out to her. He even spoke the word sister in her presence. Spoke of how Camelot could be a place of peace, of prosperity. But she would have none of it. She saw him as an enemy. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Another stone struck his chest, leaving him winded for a brief moment. Having been stripped of the guard's uniform and left only in a tunic, pants and boots, caused there to be no padding between her weapon of choice -- apart from the thin barrier of clothing. He looked at her and this time, tilted his chin up in defiance. He was unsure how many more stones she aimed at him. The shackles on his wrists feeling like they were getting tighter. He was not going to speak, and the ferocity in which she struck him was evident of her irritation. Her words even boasting about how she did not need to touch him to cause him pain. As if magic should be used for such evils, instead of good. He was unsure where he found the words to point out that she was only proving the late king's point . . . which had caused her to hurl a stone at his mouth.
Spitting out the blood, Arthur fell back to silence. And she was growing impatient. His body ached, but it was nothing compared to the one in his heart. Of discovering a sister, only to witness and experience her cruelty first hand. No. He was ashamed to be related to her. Ashamed to be a Pendragon. All the while he forced his gaze from Guinevère. Knowing that even a simple glance, could give something away. He wished she was not here for this, and still, wished he could speak to her. To thank her, for all that she had done for previous expressions of gratitude had not been enough. But he kept his gaze either on the ground or at the queen in front of him. One who asked once last time before the torture seemed to end. Unless she was planning on stoning him to death. Arthur just looked at her, his vision slightly blurred from a swollen eye, but he still remained silent.
"Very well, if you're not going to speak anyway . . . " That was when she raised her hand but this time, he did not feel a stone he was bracing for. This time, he felt something around his throat. It was as if there was an imaginary rope twisting around his neck, suffocating him. Arthur's lips parted in attempt to breath but there was no air coming out. Morgana's face held a smirk, look of satisfaction. Things were starting to get hazy, as if he was slipping out of consciousness again only this time . . . he feared he may not wake up with the pressure against his bruising throat, as if she was quite literally, sucking the life out of him.
Guinevère asked Morgana if she could go with her. Morgana had said no at first, but Guinevère pressed, saying that Arthur had held a sword to her, and taken her hostage; she needed to be there. Reluctantly, Morgana had allowed it. Guinevère spent the hours until that moment in fear. Knowing that Leon was still gathering the loyal, she went to him, and told him what was happening. He gave her a dagger, and told her she had to get Arthur out before Morgana went to question him. He would get the other men out, and meet her at the gate in the back.
Before she could try, Morgana took them down there. Guinevère stayed silent, as the siblings talked--and then Morgana began her beating. Guinevère tried to think of something to get Morgana out of there. Some way to help Arthur! "Morgana!" She called out when the rocks began really hurting him. She wanted to scream IT WAS ME! but she knew she would be of no use to him if she reviled herself now! Tears on her cheek, she would only watch as the siblings had it out.
Then, Morgana grew done with him. She used her magic to begin choking him. "Morgana! He is your brother!" Guinevère called out to her, but Morgana only took a step closer to Arthur! Guinevère watched him, and tried to find something to do scream or do to help him! In the end, there was only one thing she could do . . .
Guinevère pulled Leon's dagger out of her dress, and walked silently up behind Morgana. Closing her eyes, and asking forgiveness, she opened them and stabbed Morgana in the back! Her friend tries to scream, the air didn't escape her lips. Morgana turned around, and Guinevère stared into her face. "I'm sorry," she whispered to her once dearest friend. It was one thing to betray a bitter queen, and another to murder your friend. "I'm so sorry!"
Morgana tries grabbing at Guinevère, but the back wound was taking her air and energy away. Guinevère grabbed her friend, and helped lower her to the ground, pulling the dagger out of her back. Reaching for the keys, she moved to Arthur and undid the chains. She put her hands under his arm, and helped him stand, in case he needed it. "You need to leave, you need to go!" She knew she had to go with him, but apart of her feared Morgana would die her alone. She couldn't bare the thought, even after all the wrongs that Morgana had done, she was still her childhood friend.
One moment Arthur was gasping for breath, leaving the air leave his body and the next . . . he was gasping for it. Coughing, and greedily sucking in whatever air had been deprived of him. That was when he looked to see what had happened. His eyes slightly widened as he saw Morgana fall, quickly piecing together what had happened. Guinevère had stabbed her. Apology in her voice and she spoke of how she was sorry. There wasn't time to lament on the actions. Guinevère approached him and undid the chains, telling him that he had to go. Arthur did not fail to notice that she had not said we. He put his arm around her, trying not to lean too much on her though was grateful for the support.
"You must come with me," he told her, voice hoarse from what Morgana had done to him -- and tried to do to him. He looked at her, trying not to focus on the dying woman in front of them, but rather, focus on the issue at hand. "I won't leave without you." He had come for her, and he would not leave now. For this situation, would be impossible to explain. Even if Guinevère said that someone else had stabbed her, the queen saw Guinevère. If she had any voice left, and survived this attack . . . they would kill Guinevère for her actions. So Arthur just waited for her to decided . . . because he would not leave her here to deal with the consequences of what had just happened.
Guinevère felt his arm around her, and even though she heard his words, she couldn't quite make herself move. Not at first. Eventually, Guinevère nodded, and went with him down the hall. She knew that a guard would come to find Morgana soon. Walking away from her childhood friend was the hardest thing she had to do, but if she stayed the Arthur would die, and if she stayed, she would die.
They stepped out into the sunlight, which was already beginning to fade. Leon was there, and went to help Arthur move to a horse. Guinevère stood in the opening, staring back down the hall. A part of her wanted to go back, but she knew there would never be any going back. Everything she knew--her home, her friend, her job, any coins she had saved up, her clothes, things from her mother--it had to be all left behind. She felt Leon tug her arm, and move to to a horse, where he helped lift her up and got her on. She didn't even care when he slapped it on the arse to get it running. Leon locked the gate behind them, and mounted up before riding out behind them.
Guinevère didn't remember the ride to the camp, or how long they'd been riding before Leon stopped them. She had been lost in thought. 'It's save here. We can rest a few hours before heading out at first light. I will scout up, to make sure no one followed.' He said, moving to help her down. Guinevère numbly walked over to Arthur, and knew doing SOMETHING would be b better then thinking. "Are you alright?" He had been beaten.
Arthur was relieved when she agreed, though she had not vocalized her. Her actions indicated as such. They made their way to where Leon was already waiting and he assisted Arthur to the horse. His entire upper body ached, but the adrenaline had not quite worn off her. He waited for Guinevère to be ready and watched as Leon locked up before following them. The ride to whatever they were going was quiet. Everyone lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, Leon spoke of the area being safe and that he would scout. Arthur knew he should go with him, but he was in no condition to fight right now. Plus, he didn't want to leave Guinevère alone.
Dismounting and tying his horse to a nearby tree, Arthur made his way to a small pool of water. Crouching down in front of it, he began to wash the blood off of his face, hearing Guinevère approach and as if he was alright. He took a slow breath before replying. "I'm fine." It came out more numbly than he had hoped. He had never been beaten as a blacksmith. He wondered if this was the norm of a royal. To get kidnapped and tortured -- hopefully not by a sister and that this was a rare circumstance in that. Looking up at her, he felt the need to return the question. "Are you?" He asked softly. She had been quiet and he had seen her face when she'd stabbed Morgana.
He was washing his face, and when she spoke he stopped. He said hew as alright, but she knew he wasn't. How could he be? He looked like he had been beaten, and she knew he had to be in pain. She wanted to do something to help him but she didn't even have a cloth to help wash his face. He had not asked for this, he had wanted to help Morgana, and this was how he ended up. When he turned her words back to her, and asked if she was alright; Guinevère knew then why he'd lied. She nodded her head slowly for a moment before she could speak, "Yes," she was alright.
Guinevère wasn't wearing her warm dress, and she knew that tonight would get cool. "I'll let you finish. Sir Leon might have something packed in your horse. Maybe a blanket." She suggested, knowing Leon hadn't planned on her coming with them, but he had a horse there anyway. Maybe he had thought she was coming? "I will go start a fire." Turning from him, she began to talk away, but then stopped and looked back at him. "You should have told her I helped you," she said, knowing he was beaten to for the name and he hadn't given it. Yet it didn't matter int he end, because Morgana knew now. "She wouldn't have hurt you as much. You didn't deserved that. You've done nothing to her, and I was the one who lied and betrayed her . . . I should have given her my name. I'm sorry."
My name is Catherine by the way; Call me Kate. *Smiles* You're lucky to have your mother, I ... wish I had at least someone I can talk to, You know? At least i have Arthur. *sits by the window and looks out*
How are you ? Forgive me, I'm Princess Emily Dawson of Anglia, I'm here to a visit with Arthur! *Smiles light Curtsy *
Feb 24, 2019 21:03:14 GMT -5
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