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Arthur turned to look at Guinevère as she emerged from behind the screen, a soft smile forming on his lips as he just stared at her; completely mesmerized by her beauty. Until Amaren made a sound, causing Arthur's attentions to divert from her and back to their son. "Doesn't your mother look beautiful," he said to Amaren, though really it was for Guinevère's ears. He put Amaren on the ground, letting their son's small fingers wrap around Arthur's hands so that he could walk and get more practice doing so. Arthur stood behind him, behind over Amaren so that he could help him walk as Amaren's grasp tightened around Arthur's fingers.

"Is this evening still a suitable time to come for Amaren's birthday celebration?" Arthur asked, wanting to make sure that there was no need to change the time. He would need to get all his work done before hand so that once he came, he could just spend the entire night here with them. For he had something important to discuss with Guinevère -- or give her, with some explanation. And he also had a surprise for Thomas, as it was not only Amaren who would be given a gift today.

He smiled when she said that it seemed Amaren liked to wake him. "I don't mind," Arthur said, sitting up more so that his back was rested against the headboard of the bed. He reached over for Amaren, picking him up and holding him so that he was standing on Arthur's lap. "In fact, I hope it does become a habit of his. For there is no sight I would rather wake up to then an image of you and our son." And soon, there would be another baby she would bring into the world that would sleep near them. He only prayed that he lived to see it, or that the war was not so long that he would miss the birth and first moments of their next child's life.

Holding Amaren up, he began to bounce him a little, up and down, for Amaren seemed to have an abundant amount of energy. "Were you able to get enough rest? I can watch him if you would like to sleep more." He could only imagine how exhausting it must be for her; carrying one child, caring for another small infant, and giving enough attention to Thomas. It only proved what he always knew, that Guinevère was the strongest person he knew. Though it made him wish all the more that he was here, taking care of her . . . as it should be. As a husband should care for his wife, and a father should care for his child. Or in this case, children.

Arthur wasn't sure how he felt about this. Things were on edge between Camelot and Estecia and while Arthur knew that establishing peace was the most ideal outcome . . . it was not the most likely. The tensions between the two kingdoms were building more and more, and it seemed everyone was just waiting for that one word of war, and it would all commence. For now, Camelot avoided Estecia's lands and vice versa. Unless either were invited under peaceful terms, like right now. King Cenred was to come to Camelot so that the two kingdoms would hopefully come to some terms. Arthur of course was here as he was son of the king, but it was his father that would mostly be dealing with the negotiations. Uther had told him to keep Cenred entertained; to treat him with the utmost respect and keep him in high spirits.

Arthur didn't know exactly what that entailed, but he had yet to determine if it was an easy task, or a difficult one. The king had urgent business to attend to, hence his lacking presence, but Arthur stood there in the grand hall, knights and a few of the council men standing with him. When the doors were opened, Arthur stood straighter and more proper, his eyes resting on Cenred, King of Estecia. Arthur waited until he was closer, within earshot, before speaking to him, even taking a few steps toward the king to formally greet him. "King Cenred," he said in a strong voice. "Camelot welcomes you with open arms," he continued, extending his hand as a further polite greeting; one that would symbolize that Cenred came here as a potential friend, rather than a future enemy.

It was the day of the battle, though they did not yet know it. They were getting nearer and while everyone was busy, there was a strong tension in the air. Fear. It was pure fear. Despite Arthur's little speech last night to raise spirits and morale, he was well aware of the small chance of success. They were villagers, about to face a small army of raiders. They were ruthless killers and would show no hesitation in killing them. But these villagers . . . Arthur didn't know what was going to happen come tomorrow. What he did know was that no matter what they faced, he would be there facing it with them, and just pray that somehow a miracle came about that would save them all. It was unlikely. He was heavily relying on the strategy since combat strength was not their forte. They could draw in Kanen's men and strike them all at once . . . of course, that was the difficult part. But it was all they had.

Arthur's mind rested on many things, including the future of Camelot if he were to die but he would never regret coming here, for Merlin. Then of course there was the fact that an entire village and all its inhabitants lives were in danger. He had encouraged them to fight for their rights . . . would it have been safer to follow Will's suggestion to just flee? It was not that easy to run away from a life that they created from scratch. From the farm they worked; from the homes they built; from everything they knew. There was just so much to consider and while on the outside Arthur was confident and spreading encouragement, inside, he was so uncertain and quite fearful of what tomorrow would bring. It would claim the lives of the people . . . and those he cared about. A great deal was at stake. Too much.

Everyone was taking a break from the training Arthur was giving them. They had been at it since the early morning and it was now early afternoon. But, it was essential that they learn how to carry a weapon and use it. All he could teach them was the basics, of how to land a mortal blow for that would be what mattered. They would not have time to spar or dance around; they had to strike once and strike hard. Kanen and his men would show no reservations when it came to fighting them, so neither could they. Three people that Arthur had come with were not present during the training. They were busy preparing weapons and getting everything else set in place. But that did not mean they were far from his mind. He saw Guinevère talking to Will, and Morgana close by. He had given Guinevère a short little lesson the day before, but this would be the last opportunity he would have to give them each a bit of one on one training.

Still clad in only half his armor [one around his neck and the shoulder plates on his upper arms], void of the chainmail, with his sword at his side, he began approached them. The others could take a break, but if he did . . . it would be wasted time and a wasted opportunity when he could be showing them how to defend themselves as best he could in a couple days time. At a bit of a distance, he picked up two swords with his gloved hands, one for Morgana and one for Guinevère. Morgana could handle a sword. Guinevère, was someone Arthur was greatly worried for. She had been so reluctant to strike him, even with a stick. Perhaps tomorrow when she was directly in the face of danger, it would be different. With the adrenaline rushing and realizing she had no other choice, maybe she would be able to strike. But, he had to make sure. "Morgana, Guinevère. Come with me please," he told them. It was not an order but a request. He waited a few moments, holding the two swords in his hand before seeing that they would follow, and began to walk towards the edge of the woods surrounding Ealdor.


_{Setting: In the village of Ealdor
Time of Day: Early afternoon
Timeline: During the Moment of Truth; the day before the battle
Tag: Guinevère and Morgana
Notes: Lets get this threesome started!}

He could understand that want for a daughter. Especially with Guinevère having sons and being surrounded by brothers. But he also knew it would not minimize the love she had for another child, as she said. He thought over the idea, finding himself rather fond of it . . . when she brought up the excitement of jousting, which revealed that she had heard him and Thomas. "Oh, you heard that?" He asked with a bit of a sheepish smile. He really needed to work on his timing for such news. It was a good thing he didn't tease Thomas about the surprise present he had for him tomorrow. He continued to smile when she said his actions were creating a positive result, and planned to continue to give her that ease and good feelings for as long as he could as his hands continued to massage her feet, gently but with just enough pressure to create that effect that he hoped was a soothing one.

These were the things he wished he could be doing: pressing her aching feet and ankles every night, making sure she rested properly, getting her whatever she needed at the time, no matter how obscure. He wanted to be a proper husband to her . . . yet his duties as a king were preventing him from achieving that. "Then we will wait after we are married. Enjoy our newly wedded life, enjoy the company of our three children and then . . . when ready, will try to grace this world with a daughter." He could make no promises of their future for he knew not the outcome of this war. What he could promise was that he would not stop fighting to come home. "Besides, the name Anna is far too beautiful not to use," he added, a praise to her mother for that was whom they were naming their hypothetical, or potential daughter after.

He smiled proudly when she said he was just like his father, even if referring to his unwillingness to sleep. He took Amaren in his arms when she held him out, and went behind the screen to change. He began to pace around the room, telling Amaren the story of the evil sorcerer who brought all the gargoyles to life. Of course he kept his voice void of too much enthusiasm whilst telling the story, for he wanted his son to sleep from it, not be awoken. He went on to explain how a woman saved the partly unconscious prince, and then dumped a bucket of water on his head to make sure he stayed awake. He was teasing her of course . . . since Arthur had asked her to do it. But it was a fond memory of his. Just as all of his memories with her were. Fond, and once so bittersweet. Now, they were what kept him going. Amaren's blinks were getting longer and more drawn out, until Arthur noticed him not open his large brown eyes again.

He carefully walked over to the bed and gently set him down on the pillows next to her, in the middle of the bed so that he would not fall over the edge. He looked at him for several moments, just thinking of how everything about him was utterly perfect. He then turned his head, sitting back on the edge of the bed next to her. He softly smiled, looking over her. He moved his hand to rest over her belly as his eyes met hers. "How are you feeling?" He asked, knowing that he'd not inquired as to her health since he came. But that did not mean he wasn't concerned about her. About her fatigue, about other symptoms that accompanied a pregnancy. He would forever worry about her and it made him wish all the more that he could be here to take care of her.

Arthur gave a bit of an exaggerated bow when Thomas and then Guinevère started clapping, applauding his efforts. She then playful pushed Thomas forward, as Arthur took his cue to tuck him in. He handed Guinevère Amaren, lightly kissing the top of their son's head, before turning his attention to Thomas as he said good night to his mother. When he was done, Arthur put his hand on Thomas's back as they walked toward his chambers. Once they arrived, Arthur pulled back his blanket so that he could get inside. "I had mentioned to Sir Leon to start teaching you the rules of jousting, and how to hold a lance," Arthur explained. While Thomas would of course not be competing any time soon, he was old enough to start learning the rules, as he had seemed to show an interest in jousting.

Which was also why Arthur had selected a special gift for him that he would give Thomas tomorrow."It'll be some time until you'll be able to compete, but if you start learning now, you'll have a head start." One from this generation anyway. Arthur didn't want to push him too hard, and force such lessons upon him. But jousting was of course more for good sport than anything. And Leon did not seem like he would go too hard on him or give him too much at once.

Arthur took in their advice, but wasn't too panicked about Amaren fussing. Of course no parent wanted to hear their child cry . . . but he also knew that Amaren wasn't too difficult to calm down when he was upset. "Alright Amaren, how about some team work here," he asked jokingly. Where Amaren's little arms moved, Arthur tried to move the sleeve along with him, but ended up getting his arm stuck in the sleeve in an awkward angle. Amaren started to whimper, as if he was about to cry. Arthur had to quickly react and reversed his actions so that Amaren's arm was through the sleeve again. "You know when I was young, I was apparently quite difficult to change," he began to explain. One particular story was told to him by one of his maids that cared for him when he was a small child.

Arthur knew that Amaren could not yet understand him, so it would really be only Thomas and Guinevère who may understand his story. However, he didn't want Amaren to forget his voice -- though was aware that after months of not being here, it was possible. "I was as stubborn as you," he continued, using the his story to help distract him as Amaren stopped wiggling just enough for Arthur to finally get one arm out of the sleeve. "I struggled so much that at one point my head got stuck in my shirt." Apparently, he'd been all tangled. "I started crying and running about, until I ran into the wall." Not hard, but hard enough for his crying to only grow more out of the shock.

"How did I get stuck?" He said 'repeating' Amaren's question, though nothing was asked. "Just like this," he added as he lifted the shirt up and purposely left it over Amaren's heard, concealing his vision. He left it like that for only a few moments before quickly pulling it down and moving his face closer to his, giving a little "Boo!" At the same. Amaren seemed amused and let out a high pitched laugh. Arthur kept his face close to his son's as he leaned forward and forward, until their noises touched and Arthur gave him a little bop on Amaren's forehead with his own. He then pulled back and began to put his other shirt on top. "After that, I never fussed when getting changed again," he finished, having been so engrossed in his task and moments with Amaren that he nearly forgot that Guinevère and Thomas was in the room.

She claimed that not everything so good came from him, but he knew that was not true. She was the primary one raising their son, for he was forced to leave her in these months. And it may extend to leaving her forever. The topic of his father pulled him from such thoughts. Though it proved what goodness Guinevère had. She was teasing his father, speaking of him in more praise than in a negative light . . . when she of all people had a right to hate him. For having arrested his father and having him killed. Yet she never spoke poorly of him, and it never ceased to amaze him how strong she was. "He's a happy child," Arthur said in a soft voice. "He gets that from your side of the family," he said, his tone void of all teasing.

While Arthur was born into a life of privilege, his family was far more torn and broken. He knew his father loved him, for he sacrificed himself for Arthur and Arthur loved him . . . more than words could say. But their love was expressed through either extremely strong actions, or silence. It was Guinevère's side that was raised with open love and affection. And he knew that their children would have that same happy upbringing . . . because of her. Arthur set him down on his bed as he went to get his night clothes so that he could change him. "I think he gets his stubbornness from both of us," he said as he walked back to them, returning to the teasing mood. "Just look at with how much determination he is gripping that hay," Arthur said, teasingly toward their son.