[closed/complete] Characters: Polyxena [polyxene] & Arthur [rexquefuturus] Date/Time: Before event #019. Location: Coffee shop! Rating: PG. Warnings: Just lots of emo. Summary: This is one of those awkward talks that ends more emo than awkward.
To say that Arthur was nervous about meeting Polyxena was the understatement of his life. It was almost unbearable that he was nervous. Polyxena represented all the good things about this latest life; she was a princess, oh, she was his Princess and he had mistreated her. He didn't think that the strange circumstances of Zurvan were any excuse for how he had behaved. He had been promised to her, and she to him, and he had betrayed her.
The thought naturally led on to thoughts of Lancelot, who was someone else he had to speak with, and soon. His stomach churned; he was not used to being the traitor and he most avowedly was. He was betraying two people he loved, even still, and his brain was so tangled with wayward notions that his head hadn't stopped spinning. Time in England hadn't helped and, what was worse, he hadn't told anyone that he'd gone there. He'd fled, like a coward.
He arrived early to the coffee shop and ruefully supposed that he should drink something decaffeinated. He was quite fired up enough as it was and his heart ached to see Polyxena and to look into her eyes and learn if he had messed everything up entirely.
Polyxena was a guarded creature by nature; not unkind but careful never to let go of her emotions. Sometimes, sometimes, she thought of Achilles and the war. Now she thought of Troilus and his intentions towards her (his true intentions). And it wasn't fear, but it was discomfort. Her life felt dominated by men sometimes, by her family, by others and there was no choice but to allow herself to be swayed. To be like water, fluid and adaptable, but tangible- more than air. This morning she had dressed in jeans, scarf, a blouse, a vest (like a breast plate, an unconscious armour), and her coat. It wasn't cold per se, but she liked the protective layers.
Arthur.
She didn't know what to feel towards him. It was not that she was angry (because seldom was she ever) but the wariness was there. Not born out of jealousy or hate, but previous experience. Achilles' final sacrifice would always weight heavily in her mind.
A quick glance of the clock told her she was perfectly on time as she pushed the doors open and stepped into the cafe, a quick glance told her Arthur was there and she waved idly before stepping to the counter, and putting in her order. Only then did she go join him, having taken those few minutes to steady herself and press everything down into a mask of warm, but distant, civility.
Arthur stood up to greet Polyxena, his manner as polite and chivalrous as always. His smile was small but sincere and he waited till she sat down before he followed suit.
"Princess," he said, so very quietly. "It's good to see you again." That was God's honest truth and, of course, it didn't make anything any easier. He couldn't quite believe, seeing her before him now, that he had misused her so badly in that other world. "How are you?"
He wrapped his hands around his mug of (yes, decaffeinated) coffee and there was nothing to slow his heart-rate.
"It is good to see you too, my king." She replied warmly, despite her guarded look; her fingers didn't settle on the mug or the table. Instead she decided to fold her hands demurely on her lap, watching him. "I'm doing well, thank you." Not necessarily the truth, but she just didn't know where to start. It wasn't that she was mad at him; she was not. It was that everything was so... uncertain.
Zurvan had changed everything.
And Polyxena had never been one forthcoming in any sort of affection.
Arthur nodded, slowly. He wanted to apologise but he barely knew why; he felt an urge to blurt out a thousand sorries for this beautiful, delicate woman he had hurt. He couldn't even claim that it was inadvertent because he had known what he was doing. He might not have known Polyxena but he had managed to sabotage any chance he had of getting to know her on Zurvan.
"I'm glad to hear it," he said finally, haltingly. And then: "I am so sorry, Princess. I have failed you, thoroughly."
"I'm not angry." Polyxena averted her eyes, looking at the coffee cups, her hands tightened in her lap, fists clenching and unclenching. As much as she was hurt, she didn't want to see Arthur disappointed in himself, "Back then, in Zurvan," The words were slow, a little cold in tone but not out of anger - Polyxena had rationalized this so much as to keep emotions from leaking out, "I was to marry you because it was convenient for my family, but if it had been me who walked in on you- I would not have told a soul." Though it would've been wrong to do that to Elaine. She knew, she knew.
"I would've graced your throne, never your bed. You should never be unfaithful to your heart." When she was done speaking she looked up, pale eyes giving away nothing, "What happened was more painful once we came back, but I have been hurt worse." It was the truth, "I understand, and I'm not angry about anything."
Arthur frowned but it was not annoyance, or anything like it. It was a sort of anger that Polyxena should be so accepting because she had been so hurt. Arthur had hardly helped the situation by behaving so very badly. He chewed on a thumbnail as he listened, a rare display of nervousness.
"My heart is a strange place," he said, softly. "I never thought myself fickle, before, and it seems that I am. I would have done my best to make you happy, Polyxena. I still would see you happy." He smiled humourlessly. "I would see you angry, too, if I thought it would help you. I deserve your anger."
"So you love him." Again she looked away, voice wavering ever so slightly on those words. Ashamed of that, she cleared her throat and straighten up forcing herself to meet Arthur's eyes. That was how a queen behaved, feelings had never served her well. "Thank you for apologizing." Gracious and diplomatic. Yes, that was about right.
A pause. She mulled over the next words carefully, if she didn't say them now then- "I would see you happy too, Arthur, but I do not think I can be what you want me to be."
Arthur was stunned into silence. So you love him; it was a bald statement, and it broke his heart that her voice did not remain steady.
"I do," he said. It was a simple response, and an honest one. "I don't know if I would have realised it without Zurvan, or if it is even true." He swallowed. "But I love you, Princess. That much can never change, in spite of my poor behaviour. I have let you down, so badly. I don't know how I can even begin to make it up to you. Your happiness - your security - mean so much to me."
And part of her did want to cry, she wanted to reach out and clasp Arthur's hand in her own and allow herself to feel. It had cost her too much once before, she couldn't and instead she clenched her jaw, swallowing hard. "I know you do." The tone was a little more gentle now, soothingly familiar and distant, as if she wasn't quite sure which to settle on. "Arthur, this... I do not feel this is about me, but about you and what you want. What you need. What you've done." The coffee went untouched, though Polyxena considered taking a sip before continuing. "It is something that you need to come to terms over, something you need to reflect on- on what you truly want, what you really need."
Another hard swallow and her voice was distant, "Perhaps what happened was not a mistake and in time you'll see that. My happiness and my security aren't relevant to any of this." Cold and true, of course it hurt. Polyxena wasn't a robot.
"I cannot tell you how I feel because I do not wish to complicate things, but you already know it." Granted, even without this, she wouldn't be able to tell anyone she loved them. The last time she told someone she'd died. It'd cost- to love, it had cost so much and part of her didn't always understand why.
Arthur nodded heavily. She did not reach for him and so he did not reach for her. In truth, he was rather astounded that she thought so little of her own happiness and security but he was at a loss as to how to explain it to her; that she was important; that her happiness in this world was important.
Arthur was a patient man and he would wait a very long time for a woman like Polyxena but his judgement was clouded by the development of his relationship with Lancelot, which had always been difficult and which had now transcended to something wholly preoccupying. He couldn't bear the thought of anyone suffering for his desires, though, and he couldn't bear the thought of Polyxena suffering.
"I am not so - egotistic - as to presume I am any kind of answer for you, Princess," he said. "But you must know how I have wished to be something more to you. It seems - " he grimaced. " - that the stars are not aligning." And a sigh. "Though it is cowardly to blame the stars when it is I who have not fallen into line."
Troilus would say that she shouldn't settle for just being important, but being the most important. Maybe, maybe now she understood that a little now- and more importantly, she understood that she'd never be comfortable being something like that to someone else. She wasn't Helen of Troy after all.
Perhaps a little too late now to avoid the suffering, for all her wisdom, for all her rationale- Arthur had persistently courted her and she had given into that. Feelings could never be carved out cleanly, she remembered Achilles. How his death hurt, beneath the placid expression on her face, it had hurt so deep down. Polyxena had not broken, because she couldn't break, she was water. Fluid, adaptable, deep.
Her own happiness was never important because other things came first. It was just how she was raised before, now even. And that was why she was not ready to be a queen, she didn't possess what was needed just, she hadn't grown that little bit that was required. Not yet.
"I know that- I know, but regardless of Lancelot, I am not ready to be what you need, Arthur." A swallow and it was hard to speak for a moment, "That is another issue altogether, perhaps if I were ready choosing would be different, but I am not."
Did Achilles' ghost haunt her even now? It felt like that.
"If I -" Arthur faltered. "If I cannot choose you, Polyxena, or if I choose Lancelot, it feels as though I have closed a door on one of the most important parts of my life. If I choose Lancelot, I cannot bear to lose you."
Arthur looked almost pathetic when he looked at her. "Can we be friends, still? Are we friends?" Is that all we have ever been, though I have been and am in love with you? He bit his lower lip. "I would not want to rush you into readiness but I fear losing you."
"I don't want you to have the choose, that is why I will not stand in the way of what you want." Polyxena knew how he looked, but she would never, ever mention it- he was a king and she would always respect that. No matter what weakness she saw in him, she'd never reveal it or mock him for it.
She didn't answer his questions, staring, "If...you didn't love him, would you really have waited for me to be ready?"
Arthur smiled and it was a sad and small smile. "I would have waited, Princess. You are worth waiting for."
He bowed his head, only too aware that he was hardly covering himself in glory; he would have waited but, oh, his head was turned as though he was a schoolboy. There was no use saying that he was a man, who had certain needs, though it might have been true. He should have been a better man.
"I wish- I want to believe that." But the princess didn't clarify whether she did or not. It was not easy, it never had been for her. Men were men; she thought of Achilles now. What could be done? Nothing. Were they friends? The problem might have been that they were not quite friends, he was courting her and she was accepting that. That was more than friendship.
"I can't." Be friends, but the princess didn't clarify that. Polyxena reached across the table to brush the back of his hands with her fingertips, she didn't allow herself to linger. "Goodbye Arthur. May you find the happiness you deserve and be the king I know you can be." Then she rose to her feet, leaving her coffee untouched. She didn't know how she managed to get that out, because it felt like the words would choke her and drown, the same way any chance of screaming died when Neoptolemus slit her throat. Leaving her to die choked in her own blood. She only paused briefly by the door to adjust her scarf.