Arthur Pendragon (unites_kingdoms) wrote in welcomethreads, @ 2014-01-28 19:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | arthur pendragon, guinevere |
Who: Arthur Pendragon & Guinevere
What: Arthur is very worried about the past (almost) two weeks.
When:Monday the 27th
Where:Guinevere & Morgana’s home.
Rating: A for Angst.
Status:Closed. Logged, continued in tags
For the second time, in what seemed too short a space of time Arthur woke somewhat disorientated. This time, however, he was in the woods with crudely made camp in a shallow cave of sorts, shelter from the cold. As he eased up, aching from the poor sleep and the bitter cold. It seemed largely a stupid idea to make camp in the middle of winter, but as his sleepy haze lifted, the reason why slowly came filtering back to Arthur. At least what he thought were memories, but they didn't seem possible, he was never a boy here. He could remember thinking that it was a mere week until the celebrations of his sixteenth year. It couldn't be.
But the memories were there, somewhat hazy, and quite surreal, but they were there. He rubbed at his head, which ached a little now and got to his feet. He'd had no clue who Merlin was and disliked him on instinct. That feeling was not so new, his first encounter with Merlin had been rather hostile. He'd been out in the woods, trying to find a way home, but for how long? When he put out a hand, he felt what was a barrier that couldn't be seen, he remembered as he touched it that he'd been following it, looking for some way through. He remembered an ill forged plan as he collected his belongings together slowly, a pot for cooking; which still contained some charred rabbit. A plan, in which he would continue to follow this invisible boundary and he would eventually find a path. He would return to fetch Morgana, despite the fact she was being arrogant and rude and completely ungrateful to him and his efforts. He supposed Merlin could come along, despite the fact he appeared to be mad, and of course Morgana would wish her maid to follow.
Her maid. Oh hell. He'd most definitely been rude to Merlin, possibly threatened his life; nothing new there. He'd been severely irritated by Morgana's behaviour and lack of interest. But Guinevere, he can barely remember so much as speaking to her. He wouldn't have, had he really been far younger, would he? His acknowledgement of the castle servants hinged purely to be based on ensuring his needs were met. Usually with impatience. Guinevere did not as a rule, tend to the Prince, so..
He hurried to return but it was a decent trek back through the woods, thankfully he'd already spent time hiking through them, horse riding such he didn't find it impossible to navigate his way back to town, it just took longer than he liked, given he was now quite desperate to reunite with those most important to him. He was dressed as he once had in Camelot though his armour had been fastened a little too tightly for a previously smaller frame of the previous days, unfortunately he needed help loosening it. Of course, that was not why he needed to see her.
When he found his way back, rather chilled and somewhat breathless he went immediately to the lodgings opposite his own, despite the fact he was in dire need of a proper bath. “Guinevere?” He knocked urgently on the door hoping she was home, anxious to speak with her.
Guinevere had been trying to find ways to keep herself busy on her day off, doing anything that would keep her mind off of Arthur and the way he’d behaved towards her - as if she weren’t even there. There’d been a time when she’d been used to that but that wasn’t the case these days. Or at least it hadn’t been before this most recent example of the magic of this place. She heard the knocking, almost pounding on the door and ordered Bran to his bed as he raced towards the door. The last thing she wanted to do right now was apologize to someone for her dog knocking them down.
It was difficult to resist the temptation to throw open the door when she heard Arthur calling her name but she took a moment to compose herself, hoping that the confusion of emotions his presence there was already causing her wasn’t obvious. She’d never thought it was possible to feel happy and sad all at the same time. Happy because Arthur was there and calling for her but sad because after the last two weeks she could only expect that he needed something and Merlin was unavailable.
She pulled open the door and smiled at him - the sadness gone as she realized that this wasn’t the 15 year old they’d all been dealing with for the past two weeks. She had every reason to be mad at him for how he’d been acting except that it wasn’t really his fault. She stepped back and waved him inside the apartment and hoped that he wouldn’t notice the fact that she wasn’t wearing her engagement ring. It hadn’t felt right to her to wear it when he couldn’t remember giving it to her. She bit back a laugh at the obvious tightness of the armor he was still wearing as she closed the door behind him. “Arthur. I’m glad to see that you are yourself again,” she told him quietly.
Attempting to sleep in armour is highly foolish as almost all of his behaviour was, Arthur now, knowing as he did would do nothing of the sort. But at 15 he'd never spent such a time out in the woods, alone. He'd probably been fearful to say the least, though he'd rather have died than admit it. No doubt Merlin attempted to help him, and he refused that too. His pride no doubt would have been particularly stubborn. Worse than usual.
He’s relieved at least to see the door open, and though, technically he hasn’t missed her, he’s already heartsick with concern for the damage he might have done. He steps in as he’s welcomed through and briefly his gaze catches but a glimpse that her ring is gone, he might wonder if it's unintentional, but her response is so muted, and he could only imagine it was not. His gaze drops from her, and he lets out a breath. “I suppose magic is responsible. The magic of this world?” It's the only conclusion he could make, without knowing more. He can remember it, not quite crystal clear, but enough to have reason to be most unhappy about it all. Where does he begin? What can he say? Magic was responsible for his age, but that alone. He does not have the mobility to embrace her, though he wonders if he ought to at all. “It- was long ago Guinevere.. ” He starts, voice low for being unsure of what to say that might ease her. It seems almost another life entirely now. “There is- so much I see differently now.” For the better, he couldn't express that enough. “And so much of it, I owe to you.” He held out a hand, as best he could, hoping she might take it.
“Somehow the magic here affected the ages of some people. Including yourself,” Guinevere told him. His explanation of it being long ago, struck a chord within her. Merlin had pointed out the same thing to Morgana - Arthur had only been 15 and didn’t have any of his memories from after that point in time. She couldn’t blame him for his behavior, as much as it had stung at the time. She looked at him, moving so awkwardly in his tight armor and she gave him an amused smile as she took his outstretched hand. “Let’s get that loosened at least.” Growing up as the blacksmith’s daughter had given her opportunities to learn about armor that some women might not have gotten. Including how to adjust the tightness of it.
Her movements were confident as she worked silently, trying to come up with the right words to answer him. “I know it was Arthur. And that your behavior these last two weeks was not your fault,” she told him, moving to stand in front of him and looking to see if she’d missed anywhere it obviously needed to be loosened for his comfort. “There were just things that I’d forgotten and I thought when I heard your voice you were looking for me because Merlin wasn’t around to tend to you,” she told him somewhat awkwardly looking him in the eye.
“It- is no excuse.” He adds softly, because he is not attempting to justify himself, or his rudeness. He was avoiding asking, simply for the sake of it being a servant's work to see him dressed and undressed of his armour. Her offer is met with a slightly pathetic look of relief however. “If you- wouldn't mind.” Turning equally silent as she worked, he felt her loosen the buckles that held the plate in place taking a deeper breath as she did. “Thank you.” It might have gained him comfort, but he looked no happier to hear what she said.
It felt freeing, though she stood before him, reminding him of what he had done. “It pains me to think the man I might've been. More still my life without you.” He would have had the Kingdom, the honour and the wealth, but knowing what he does now it is a grim prospect.
The now loose armour shifts with his deeper breath. “Would you help me be rid of this?” He asked, slightly hesitant as the last thing he wanted to do was speak to her as if she was his servant, but there is little he can do about it alone. Mostly he does not want the cold of the metal between them, it too much represents his lofty opinion of himself. He dips his head, only to start lifting the collar that is the gorget and it's attached spaulder that sits upon his shoulder. He just needs help getting it over his head. It has been Merlin's job for years, though on occasion as his wife she has helped him prepare before training, had Merlin been absent.
”I wouldn’t have offered if I minded Arthur,” Gwen told him, glad for the opportunity to have something to do with her hands for the few minutes it took her. And to be able to do something to make him more comfortable. These last two weeks, living in the woods couldn’t have been comfortable for him. Especially with Merlin doing whatever he’d decided Arthur deserved to have done to him.
Her movements we’re far less certain as she helped Arthur out of his armor, placing the pieces on the floor off to the side. She knew it wasn’t the best place for it but there wasn’t much choice in her and Morgana’s rooms. It was out of the walkway and she knew Bran would hardly be interested in it once he realized Arthur was back. “Are you hurt?” she asked, worry apparent on her face. Now that the armor was gone, if he had been injured it would be somewhat simple to tend to the injury. But she hoped he would tell her he wasn’t.
Arthur attempts to find the words, as he stands in silence and allows Guinevere to undress him of the layers that shield him. Once he is helped with the chainmail and padding beneath it all too, he finally seems to relax a little, after loosening his belt and placing his sheathed sword near the cluster of metal that’s his armour Arthur rather he takes a long breath, pushing a hand through his hair. “Thank you.” He offers once more and dismisses her worry with a slow shake of his head.
“No- I'm fine.” Mildly cold if anything, a little sore and a touch tired, but it's warm being indoors again and all that really matters to him, stands before him.. “I'm more concerned with ..having hurt you.” He tells her earnestly, a deal of shame in his gaze, feeling his throat, this his words tighten at the mere thought that she might’ve rethought her wish to marry him. “You mean more to me than I could say.” Their different stations mean nothing to him now, as they once would have, foolish spoiled behaviour to say the least.