#artura pendragon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inlocusmads · 8 months

Text

somewhere only we know ~ guinevere x artura

Artura takes Guinevere on a tour of the royal gallery (Characters from Guinevere, Choices) Painting: At the kitchen table by Thomas Benjamin Kennington [1856 – 1916]

No warnings | GA | 1.4k

A/N: I'm experimenting with a different format so it is cleaner and much nicer. This was just an excuse to write something very fluffy because once again, I was thinking about Artura.

There was something Guinevere had taken a keen notice to. It was rather minute, of course; something so small it couldn't be quantified with words, rather a feeling.

Artura led her to the large gallery in the palace in Camelot. It was something she was desperate to show Guinevere, but never had the time to - according to her. Dressed in her best just for the occasion; however small it might be, Artura let her hand find itself intertwined with Guinevere's palm; leading her from tapestry to paintings to the portraits the family had commissioned, the statues and idols the best craftsmen from all of Camelot had worked on.

"-- This is supposed to be the Royal Court." Artura said. "A bit of an artistic interpretation, really, with the gold ceilings. We do not actually have gold ceilings."

Guinevere could not focus on the portrait. Instead she took some time to appreciate Artura's golden curls. Short, rugged as if she was straight from a training session with her knights. Guinevere refused to entertain that thought more - Artura fighting with a sword, taking time to wipe her beautiful gorgeous hair off of her face, as she let out a deep battle cry; charging forward. Artura who sat down, a smile on her face as she tied up her wounds with such care and polished her sword; only to look up and have sopping wet curls on her face. Her laugh. Her beautiful laugh.

"This is a picture of the Royal Garden" Artura smiled up at the patch of roses and the trees that the artists had taken majestic creative liberties with. "We do have a strawberry garden that would go -- right there--" Artura pointed at the painting and Guinevere's eyes followed it. "We should have had it repainted but -- the costs are better used elsewhere, I think. However, I believe this is beautiful."

Guinevere did not realise she was supposed to be looking at the painting and not at Artura, explaining what it meant.

"Huh, oh yes." she hastily agreed.

She had a nice laugh. Artura. Her voice was nearly angelic. Guinevere felt her heart race a bit, as she took an even keener notice on how Artura explained things. She took such an interest. Her eyes lit up, almost angelically as she looked at the paintings with such fondness in her eyes. These gestures with her hands - they were almost sculpted. She loved it. She loved to tell stories; to tell someone about it and she poured in every ounce of her love for art into their conversation. Artura had the brightest smile. Guinevere observed how her lips curved a little, before she squinted with curiosity.

"Do I have something on my chin?"

"Huh? Oh no, not at all -- your Highness."

"Guinevere, my dear." Artura tch'ed. "You can call me Artura, you know that, I presume? Why should there be any formalities between us?"

"Oh. Yes. Of course. I knew that."

"Is something the matter? You seem -- nervous." Artura raised a hand and pressed it against Guinevere's cheek. "You are not running a fever, I hope. The Camelot winters can be -- rather treacherous."

"No -- I -- erm -- well, you see -- Artura -- the thing is -- oh perhaps you can tell me about this -- work of art! Yes, this one! The king with his -- beard! Who is this man? Was he the ruler before you ascended the throne?"

"I believe that is quite a mythical figure from the stories. You see, back in the--"

Artura was not completely oblivious to the fact that Guinevere liked looking at her. She knew. She had a little teasing smile too, while she went on to explain about the lore behind the artwork; giving Guinevere ample time to decide if she should or not. And Guinevere chose not to. Looking was best done from afar. Guinevere did not think about how it might feel to have Artura's lips against here, her tight warm embrace in the halls of the gallery. How it would feel if she called her a "work of art", how everything might feel - how if Guinevere pushed her luck, Artura might grow frustrated, grab her by her shoulders and kiss her. How Guinevere would finally have a chance to hold her head in her palms and look at her as if she were the only person in the whole universe; a masterpiece.

Artura knew.

Guinevere did not know that she knew.

Artura had always believed her Princess was just too tight. Too curt. Too modest.

"And -- my dear, were you listening? What did I tell you about the significance of the dragon in this painting?"

Guinevere swallowed. "That the king had it guard his treasury?"

"There is no dragon!"

"Ah yes -- it must be my eyesight. The doctors have always told me that I might be -- shortsighted and--"

"Guinevere, my love, you do not need my permission to kiss me."

Guinevere blinked.

"I -- I have -- no -- now let us not get too hasty -- the thing is -- I--" Guinevere rubbed the back of her neck, trying to come up with a coherent answer.

Artura folded her arms, the curves of her biceps tightening against the fabric of her dress. "Frankly, my dear, you have been staring quite too much."

"It is rather criminal there is no dragon." Guinevere inhaled a sharp breath. "I like them. Really. They have -- majestic scales and -- wings and the books, they do it rather well, do they not? It is --"

Guinevere couldn't finish that thought. The warmth of Artura's lips found hers. Without hesitation, Guinevere slipped her arms around Artura's waist, drawing her closer; not long before they found her hair, as she combed the golden ringlets off her face.

"See? It is simple." Artura broke off and smiled.

"I am --"

"It is just so new -- to see you so flustered. I cannot imagine the great mage, Guinevere of Cameliard -- glowing red in the cheeks!"

"I should be telling you that." Guinevere said, "Look at you. You are beautiful. Utterly handsome. Far from what these paintings can only aspire to capture - and -- I doubt I am any deserving of you, much less your love."

"Ah, my dear Guinevere. I must say the same, but we will be here for eternity if we were to play this game."

Artura tucked a stray strand of hair behind Guinevere's ear.

"And I could not help but stare."

"So improper."

"By the way, I do not get flustered."

"Of course, of course. You just turn red in the cheeks. A very common occurrence." Artura raised her eyebrows cheekily, throwing her head back and laughing.

"Only when I see you, of course."

"You are going to make this tour of the palace the most difficult task I have ever partaken, is it not?" Artura smiled softly, laughing as Guinevere stole another kiss.

"Very much." Guinevere mumbled, wrapping her arms around Artura's waist, drawing her closer.

***

Tagging:

Perma: @quixoticdreamer16 @tessa-liam

Guinevere: @cassie-thorne @mvalentine

#guinevere choices #guinevere x artura #w:inlocusmads #artura pendragon

13 notes · View notes

inlocusmads · 5 months

Text

the cliffs of insanity ~ artura x guinevere

Princess Bride AU! Sort of. Especially that one scene when the reveal happens, with the insane mountain diving and stuff. Artura learns Guinevere is alive.

1.5k | general audiences

A/n: the princess bride just screams artura and guinevere sometimes and I just have to write this shit down or ill forget it ok bye enjoy

The air smelled thickly of lies and deceit as Artura stared at the hooded figure before her, who dared to take her even further away from where she belonged. Camelot looked so far away, that even with her vision, she couldn't see longer. There, her mentor would be waiting. Merlin, who had been so keen on planning this grand wedding to a man she hardly knew and who would seldom treat her as his equal. For the good of Camelot, he had said, when his lies couldn't convince her. Nor could it deprive Artura of a love she still held - now lost.

“What do you want with me?” Artura asked, pain in her throat. “Do you want to overthrow my betrothed? Do you want to kill me? Certainly your cruelty precedes you. You must be one of the town bandits.”

“Certainly I am.” answered a very gruff female voice. “What can I do for you?”

“You should be ashamed of yourself. Return me back to Camelot or I will cut you into a thousand pieces.”

“Tch. Tch. Tch. Really?”

“I am an expert swordsman. Do not taunt me. I have had blood on my own hands in search of my love.”

The hooded figure had their face covered but Artura could still sense they had their eyebrows raised. She. She had her eyebrows raised. It was very confusing, really.

“Not exactly blood. But I will not rest until you bandits are all stopped. You have killed my love, have you not?”

“That is quite the allegation you make. I have killed many people but not in the way you would expect. My magical abilities are much quicker than a sword and inflict pain that the world has never seen before.” the hooded figure explained. “Tell me, who is this love that you so desperately fought for? Another prince I expect. Or a king with a balding head of hair you are set to marry in a fortnight.”

“No. She. She was a mage, no more. From a wealthy upbringing no doubt, but she was none like the balding man. I don't love him.” Artura paused. “She had brown hair. A dark shade, like the bark of a tree.”

“But you seek to marry him, no?” It appeared the hooded figure wasn't interested in Artura’s glittering romance enough to spare her.

“I don't have an option.”

“Still, you must care for him.”

“No.” Artura said. “I only wish he is unharmed. Nothing more.”

“Well, if you thought so, you would cause him trouble but all I see is a wedding that has been planned and a caterer that has worked quite overtime on deciding between A Winter Forest and A Summertime Beach as the themes.” The hooded figure rested herself against a rock.

“What is all this? A result of jealousy? A mockery of my pain?”

“I can assure you I am far from mocking your pain. As for being jealous - I believe that is a too materialistic way of looking at things. Anyone who claims you are jealous or envious is trying to sell you something.”

Artura couldn't believe it. Here she was. Trapped. All alone. Nowhere to go. Except with this strange individual who looked like a bandit without their horse. Her horse. His horse? Artura couldn't tell. She couldn't take their hood off either, it would be rude. She couldn't just hitchhike a ride home too - that would be far too expensive in this economy and her horse - her only horse, her faithful companion had run away. If only she carried some bread in her pouch. She was more concerned about the duration she had to spend with this stranger. A runaway bride. They'd make up rumours back in the castle. They'd send a fleet of soldiers. And then what? Go back? Obediently? As much as she hated to admit it, the hooded stranger had been right. Being cooperative and at what cost? Her freedom to love?

“I might have seen your love die.”

“I am sure you would have ensured it.”

“She was a nice little thing. She was definitely the hardest to kill.”

Artura stayed silent.

The figure continued. “The last thing she said, before she surrendered to us, lowly bandits, would be that she was dying for true love and that one day, she might seek it. I can only assume she was talking about you.”

“She will come back.”

“You forget I am a very talented magician.”

“I believe that. Your silly little parlour tricks won't work against me.”

“They are a bit more than parlour tricks.”

“Really?”

“Okay maybe they are mostly parlour tricks, but I can outwit you.”

“Impossible. I am guarded on all fronts.”

“Except your problem with true love, I expect.”

“Keep saying such horrible things. I know she will come back.”

“And what? To you, engaged to a scabby looking man? To have her being squandered by the fact that you simply had to rush with the wedding as soon as she died? As if she were some obstacle between you and your ugly-looking prince?”

“You assume wrong!” Artura stood up, arming herself with a piece of sharp flint against the hooded figure’s throat. “If you continue to mock me, to belittle me- I won't be so kind. I died the day she died. I could no longer sleep, eat or drink and -- this is not my marriage to want. This is not even a marriage out of love. And if you continue to say such horrible things, I will have you killed!”

Afar they heard the sound of a horn. The king's guards were close by. As the hooded figure turned to face the steep hill that went downwards, a plan forming in her mind, Artura seized the opportunity to push her down - a strong push with all of the strength from her muscular arms.

“Go to hell!” she said. “Die!”

“As you wish, your Highness!” came an answer, as the figure tumbled down and down.

Designations we're important. Designations meant the difference between life and mostly death. Artura had been referred to as Your Majesty for God knows how long. She had also had plenty of colourful nicknames behind her back - the table of knights weren't always partial in their relentless teasing. Visitors referred to her by her correct designation - Princess. Sometimes it would be Your Royal Highness with some courtesy and care. There was only one person in the whole wide world who called her by the wrong designation, every single time.

Or maybe it was the right designation. Maybe Camelot really was that stupid or extremely patriotic to hail an heir apparent as a ruler already.

“Guinevere!”

The realisation hit Artura harder than her arranged marriage with the worst person she could have ever pulled out from her nightmares. She followed Guinevere down the hill, tumbling down after she slipped, her head aching with longing more than the pain the tumbling might have caused. She could have had a minor concussion like that. Or a major one. Or practically a wild number of head injuries. But realising it was indeed, Guinevere, whose beauty preceded her magic and vice versa, she could heal her back. She could do anything. She was already healed. Artura glanced at the face - the hood dropped down to reveal locks of brown chestnut hair and eyes as dark and enchanting as a vast ocean of nothingness. She wasn't different - she was alive. She was the same as all those years and before Artura could compose herself, her eyes were already spilling tears.

“You - came back.”

“I promised I would. Your Highness.” Guinevere smiled, extending a hand before summoning a small orb of healing flame. “Are you hurt?”

“Not quite. I feel I can fly.”

“Well, with my magic we can certainly make that happen now.” Guinevere grinned, as she spread the healing flame gently around Artura's head. Once she could get up with her newly healed hands and face, she wrapped her in a tight hug. “You look radiant as ever. I am never letting you go. Not ever. Not even when hell must freeze over.”

“Then I can count on you to be my swordsman.”

It earned her a whack from Artura.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“For making me grieve and making jokes.”

“But my jokes have always made you laugh.”

“No.”

“Well--”

“Okay. Maybe a little.”

“It was not my intention to make you grieve or wait. But I will always keep my promise, Artura. I will always come back to you.”

“I know. And I will too.”

Guinevere pressed a kiss on Artura's forehead, holding her close as possible. It had just been far too long and though they couldn't afford to be hasty, especially with the guards on patrol, she allowed herself to enjoy this moment and the lifetime of happiness that would follow soon. Very soon, she promised herself. Very soon.

“Couldn't have killed you to find me sooner.” Artura murmured.

“I understand. You must have been very lost without me.”

“Shut it. I was perfectly fine.”

“And what was that thing about me being your true love?”

“They ought to know I am not merciful. Not at all.”

“And they will, darling. You'll show them and I'll be by your side.”

“You can't charm your way out of this. I have many questions.” Artura said, even though she couldn't help but yearn to laugh and cry over and over again, pressing a thousand kisses and having Guinevere in her arms a million times and even then, she would never be done.

“Of course. But can we please get out of this insane valley first?”

***

Tagging:

Perma: @quixoticdreamer16 @tessa-liam

Guinevere: @cassie-thorne @noesapphic

#guinevere x artura #w:inlocusmads #guinevere choices #artura pendragon

5 notes · View notes