#i like the idea of arthur as this heartbroken king who maybe in the end would do the right thing by his love and let her go with hers

[eliounora]

listen I have a feeble grasp on the legend but one of my fave motifs has been guinevere and lancelot's great love and I'm kinda bummed this show isn't going for that. nevertheless. the way he turned back to look at her

#especially since it seems to be for the sole purpose of providing arthur with a love interest #i like the idea of arthur as this heartbroken king who maybe in the end would do the right thing by his love and let her go with hers #nor's rambles #merlin blogging #anyway. this concludes today's merlin watch. i will go listen to the musical now #ACTUALLY. I MUST LISTEN TO THE REVIVAL!!!!!!!

[oswinsdolma]

Yes, it's 2021, but I'm still not over the dark irony of Kilgharrah's final words, so I am going to analyse it, even though precisely nobody asked.

Firstly, Kilgharrah tells Merlin after his admission of failure that "all that [he has] dreamt of has come to pass". Now, obviously there is the irony of the fact that Arthur is dead, something that Merlin has been trying to prevent for the whole five seasons, yet the battle was victorious, people have seen magic as a force for good and Merlin can now be open about his gifts with his friends. However, there is an even deeper irony here that is rarely addressed, and this lies in the word "all". The problem is, that while Emrys is the entity that strives for magical inclusion and the one that fufils the prophecy. Destiny is not conscious: it doesn't understand life or death beyond the shallow ties of balance and mathematics. Yet Emrys may be a concept, and concepts need someone- or something- to take root in, and that someone happened to be Merlin.

Fundamentally, Merlin is not a bad person, but regardless of his power, his empathy, his loyalty, he is still unequivocally human. He has flaws, he has guilt, and no matter how dedicated he is to his destiny, there will always be other variables that come into play, and there is therefore no doubt that Merlin would have had other thoughts, no matter how insignificant, that lay opposed to his destiny.

Take when Freya died: Merlin was heartbroken, and in those seconds of emotion before reason took a hold once again, he may have wished, just for a moment, that Arthur and Freya's fates were reversed. And even after that, he would have hoped that one day, Arthur and Freya could live in a world where the other's existence is not a violation onto the other. And what place exists where harmony must ensue outside of the dead?

Then moving on to Balinor's death and Merlin's anguish in its aftermath: yes, he gained his powers as a dragonlord, but at the expense of a father he should have had a right to know. In that light, there is the inevitability of resentment for his gifts. Merlin would never have wanted the powers he attained had he known the price for them. And yet again, those tiny thoughts would have crept in: the wish that things could go differently, the wish that the business of dragons was not his to oversee, even at the time when his gifts were needed most. So the sick twist there is that when Merlin needed Kilgharrah, the only person who ever truly understood him despite their differences, left him alone, that wish came true.

There are hundreds of instances where Merlin's humanity prevented the prophecy from taking a favourable turn, and that, I think is what makes Merlin less a drama than a tragedy: there's the hope for a better ending combined with the constant prescence of an ending you don't want to believe. There's the fall at the ending and the warped sense of catharsis that comes with knowing that the end did come, even if it wasn't what you expected.

Following that, there is a pause in the conversation, as both characters take a second to mourn in silence, the absence of what united them showing them no longer as allies, but as friends.

Then: "no man, no matter how great, can know his destiny." This isn't so much something for Merlin to understand, but more something for the audience to hear: it's an echo of the first words we hear, and therefore a reminder that it is Kilgharrah who tells the story. Now this is an interesting narrative device in itself: why have him narrate rather than Arthur? Why Kilgharrah over Merlin or Gwen or Morgana? Take a second to imagine what it would have been like for the story to start with their voices, even if the words were the same. Especially when we know their endings, it gives the story a different tone and alludes to each of their fates in a different way. Though here is that terrible truth that the narrative comes back to every time if you analyse it far enough: each of the core four has a story, yet because of the way they were used, it will never be their story to tell. But Kilgharrah... He was just as important as the rest of them, but while the others were pawns, he was sat watching the game with a reluctant but omniescent eye, and that's what make that line hit so hard for us (aside from the fact that it is a taunting echo of the hope we had at the start). The story, while timeless, is dead, and we are all helpless spectators, hoping against hope that we are wrong about how it ends.

Furthermore, there is the fact that it is a repeat of the first words we hear when we still hold a little hope. It is that reiteration of the fact that the story will be told and retold, rewritten and loved but doomed to end in tragedy. It's an indication of the timelessness of certain tales and the permenence of endings no matter how much we want them to change, and it hits the mark every time.

Then, if it wasn't sad enough already, there is the final utterence of the phrase "once and future king". Kilgharrah says these words in hope, trusting Merlin to take it as a promise, but retrospectively there is the darkness of that line that Merlin probably knew all along, even if he didn't let himself believe it. In saying "once" rather than "now" right from the get-go, there was that quiet acknowledgement of an ending, even if it was followed by a beginning: it is yet another reminder to Merlin that he should have known, and that bittersweet reassurance that wherever he may have done, it would always have ended in disaster. Even if they both made all the right choices, the gods would have found another way to turn it down.

Okay, next let's look at "when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again". This, in all.effect, is a reiteration of the last phrase, made clearer for an audience who may need or desire reinforcement here so I'm not going to go too deep. But the thing is, Merlin already knows, at least in his heart, that it is Arthur's destiny to rise again and be the greatest king Albion has ever known. So when Kilgharrah says this, it is not a warning or a piece of advice, for perhaps the first time, it is a kindness. Merlin has been wrecked by his actions and those of all the others caught in the imperfect web spun and left to decay by the idea of Albion. It is a gentle reminder not to forget the reason for all that they have lost, and an olive branch of freedom for one who was so long enslaved.

And there again is that irony and cruel truth that while Merlin is the crucible in which that dream will be forged and has a certain autonomy over its nature, he is not a part of that dream himself, and maybe he never will be. Not unless someone lets him in, and all the people who would ever have done so are a breath too close to death for it to really count.

(I said I wasn't going to go too deep but I got carried away)(this is why my lit teacher is fed up with me)

And finally, the last line Kilgharrah says to us, perhaps the most powerful of them all: "the story that we have been a part of will live long in the minds of men". To analyse the words in this individually would be a rare insult to its complexity, but as a phrase, it evokes such an emotive response that it alone finally cements that finality in our minds. It's the cyclical acknowledgement of the audience's role in the narrative, simultaneously retracting and strengthening our suspension of belief. The one word I have used more than any other in this essay is "story" and this is why: the people who hear a tale such as this become just as important as the characters, because we are united by hope for the final chord but dreading it, because that means that the song will finally be over. Is it better for the embers to glow with tragedy or be extinguished by a deeper catharsis?

In summary, it is obvious to the naked eye that the Great Dragon's last words are loaded with meaning far beyond their initial appearance, and when you dive deeper, the web of connotations is so vast that this essay has barely scratched the surface. But the informal and perhaps most accurate theme that wa can draw from this is that none of us are over this show, no matter what we claim, because that ending really flippin' hurt, okay!?

#bbc merlin #merlin #kilgharrah #sorry for the inevitable typos and poor writing because i never proofread my essays before i post #i have a lot of feelings

[swanqueeneverafter]

Sins of the Past Pt.16

Camelot. Dungeons. (Lancelot, Merida, Belle, Xena and Gabrielle continue to fight Morgana's guards alongside the now-freed knights of Camelot. While Xena kills the last guard, Guinevere arrives.) Lancelot: "Guinevere. What are you doing here?" Guinevere: "Morgana sent me… to talk to you, to make you see sense." Merida: "They've bewitched her!" Guinevere: "No, listen to me. I’m going to help you escape." Gabrielle: "I'd say you're a little late for that." Guinevere: "You may have escaped your cells, but only I know all of Camelot's secret passageways. Come on, it's this way." (Watching discreetly from the top of the winding staircase, Morgana and Morgause see and hear everything.) Morgana: "It is as we suspected. She’s betrayed me." Morgause: "I'm afraid so, my sister. But wait, this is still a good thing. Let her lead the rebels from the castle, it will give us just cause to execute them all."

Wonderland. (Will and Ella walk back towards the Underland, Will carrying the Forget-Me-Knot over his shoulder.) Ella: “The way you talked to that poor man, you were really getting through to him.” Will: “I'm a thief. Playing parts is what I do.” Ella: “I don't think you were playing a part. You were identifying with him.” Will: “Ah, bollocks.” Ella: “Is it? He was heartbroken, and you saw that.” Will: “Yeah, well I know what we won’t see, and that’s your mother through this thing. I’m sorry, Ella, but you’ve seen how this thing works now. We can’t just hold this thing up and walk over ever last millimeter of Wonderland in the hopes of seeing her.” Ella: (Nods:) “I know, you’re right. But what it can do is settle your debts with the Caterpillar, and that will mean that you can focus on helping me without looking over your shoulder all the time.” Will: (Looking at the sun setting on the horizon:) “Looks like we'll just make it.” Ella: “What are you waiting for? Time to clear your name.” Will: “I've been thinking.” Ella: “Oh, no.” Will: “And maybe you were right. Handing this thing back to the Caterpillar might be a truly horrible idea.” Ella: “What do you mean?” Will: “Well, he's not exactly Wonderland's chief humanitarian now, is he?” Ella: “No.” Will: “Chances are he'll use it for the same way he uses everything - to hurt people.” Ella: “But if you don't hand it over to him, you'll spend your remaining days as a desk ornament.” Will: (Shrugs this off:) “Pah.” Ella: “That thing is your key to freedom, for you to no longer be a hunted thief.” Will: “Actually, being a thief ain't up to anyone but me. If I give this to him, then I went to steal this thing for me, that makes me a thief. But if I don't give it to him, well, then I got it for you.” Ella: “And what does that make you then?” Will: “Hopefully someone with a shred of humanity left.” Ella: (Smiles:) “No ‘hopefully’ about it.” (Will holds up the knot, strikes a match from his pocket and sets light to the rope. The resulting smoke rises into the air and vanishes.) Camelot. Forest. (Pursued by Morgause and her men, the escapees run through the forest.) Belle: "They’re almost upon us!" Merida: "We need to get out of this valley!" Lancelot: "I can buy you all some time. You need to go. Run!" Guinevere: (Grabbing his arm:) "I won't leave you!" Lancelot: "Camelot needs you." Xena: "Camelot needs both of you. Gabrielle and I have got this. Go! We'll be right behind you." (Gabrielle and Xena stand back to back, taking on several soldiers before Xena is able to release her chakram.)

(The weapon arcs upward and across the valley, dislodging some large boulders to cause a rockfall, creating an impasse for the soldiers. Before Xena can catch the chakram however, she is knocked backwards by the force of Morgause’s magic. Inches from disaster, Gabrielle jumps and flips, catching the weapon in mid-air. Snarling up at the sorceress, Xena is ready for round two when Gabrielle grabs her.) Gabrielle: “Not now, let’s go!” (As they retreat, Morgause chants and blasts the rocks away, clearing the path for her soldiers. Arriving at the end of the valley, the escapees find Regina, Emma, Hook and Rumplestiltskin waiting for them beside the Sorcerer’s door. One by one, the knights, Lancelot and Guinevere and Merida run through the door to safety, Belle running into her husband’s arms.) Rumplestiltskin: “Oh, Belle, I’m so glad you’re safe.” Regina: (Seeing the soldiers running towards them:) “Not yet she isn’t. Go through the door. Now!” (Standing aside to let Xena and Gabrielle run through the door, Regina steps forward, sending fireballs at the soldiers, scattering them. Before Emma is able to use her own magic, she is knocked backwards by Morgause. Conjuring a fireball in each hand, Regina shoots them at Morgause who deflects them effortlessly.) Morgause: “Well if it isn’t the Evil Queen. Let’s see if you can live up to your reputation.” Regina: “Bring it, bitch.” (Both women send sparks of magic towards each other, neither managing to gain ground on the other. Finally getting to her feet, Emma joins the magical battle. The combined magic of the married couple blasts Morgause backwards. Taking their chance, Regina and Emma escape through the Sorcerer’s door. Helped to her feet by two soldiers, Morgause watches the door disappear, silently impressed by the combined force of the Savior and the Queen’s magic.)

Somewhere In Some Other Woods. (Walking through the forest together, Henry and Richard really are quite lost.) Henry: “Please stop talking.” Richard: “Well, no need to get snippy with me, you’re the one who didn’t think to bring a map. Wonderland can’t be too far away now. Do... oh, no.” Henry: “What ‘oh, no’?” Richard: (Looks around, turning in a circle:) “Oh...No.” Henry: “‘Oh, no,’ what?” Richard: “I think I may have led us into the Enchanted Forest, and that is not good. My father warned me to stay away from here at all costs. There's a queen... An evil queen... In fact, once my father and his best friend/camping buddy, Keith, who... I called him Uncle Keith 'cause he was always around...” Henry: “Spit it out!” Richard: “They wandered in here, and Uncle Keith was never heard from again.” Henry: “Oh, great. Oh, yeah. Mm-hmm, typical. God, can't anything go right?!” Richard: “You’re just gonna keep walking?” (They walk a short distance and come to a stop outside a moss covered building.) Henry: “Oh. (Reads the notice:) ‘Happy Hour’? (Sees the sign:) The Enchanted Forest is a pub. (Exhales sharply:) God, you actually had me scared for a minute there.” (Together, they enter the establishment.) Storybrooke. Mayor's Office. (Snow White, David, Grumpy and Happy stand opposite two of the knights who accosted the dwarves earlier.) Knight 1: "By order of her Majesty, Queen Morgana, I am here to arrest Emma Swan." Snow White: "Well, first of all, it's Swan-Mills. Secondly, she's not here, and third-" David: (Rolling up his sleeves:) "She's our daughter and you're going to have to go through me." Snow White: (Calmly:) "David, please, let's hear what they have to say. What is your name, Sir..." Knight 1: "My name is Sir Mordred. Your daughter is charged with the murder of Camelot's King. Be assured that even though Arthur was her brother, Morgana has insisted that there be a fair trial." David: "Oh yes, because Camelot has a history of fair and just rulers." Mordred: (Ignoring this, to Snow:) "Where is your daughter now?" Snow White: "On vacation, with her wife and daughter. We're not exactly sure where they went. (Looking to her husband:) David, did they mention where... (David innocently shakes his head. Shrugs, to Mordred:) Daughters. You know how secretive they can be." Mordred: (With a curt smile:) "Indeed." Robin Hood: (Entering:) "I may be able to shed some light on their whereabouts. (Nods to Snow and David. To Mordred:) They're currently outside laying waste to your two colleagues. Lancelot and Guinevere are with them, so if you're feeling lucky, you and your little friend here, (Looks the other knight up and down:) could nab yourself all of Camelot's enemies in one fell swoop."

Mordred: (With another insincere smile:) "Make no mistake, we shall be back with reinforcements and next time, I will have your daughter." David: "Over my dead body." Snow White: "And mine." Regina: (Entering, her eyes full of rage:) "And mine! You tell your Queen and her lapdog that there's no way in hell I am letting either of them anywhere near my wife!" Mordred: (Infuriatingly calm:) "We shall see." (Conjuring a fireball into her hand, Regina is about to hurl it at Mordred when he vanishes. Realising that he is now along amongst very unfriendly faces, the remaining knight runs quickly towards the door and out of sight.) David: (Grabbing his jacket:) "I'll get him. Robin, let's go." Outside Town Hall. (While Lancelot and his men restrain the other two knights, Emma turns at the sound of running footsteps. After almost getting knocked down by the remaining knight, Emma is spun around again, this time by her father.) Emma: "Dad, what the hell?" David: "No time to talk now, (Tossing the keys of his truck to Robin:) we've got this!" (Before she can say anything, Emma watches as David and Robin Hood pile into David's truck and speed away in pursuit of the last knight.) Camelot. Chapel. (Morgause meets with Morgana to relay the news.) Morgause: “They were lucky to escape. I’m sorry, Sister.” Morgana: “What can they do? Guinevere and Lancelot have but a handful of men. We have Bayard’s soldiers and Camelot’s army at our disposal.” Morgause: “Yes, but whist Guinevere lives, the people will not yield.” Morgana: “Then we will make them. Let it be known that Guinevere freed Camelot’s enemies and betrayed m- (Corrects herself:) us all. Tonight we will have a gallows built, and tomorrow, one by one, we will put an end to the knights of Camelot.”

Storybrooke. Mayor's Office. (Regina and Emma sit alone with Maria sleeping beside them.) Emma: "You know, they're not wrong. I did kill Arthur." Regina: "You were protecting yourself from a madman who had threatened your family if you didn't surrender to his will." Emma: "I still had a choice. I chose to kill him. You saw what happened when I did, I was fully embraced by the Darkness after that." Regina: "Which means you've already been punished. And redeemed for that matter. If it wasn't for you, there would still be a Dark One. Never mind the fact that the Darkness was created in Camelot in the first place. Not that you'll ever hear them admit that of course." Emma: "I don't think it was technically created there, but you can work out the finer details and be ready to defend me by the time my trial starts." (Realising Emma is trying to lighten the mood, Regina takes a deep, calming breath.) Regina: "Morgana doesn't care about Arthur's death. How could she when it was her brother who poisoned her all those years ago? Morgana just ousted a beloved Queen and needs to change the conversation. The people of Camelot don't know her, so Morgana has to show that she can be a tough but fair ruler. This whole idea of a trial is nothing but political theatre." Emma: "Kind of like when you had Leopold killed and blamed Snow for his murder?" Regina: "Exactly. (Thinks a moment:) God knows why your mother still speaks to me after all I've done to her. (Tilts her head:) But then again, after five minutes of talking with her, I'm not so sure the silent treatment would be such a bad thing." Emma: (Smiling:) "Please try not to turn our daughter against her grandmother. We’re going to need as many babysitters as we can get." (They both stop and take a moment to look at the slumbering child between them.) Regina: "All I'm saying, is that you can't let this bother you. We both know how you can get when you're feeling angry or persecuted." Emma: "Oh that is not fair. That hasn't happened since... well it's been a long time." Storybrooke. Past. Main Street. (Walking together after a rough magic lesson, Regina and Emma talk over Emma's issues.) Emma: "It's like I just can't seem to control it." Regina: "That's because your magic isn't born from anger or hatred. Your magic comes from love, from the desire to protect those around you. When the Snow Queen pushed your buttons and made you angry, your powers surged out of you in a way that you'd never experienced before." Emma: "Gold always said magic is about emotion." Regina: "And he's right. Emma, before I met you, I thought that any magic or power that I had came from darkness. You showed me that there was another way." Emma: (Nods:) "When you defeated Zelena. Hasn't your magic ever faltered?" Regina: (Shrugs:) "When Gold first brought it to Storybrooke, it took a little while for my magic to come back. But I have both light and dark magic, so if one fails-" Emma: "The other takes over. So shouldn't I try and... I don't know, tap into my dark magic. As a backup?" (They walk in silence for a few paces as Regina considers her answer.) Regina: "The thing is, Emma, the strength of your Savior magic is so powerful that it dwarfs my dark magic. If we were to attempt to access your darker side, I'd be concerned about possibly diluting the purity of your light magic." Emma: (Smiles at this:) "Oh I think we both know I'm not that pure." Regina: (Chuckles:) "Well, this is true. In certain instances you've proven to be downright devillish." Emma: "I've obviously had the perfect teacher." Regina: (Smiles:) "You've plenty more to learn and I'm more than eager to teach you." Emma: "Sounds intense." Regina: "It can be." Emma: "Promise?" (With a wave of Regina's hand, both women disappear in a cloud of smoke.)

Mayor’s Mansion. (Re-appearing outside the front door to the mansion, Emma's lips are upon Regina's before the brunette can even find her keys. Noticing Regina's struggle, Emma waves her own hand and they re-appear at the top of the stairs, each woman now pulling at the other's clothes. As the intensity of their kissing increases, Regina finds herself being guided towards the window seat. Letting out a moan when Emma straddles her lap, Regina grips the blonde woman's hips, grinding her down against her thigh. Letting out her own moan, Emma latches onto Regina's neck, breathing heavily into her ear.) Emma: "Enough foreplay." Regina: "I couldn't agree more." (With a final wave of her hand, Regina transports them to the bedroom, her bra somehow landing on the door handle in mid-flight. As Emma shimmies out of her jeans, Regina puts a knee up on the chest at the bottom of the bed and, growling, begins to crawl on all fours before lowering herself into the arms of her favourite student.) Storybrooke. Present. (On the run, the remaining knight, Grif, rides off on his horse, with David driving his truck in pursuit. Robin Hood rides shotgun.) David: "Hold on!" Grif: (In the distance:) "Hyah! Hyah!" David: (To Robin:) "Take over! Speed is feet, direction is hand. (David climbs into the back of the truck while Robin Hood takes the wheel. Grif pulls his horse off-road. Banging the truck’s roof:) Circle around!” (David picks up a wooden plank from the truck bed and uses it as a joust to knock Grif off the horse.) Wonderland. The Underland. (The Caterpillar stares closely at the hourglass on his desk.) Caterpillar: “Mmm. Not much time left, Knave. (Suddenly the music stops playing and everyone turns towards the entrance:) Well, speak of the devil.” (The crowds part, revealing...) Morgause: “Expecting someone else?” Caterpillar: “Yes.” Morgause: “Pity. Now, I want you to tell me everything you know about Emma and Regina. Everything.”

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

[captain-lonagan]

Merlin Was Supposed To Die

i have to go to sleep soon because i have to get up for work in five hours but i just had a really insane headcanon pop up into my head:

so every hero is defined by their villain. and i don’t mean in a “villain merch sells more than hero merch” way, i mean a hero’s strength can only be proven by how strong The Big Bad they kill is. and people rally around a person who can keep them safe from The Big Bad. so if arthur is meant to get all of albion to unite, he’ll have to prove himself and rally his people. so big battle against The Big Bad would be pretty ideal and would be pretty in line with the tone of prophecies. big battle makes the hero a big star.

which just begs the question: Who is The Big Bad(TBB)?

most of you would immediately say Morgana or Mordred. but mordred is a scrappy druid kid who learned to be a knight. yes he’s powerful but at the end of the day is he really Unite Albion levels of terrifying? he’s an angry, heartbroken kid. a powerful one, yes. but not enough to inspire a country. so morgana, right? surely she’s enough? and we’re almost there, morgana is pretty powerful and she did scare a lot of people. but not so much. morgana’s threat was entirely focused on camelot or anyone who directly provoked her. she could be negotiated with if you weren’t aligned with arthur or weren’t directly opposing her. so she’s not really something for the whole of albion to fear so long as they treat her half decently(or at least that’s how a lot of people would view her). Morgause? a radical high priestess, weaker than morgana, small potatos. Kilgarrah? literally did anyone outside of camelot give a fuck about kilgarrah? no, because he didn’t bother anyone else. and yes, these people would bother someone else if provoked. but their powers aren’t big enough or wild or out of control enough to really terrify everyone unanimously.

So who is powerful enough to unite an entire continent in fear of their power? who is a bother to everyone else? who would demolished entire armies single handedly? hell, who Has demolished an entire army single handedly? Merlin. Emrys. if anyone can unite an island of divided countries in fear, its the most powerful sorcerer to ever live. after he inherits his full power in the cave merlin is practically a god. regardless of his own intentions or personality, he is powerful enough to make people afraid simply based on that. so for a moment let’s consider: what if arthur was supposed to kill merlin?

i mean we have this kid, a bastard, ostracized and hurt for all his life. the only ones who he loved and was loved by in return were his best friend and mother. he goes to camelot. he sees his people murdered, brutally, humiliatingly. he sees uther, feasting and thriving. he sees a shining prince, who in early merlin’s mind was an absolute Ass, remember? and yeah merlin makes some friends but other than lancelot none of them fully know and accept him, and lancelot left. gaius is alright, but he’s not particularly good company in the whole Magical Closet department. so what if, when nimueh offers merlin the chance to change sides, or when cornelius sigan says merlin should join him, it’s more than just standard villain monologue? what if it’s fate pushing him towards his “destiny”? arthur killed freya, what if that was meant to be another catalyst? can we trust kilgarrah to tell the whole truth when he’s so blinded by his own biases and goals?

because let’s think here: a lot of early villains, even small ones, pushed merlin to go dark side. later villains were made by merlin’s decisions to try and do good. you will never convince me morgana was truely destined for evil. i love merlin, but if he had done things with her a little differently the show would’ve gone very differently. mordred, ALL OF MORDRED, was made by merlin’s choices. if merlin hadn’t interfered with morgause, regardless of whether it was the right thing to do or not, arthur would’ve believed magic to be good(or at least neutral) and uther would be dead. if we’re going with morgana being handled well, maybe she’d get to train as a high priestess and become educated in the old religion. because much as we like to nominate merlin for court court sorcerer based on his power, he knows literally nothing about the magical community.

so if we look at those villains and you look at merlin’s background of pain and the power he has that overwhelms him, that he can’t contain, that makes him wonder if he’s a monster, is it so insane to wonder if maybe he was supposed to snap? to lose control or to step a little too dark into the moral gray area? now i’m not saying merlin would be moustache-twirling evil, he’d probably be as terrified of his power then as he was in season one. i’m thinking merlin, guilt-ridden and terrified of the power that bleeds and bursts from his fingers. i’m thinking merlin, lost and caught in a whirlwind he can’t seem to find any control over. i’m thinking merlin, slowly realizing that maybe he is the monster.

so now you’re wondering, “alby, even if that batshit insane idea is plausible, merlin didn’t actually go evil. what’s your reasoning for that?” to which i respond “arthur was supposed to unite albion in a golden age so maybe fate doesn’t always go how it’s meant to”. maybe something happened that fate didn’t plan for. merlin fell in love. he took a leap of faith and landed on a shiny prince. maybe merlin wasn’t meant to be so loyal, so patient, so faithful. maybe arthur wasn’t meant to grow more and more fond of his servant. maybe the love that so many tumblr users and fic writer praise as fated wasn’t meant to happen at all. and even if they did fall in love, merlin would still be pulled into the whirlwind.

maybe merlin was meant to look at the death and destruction he created on a battlefield or in a forest or in a city and turn to arthur and say, “if you ever loved me, kill me,”

because to kill a beast as powerful as an emrys, to defeat a such a powerful mad monster, that requires a true hero(a true king) to unite all the people who had cowered in fear.

because only one side of a coin can face up. because merlin is meant to help arthur unite albion, but nobody trustworthy ever says how.

i’ve got a lot more thoughts on this but i now have about 4 hours to sleep before i need to get up for work so i’ll leave this here. just think about it.

#OOF #ITS ANGSTY #BUT I LIKE THIS HEADCANON #long post #bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #arthur #arthur pendragon #headcanon

[violetathedog]

The Sides Merlin!AU

Basic info in case you don’t know about the series: Merlin is the most powerful warlock (And dragonlord, but he doesn’t learn about it after like, a season and a half, I think) to have ever graced the earth and is sent by his mother to Camelot to learn with Gaius (The court´s doctor who a long time ago used to practice magic) how to control his powers. Camelot is ruled by Uther , who absolutely HATES magic (“ITS EVIL AND IT KILLED MY WIFE” Uther screamed heartbroken while ignoring the facts that it was his actions and his actions alone what led to the demise of his beloved) so he ,being the kind king he is, decided to kill and destroy every thing/one that has a small connection to magic. Arthur is the prince and Merlin, being the protagonist that he is, ended up as his manservant. Shenanigans ensue.

Now with the sides! :

Virgil as Merlin and Roman as Arthur, for obvious reasons.

Patton as Gwen cause he is wonderful and sweet and nice and emotional and is one of the few that can deal with the Prince´s antics without wanting to punch him.

Logan as Gaius ´cause he is wise, tired of the king´s bullshit and, although he loves Virgil, he is absolutely DONE with him (“what dO YOU MEAN YOU FOUGHT THE PRINCE?! VIRGIL I SWEAR-“)

Deceit as Killgarrah (In case you don’t know about the series, Killgarrah is a BIG ASS DRAGON), ´cause they are both manipulative and morally gray little shits that aren’t NECESSARILY evil. Maybe Deceit is a shape shifting dragon. Dragonlords are the only ones that can order and command them.

REMY AS GWAINE ´cause they are both absolute human disasters that drink too much and would die for Virgil/Merlin while still not being completely sure about Roman/Arthur.

THOMAS IS LANCELOT ´CAUSE THEY BOTH ARE INCREDIBLE, SELFLESS AND NOBLE HUMAN BEINGS

So, since this is an AU, no one mentioned above will ever die and we can do with the story whatever we please, but the basics are these:

Virgil was sent to learn from Logan how the fuck to control his powers, since Logan´s mother was friends with Virgil´s mother and told the later something along the lines of:  “My son is incredible wise. He also loves challenges. Send Virgil to him. This is going to be fun”.

Logan welcomes Virgil with open arms ´cause the first thing that Virgil did with magic when he met Logan was save his ass from a nasty fall.

“Ah. Magic. I see. I would recommend for you to try to lay low if you want to keep your head where it is” Logan said, ever the voice of reason, Virgil agreed.

Half an hour later Virgil is fighting Roman ´cause he didn’t know who he was and thought it was just another noble that was bullying a peasant for the laughs. After some bickering and punches and kicks Virgil loses the fight and is sent by Roman to spend a wonderful afternoon at the stocks.

They both DESPISE each other at first.

“Virgil” Logan took a deep breath “You shall not fear the King, for I AM GOING TO MURDER YOU MYSELF, HOW ARE YOU THIS STUPID IT WAS THE PRINCE YOU DENSE EXCUSE OF A WARLOCK”

Some time passes without further incident, well, asides from Virgil meeting and immediately befriending Patton, but a few weeks later a feast is held in honor of some bullshit and an Evil Witch TM uses a spell to make everyone in the room fall asleep (The spell doesn’t work on Virgil ´cause his magic blocks this kind of weak stuff) and tries to kill Roman while he was knocked out. Virgil uses his magic to kill the witch (He makes a chandelier fall on her head) and moves Roman out of the way to save him. When the king wakes up and realizes what Virgil did he gives Virgil the honor of becoming Roman´s manservant.

Both Virgil and Roman want to kill themselves.

Virgil walks without making much noise and doesn’t give a fuck about protocol unless someone important is watching (Like the king or some petty knights or arrogant nobles who would make a fuss about it) so he not only bickers with Roman a lot, but he also scares him when he just “appears”.

“AAAH VIR-“ “YES! VIRGIL WHEN DID YOU GET HERE! I KNOW! I KNOW YOU DON’T WANT ME HERE, BUT I AM HERE AND THIS IS MY JOB WETHER WE LIKE IT OR NOT”

Virgil finds Deceit trapped in a very especial dungeon where he is held by magic proof chains. He was thrown in there ´cause the king wanted to keep the last of the dragons as a trophy. Deceit informs Virgil of his destiny, and how he is supposed to “Protect and help Roman to become the once are future king that will unite all of albion and bring magic back”.

Virgil, after kindly laughing his ass off, informs Deceit that there is NO WAY in hell that he´ll do that. Roman is a dick and if someone wanted to murder him he would help hide the body.

A lot of quests ensue and Virgil, being the manservant of the prince, has the “honor” of going to all of them. He saves Roman´s ass with subtle magic (Using it when he is not looking or performing “accidents”, like, making branches fall of trees) an awful lot of times, and in the process they befriend each other. (They could also fall for each other if you want Prinxiety)

Just.

Merlin AU

(Feel free to add to this. I can´t write for shit so Im just sharing the idea to see if anyone is interested. If someone already thought of this Im so sorry tell me and I will delete this)

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #ts virgil #roman sanders #ts roman #logan sanders #ts logan #patton sanders #ts patton #ts deceit #deceit #sympathetic deceit #Remy sanders #ts sleep #ts remy

[thegirlfairytalesforgot]

Heartbreak

It is exceedingly difficult, but not impossible, to reason with a drunk person.

A drunk and heartbroken person, however, is a different story entirely.

“Leo,” Henry murmured, ducking his head low and nudging the hat towards the prince with a new level of desperation. “Wear it. Please. Before someone recognises you.”

Prince Leonardo, heir to the Southern Kingdom, wealthiest young royal on the continent, and currently in the running as drunkest person in the tavern, took a moment to lift his bleary eyes away from his glass. When his gaze locked with Henry’s, the young valet made the terrible mistake of hoping that he’d made a breakthrough, and he quirked his lips in encouragement.

“No.”

Henry sighed, resigning himself to spending time in the rougher side of town for the foreseeable future, but apprehensive nonetheless. Leo was still in his regular clothes. In other words, his wealth was obvious to anyone and everyone. Nobody this side of town wore blue, for it was the colour of nobility, of royalty.

They were bound to attract attention sooner or later.

Henry sat down, back against the wall, whilst facing outward- all the better to look for any suspicious activity. If they were going to attract any unwelcome guests to their table, he would make sure he knew about them before they arrived.

Raising his empty glass, Leo grinned sloppily, his chin wobbling. “Here,” he slurred, pushing the empty glass towards Henry. “Share a drink with your heartbroken friend, I’ve never had it before! It’s really quite good you know! Aguardiente! It’s sort-of… sweet. Ha. Much better than brandy.”

Simultaneously laughing and hiccuping, Leo slammed his hand down on the rough wooden table, making passers by jump or look towards them in alarm. Henry inwardly cringed, yet outwardly ensured his face was entirely neutral and that he was sitting up at full height which. “We have to go back to the palace,” he said, a bit more urgently. But only a bit.

“You know something else that’s sweet Henry? Do you know who?” Leo replied, completely ignoring him. Having taken back the empty glass, he proceeded to poke his tongue around it, no doubt searching for a shred more alcohol in exchange for his dignity. Truthfully he’d probably given that up up around four drinks ago. A droplet fell out, trailing past his cheek and into his blonde hair.

“Who, Leo? Who is sweet?” Henry decided to humour him, secretly wishing he could drink too. But someone needed to keep their wits about them, and they’d both get in serious trouble if he didn’t get Leo back to the palace before the king and queen noticed he’d run off. Thank goodness that servants, such as himself, had eyes beyond the gazes of the elite, running like roads all over the kingdom. It’s how he’d managed to track Leo down… though not before the prince had managed to get himself into such a state.

“You know who it is! You know! How could anyone not know?” Leo whined, his green eyes bright with unshed tears, and every muscle in Henry’s body clenched. Please don’t cry. Don’t cry please. You’re such a loud crier. I beg of you. Don’t cry.

“Do you think fish can cry?” Henry blurted out of the blue, desperate to distract Leo from his woes enough so that he could get him home.

For a second, Leo looked like Henry had slapped him. Pulling backwards, his eyebrows shot up.

Then he frowned, deeply, resting his chin on the table. “If fish can cry,” he responded, voice deep and suddenly incredibly serious, “I hope that they are also able to share their feelings with their fish friends.”

It took every single ounce of training Henry had ever received to not laugh himself into oblivion. A slight thinning of his lips was all the tell he gave over his friend and employer’s utter ridiculousness. That and the whistling of his nose as he exhaled slowly.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Leo murmured, snuggling into the table. “I’m heartbroken. My Guinevere is marrying a man she doesn’t love and I, her former Arthur, am to die alone.”

“You’re sixteen,” Henry attempted to reason, still keeping his eyes glued to the other patrons of the tavern. It seemed, however, that luck was finally on his side. The hour was late and most of the customers were mellow. Still, he wondered if he should get out his dagger, just in case. “You aren’t going to die any time soon I assure you. You’re uncanny ability to get yourself out of trouble, as well as into trouble, knows no bounds. Though, admittedly I’m usually the one to come to your aid- as I am in this instance.”

Once again, Henry’s words on deaf ears as Leo pulled himself upright. His eyes blazed with the kind of stubborn fire possessed by those drunk past the point of any sense of reason, and his cheeks (which had not yet lost the roundness of youth) puffed out in determination. “I’m going to see her. Now.”

Henry paused, trying to work out what Leo could possibly mean. “I’m sorry?”

“I am going to walk to the Holy Roman Kingdom! Isn’t that a splendid idea?” Leo laughed, clapping his hands together and standing up. The scraping on his chair made everyone in the nearby vicinity cringe. “I’m going to run, the way the man from Marathon did when he beat the Trojans. Such a romantic gesture will prove my love to Skye! She’ll see I really do love her and maybe- maybe she won’t marry that man.” His face darkened, his words blurring together as his memories took hold of his tongue. “She doesn’t love him, she said that she’s scared she won’t be happy. She told me. She told me… I’d give anything to see her happy. Happy. Even without me.”

“You’re getting your classics confused,” Henry corrected, standing up and gripping Leo’s shoulder to prevent him swaying any more. Whilst Leo’s attention was fully focused on staying upright, Henry quickly grabbed the hat and placed it on his head, hiding the famous blond waves, the feature which would give him away more than anything. Henry didn’t want to think about the queen’s face if she found out that her son was not only drunk, but publically drunk. “Although, that’s neither here nor there. Leo you can’t walk to the Holy Roman Kingdom. It’s a three week journey by carriage alone.”

“So then let’s set sail!” Leo argued, hurrying from the bar. Blindsided by the action, it took a moment for Henry to realise that Leo wasn’t joking and was already halfway out the tavern. Cursing inwardly, he placed one hand on his concealed weapon and rushed after the prince. Upon catching up to him, he was unsurprised to hear Leo rambling plans about stealing aboard a the next ship bound for Champagne.

“Perhaps it might be best to sleep on the idea, your highness,” Henry said, easily keeping rhythm with him as they strolled through the narrow cobblestone streets. Most of the lamps were still burning at least, so there was just about enough light. Still, narrow streets such as these were best avoided even in broad daylight. Henry clutched his dagger closer, desperately hoping that he wouldn’t have to use it.

Leo stopped dead in his tracks, causing Henry to bump into his shoulder. Swivelling around with his mouth wide open, he fixed Henry with a surprised stare. “You’re angry with me.”

Henry’s shoulders tensed and he lowered his gaze, unable to meet Leo’s eyes. “I am no such thing.”

“Yes you are!” Leo protested, “You are angry! You only ever call me your highness when you’re upset! What did I do?” he stepped forward, gripping Henry’s sleeve and looking too much like a child about to be admonished by his parents. If they didn’t get home soon, he was sure to be exactly that. “Did I do something wrong again?”

Finally caving to his emotions, Henry buried his head in his hands. “You ran away, without me to get you out of trouble. You’re drunk. In public. And I’m supposed to ensure nothing happens to you, that you don’t get hurt.”

Leo was silent then, stepping out of Henry’s personal space (which was a relief to the young valet, as Leo’s breath smelt terrible). Playing with the fingers of his gloves, Leo paused, looking up again he whispered so quietly that Henry almost didn’t hear it, “And yet, I did get hurt.”

The air seemed thick, weighted by the woe which poured from every fibre of Leo’s being. Shadows seemed longer, the summer night stifling. The cool breeze from the nearby ocean might as well have been kingdom’s away. Henry took his hands away from his face, completely at a loss.

“I can’t- I can’t say anything that’ll help you,” he confessed, finally, hopelessly. “Usually I can but I- I can’t with this. I’m sorry. I don’t know what you can do-what I can do- to resolve this.”

Hiccupping again, Leo smiled sadly, reaching up to pat Henry’s head. However, as he was a head smaller than Henry, he ended up stumbling forwards and accidentally swiping his ear instead, fingers snagging painfully on Henry’s dark curls. “Well, I suppose you could help me travel to the Holy Roman Kingdom.”

Henry smiled. “I could, although what would you do there?”

Leo stumbled backwards, shoulder colliding with the wall, a little bit of fire back in his eyes and he raised his fingers in triumph. “Fight for my love of course! It is what the great heroes do!”

“Leo you’re drunk,” Henry repeated, now more amused than anything. “We need to get back to the palace. You can be a great hero and fight for your love in the morning.”

“HENRY!” Leo yelled suddenly throwing his arms around Henry’s shoulders. His alcohol ridden voice echoed around the street and whatever ease Henry had settled into quickly disappeared. Leo, of course, was completely oblivious to the obvious worry on his face. “You are the greatest friend in the world. They say man’s best friend is a dog but I feel as though everybody should have a Henry.”

“I suppose you’re lucky that I am the only one of me in the world, yet your family employ me,” Henry replied, lifting Leo off of him and pushing him between the shoulder blades. “Although I must admit, they won’t be employing me much longer if they discover you’ve run away. Let’s go back.”

“How odd it is that I’m lucky enough to have a friend like you and unlucky enough to lose the love of my life to an arranged marriage,” Leo’s shoulders slumped, but he finally began walking in the direction of the palace. “She was my childhood sweetheart, Henry, the princess of my heart. I wanted to marry her.”

“I know,” Henry soothed, for it was all he could say. “I’m sorry.”

“I suppose not even a prince can get all his heart desires, but I can’t lose hope. I have to at least talk to her, when I’m not about to vomit.”

“When you’re not about to wha-” was all Henry managed to get out before Leo heaved, doubling over and vomiting all over his own shoes.

Henry’s head was in his hands again. “How are you?”

“Not well,” Leo replied, standing up, and wobbling like a newborn deer. Henry reached out to steady him, and was alarmed to see his usually tanned face appear so pale, a sheen of sweat clung to his forehead and his eyes were glassy. “I think the fourth drink was a misstep. Oh! Henry! You are here! Did you know I love Skye? She is amazing. I do believe I am about to be ill again- please excuse me a moment.”

After the second time he was sick, Henry hesitated briefly, before rubbing Leo’s back. Drunk people were never his forte and Leo had never gotten to this state of intoxication before. They were both, it seemed, completely out of their depth. “Do you think you can walk?”

“Why?” Leo groaned innocently, becoming more nonsensical by the second. “Should I walk? I could walk. Perhaps I could. I could also fight a bear, most likely. If the bear was a friendly one. But then I would feel bad for fighting it. Do I have to fight the bear, Henry?”

“I am not going to begin to attempt to fathom why you want to fight a bear,” Henry replied, massaging his temples. “Do you want me to carry you home?”

“No,” Leo protested, still leaning against the poor unsuspecting wall upon which he’d twice emptied his stomach’s contents. After a pause, however, he feebly mumbled a quiet, “yes.”

The next morning, news spread like wildfire that the prince of the Southern Kingdom had been spotted, drunk and crying, being carried back to the palace by his own valet.

Needless to say, the king and queen weren’t amused. But Leo was too busy, torn between throwing up into a bucket and helping Henry with their plans to visit his Skye’s kingdom, to know until much later.

Heartbreak is set 2 years before the events on The Girl Fairy Tales Forgot!  Read more short stories from The Girl Fairy Tales Forgot universe here!

#Fairy tales #short story #drunk stories #books #literature #funny story #henry #leo #original writing

[mostnoblelancelot]

my heart’s in two places | g & l

@gxpendragon @ladyxguinevere

She’d been staring at him so long his face didn’t make sense anymore.  The series of events leading to here and now were overwhelming and she couldn’t make sense of those either, but that was mostly lack of effort.  They’d been betrayed, beaten at their own game, and nearly apprehended.  She’d been studying his face for hours, foregoing sleep with the idea that she’d leave after one last glance to commit to memory.

Instead, their fire went out.  The stars were in motion across the pitch black night sky.  The moon came out, stood out, and faded.  Now day was breaking.  Here she sat. 

Why was she doing this?  Why had she done all this?  What did she really want to come from it? 

She didn’t have any answers.  All she had was the urgency of doing everything wrong, of wanting to run but having nowhere to go, and the inability to actually leave.  She’d already broken one good man, or so she imagined.  It was entirely possible Arthur didn’t care in the slightest.  She hadn’t spoken to him, so she didn’t know.  The fact they had a cavalry chasing them said enough, she supposed.  Could she do it to a second man, a man who had done nothing wrong other than be her partner in crime? 

Indecision prevailed, keeping her rooted and staring, even as he started to stir.

“Good morning,” she finally said, her voice unsteady, another betrayal in a series of betrayals.  This one just gave away her emotional state, even though that was evidenced in her posture, her knees pulled up against her chest and her hands resting on them, making her as small as possible.  “I have a feeling we should keep moving.  Or figure out where we’re going.”

In hindsight, it seemed obvious that their betrayal would eventually be discovered in spite of how careful they had been to conceal it. A small, unacknowledged part of him buried deep in his brain must have known, because when the truth came out, he wasn't surprised. He didn't panic, although that may have been due to his nature more than any sort of forward thinking. He wasn't the sort of person who ruffled easily, but that wasn't to say he wasn't frightened. He was downright terrified that something would happen to her, but he forced the feeling down deep so that it didn't interfere with what needed to be done. The only thing that mattered now was protecting Guinevere, and to do that, he needed to get them both somewhere far away from Camelot.

He went through the motions of preparing what they needed for the journey methodically and at top speed, and still, they almost hadn't made it out of the city. He knew the forest where they had camped as well as he knew his own heart, and it had provided some cover for a time so they could rest and rest the horses. He'd slept under far worse conditions, so it hadn't surprised him that he was able to drift into a light sleep, his senses on high alert even in slumber. As soon as the sun broke the horizon, he stirred. His internal clock wouldn't allow him to sleep more than a few hours. They still needed to put a lot of space between them and Camelot before they lost their lead.

"You're staring, my lady," he muttered sleepily, even before he'd opened his eyes. He could feel her gaze on him like a weight. In other circumstances, it might have been nice. They’d never had an opportunity to wake up together, and he didn’t see one in the near future either. He opened his eyes, and even knowing that she was there, it was somehow still a surprise to see her. Perhaps it was a lingering dream, but a small part of him had thought she'd be gone when he woke. It was an errant thought, and he pushed it aside as he rose, shaking off the last dregs of sleepiness and dreams.

"I agree. We should continue moving north, if you don't object." Arthur's reach didn't extend that far, but not much else did either. It was mostly wilderness, which seemed like a safer option than civilization, at least until things settled down. The weight of everything that had happened and everything still to come settled quickly over him. "Are you well? Did you sleep?" The words were gentle, as he could tell by her posture that she was upset. She had every right to be. He was shaken as well, but he didn't allow it to detract from getting her to safety. Perhaps then he would have time to feel everything they'd done.

She’d never seen him sleep, never seen him wake.  They had been friends, and they had been lovers, but there was no concrete basis for her to leave her husband and her home with him.  Except somehow, deep down, she knew he would never hurt her, would never abandon her, would never let her be hurt or left defenseless.  In the haze of overwhelming emotion, the truths she’d already embraced were what kept her with him. 

Here, now, in the future, with him, she wasn’t a traitorous queen, or an unfaithful wife.  She was Guinevere and he was Lancelot.  He wasn’t a treasonous knight or her husband’s closest and trusted help.  He was a man who loved her and had enough heart to proclaim that devotion openly. 

As he fully committed to being awake, teasing her for staring and agreeing they needed to move, she finally let her gaze wander around their makeshift camp.  He was also prepared for anything, unflappable and solid.  He’d arranged all this, she suspected, to spare her.  He didn’t seem to care overmuch for himself as long as she was well.  And then he asked after her before he went anywhere.

She swallowed hard, doing her best to steady her thickening throat so as not to give away too much.  The answer to both questions was no, of course.  In the end, it was easier to shake her head.  After a couple of rapid blinks, attempting to clear her vision a bit, she focused on him and provided bare honesty.  “I thought I would return.  On one hand, it seems the right thing to do.  On the other… I couldn’t bring myself to leave you.  Not now, not after everything.”  She looked down toward her knees.  “You are all I have now, Lancelot.  I hope you know that is by choice.  All you’ve ever done is care for me.” She swiped her fingertips over her cheeks.  Now wasn’t the time for grief or declaration.  “We should go north.  I am not sure what awaits us there, but here I know we will be hunted.”

Truthfully, he hadn't been certain she would agree to leave with him, even with her life at stake. He knew that the things that had driven Guinevere to him were far from pleasant and entirely different from his own reasons, and he was aware that she didn't return his feelings. It didn't change how he felt about her. At some point, without his meaning to, his loyalty had shifted from Arthur to her. He didn't think there was any coming back from that, especially now. If he died protecting her, then he'd consider it an honorable death.

The look on her face twisted something painfully in his chest. He'd have spared her all of this if he could have. He settled beside her but didn't touch her because he wasn't sure yet whether she needed comfort or space. Her words brought a chill over him, his dream returning briefly. It looked more like a nightmare from this perspective. "You would almost certainly be killed," he said quietly. Try as he might, he couldn't see the rightness of that.

"I know you would not choose this life, and I would not choose a life of fear and running for you," he admitted. It was kind of her to say, but he wasn't sure it was the truth. Her life hadn't been perfect, but at least she had been safe before he'd interfered. He rested a hand on her knee. Maybe he was the one who needed comfort. "But I will never leave you, and I will do everything I can to make sure no harm comes to you." He leaned over to brush the tears from her cheeks. "I will find a safe place for us."

Her eyes traced his movement closely as he sat right next to her.  She felt a little better just because he was there.  Before they had slept together, he had been her most-frequently appointed body guard.  He had become her friend.  She wasn’t sure she was as adept at reading him as he was at reading her, but they knew one another.  He recognized her signals of distress and addressed them with his presence.  She leaned toward him, though she didn’t press any weight on him. 

“I would’ve been burned,” she corrected, her voice low and certain.  “At the stake.  I’m the queen, so any act against the crown is treason.”  She swallowed hard, attempting to diminish the thick, salty quality of it.  “If it is any consolation, I’m not sure Arthur would have allowed it.  He may be heartbroken, but he isn’t a savage.  Then again, it’s possible he cares not about my role in everything, too.  I wouldn’t know, because I don’t know him – not anymore.” 

His tender promises negated the way they had both wiped at her tears.  She blinked and there were more, a delicate trail on each side of her face appearing only moments after the feeling of his touch wore off.  Though she couldn’t prevent the tears, she had no intention of addressing their presence just now.  She placed her hand over his and nodded.  “How can I help?  If we are to be partners, that burden does not fall on you alone, but you may have to tell me what to do.”

When she leaned into him, he wrapped an arm around her. The gesture felt both strange and familiar at once. Offering her comfort came naturally, but they'd never have risked such casual intimacy if there was any chance it could have been seen. "I would have returned for you. I would have fought my way back to Camelot," he said softly. He'd have saved her from burning or died trying. Perhaps that made him little better than Arthur, since he refused to honor her decision if that decision was death.

"He may not have been able to stop it." He liked to think that Arthur would have intervened, but he knew only too well how often the king was forced to bow to the pressures of tradition and expectation, even at the cost of things that mattered more. Lancelot couldn’t judge him too harshly. He was a good king, and that role came before all others.

He couldn't help a small smile at her determination even in their grim circumstances. There were many things he admired about her, and that was one of them. He brushed away the fresh fall of tears with a thumb and pressed a light kiss to her cheek. "For now, we will erase any traces of our camp and continue moving north. There is a river in a day's ride, perhaps two. Our supplies will hold until then." He knew they should rise and get moving, but he lingered at her side. He wasn't sure her grief had subsided enough to move forward yet, and he wasn't going to rush her.

In spite of a sharp wave of guilt, she leaned into him. It was novel, trusting they were now alone after a long stretch of being unsure. They could touch, they could embrace, they could even kiss (or more) if they so desired. If there was one thing she had learned about herself through all this, it was the benefits of comfort through the flesh. Simply put, sex kept her attached to reality. She needed it. He was especially good at comforting her in that way, and now they were free. There were certainly feelings that came along with that, but she had been too afraid to explore it. Now…. there was opportunity in this as much as there was risk and isolation.

They quite likely needed to get moving, but she took a moment to lean her head against him anyway, absorbing his vows and promises. She had never doubted him before, and she trusted his sincerity now.

“He may not have tried,” she countered, slightly. She sighed and pulled back as he gave her instructions—and cleared her tears away as much as he was able. She wanted to turn her head, to let his kiss land on her mouth and become more than a simple kiss. They were free to do it now, and she was more in need of comfort than ever, but she had already forced his hand into enough risk. Even in her despair, she could see their precarious position.

She pulled back, swiping her hands over her face once more, though she knew more tears would fall. “Very well, then,” she stubbornly avoided. “Let us get on our way.”

If they weren't alone here, they had much bigger problems than someone seeing them being close. Supposedly, the entire kingdom now knew of their treachery. Being able to touch her freely was a very small silver lining to an otherwise disastrous situation. He hadn't really allowed himself time to think through all the implications, prioritizing their escape and continued survival above everything, but at the moment, it was difficult to see what they could have done differently. Everything that had happened had the weight of inevitability to it.

"Perhaps it is better not to speculate," he agreed softly. He didn't have it in him to speak poorly of Arthur, not when his own guilt was so potent. And it didn't really get them anywhere to wonder what the king might or might not have done when pushed to the limits by his court and, possibly, his own feelings on the matter. The urge to pull her into his arms and comfort her was strong, but it wasn't the time or the place for grieving. He'd have made exceptions--any exception--for her, but clearly she understood the stakes as well as he did.

"Very well." He gave her a small, reassuring smile and rose to his feet. Disbanding their small camp didn't take long, nor did erasing the traces of their presence. He'd tracked things through the forest before and knew what to look for. It would be harder to cover the tracks from their horses, but the weather was on their side. The ground was hard from little rainfall and covered in a layer of leaves. He offered a hand to help her up onto her horse, not that she typically needed help from him. “Shall we, my lady?”

As always, it seemed other cares and needs were slipping between them in some way.  Maybe not between them, but pulling them apart physically.  They had other things to focus on.  

“And it does not matter anyway,” she agreed.  At this point, what was done was done.  There was no going back, no ‘what if’, there was only the present and the real.  “Not when we need to focus.” 

While she wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing, she followed him.  It was easy enough to intuit his reasoning, even without explanation.  He was hiding and destroying the evidence of their stay so Arthur, or his trackers, or anyone else would not be able to pick up their trail.  He was obviously quite skilled at that, at a number of things she could only guess at.  So she followed his lead, tried to look for ways to be a help rather than a burden, and then uncharacteristically accepted his hand.  Her mind was still turning with the details of what they’d done, the broader strokes and what it all meant a constant backbeat in her mind to her actions.  

All she could do was nod and let him help her up onto her horse.  While the dress she wore, however simple, was impractical for the task, she hadn’t been able to steal a pair of his trousers as she would’ve done her brothers’ in another life.  She made a note she likely wouldn’t remember later to help herself to something that would provide easier riding.  “You will have to lead the way.  I have no idea where we are.” 

Though the words were empty, her tone was not.  For, at the center of the whirlwind and the basis of everything else, was the deep trust she held in him to lead her, not to take advantage of her precarious state.

Lancelot hadn't allowed himself to think of a time where that might not be the case. Where it might not just be one bad situation after another, and the two of them could simply make their lives together. Until yesterday, that hadn't even been a possibility, and survival had taken up the bulk of his thought processes since then. Still, it was the kind of mental image that would bring him comfort in the coming weeks while they searched for shelter.

"No, I suppose it doesn't," he agreed quietly. For better or worse, there was no going back. If they ever saw Arthur again, it would probably be one of the last things they lived to see. He explained, briefly, when it seemed necessary, but Guinevere was a quick study. He wasn't surprised. He'd always known she was clever; she simply hadn't had a chance to learn the same skills.

He made a mental note about her dress as well as he helped her onto her horse. It wasn't practical for traveling, but if she preferred it, he wouldn't press the issue. He doubted that she did though, at least in these circumstances. He climbed onto his own horse and easily took the lead. "I can teach you, if you like. You would never be lost, at least not for long." He could teach her how to read the night sky like a map, find water and edible plants, build shelter. He was happy to do all those things for her and more, but if she had an interest in learning, he'd be more comfortable knowing she could survive on her own if she had to.

For all the stubborn pride she had crammed into one soul, she could recognize that her acquiescence got them on the road faster.  She let him help, let him lead, let him guide, in spite of the rougher spots of her nature that would have previously denied the help and then struggled.  She had just taken to wondering if it was all symptom of larger responses she was having to all that had happened, when he spoke. 

Though her horse had fallen into step behind him, she smiled at his back.  He’d seemed to have a hidden sense of what she was thinking or feeling at times; maybe he could feel the smile now.  Again, she wasn’t prepared to put up a fight.  She found herself wanting what he offered, wanting to find ways to be more self-sufficient.  For someone who had been lonely and isolated for so long, she could see the clear difference in the ways he wanted her to be independent, rather than just wait on him.  While she had no plans to compare their relationship with her marriage out loud, it was a compelling conversation in her head.  

“I will try to learn whatever you would like to teach,” she said.  She needed to inject some levity into things, though, and it happened before she could stop the teasing words from leaving her mouth.  “I cannot promise to be an adequate student, but I can promise to try.  I’ll only argue half the time at most.”

He'd noticed as well, but true to form he wouldn't mention it unless she brought it up first. It was too much like poking at a good thing to see how fast it fell apart. Under ordinary circumstances, he admired her stubbornness and her willful determination, but for now, all the finer points of their personalities seemed to have been put on hold in the name of survival. The odds were not on their side anyway. A kingdom searched for them. They couldn't afford to waste time. If it kept them moving, he would stay silent about it and be grateful.

He wasn't a mind reader, but a quick glance over his shoulder revealed a smile that he returned. He wanted her to be safe and happy, though the order might have shifted on a given day. If more independence was what she needed for that, he was pleased to help her get it. "Perhaps it will help to pass the time," he offered. Hours of traveling could be long and grueling, and it could help keep their minds off what hunted them, both physical and otherwise. "I'll look forward to it, my lady," he laughed softly. "If you feel the need to argue, it is likely for a good reason."

Some small part of her uncertainty lifted when he threw her an over-the-shoulder smile.  It was a small, quick, exchange, but it was important to her.  She and Arthur had been so stressed, as a pair, there weren’t many smiles or teasing exchanges between them as time passed.  That she and Lancelot, as a pair who hadn’t exchanged true affection or declared an actual relationship, could be under so much pressure and still smile or joke – it meant something.  It was something she felt, through the guilt and doubt and heartbreak, and it was clear, warm, and comforting.  “Especially if it is something as unpredictable like your flower crown making skill,” she teased.  “Learning about oddities will pass the time.”

He gave a warm chuckle at the mention of flower crowns. "I'm surprised you remember that," he admitted. It hadn't been unreasonably long ago, but it had been well before he thought they were attuned to each other's every move. Or maybe that was just him. He couldn't have said with any certainty that Guinevere was as hyper-aware of him as he'd been with her, at least when they were living in the castle. Their current circumstances were too new to say if that would continue. He valued their teasing and light-heartedness because it hadn't always been that way. Her smiles seemed like a thing he'd had to earn, and that she could smile now assured him that all was not lost. "I'm certain I can teach you some rather more useful skills." Flower crowns were charming enough, but they wouldn't do her much good for survival.

“I can’t say I remember everything,” she admitted, her voice low and vaguely amused.  “But it is a rather odd variety of things that have stuck.  They’re occurring to me now and, I’m sure, will continue to do so.”

It was a sudden switch from grief, heartbreak, despair, and panic.  Now she felt a little more at ease, traveling with him.  Even if his statement wasn’t a long-ranging sort of goal, it spoke to a future nonetheless.  That in itself set her at ease.  The rest, the horrors of what she’d done, would be there later.

“I may need a list of alternates.  Not because I doubt you, but because I don’t know if we consider the same things to be useful,” she teased, flexing and testing their new limits a bit.

"I would be interested to hear them." The smile was evident in his voice. That was no surprise, as he'd probably be interested to hear every thought in her head if she wanted to share it.

Perhaps it was the change in their conversation or the fact that they were moving again, but the anxiety of the morning had receded into the background. He had no doubt it would crash back in at unexpected moments, but for now, he was content to be talking with her and getting more distance from what threatened them.

"That sounds perfectly fair. Where do you stand on trapping, navigating, and self defense?" There was a slight hesitation before the last one. None of those were particularly ladylike, but he had only the smallest idea of what they were heading into. He'd feel better if she were prepared for anything.

She fell quiet, not doubting his interest in her memories, but rather because she found herself sifting through them.  Some were soft and pleasant, others were less so.  While the flower crowns were innocent, she remembered plenty of things that weren’t.  Her mind and her memory, especially at the present, we fraught with hazards at the moment and a misstep felt like it would be a critical stab into a fragile situation.  In an effort to keep things headed toward the lighter topics they’d been angling toward, she tried to be non-committal with her reply.  “Then I will share them as they come to mind.” 

His list of topics heaped more for her to consider, things she had barely thought about previously, both as the younger sibling of capable and demeaning older brothers, and then as the queen.  The skills he listed had never seemed overly relevant, save perhaps the last one.  The last she hadn’t learned because she’d never had the courage to ask Arthur to train her, even if the thought had crossed her mind. 

“I am good with navigation in familiar places,” she finally said, more for something to say than because it was a strong answer.  “Remembering landmarks and things of the like.  I know moss only grows on one side of a stone or tree and that can provide some direction.  Otherwise, you will find me lacking.”  It was another fragile admission, that not only was she a target, she was also a liability.  The shame was both swift and appropriate, and it made her think not for the first time about turning back to face her consequences.  It might be easier, for she knew what fate awaited her if she turned back.  “I’m sorry.”

"Of course," he agreed with a small nod. He wondered if he hadn't unintentionally put her on the spot and didn't press the issue. It was against the code of chivalry to be boastful, and surely prompting a lady to speak kindly about him fell somewhere under that category. It was strangely lacking on the subject of sleeping with another man's wife.

Whether due to their first topic of conversation or the next, she lapsed into silence, and he didn't intrude upon it. Despite their efforts, there seemed to be very few subjects that were genuinely light-hearted. Everything had the weight of memory or uncertainty about the future tied to it. He turned his attention to navigating, choosing paths that would leave fewer traces of their passing and noting landmarks in case they had cause to backtrack at some point. He didn't anticipate it, but it calmed some inner anxieties to prepare for such eventualities.

"That will be helpful moving forward," he assured her. "If you cannot tell from the trees, you can tell from the sky." He gestured to a shadow of green on the side of a tree and then to the sky. "The sun rose there, so you know we're moving north." It sounded pedantic to his own ears, but he'd never tried to teach anyone before and had no idea how effective that was. He didn't attempt to hide his surprise at her apology. "Whatever for?" he said gently. "It is no fault of yours that women are rarely afforded the opportunity to learn such things." Lancelot hadn't been raised among men, and the Lady of the Lake's dominion was far more peaceful and effective than Camelot even before he’d unintentionally created chaos there. He'd adjusted to the customs, but he didn't always understand them. "You're willing to learn, and I suspect you'll be quite skilled at whatever you put your mind to."

His words and gesturing pulled her from more thoughts, and she was grateful for it.  He knew her fairly well, and she was sure in the time he had known her, she’d always been a bit depressed, quiet, withdrawn.  It was absolutely something Camelot had done to her, something that seemed far removed from the carefree and bold girl she had been.  She didn’t like it.  She didn’t want him to have that impression of her, suddenly, even though he had professed affection for the woman she was now.  

“That means the sun rises in the east,” she confirmed, sure she had heard something to that effect at some point.  She noted the tree he pointed to and its shape against the burgeoning daylight, but she wasn’t sure she would be able to distinguish that tree from another.  As a result, her voice wasn’t certain but it was there at least.  She was willing to be wrong in front of him, which was a stark departure from how she’d handled herself in the castle. 

She shook her head, trying to fight off tears.  There was something warm and soothing in his voice, his reassurance and justification, and it just made her feel more guilty.  “Until I know better, I will be no better than a burden for you.  And if they find us…” she trailed, her voice bright with tears and heavy with despair all at once.  “I used to be so much better at not worrying, so much more impulsive and free.  I used to learn what I wanted, either through spying on my brothers’ lessons or through teaching myself.  It’s been so long since I felt useful or worthy.”  During a horseback ride, and a fleeing, was not the time to express those thoughts and she found herself wanting to apologize yet again for being so changeable.  Instead, she raised one hand to press to her eyes, hoping the pressure would stop her from crying again, and trusted the horse to steer for a minute, for the creature was much smarter and more adept than she was.

In part, it was Guinevere's sadness that had drawn him to her. He admired her quiet strength in keeping her feelings hidden from an entire kingdom. She'd suffered so much, and he wanted to do whatever he could to ease that suffering. Regardless of what had attracted him initially, he would do a great deal to see her happy. Nevermind that, in his attempts, he'd brought down much worse upon her. He couldn't let his mind to wander too far down that path right now. He suspected that guilt would always lay heavily on his shoulders, but allowing it to bury him right now would do neither of them any favors. He couldn't afford to be so impractical, and it wasn't in his nature.

"It does. And sets in the west." He nodded. "Nighttime is more complicated. A compass is best, but I can show you how to navigate using the stars." It wasn't the most reliable method since England was often overcast, but he'd found it useful in the past. He'd been raised in nature, in a place with few walls, and he felt at home there. He paused, not mistaking the unshed tears in her voice, and he worried he'd only added to her grief--and continued to add to it for as long as he kept her on this daft mission. Suicide was not in his nature either, and to return to Camelot would surely be that, but there was every chance that running would lead to the same end.

He spoke gently. "Your company is never a burden, my lady. I knew what trials awaited us when I asked you to leave Camelot. Perhaps it is I who should be apologizing to you. I cannot hope to offer you the life you deserve while we are fugitives." He lowered his head, turning over the rest of her words in his mind. "One cannot hope to be free under such conditions, and to be impulsive would likely get us killed. But I hope that when you find something you wish to learn, you will feel free to tell me. You are far from useless. The furthest thing from unworthy," he added quietly. She was everything to him. He didn't say it, but his voice and his recklessness likely said it for him. He had many flaws, but he wouldn't have betrayed his king for less.

She let his patient words sink into her fragile psyche, let them soothe the parts of her that had been neglected for so long under her refusal to speak and Arthur’s refusal to listen.  How Lancelot could access her deepest insecurities with ease, she would likely never fully understand.  

“I don’t know what life I deserve,” she said.  “But this offers me the greatest chance to someday return to myself at least.  For that opportunity, you owe me no apologies.  It is likely I owe you.”  The rest, the confessions that she felt useless and that she struggled with her self-worth, he attempted to repeal but she couldn’t comment on it.  He had never proven himself blind to her faults, or to anyone’s, but he was kind enough to her that she wouldn’t have expected an unkind assessment.  “I’ve done nothing to deserve that fealty,” she remarked instead, still feeling ashamed and more than a little uncertain.  “I don’t know what you see in me, other than a queen who would betray her king and a wife who would betray her husband for some sort of selfish validation.  Those are the only things to see.”

"You owe me nothing," he said softly. He wasn't sure the danger he'd put her in and the potential freedom it offered her balanced as well as she suggested, but if he did manage to give her the life she desired, then he might be willing to reconsider. Much as she couldn't see past her own flaws, he couldn't shrug off his own failures so easily.

A thoughtful frown creased his brow. It was troubling to know that she thought so little of herself. If he had to continue to reassure her for the rest of his life, he thought he was up to the challenge, but it didn't seem to be helping much in the moment. "Is that all you think of me?" he asked instead. "A knight who would betray his king and put his queen's life and honor in danger for his own selfish happiness?" He wasn't offended if she did, and there was no self-pity in the question. It was one way to look at things. He acknowledged the fact that he was a villain in this story, or at the very least not the hero. He knew his own biases, but it wasn't what he saw when he looked at her. It was the truth, but it wasn't the whole truth.

She couldn’t help the small smile on her face, however fleeting it was.  “We’ll see if that holds true when we’re not still making our escape,” she replied.  She longed to ask what kind of life he was really imagining lay before them, both the idealistic and the realistic, but it seemed like it would bring some kind of disaster upon them to speculate until their situation wasn’t quite so precarious.

Besides, his next question gave her plenty to consider.  She had carefully defined her thoughts on many things, especially people and happenings in Camelot.  In the case of Arthur and the case of Lancelot, however, she’d been too close to the situation or too caught up in the people and the relationships she shared with them, to form a true opinion.  Trying to decide now what she thought of him was like trying to grasp water in a stream.  She could get close, she could touch on certain things, but the vast majority of it slipped through with meaning but no words attached.  

“No,” she decided eventually, quietly.  Whatever she thought of him was nowhere near the simple terms he’d described, even if she couldn’t articulate it well.  Absolutely none of it was something she’d been free to speak aloud.  The only affection she’d been able to show was private and physical, which was a better medium for communication in some ways, but lacking in others. “I’m a little ashamed to admit I haven’t thought of you in narratives.  My true thoughts of you are more emotional.  I only know how I feel when I am with you – and I know it’s good.  I hold you in high regard, and I’m sorry if I haven’t told you before or made that clear.”

"It will." He returned the small smile with one of his own. He was confident about that, if very little else. They were past the point of counting what they owed each other. Lancelot wasn't allowing himself to think too far ahead. He had plans and contingency plans, but most of them at present revolved around putting space between them and their enemies and survival. Anything beyond that was a luxury, and it didn't help them right now.

"You need not, now, unless you wish to." He raised a hand, gently stopping her explanation. "Praise was not the purpose of the question. I only meant to show that there is far more to you than the simplest definition or the worst things you've done. It would be easy for you to see me as such, but you do not. Likewise, I could not see you that way, even if I wanted to."

“That is a bold, confident statement,” she pointed out, more bemused than anything else.  As they worked through their escape, she found her doubts lessening.  It wasn’t that all this felt right, but it felt like maybe this had been a long time coming and it was necessary.  She found herself believing him, trusting in the slim possibilities they would have some semblance of a life beyond their current status.  And maybe it would even be together. 

“I can’t see you as a simple definition or a sin when you have long been the only person who makes me feel complete or valuable,” she admitted.  “I know you weren’t seeking declaration.  Perhaps that’s why I feel I should share it with you.  I’m just afraid I’m still processing, so I don’t have much to relay yet.”

"It is one of few things I can afford to be confident about at present," he said with a small smile. If nothing else, he knew his own heart. He didn't envy her trying to navigate her feelings for Arthur alongside her feelings for him, whatever they were, in addition to the dramatics of their betrayal and escape. The ground had suddenly become very shaky in a metaphorical sense. He would take certainty where he could.

"Perhaps that is the real sin," he murmured. Happy as he was to know he made her feel that way, she deserved more than a single person who helped her see her value. "There is plenty of time for that." He wasn't going to pressure her to express her feelings, but it made him wonder if she wanted him to do the same. If she doubted his love or his loyalty for even a moment, then he hadn't made himself clear enough. "Would that be helped or hindered by declarations of my own?"

“I may need to ask after those few things and borrow some of your courage from time to time,” she admitted.  It wasn’t necessarily meant as a statement of self-doubt, but more as a need for reassurance he was in a unique position to provide.  “But you need to know, in spite of my initial reticence, my decision is made, Lance.  I’m not going back.  And it isn’t only because of what awaits me there.” 

It was so different, this time with him versus any other potentially similar situation she’d faced with regards to feeling.  Lancelot was willing to say these things, did not shy away from the conversations, never promoted any awkwardness by making his overwhelm obvious.  “I think… helped,” she ventured.  She’d said more in the past three minutes than possibly ever before, but it didn’t stop her from wanting to form words to attach to the tender feelings when it was just the two of them out in the wilderness.  Even if she didn’t know what those feelings were, she could at least begin the process of sorting through it.  “Never hold back if you feel inclined to declare, at least not on my account.”

"I am happy to lend them whenever I can." Courage he had, along with strength and faith, but he wasn't sure how much of that would linger without her. He would go on because that was the way he was made, but in the past few days, his purpose had narrowed down to her. In a way, it was a relief. He didn't have to pretend to divide his loyalty anymore. "I am relieved to hear it," he admitted. "I would hate to die trying to save you from a death you had chosen." He suspected if she returned they would both lose their lives, but that didn't change his mind.

He nodded, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. She'd been forthcoming, so it was the least he could do to be the same. Whatever lay ahead for them, communication and honesty seemed essential. "Then you should know that I have made my choices as well, and I will choose you every time. I understand that this is not about love for you." He hesitated. He'd said those words to her before, but only once. He wouldn’t have betrayed their king for less. "But it is for me. Even if you never return those feelings, that will not change. I have sworn to protect you, and I will stay with you until you send me away."

Every answer he gave was steady, simple, something she trusted.  He didn’t hide behind elaborate promises or overly eloquent words.  He was kind and direct in a way that seemed to be solely his.  She wanted to absorb those traits, to learn from him.  The thought of him dying, as a result of his reaction to her choices, was nearly unbearable even in this distant way.  She realized as he said it that she was counting on them having time after this mess, to get settled and to be together.  She wasn’t sure when she had come to associate him with freedom, but maybe she had.  “I would hate that, too,” she admitted, an attempt at openness and honesty that were unfamiliar to her after a long time in an unreceptive environment. 

I will choose you every time.

…not about love for you… but it is for me.  

His straightforward admissions cut straight through her, burying themselves somewhere deep within her and acting as a salve on long-injured and tender parts of her psyche.  His actions had long supported those words, but she’d long been looking to the wrong source of that kind of support.  Everything she had wanted from Arthur, none of which she had received, was laid bare.  It flashed through her mind, a montage of memories.  It had always been right in front of her.  And Lancelot’s motivations were about as pure as they could be.  It actually choked her up a little, which was not ideal timing considering she was on a horse in front of his horse, and they were forced into perpetual motion through the middle of nowhere. 

She wanted to reply that it was about love for her, too, but the realization that was even possible was overwhelming and not something she was entirely ready to voice.  

“I won’t send you away,” she promised.  It seemed feeble and inadequate, but it was all she could offer at the moment.  And he had just said he could accept and tolerate that. “Feelings will take some time to sort through and understand, because I have a lot of them.  But I can say with certainty you are important to me and I will not send you away.  I’m here with you now, which means I choose you, too.”

There was a very real chance they were going to die anyway, either from the knights of Camelot catching up with them or through their travels, but it was a weight off his shoulders to know she wasn't planning to turn back. He hadn't realized until she said it how much he'd worried about that very outcome. As long as they were still moving, he was cautiously optimistic though. He'd do everything in his power to see them to safety, and he trusted his own skills enough to do that. Perhaps it was his pride making claims, but he'd have gambled on himself over most people. If skills were enough, he wouldn't have worried at all, but they also needed a bit of luck on their side.

He didn't mind putting words to his feelings, though he preferred to let his actions speak for him. It was one of the reasons he didn't feel the need for declarations from her. She was here with him, and that alone spoke volumes. For a moment though, while her silence stretched on, he thought perhaps he'd said too much. He didn't take it back because it was true, but he could refrain from stating such things in the future if it made her uncomfortable. He hadn't expected to hear unshed tears in her voice, and he risked a glance behind him to gauge her well-being. "Good. I would find it difficult to leave you." He gave her a small smile before he returned his attention to their path.

Her mind was still running too quickly for her to keep up, and she assumed it was a byproduct of the enormous amount of change happening in her life.  ‘Upheaval’ barely seemed an adequate word to describe what was happening.  While it was true some of the changes had been in the works for some time, such as the emotional separation of her from her husband, that didn’t make the current situation any less total.  

And, as he confirmed he would struggle to leave her, she knew she felt the same about him.  As much as this was about changing her circumstances, as much as it was about seeking the safety Camelot lacked, it was also about two men.  She hadn’t actually hesitated to leave Arthur, given the chance.  She had been unable to let Lancelot go without her.  

It was slow going through the wood, and she fell silent as she concentrated on what was around them, familiar smells and types of trees.  The most familiar thing was the sight in front of her, the hind of his horse and the back of him, this man who was so sturdy both physically and emotionally.  She concentrated on those things in an effort to avoid letting her mind wander.   She waited for long enough to speak that she had to clear her throat before she could.  “How long do you think it best to continue before we stand on our own two feet?” She asked, almost idly, not expecting or needing the answer to be any time soon.

You could know a thing for a long time without ever acknowledging it, and that was what their exposure and escape felt like to him. Everything buried was coming to light. It made sense that this conversation would follow shortly after, before they were even certain of their survival. It made sense that everything changed all at once or not at all. He kept expecting the fallout to hit him at an inopportune moment, but perhaps it wouldn't. Perhaps he was the kind of person who would simply keep moving forward, regardless of the upheaval around him.

When the silence fell between them, he didn't find it uncomfortable. They'd both said a lot of things that would need time to sink in. He kept his attention on navigating a route that would leave behind the fewest signs of their passing and noting landmarks in case he needed to make his way back. That was seeming less likely all the time, but it was a habit, and he found it comforting to occupy his mind with the usual things. "It is perhaps a month from Camelot to Lothian. I think it best to leave England altogether, if you don't have any objections." His own estate was almost that far, so the journey wasn't unfamiliar. It was long, but not so arduous as it would have been in winter.

She had obviously never left England, choosing to stay in her own realm as she traveled. The thought of doing so under these circumstances was no different than the thought of it at any other time - a little anticipation mixed with uncertainty. Trusting his capabilities and strengths, though, made a world of difference. Trusting herself to at least keep up, if not learn as she went, also mattered and tempered the uncertainty. She believed it was possible they could do almost anything together.

“I do not object,” she finally said, almost too quietly. “If Camelot is falling, England will dissolve into something rather unstable.” She had lived through the bulk of that once and had no desire to do so again.  Still, she didn’t know much about the land.  “Do you think Lothian a safe location?”

Traveling, both within England and outside it, was part of being a knight. Admittedly, he usually had the company of at least a dozen other men, if not hundreds of soldiers. Traveling alone could be dangerous. The further from Camelot they were, the more likely they were to be killed by bandits rather than anyone chasing them. If the group was large enough, they could easily overrun even Lancelot's capabilities, but he'd choose a possible death over a certain one, and staying in Camelot was a certain death.

"We do not know that for certain." He lowered his head briefly, as though the idea carried a physical weight. Camelot had not been at its most stable when they left, with Mordred's forces threatening the city. He knew that their betrayal had opened the door for his conquest, but he still held out hope that Arthur and the knights would rally to defend their home. Depending on how far they got and how well they hid themselves, it might be a long time before they knew its fate. "It is as safe as we are likely to find, unless you wish to get on a boat." He smiled briefly. That wasn't a safe option at all, but he could see the appeal. There was a part of him that never wished to settle, that would have been happy to roam the earth for the rest of his life. It wasn't a large part, but the wanderlust was there.

Guinevere sighed, trying to relax her inner tensions and accept his optimism. “No,” she finally admitted, though it was a bit thin for agreement. The fact remained that she felt somewhat responsible for Camelot’s fate. She had been the queen and she was running for her own life from her people. Arthur was heartbroken and alone, in addition to being without his most stable and trusted knight. Those were facts and they were her fault and her burden. Without being able to say as such, because she simply didn’t want to, she let a controlled breath pass her lips and then tried to let it go.

She volunteered nothing else and instead latched onto the small grin. Perhaps she was too eager for something a bit more lighthearted, but she took the opportunity. “Do you wish to get on a boat?” She asked, with maybe even a little amusement. The idea was terrifying but a bit enchanting at the same time. She was, after all, the woman who had left her lifelong home to marry Arthur before she’d ever really seen Camelot. Adventure and the unknown didn’t scare her. “There is no rule or law that requires us to stay and there is much that compels us to continue moving.”

He could see the thin veil over her agreement for what it was, but he didn't poke at it. It was true that Lancelot defaulted on optimism, and Guinevere was much more the realist, and he enjoyed the differences. It was hard to imagine either of them otherwise, as though something essential would have been lost. He also felt responsible, perhaps in large part because they were responsible. If their actions, indirectly or otherwise, led to the fall of their kingdom, they would both carry that guilt for the rest of their lives. It wasn't the moment to dwell on it, but its lurking presence was there for him as well, and it likely should have been. Betrayal shouldn't sit easily.

His smile widened a bit more as they moved on to lighter topics. "I would not be opposed. Winters are colder in Lothian." He preferred the summer weather, which meant he was altogether on the wrong continent with England's perpetually chilly, wet climate. He'd never been elsewhere except the nowhere-place of the Lady of the Lake, and the idea of such an adventure certainly had its appeal. "That is true. There is no law that requires us to settle at all, should we choose not to. Do you wish to leave the continent?"

She knew they would circle back to the topic of Camelot, of their choices and the consequences, their individual and collective culpability.  It was a topic they would likely revisit for the rest of their lives, no matter how long that time was.  For her part, she was sure she would never be free from the guilt or the pinging conscience of her own choices.  Maybe she never should be entirely free.

 However, the choices had been made and she was here; there was nothing wrong with salvaging the good she could from it so she could continue to live. Just the mention of winter, and colder, made her shiver.  While she’d grown up in England and was well-accustomed to its weather extremes (especially the harsher realities), she wasn’t attached.  “Colder weather means thicker blankets, and more fires.  Staying close – for warmth, of course.”  If he needed any more proof she was all over the place, now she was flirting, unable to stop her voice from dipping when she thought of staying close and sharing that space with him.  Somehow it made the thought more bearable.

“We’re already on a bit of an adventure,” she pointed out.  “I am open to whatever comes, but all I wish for is that we stay safe.”

Continuing to live and ensuring she did the same were the only things on his agenda for the moment. Afterward, they would decide whether they could actually live with themselves. He raised his head, surprised to hear a flirtatious tone in her voice, but it--and her words--filled him with an unexpected warmth. There was a very small, very unacknowledged part of him that thought perhaps she was only with him now because she lacked other options. To stay in Camelot was to die, and he wouldn't have faulted her if her motivations were that self-serving. Even if it were true, it didn't change the fact that he loved her and would see her to safety regardless of how she felt about him.

"Of course," he echoed. "I'm feeling fonder of winters already." It was a cozy scene she conjured, and he didn't fight a smile. Imagining such a future together took some of the weight off their current situation. Practical though he was, Lancelot didn't discount the power of something like hope. "That is true. Perhaps we can simply take those opportunities as they come to us." If they failed to find safety up north or circumstances became less safe over time, it was good to know they had other options available.

When he spoke, there was a change in his tone she couldn’t place.  Whatever it was warmed her and gave her confidence.  So much of the way they related to  one another had been concealed out of necessity.  She had employed nearly all of the restraint she possessed in an effort to avoid even more impropriety.  Such measures being unnecessary now would take some adjustment.  

But surely, she wanted to make those adjustments.  She wasn’t with him just because he was the only option, but because he was the better option.  That was tied firmly to her feeling for him.  He offered refuge and safety, warmth, and love, and promise.  He offered her things she hadn’t felt for a very long time anywhere else.  The idea of exploring those, of making adjustments as the need arose, was so appealing.  She forgot to circle around back to guilt at all she’d left behind while it was dying.  They had a future, or at least the chance at one.  Everything was wide open. 

“Regardless, I think I would go anywhere with you.  Except maybe to live among the Saxons. They are very unkind to their women and I think you would be an anomaly.  Other than that, so long as we are together, I think we may be just fine.”

Lancelot hadn't quite allowed himself to imagine what their life together might look like. He took little for granted: that she would leave Camelot with him, that she would stay with him beyond that, or that they would even reach a safe place at all. It wasn't until her words conjured a warm image of the future that he realized how closely he'd been guarding his expectations. It was a conscious effort to let a few of those walls fall away. If she could dare to let herself hope, then the least he could do was the same.

It wasn't that hard, since those were things he wanted, deep down where he couldn't help wanting things he'd previously thought he'd never have. "Likewise, my lady." His voice had softened without his meaning it to, but he smiled. "A most unpleasant lot. Perhaps it would be best for us not to draw attention," he agreed, as if that were the only thing going for that plan. They'd sacrificed a lot for this freedom. He wouldn't see her returned to another life of compromise, preferably ever. "Together is a very nice thought," he mused. He liked hearing her say the words.

She knew it was risky and possibly ill-advised, but the quality of his voice or something in his words themselves had her wanting to be by his side for a moment.  She could recognize the way her moods were ebbing and flowing, could admit to herself at least that she hated it and her lack of control over it.  She minded less the way he seemed to be able to temper it with his steady presence alone. 

As the path widened for a moment, she slipped into place beside him and turned her head to regard him.  She trusted her horse not to steer her into a tree or off a cliff as a show of intelligence and power, and so she regarded Lancelot fully.   “Do you think it possible to be just the two of us together somewhere, alone and unbothered?  If so, I might like that place in particular.  I do not know how far we would need to go to make it a reality.”  She gave a shaky sigh.  “I wish it were possible to have a rich life together, richer than just I can give you, full of friends and laughter.  I am unsure if we can manage that, but I would like very much to try and strike a balance in our respective happiness.”

He would have been more concerned if her emotions hadn't been in flux. It was the appropriate response to everything that had happened, and she'd had far more to lose than he did. He didn't think he would ever stop regretting how much his actions had cost her and his king, even if he'd managed to set it aside for now to focus on survival. There was more to lose if he let himself wallow in guilt, so he couldn't allow it.

It was easy to find a smile when they were side by side, though he kept at least part of his attention on their direction. The horses were well-trained, but he was trying to leave the smallest trail possible. It seemed like a serious question, so he gave it serious consideration. He'd traveled extensively with the knights, and there was a lot of nothing in between most of the settlements. And that was only what he'd seen of it. "I do. It's a very big world. Surely, there is a place in it somewhere for the two of us."

He was quiet a moment longer. He'd had a life of friends and laughter. He'd been happy in it, but when it came down to it, he'd willingly given all that up for her. He didn't expect to get it back, and he didn't think it would stop him from being happy as long as they were together. She was close enough for him to reach for her hand, though he wouldn't be able to keep it long if the path narrowed. "A life with you is what I want. I care little about the rest of it," he said simply. "If we can find a place where no one has so much as heard our names, I don't see why friends should be out of the question."

Every argument or doubt she had could be countered and dismissed, but in a reassuring way.  His hand in hers, however brief it had to be, was the most reassuring thing she’d felt since his embrace as she fell apart a little while he woke.  If she weren’t so attached to the horse she rode, she had a moment where she could think of nothing more reassuring than sharing a horse with him.   For a moment, she felt it would be quite possible she would be enough for him, and he for her.  It could really be that simple.  Anything else they could manage to build or find would be extra.  She swiped her thumb over his skin before the path demanded she release him and fall into step behind him.  The quiet exchange did her heart good and she didn’t feel pressured or compelled to speak for a long time.  How long, she couldn’t say, because the canopy of trees and interspersed clouds hid the sun from them.   With some modicum of peace and content, that she tried to will herself out of because it seemed foolish, she felt her eyes grow heavy as the sleepless night caught up with her.  

#chat: guinevere #gxpendragon #ladyxguinevere #my heart’s in two places #verse: no turning back