fic: keep holding on, pg
Title: Keep Holding On
Author: purely_distel
Rating: PG
Genre: Sad, dark
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Gwen
Spoilers: Hmm, not really. future!fic or AU, whatever way you swing
Disclaimer: not mine, it all belongs to the strawberries!
Summary: He is the crown prince to a broken land ...
Author’s notes:
Is it emo-o'clock today?! First I post my emo video that has Arthur dying at the end and now, after reading threemeows's new little ficlet (yeah, you are my Merlin, I blame everything on you these days ;)) and then some comments/discussions on the Morgana/Gwen rift (that, it seems, isn't a rift because there was no bond to begin with .. YEAH RIGHT ... )
Dunno. I just wanted to .... explore how things could be if the worse should happen, you know. It started out being all about Arthur comforting his Gwen but turned into the opposite. Oh well ... written in 20 minutes, not beta read. To say it with Arthur's words: "RAW!" (sorry, the way he said that is simply stuck in my head ...) and before THIS turns into a story in itself ...
It is pitch dark when he finally finds her leaning against the wall of a house in a part of Camelot he would normally never think of looking for her. It is silent, everyone except the guards already asleep, he himself feels unsteady on his feet after being out for the better part of the previous night and the entire day today.
Without any success.
He knows she has not slept either. Her hair is still in the exactly same bun it was in one and a half days ago and her dress still has the same strains it got when the huge wine pitcher had broken apart in front of her.
"Guinevere ..."
He has no idea what to tell her for he comes bearing only sad news and even graver expectations regarding the future. He himself has not even begun think of what it all might mean. He can not, not yet. There are still search parties to be organised (though he knew, and so did Merlin, that it would be of no use. They had to ...), reports to finish, allies to gather ... a funeral to prepare ... there is so much, so much. He needs to focus, he needs to do what he has to do, straighten things out and after, well after, he can take time for himself.
And right now what he has to do is tell her. He has to say it, even though he can see that she already knows. She is smart this way, his sweet heart.
"She is gone and ... she does not want to be found. She won't be back."
There, he said it. He should turn away now, go back to his men, give them direction, be a leader.
Guinevere turns and he can see the tears in her eyes. Tears of grief for a friend lost forever, grief he knows he could share but does not dare to, not just yet. So much to do, so many expectations, so little time, so many things ...
He feels her small, rough hand touch his, grasp his fingers tightly and her eyes search his. Maybe he should hold her, help her. He is the leader, he gave his men strength to fight in battle. He should give her strength to fight her battle. But her eyes are wide open, inviting, not misted with misery. It is there, of course, locked away deep, he can see it. But it is not there now.
She tugs at his hand, her other grasping his arm.
"It will be all right." He voice is steady and suddenly he finds he is not the leader, she is. She is standing tall and he is crumbling, falling. Only her small hand is keeping him from losing himself and suddenly her arms are around him, holding him tight and close and he feels tears falling from his eyes. But she holds him and rocks him in disregard of her own discomfort. She does not care that it is the middle of the night, that she has lost, too.
He has lost his father, struck down by an enemy more mighty then Arthur knows how to comprehend. An enemy now gathering her forces at the borders of their lands. He has lost his friend, his sister for she did not believe she could trust him and it tears him up that he made her doubt him. She is with them now, at the borders, preparing for battle.
He is the crown prince to a broken land, everyone is looking to him for answers he cannot possible give, wondering what to do next. It has only been two days. He does not know how to be a king, he does not want to know. He is all alone.
But she is there, holding him, helping him stand and he knows she will be there in the morning and the morning after and there, in the middle of the night with silence around them, he feels a little less lost. Though her trust scares him and he wonders if maybe, maybe Morgana was right in not laying her fate with him. He might fail her.
He might just fail them all.
Author: purely_distel
Rating: PG
Genre: Sad, dark
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Gwen
Spoilers: Hmm, not really. future!fic or AU, whatever way you swing
Disclaimer: not mine, it all belongs to the strawberries!
Summary: He is the crown prince to a broken land ...
Author’s notes:
Is it emo-o'clock today?! First I post my emo video that has Arthur dying at the end and now, after reading threemeows's new little ficlet (yeah, you are my Merlin, I blame everything on you these days ;)) and then some comments/discussions on the Morgana/Gwen rift (that, it seems, isn't a rift because there was no bond to begin with .. YEAH RIGHT ... )
Dunno. I just wanted to .... explore how things could be if the worse should happen, you know. It started out being all about Arthur comforting his Gwen but turned into the opposite. Oh well ... written in 20 minutes, not beta read. To say it with Arthur's words: "RAW!" (sorry, the way he said that is simply stuck in my head ...) and before THIS turns into a story in itself ...
It is pitch dark when he finally finds her leaning against the wall of a house in a part of Camelot he would normally never think of looking for her. It is silent, everyone except the guards already asleep, he himself feels unsteady on his feet after being out for the better part of the previous night and the entire day today.
Without any success.
He knows she has not slept either. Her hair is still in the exactly same bun it was in one and a half days ago and her dress still has the same strains it got when the huge wine pitcher had broken apart in front of her.
"Guinevere ..."
He has no idea what to tell her for he comes bearing only sad news and even graver expectations regarding the future. He himself has not even begun think of what it all might mean. He can not, not yet. There are still search parties to be organised (though he knew, and so did Merlin, that it would be of no use. They had to ...), reports to finish, allies to gather ... a funeral to prepare ... there is so much, so much. He needs to focus, he needs to do what he has to do, straighten things out and after, well after, he can take time for himself.
And right now what he has to do is tell her. He has to say it, even though he can see that she already knows. She is smart this way, his sweet heart.
"She is gone and ... she does not want to be found. She won't be back."
There, he said it. He should turn away now, go back to his men, give them direction, be a leader.
Guinevere turns and he can see the tears in her eyes. Tears of grief for a friend lost forever, grief he knows he could share but does not dare to, not just yet. So much to do, so many expectations, so little time, so many things ...
He feels her small, rough hand touch his, grasp his fingers tightly and her eyes search his. Maybe he should hold her, help her. He is the leader, he gave his men strength to fight in battle. He should give her strength to fight her battle. But her eyes are wide open, inviting, not misted with misery. It is there, of course, locked away deep, he can see it. But it is not there now.
She tugs at his hand, her other grasping his arm.
"It will be all right." He voice is steady and suddenly he finds he is not the leader, she is. She is standing tall and he is crumbling, falling. Only her small hand is keeping him from losing himself and suddenly her arms are around him, holding him tight and close and he feels tears falling from his eyes. But she holds him and rocks him in disregard of her own discomfort. She does not care that it is the middle of the night, that she has lost, too.
He has lost his father, struck down by an enemy more mighty then Arthur knows how to comprehend. An enemy now gathering her forces at the borders of their lands. He has lost his friend, his sister for she did not believe she could trust him and it tears him up that he made her doubt him. She is with them now, at the borders, preparing for battle.
He is the crown prince to a broken land, everyone is looking to him for answers he cannot possible give, wondering what to do next. It has only been two days. He does not know how to be a king, he does not want to know. He is all alone.
But she is there, holding him, helping him stand and he knows she will be there in the morning and the morning after and there, in the middle of the night with silence around them, he feels a little less lost. Though her trust scares him and he wonders if maybe, maybe Morgana was right in not laying her fate with him. He might fail her.
He might just fail them all.