FIC: She Dreams With an Open Heart (Arthur/Gwen, PG) 2/
He is close to death, he’s certain of it. The battlefield is stained with blood, most of which is from his own men and he lies injured in the centre of it all, miraculously the only one alive in a sea of bodies.
He can’t remember how he fell injured to the ground, only that this was supposed to be the final battle and he’d been so determined to survive. They’d been so close to victory, so close to defeating the enemy. Camelot was to fight the last of Cenred’s men and Merlin was to come face-to-face with Morgause.
But they had been unprepared. Morgause must have armed them with weapons laden with her dark magic for Arthur’s men had been easily overcome. It had been an oversight on their part to believe the weapons Merlin had prepared for them would be of equal worth to those of Cenred. Maybe if Uther hadn’t been so stubborn and so in denial about the uprising of magic and the loss of Morgana, they’d have been better equipped. As it stood, the King was dead, Arthur lay dying and Camelot was set to crumble.
Their only hope was Merlin. With all the energy he could muster, Arthur whispers his name. If he has survived (and Arthur prays that he has) and had defeated Morgause, Merlin will come and find him. He always does.
Arthur glances up to the sky. The sun is setting, it’s almost dusk. There is a pain that runs through all of him, and it’s a pain which is both physical and emotional. The torment is relentless and he wishes it to end quickly, but of course it won’t.
This is what it feels like to die, he thinks. All alone, with no one around to help.
He never thought it would come to this, or at least he hoped it wouldn’t. His father was supposed to live and not die prematurely because of committed mistakes. Morgana was supposed to be a magnificent woman of court who revolutionised the kingdom somehow. Arthur had often imagined that at some point, she’d have flocks of men after her and he’d have to fight them off like a brother might do. Instead, she’d been seduced by the promise of a better but darker existence and he hadn’t seen her in over a year.
And then there was Guinevere.
She was always in his thoughts. He made sure that she was the first and last person that he thought of and his dreams of her acted as sustenance where her presence could not.
He thinks about her now. He wonders what her life is like in Souhaiter. He used to have this foolish dream: that when the war was over, he would go back to Souhaiter to see her, and a mere look at him would make her remember and she would run to him with open arms. It was foolish because nothing is ever that simple, and he is naive for thinking that he would ever make it that far.
Tears form in his eyes. Despite the pain he feels, he hadn’t let himself cry. But now he does. He mourns for Gwen, mourns for her more than the ending of his own life.
As his eyes close and he begins to feel himself slipping away that bit more, he wishes that he could have seen her one more time.
+
Part Three