Penitence
She haunted him every day.
It was his fault – he knew. He could have helped her – he should have helped her.
He should have been there when she needed.
It was his fault, and she haunted him – his dreams and his plans, Camelot and his heart in equal measures.
He had failed – failed his kin. How could he succeed in anything after this?
She had become a nightmare for no one had listened to hers, she had become a monster for no one had stood by her.
It was his fault.
He could never fully blame her.
He could never forgive himself.
And she would haunt him, and taunt him, and daunt him.