Arthur Pendragon could not find one word to describe the unbelievable amount of emotion that surged through him in that single, but everlasting moment.
Pain. Regret. Sorrow. Anger. Hurt. Grief. Rage. Before that one look, that one single glance at Guinevere's arms snaking around Lancelot's neck, he hadn't known that such a range of sentiment was even possible.
"Tomorrow was to be our wedding day. Did you have regrets?"
"No, Arthur, no. All I ever wanted was to be with you!"
Only hours, nights before Arthur had felt her thin, smooth touch around his own bare shoulders. What had went wrong? Was he not enough?
Their love had been forbidden, special. What made all his sacrifice worth nothing?
"Was I not good enough, Guinevere? Did you only wish to fix me?"
Those were the broken hearted sobs he hated. Those big brown eyes he couldn't look away from.
"You captivate me, Arthur. Everything about you."
Quiet whispers in dark rooms. A king, and a surrogate lover. His heart raced to think of what could happen – and what had. She didn't have to move. All Arthur had to see was the look in Lancelot's eyes. He'd never screamed like he screamed now.
This was not the end. How could this be the end? Two swords rang out amidst the darkened room, accompanying the murky, aching sound of protective shouts.
Guinevere's face contorted into sobs, as she watched her fiancée battle for her purity.
"It was always you, Arthur. It was always you."
The Pendragon had lost all sense of feeling. Many times his weapon flew from his grasp, but over and over did he retrieve it. Only just as his sword was raised above Lancelot's head, purged for the strike, did Gwen intervene.
Her breath came short, stopping, and her heart banged in her chest as she held her arms out at length between the two men. "No, no…please…"
The look of utter, complete betrayal on his face was enough to know that this house no longer felt like home.
It all seemed a haze after she was shoved roughly into a dungeon cell, throwing the extravagant bracelet from Lancelot into the hay. It was dark, cold. It seemed to be a frost that she had never felt before. "Say it ain't so…." Her voice quivered softly, as she massaged her numb wrist. "Turn the lights off, carry me home."
