Guinevere could not let him go without a fight. She could not let this kingdom fall to ruin and war if there is something she can do or say to avoid it. She could not let disaster strike because of her.
She told herself that racing to this forest was the right thing to do, even if she is not sure what she is supposed to say now that she arrived. When she and Sir Kay rushed out of the city and towards the battlefield a ways off the great walls, all she could picture was losing Arthur. It terrified her.
Upon arrival, the king was waiting for her, alone. His loyalists were still behind, a few minutes away on horseback, but the exiled king rode ahead and stood alone before what once was his. His face is frozen in an expression of bitterness, one that seemed to harden when he meets the one that he has been seeking.
The contempt that lives where once blossomed great love hurt the besmirched Queen, but she steeled herself against it. There is no time to consider her own feelings in the matter, as there is a future she still must try to avoid.
There are not many options left at this point, many chances have eluded her over the time she has lived in this castle due to her ignorance or her incomplete oracle, but she hopes that it will only take one. Nevertheless, this is the last chance she had to save him, and she must make it count.
Guinevere slowly but surely stepped away from her horse, with Kay keeping a close eye on her. She knows that he does not quite trust her, that he believes what is told of her, and so is keen in having her under surveillance. In fact, she wagers that he only agreed to escort her out of the city and towards his suzerain in fear that she would do it alone and with evil intent.
"Arthur, please come with me." The woman implores, not bothering with any pleasantry. There is no time for such things. "There is no need to fight this losing battle, and there is no need for this senseless violence. We can leave in peace, away from this island. We can have the free life I know you also dream of."
"Perfidious woman." The blond spats, as if the mere allusion to her person had a bitter taste. "I shall go nowhere with a lying snake such as you!"
Guinevere averts her eyes. She knows that he would not be here, in this situation, if he did not believe in what is said about her, but having the confirmation hurts all the same. Taking a deep breath, she faces the fallen king once again.
"I have no hope of ever being able to prove my innocence, husband, as such is the plight of women. Believe in what you must, but heed to my warning. There is no resistance against Lancelot, and your army is not capable of penetrating the fortress, regardless of how well-acquainted you are to its layout." She countered, rather coldly from the hurt she feels. "If you do not trust me enough to let me accompany you, then so be it, but leave alone. Retreat and fight another day."
"Lies!" He roared, his own pain colouring his voice. "You are an agent of the enemy, Guinevere, sent here to make me doubt my resolve. Save your breathe and escape, as I shall not leave any of your kind standing in my wake."
"Arthur, look at me. Look at me!" She demands, as tears rise to her eyes. "From the day I first laid eyes on you, I have loved you. All I have done since I arrived in Camelot is trying to assure myself of your safety and the prosperity of your realm, and you know that. I know you know that. Why must you doubt me, my love? Why must you be so eager to listen to others over me?"
Arthur did as she requested, and his bright blue eyes softened ever so slightly, but from rage and bitterness, they turned melancholic and lonely.
"It must be done, wife." He responded, unbearable sadness hanging in each one of his words. "I must fight for this throne, and, if you do not leave, I will have no other choice but making way through your objections."
What he was implying left Guinevere speechless. That would mean…
"There is no saving me, my love. You do better by saving yourself." The man concludes, looking away again.
"You have no clue of what you are talking about!" She argued with sweat beginning to bead down her face.
The sound of horses could be heard in the distance. This is absolute torture and she does not know how much more of it she can take.
"I know exactly what I am talking about!" He snapped at his wife and unsheathed his Excalibur. The weapon of a true-blooded king. "This is your final warning, Guinevere. I will show no mercy."
"Arthur, please! I cannot fathom simply leaving you behind. It…" Her voice drops as the fighting spirit begins to abandon her. "You are going to have to kill me."
Guinevere wept through the argument with the man she had cared about more than anything. There was something about this that did not sound right to her, though. He had to be bluffing, this is a misunderstanding, he must have a plan.
She cannot accept that Arthur Pendragon came here to die.
His resolve steeled. "You will burn, woman! I shall make sure of it."
He stepped closer to her, screaming about his impending actions, yet she stood stiff in position. The cold was almost unbearable, the wind howled as the noise of horseshoe against stone became deafening.
Before she knew it, he stood before her with a gleam of yellow in his eyes, tears mixing with sweat, and his sword ready to end her in one swift move.
"It does not have to be like this." She whispered and reached her hand out in front of her. "But if it must, know that I love you and I forgive you. I hope you find it in your heart to extend me the same."
He was hesitating, which worried Guinevere. His eyes flickered from her worried expression to her open hand to his sword. He knew what he had to do, he knows what is his role to play in the legend, and there is no escape from it.
Arthur raised his Excalibur.
