-31-

Arthur rushed to the woman who had captured his heart in every lifetime. The woman whom he now understood was the greatest of all his treasures. He realized that he may have only have this one chance left, this one moment of sanity before whatever was to happen arrived, and he was not going to waste it begging for time.

If he had only this one final moment with Guinevere, he would spend it professing his love. Their minds may not remember it, but he knew their souls would be a different matter altogether.

He stood in front of her, tall and strong, hoping to echo the hero he had been once. When he had been brave enough to fight for her love. He gently took both of her hands in his, marveling at how perfect they were—they had always been—in his. He turned them so that her palms were exposed and gently, so very gently, he placed a kiss on each.

"I love you, Guinevere," he said, looking into her eyes. "This may be the only chance I ever get to say it as myself, so I beg you to give me this indulgence."

He moved her hands to his chest, right above his heart.

"This will always be yours," tears were beginning to pool in his eyes once again, but he found himself not caring.

"But more than my heart, my soul is forever yours to command. My heart and my soul, Guinevere, will always belong to you."

Tears continued to fall from Guinevere's eyes.

"I deserve neither your love nor your forgiveness, and I cannot pay ransom to redeem myself from the past, but please know that I forfeit everything that I am to free you from yours."

Arthur took a deep breath to steady his trembling voice.

"Ask me to breathe for you, and I will do so gladly," Arthur moved her small hands from his chest and raised them to his lips.

"My soul will never forget you."

He heard the soft sob escape Guinevere and something broke inside him. But he had to let her know; this was not the time to turn back.

"I love you, my Queen. Please remember me."

Guinevere took her hands from his as she gently put them on his cheeks.

"My King..." and a tear fell on her cheek.

Arthur gathered her into his arms and gently placed his lips on hers. The first kiss they shared in this lifetime and he was immediately taken to the past. He saw flashes of remembrance—their first kiss shared in her modest home, just after she gave him her favor.

Guinevere whimpered against him and he reluctantly stepped back. He didn't want to push, even if he wanted this moment to go on forever. She lay her forehead on his chest, her breathing ragged. Arthur slowly gathered her close, holding her until her body was flush with his. One arm around her waist, the other just below the nape of her neck. He pressed small kisses on the top of her head, alternating them with words of love.

"I love you," he said as he pressed a kiss on her temple.

"I love you," a kiss on her forehead.

"I love you," he gently tilted he head up and gazed into her eyes. Her beautiful eyes that spoke of her pain and loss. He longed to make her smile again, to make her look at him with love, but all he saw was her agony, and Arthur wanted to flay at himself if only to ease her of the misery of the ages.

She surprised him by gently laying her lips on his. Her soft kiss slowly deepening as he wrapped his arms around her waist. In turn, she wrapped hers around his neck, and when her tongue gently sought entrance to his mouth, Arthur slanted his lips against hers and granted her purchase.

The need for air was the only reason why Arthur broke the kiss, but even then, he was unable to help his hands from roving her back, holding her closer to him. He could not suppress lust from slowly spreading though his veins, the reaction of his body from feeling her pressed close to him.

"Guinevere," he whispered. He wasn't sure what she wanted, but he was certain that he was not going to push. Not now and never again.

"Just give me this moment, Arthur," Guinevere whispered back. Her breath was warm against his lips. "Please."

Arthur gave a low growl and claimed her lips again.

Slowly, and with infinite gentleness, he took her lead and followed her into her bedroom. Along the way, their clothes were shed and as she stood naked in front of him, Arthur looked at Guinevere and felt nothing but awe and love. She was beautiful, perfect, and he loved her in ways he, now, was still unable to express.

"Arthur," she whispered as she stepped closer to him and ghosted kisses on his chest.

"Guinevere," he said as he carried her into his arms to lay her gently on her bed.

Whispers and sighs gave way to moans of pleasure as they began the dance. His hands moved over her, his fingers worshipping every curve and the silken texture of her skin. In turn, her fingers moved over him, touching him with just as much reverence.

"Are you sure?" He asked. He wanted her to be certain; he wanted her to have no regrets. If this was the last time—the only time—they could be together in this age, he wanted her to have no misgivings.

He wanted her to be happy—even if it meant that it was not to be with him.

Guinevere nodded and Arthur's heart soared.

He moved over her, kissing her skin, touching the secret places he once knew gave her the most pleasure. When she moaned her appreciation of his attentions, he grew bolder. His tongue traced the path paved by his hands and smiled as she writhed under him.

It didn't take long for their breathing to become heavy, but there was one more thing to take care of before they reached completion.

"Guinevere?" His eyes held hers as that one word posed the question. Arthur didn't know what would happen tomorrow, and the last thing he wanted was for Guinevere to be with child and for him to not be with her.

Her hand came up to cup his cheek and Arthur was unable to stop himself from turning into her palm and kissing it.

"It's all right, Arthur," she whispered. "I'm safe."

He nodded and positioned himself over her. She spread her legs wider, drawing her knees up and planting her feet on the mattress, ready to receive him.

He lowered himself slowly, sinking into her warmth with a groan of pleasure. Arthur wanted this to last forever, willing himself to remember her perfection, hoping that time would be kind and allow him that in the very least.

But he was soon fully sheathed inside her, and Arthur gritted his teeth, fighting for control. He looked at the woman beneath him—his wife, once upon a time, his Queen, the love of his life—and sighed in contentment.

If they only had this one time, he was determined to make it perfect.

Guinevere moved her hips and the dance began. She urged him to move faster, thrust deeper, and he followed her command. All the while his lips feathered kisses all over her shoulders and neck and her fingers danced over his skin, heightening his pleasure, drawing moans from his lips.

He felt the familiar tension in Guinevere as she was about to reach her peak. Her legs closed about his hips, drawing him closer to her, Arthur groaned in pleasure and moved faster.

"Arthur," she closed her eyes and whispered his name over and over as she drew closer to climax.

He was so close, so very close, but he wanted her there with him. He slowly moved one hand between their bodies, between her legs, to flick at the nub of nerves that he knew would bring her over the edge. Her eyes flew open and he looked deeply into them.

"I love you, Guinevere," he said clearly, not wanting her to doubt his words. "And I will love you forever."

"Arthur," she whispered his name and she flung her head back as pleasure crashed over her.

Arthur came at the same time and he buried his face in the space between her shoulder and her neck.

They stayed that way for a moment, breathing labored, perspiration from their exertions cooling their skin. Arthur felt Guinevere kissing his shoulder and he turned his head to look at her. Her skin was rosy and warm, her hair wild, her eyes soft, her lips swollen from their kisses.

Arthur swore he had never seen her more beautiful and he had never loved her more.

He moved off and out of her, lying on the bed beside her and holding her close; her head on his chest as they rode out the humming of their bodies. Her hand traced idle patterns on his chest and Arthur's hands stroked her skin lightly, knowing that she will be unable to take any more stimulation.

'This is enough,' he thought. 'My spirit has this to remember her by.'

"Arthur," Guinevere called him from his reverie.

"My love," he answered. "What's wrong?"

"I will remember you," she said softly.

He pressed a kiss upon the top of her head.

"Forgive me?" She asked.

"You do not have to ask me for anything, Guinevere." He was shocked at her request. He had never blamed her for anything; he had disappointed her, time and time again, and it was he who should be begging.

"Forgive whatever slight I caused, Arthur."

She moved closer to him and his arms tightened around her body.

"You have caused me no grief, my love," he whispered. "There is no slight for me to forgive."

Arthur held her close, content where he was.

'This is where I should be,' he thought. 'With her, holding her, loving her.'

"I love you, Arthur," Guinevere whispered again, her lips ghosting on his chest. "I cannot tell you how much."

He felt tears on his skin and he slowly tilted her chin up. He saw her grief, her pain, but he also saw the familiar warmth of her love and despite the uncertainty of tomorrow, Arthur's heart soared.

Sorrow and pain were lifting from her heart.

'Let peace come to her, please,' he prayed silently. 'Give her relief.'

"I love you," he said simply. "And I will love you forever."

He leaned down and kissed her, softly, gently.

A clock chimed somewhere and Arthur became aware of the time. He looked and saw that hours had passed; the shadows slanting across the room showed that it was early in the afternoon. He moved them until they were sitting up, leaning against her headboard. Still holding her against him, he began to speak.

"Do you want me to stay?" He asked.

Guinevere nodded.

He kissed her temple and slowly eased from bed.

"Where are you going?" Guinevere's bewildered tone called.

Arthur chuckled and turned back to her.

"I have to return to Camelot for a change of clothes," Arthur said. "I will be back, my love."

"Oh," she said, her lips forming a perfect o as she leaned back against the headboard. "I will be here waiting, then."

"Thank you, Guinevere," he said as he sat on the edge of the bed and started to dress.

He felt the bed dip and her arms were soon around him, her lips kissing his shoulder, moving up to his ear.

"I love you, Arthur," she said again. Arthur had never heard anything more beautiful. He felt her mumble again his skin, words he couldn't hear.

"What was that, my love?"

She moved so she was sitting on his lap. She still held the sheet to herself, covering her nudity. Arthur held her close, not wanting to be away from her, but knowing that he had to set things right at home before coming back to spend these—maybe—last hours with her.

She was silent, her eyes big and shining with unshed tears.

"What's wrong, Guinevere?" His heart began to hammer in his chest. Had he hurt her yet again?

She cupped his cheeks and kissed him softly on the lips.

"I absolve you, Arthur," she whispered against them. "My peace will only be complete when you are at peace as well."

He held his breath and he was certain that he was about to black out.

"This will always be yours as well," she moved one of his hands over her heart. "My entire being, my King, will always be devoted to your happiness."

"Guinevere," he breathed and he felt tears pricking at his eyes. "You are my happiness."

She kissed him and slowly moved off his lap and moved back to the bed.

"Go, Arthur," she said silkily. "I will be here when you return."

She smiled at him and Arthur was unable to help himself from kissing her. She was breathless and he was panting when they separated.

"Come back to me, my King."

And Arthur's world went black.