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loved_by_two((OOC: This answer takes place amidst a storyline that the King Arthur muses are involved in at the moment.))
Guinevere sat on her bed, tears long since dried as she looked at the blade sitting on her bed in front of her. She reached out and ran her fingers down the sharp blade and then along the handle. She could still see his hands holding this and it's twin...that twin being broken and gone, now. She curled her hand around the handle and swung it up in front of her.
Lancelot...
He was gone, her dark knight with the dancing eyes. He had been killed by the one person from her past that she hadn't expected to ever see again.
Guinevere stood up and danced with the sword, swinging it in a deadly arc around her body. She did this for a few moments before dropping to her knees on the floor as a strangled cry was drawn from her throat.
Lancelot...
He was never coming back and this was all she had left of the dark Sarmatian knight that had stolen her heart. She held his sword close to her, not caring when the blade cut into her hand and wet the blade with blood.
He was gone. He had escaped death once, but the gods had decided to take him away from her at the whim of a half-mad would-be leader.
Guinevere sat there on her knees for what seemed like hours...she held on to the sword like it was a lifeline and her eyes stared down at the floor as she started to sob again. It seemed like she had done nothing but cry since the news had come.
Merlin had come and had tried to comfort her, but for the first time in her life, she refused to see him. Ever since Tristan had brought back the news and the swords...one of the two blades broken, she had stayed locked in her room. She had locked the door and refused to come out. She had lost track of how many days it had been. She was only vaguely aware of the passing from dawn to dark and back again.
No one knew where Arthur had hidden himself away in grief or they might have gotten him to break in on Guinevere. He would be the only one that could safely approach the grieving warrior.
She screamed out her rage and grief until her throat ached and her voice was hoarse. The screams echoed throughout most of the fortress and those that heard it bowed their heads. They understood her grief and her pain. It was well known how much she had loved the dark Sarmatian knight.
He was dead.
Lancelot was dead and all she had left of him was his sword and the memory of his touch.
One very deadly sword.
She held the sword to her as she cried out again, but the sound was muted. She had no voice left with which to scream out at the wrongness of this death.
Word Count: 515
Muse: Guinevere
Fandom: "King Arthur"; Misc Movies and Mythologies
Guinevere sat on her bed, tears long since dried as she looked at the blade sitting on her bed in front of her. She reached out and ran her fingers down the sharp blade and then along the handle. She could still see his hands holding this and it's twin...that twin being broken and gone, now. She curled her hand around the handle and swung it up in front of her.
Lancelot...
He was gone, her dark knight with the dancing eyes. He had been killed by the one person from her past that she hadn't expected to ever see again.
Guinevere stood up and danced with the sword, swinging it in a deadly arc around her body. She did this for a few moments before dropping to her knees on the floor as a strangled cry was drawn from her throat.
Lancelot...
He was never coming back and this was all she had left of the dark Sarmatian knight that had stolen her heart. She held his sword close to her, not caring when the blade cut into her hand and wet the blade with blood.
He was gone. He had escaped death once, but the gods had decided to take him away from her at the whim of a half-mad would-be leader.
Guinevere sat there on her knees for what seemed like hours...she held on to the sword like it was a lifeline and her eyes stared down at the floor as she started to sob again. It seemed like she had done nothing but cry since the news had come.
Merlin had come and had tried to comfort her, but for the first time in her life, she refused to see him. Ever since Tristan had brought back the news and the swords...one of the two blades broken, she had stayed locked in her room. She had locked the door and refused to come out. She had lost track of how many days it had been. She was only vaguely aware of the passing from dawn to dark and back again.
No one knew where Arthur had hidden himself away in grief or they might have gotten him to break in on Guinevere. He would be the only one that could safely approach the grieving warrior.
She screamed out her rage and grief until her throat ached and her voice was hoarse. The screams echoed throughout most of the fortress and those that heard it bowed their heads. They understood her grief and her pain. It was well known how much she had loved the dark Sarmatian knight.
He was dead.
Lancelot was dead and all she had left of him was his sword and the memory of his touch.
One very deadly sword.
She held the sword to her as she cried out again, but the sound was muted. She had no voice left with which to scream out at the wrongness of this death.
Word Count: 515
Muse: Guinevere
Fandom: "King Arthur"; Misc Movies and Mythologies
