foreverwarrior: (Miranda (Guinevere))
“Death ends a life, but it does not end a relationship, which struggles on in the survivor's mind toward some resolution which it may never find.” I Never Sang For My Father


I didn't want to see him. I couldn't see him. I wanted to remember him as hale, healthy and whole, not laying on his deathbed suffering a mortal wound. It was because of me he was wounded. Mordred, damn him, had called my honour into account and Arthur could not stand idle any longer. Lancelot offered to take his place, but Arthur wouldn't hear of it. Later, Lance had told me that Arthur knew of his Immortality, and that trait would be seen as an unfair advantage. Arthur, himself, being an honourable man would not let another fight for him, especially when his wife's fidelity was called into question. It was a conflict of interest of monumental proportions should Lance fight in his stead. The guilt rested squarely on my shoulders. In my logic, twisted by grief, Arthur would only recover if I never entered his rooms. I counted myself a thousand times a fool for not listening to Merlin's warning.

"Gwen." Only when we were well and truly alone would Lance ever unbend as to use my nickname. "Guinevere, you must go see him."

I stopped my pacing in the torchlit corridor to face my protector, my champion and my best friend.

"Do not ask that of me," I answered softly. "You know I cannot."

"Guinevere," he chided softly, taking a shoulder in each hand. "He is your husband, and your King. If you do not make an effort, and he dies, you will be forced to bear that for eternity."

"Or until someone takes my head," I replied wryly.

"You are too much of a warrior for that to ever happen," Lance answered. "Do you want to carry the guilt of not saying 'good-bye' when you had the chance?"

It was a point he didn't have to make twice. I simply nodded, my unbound hair falling to cover my face and my shame. In a rare gesture of affection, Lance leaned forward and gently kissed the top of my head. It was nearly my undoing, but as Queen, I had to be strong, as strong as my King had been weakened. Stiffening my resolve, and my spine, I slowly opened the door to the solar.

The walk from the door to the bed was the longest twenty paces of my life. Arthur's face was pale and drawn. Merlin could do nothing to slow the poison Mordred had used on his blade. The blade itself had sliced into Arthur's belly, leaving him to languish for nearly a day and a half. I cautiously approached the bed, not wanting to disturb him lest he slept.

"Ahh, Guinevere," he greeted me, his voice barely above a whisper, and his eyes open only a fraction.

"Hush, my love," I replied, easing myself into sitting on the edge of the bed. "Save your strength. You'll need it to get well."

"Guinevere, I have never known you to be in denial," Arthur said. His voice was halting and with each breath, I could hear the death-rattle in his lungs.

"It is not denial, but faith," I answered, taking his hand. I tried to tell myself that it was warm when it clearly was not. Death's icy grip had already begun to claim his fingers.

"Then you must have faith that Heaven awaits me," he replied. "The one who has died for my sins awaits me there. If you have faith, believe in that."

Arthur had always been patient with my disagreement for Christian doctrine. He had never berated my pagan upbringing, nor did he condemn me, and for that he would have my eternal loyalty.

"You will hold the Grail, Arthur," I promised vehemently. "One day, you will hold it."

A vague smile crossed his lips. "And I hold you to your vow, Guinevere Pendragon."

Breath ceased to fill his lungs as his hand went limp in mine. "Go to him, Arthur." I whispered, fighting a losing battle with tears.

I slowly eased the ring bearing the crest of Camelot off his finger. I knew it would pass to Mordred who was Arthur's closest kin. I wiped my tears on a flowing sleeve before leaving our rooms. Lancelot, Merlin, and Mordred were all awaiting me in the corridor.

"The King is dead," I announced, pausing to give the ring to Mordred before soundly backhanding him. "Long live the King."

The passing days were a grief-stricken blur. Arthur hadn't been buried on Avalon a week when Mordred condemned me as unfaithful and removed me as Queen in the same breath he proclaimed himself King. Lancelot and Gawain escorted me to Gawain's family holdings on Orkney. It was there that I began to formulate a plan to retrieve the Grail for Arthur. In truth, it would take nearly fifteen hundred years, but I did indeed keep my promise to my husband and my King.

Quinnleigh Kincaid
Highlander OC
810 Words
[livejournal.com profile] her_championis Quinn's headmate & mine to use.
foreverwarrior: (Miranda (Guinevere))
As requested by [livejournal.com profile] rude_not_ginger

Tourney days were always the highlight of summer. Crowds filled Camelot lands, dotting the landscape with brightly-coloured tents. Merchants brought their wares, farmers sold their crops, and the scents of roasting meat, baking bread, and bubbling pies filled the air.

She loved walking amongst the everyday crowd. To that end, she had slipped out of her rooms and donned a more humble dress. Only her dragon-crested ring marked her as anyone out of the ordinary.

She wasn't simple enough to think that her disguise was foolproof. Many of the stall-keepers and some of the other gentry knew her on sight. Most tolerated her strange behaviour with a small nod of acknowledgement, and she knew that any stall where she paused would see an influx of business within moments of her departure. Everyone wanted to know what she had said, or bought, and the merchants would be busy for the rest of the afternoon. She had just complimented a fabric merchant on a particular bolt of fine blue velvet when someone caught her eye.

He was unlike anyone else she had seen. His close-cropped brown hair stuck up at odd angles, and a most interesting suit of brown clothes hung from his wiry frame. Over the suit, he wore a strange, sleeved robe. What intrigued her the most was his manner of speech.

"Brilliant! Would you look at that?" he muttered to himself with all the wide-eyed enthusiasm of a small boy. "I've always wanted one of those!"

She approached him curiously. "Sir? Are you quite well?"

"Never better!" he exclaimed with a wide grin. "I must say, the things you humans have managed to create without electricity is absolutely fantastic!"

If she hadn't had half the conversations with Merlin as she did, she would have been utterly confused. As it was, she wondered if he was another wizard. She had just opened her mouth to speak when he spotted a jeweler’s stall and began walking towards it. Several people gasped as he turned his back to her.

"What? What is it? What happened?" he asked turning his head, looking around for the object of their chagrin.

She cleared her throat with a mild, wry smile. "My name is Guinevere Pendragon."

"Blimey! Are you really?" he asked, astonished.

"And you are?" she prompted, holding out her hand for him.

"The Doctor," he grinned, pumping her hand enthusiastically.

A few people looked at him in consternation, but she simply smiled, not letting his behaviour bother her. In fact, she found it rather charming.

"Well, then, Doctor. How do you find our little tourney?" she asked politely as they continued to walk down the row of stalls.

"Oh, I didn’t find it," he replied. "The TARDIS did. Simply mentioned I fancied a bit of jousting and here I am. Brilliant, ay?"

"TARDIS?" she repeated, confused. "What is that?"

"She, actually," he answered, almost distractedly.

"Alright, what is she?" Guinevere asked, curiously.

"Time And Relative Dimensions In Space," he muttered. Then his eye landed on a nearby fruit cart. "Gutted! No bananas! I mean, there wouldn’t be would there? They haven’t been discovered yet, have they? By Western Europeans, I mean."

"The TARDIS. Is that your…" she paused looking for the right word. "Ship?"

"Not really, no," he replied evasively and quickly walked to a glassmaker’s stall. "Hello! What have we here?"

He promptly picked up a multi-faceted prism nearly the size and shape of an apple. Holding it up to the sunlight, he was quickly covered in small rainbows.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked excitedly.

"A prism," she replied simply.

"Well, yes. Besides that," he answered. She shook her head in confusion. "I’ve been looking for one of these for ages! It’s a Multi-Beam Refractor Unit, and it’s exactly what I need to fix the TARDIS’ chameleon circuit! Brilliant!"

He then prattled on about the faulty circuit and its repairs. She quickly realized she had absolutely no understanding of half the things he said. Perhaps Merlin…

"Well! This has been interesting, but I need to be off," he grinned, and quickly started walking in the other direction.

"What about the jousting?" she called after him, most unladylike.

"Some other time!" he replied with a wave and disappeared into the crowd. "Nice meeting you, though!"

She stared after him, equal parts confused, amused, and indignant. It wasn’t often that someone rendered her absolutely speechless. Gathering her skirts, she walked quickly back to the castle to have a word with Merlin. Maybe he could explain the odd man’s even stranger behaviour.



{And thanks to [livejournal.com profile] handysparehand for the beta/review! *G*}
foreverwarrior: (Miranda (Guinevere))
"His treachery runs deeper than you know."

Merlin's warnings were never idle, that much she knew from the old wizard. What surprised her was the adamant tone of his voice. Even the brown owl perched on the back of a chair fluffed his feathers in surprise.

"Mordred has always wanted the Crown for himself, and will do anything to succeed in his obsession," he added. "He will use any means at his disposal. Already, his lies have caused discord among Arthur's knights, and he will use your friendship with Lancelot to his advantage, Guinevere."

At the sound of her name, she turned from the massive stone fireplace that occupied one wall of the tower room. "Do you truly think Mordred that devious?"

Merlin nodded gravely. She crossed her arms defiantly. She refused to let that sot push her around, no matter how subtle his methods. If she quit her friendship with Lancelot, Mordred would think her easily manipulated. Should she continue said friendship, Mordred would very well use that against her to boot. It was a situation that would have to be handled with panache and grace.

"Is Arthur aware of Mordred's schemes?" she asked.

"I think not," Merlin replied, running a hand over his flowing white beard.

"His own son and he doesn't realize the lengths he'll go to. And, again, my hands are tied. Arthur refuses to believe me instead of his bastard son."

"Men are often blinded by their offspring," Merlin replied sagely.

"And the only heir to the throne to boot," Guinevere grumbled. "Oh, how I hate politics!"


Quinnleigh Kincaid
Guinevere Pendragon
Highlander OC/Historical Legend crossover
262 Words
This is not binding to any Arthur, Merlin or Mordred muses.

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October 2010

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