Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Written for: ag_fics Fic Battle 2.0
Prompt: kbrand5333- The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Characters: A/G
Rating/Warning: PG / tragic angst before…
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The metal cuts through your flesh. A slick poison of steel. It creates a pain, nausea like none you’ve ever felt before. It builds a fury like never again. This is it. The memorial song. The requiem. You can feel it before the few days of survival. You are hours away from your last.
So you pick up your sword and drive it through your enemy, the boy you loved, trusted.
Love. Some sick weakness. It’s almost always only turned on you. Twisted your beliefs into stupidities. It’s made you the fool.
The enemy falls. He has this queer smile upon his face of release before death. You care none for it. You walk forward. Ah. The hole of injury. It drains your limbs of steadiness. You stumble over bodies of comrades. Men of knighthood whom you loved like brothers.
Now they will be no more. Now you will be no more.
There is just one sadness. One fear.
Death is not frightening. You’ve always known it would come. You’ve never ran from its ivy-twisting framed door.
It’s just in the past years something has changed. There’s this person in your fate, your destiny, your life that makes you want to scrape away from heaven’s gate.
Not yet. Not now.
In your weak heart lingers the memory of last time. Passions risen in a tent before battle. Her lips. Her curls of hair. Her essence between her thighs that always responded to your erotic kiss. Her embraces that always took away any passage of cold. Her smile. Her quietly seductive walk. Her bedtime braid that you always wanted to unselfishly twist. Her wet warm mouth that took away any quench of thirst.
Your wife.
“Guinevere…” You murmur with a dry cracked voice. “Guinevere…”
Memories.
Collections.
“Mmm…”
Arthur blew out the candle’s light and settled in against his wife, both of them tired after a long visit from the King of Mercia.
“Proud of you.” He whispered into her braided hair.
“Why? She asked softly.
“How you made the occasion so special. It’s hard to entertain those from Mercia. They’re often argumentative. But you did well. I knew you would years ago. Knew you’d be my rightful queen.”
“Mmm…” She hums softly. “As you are the correct king.”
“With you at my side I am.”
“Mmm…”
Her eyes are closed as he peers over shoulder. She holds his hand to her heart, but her breaths are turning to the deeper ones of near sleep. He presses gently into her curved warmth, kisses her forehead. “Goodnight Guinevere. You’ve had a bunch of busy days. Sleep now my Love.”
***
That is why.
Why you whisper it again now even though your mouth quakes and your lips crack with no moist comfort. “Guinevere…see you again. Need…ah…”
The wound is too deep.
*
You sleep. And travel. Sleep again. And travel more. It is all with a friend who you feel has betrayed, but then you know the truth.
It comes a few days later. You can’t travel anymore. You knew days before when you sat upon that rock, this was likely it. You knew the gravity of a sword’s intention that drove in too hard. Too viciously. There’s no more reason to pretend. To hold on. Life turns to death now. As you look to the desperately frantic servant. As you look to the skies. As you wonder.
When?
When will I see her again?
When…
When…
When…
***
Years pass. but here they have no real meaning. It is a land of peace and calm order. You are sheltered in healing. Of trees. Of springs. Of beauty. Of magic. But still you thirst for what you have not had for so long.
Still…you wait.
And then one day…
As you are walking through Avalon’s wood, a vision appears.
She looks frightened. Unsure. And so you walk forward. You take her hand.
“Guinevere.”
“Arthur?”
You smile, the tears of bittersweet joy trailing down your skin. For it is of meaning twofold. She is not just with you again. She is gone from the other world.
And so she must be as coldly fearing as you were.
“Arthur, it is you?” She runs forward, letting out a cry of happiness. You press your fingers into those curls you’ve missed so much. You rock into her with a fever of passion.
“It is me Guinevere. It is me, my Love.”
“Oh…” She holds you so fervently, before breaking away. “But then…”
“Yes.” You whisper softly, caressing her cheek. “This is Avalon, Guinevere.
“Avalon?” She asks with wonder.
“Yes.” You tell her. “Where you and I will wait.”
“Till what?”
“Till it is time. For us to return.”
“But Arthur-
“No.” You touch her lips. “Shhhh…quiet. Just…be with me. It’s been so long since I’ve felt your love all around me. I want to experience it as long as I can.”
She nods, tears glowing in her eyes. She wants the same as you.
The song plays in your soul.
Selfish…for she is gone from the other world.
Painful…because you couldn’t stand another minute of her not in yours again.
Finally some salvation though.
Finally…
Hallelujah.