Alfred hated security checks. He had wasted a fair amount of time trying to stop those beefeaters or porkeaters or whatever they were from manhandling him. When he finally managed to locate Arthur, he raced into the throne room, throwing the door wide open.
“Arthur!”
He saw the knife gleaming, he saw the blade descending, he saw the crying, half-crazed smile on Arthur’s face, and he threw himself forward.
“St – Stop it! Please, stop it, Arthur!” he cried with as much strength as he could muster, flinging out his hand as if to catch him.
The knife’s descent froze in mid-air. Hands trembled. Alfred paused, barely daring to hope that his words had finally reached him.
Slowly, Arthur turned his head to face him, the rest of his body remaining paralysed. “...A – Alfred?” he whispered, barely believing what he was seeing. The knife fell from his hands, clattering besides the queen’s head where she had stumbled and fallen.
Sensing an opening, Alfred stepped closer, opening his arms wide as he implored him. “Don’t do this! You’ll only regret it if you do!”
“Alfred?” Arthur’s full attention was finally on him. Were those tears he could see? Arthur shook his head hopelessly. “You don’t underst - ”
Alfred halted, frozen. He thought he could see the world falling apart in front of his eyes. Arthur was no longer looking at him. He was looking at his queen. More specifically, he was looking at the blade of the sword his queen held in her hand, the blade which was buried into his side.
Arthur slowly straightened, taking one, two, three steps backward. The long blade piercing him followed. He placed trembling hands on the hilt, winced, and pulled it out, letting his blood run down the blade and onto the floor.
Alfred was sure that he needed to breathe but he could not. How could he think about breathing when the world was spinning and Arthur was – Arthur had been –
His nails pierced the palms of his hands, drawing blood, but that was nothing compared to the red stain slowly spreading across Arthur’s shirt or the blood trickling down his mouth. Arthur looked at him and, for the first time in an eternity, he gazed upon him gently. Smiling as if to say; ‘I told you so’ the sword clattered on the floor as he collapsed.
Re: If you find me...[20/28]
Alfred hated security checks. He had wasted a fair amount of time trying to stop those beefeaters or porkeaters or whatever they were from manhandling him. When he finally managed to locate Arthur, he raced into the throne room, throwing the door wide open.
“Arthur!”
He saw the knife gleaming, he saw the blade descending, he saw the crying, half-crazed smile on Arthur’s face, and he threw himself forward.
“St – Stop it! Please, stop it, Arthur!” he cried with as much strength as he could muster, flinging out his hand as if to catch him.
The knife’s descent froze in mid-air. Hands trembled. Alfred paused, barely daring to hope that his words had finally reached him.
Slowly, Arthur turned his head to face him, the rest of his body remaining paralysed. “...A – Alfred?” he whispered, barely believing what he was seeing. The knife fell from his hands, clattering besides the queen’s head where she had stumbled and fallen.
Sensing an opening, Alfred stepped closer, opening his arms wide as he implored him. “Don’t do this! You’ll only regret it if you do!”
“Alfred?” Arthur’s full attention was finally on him. Were those tears he could see? Arthur shook his head hopelessly. “You don’t underst - ”
Alfred halted, frozen. He thought he could see the world falling apart in front of his eyes. Arthur was no longer looking at him. He was looking at his queen. More specifically, he was looking at the blade of the sword his queen held in her hand, the blade which was buried into his side.
Arthur slowly straightened, taking one, two, three steps backward. The long blade piercing him followed. He placed trembling hands on the hilt, winced, and pulled it out, letting his blood run down the blade and onto the floor.
Alfred was sure that he needed to breathe but he could not. How could he think about breathing when the world was spinning and Arthur was – Arthur had been –
His nails pierced the palms of his hands, drawing blood, but that was nothing compared to the red stain slowly spreading across Arthur’s shirt or the blood trickling down his mouth. Arthur looked at him and, for the first time in an eternity, he gazed upon him gently. Smiling as if to say; ‘I told you so’ the sword clattered on the floor as he collapsed.