Limerence

Chapter VIII- Trust

This chapter includes explicit scenes...
Notes: kissing, making out, adoration, passion, touching, intercourse, still partly clothed, bent over throne, riding, guilt (Arthur and reader), shame (Arthur and reader), heartache (reader), running away (reader), crying (reader), exhaustion

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It was in one moment that the grand castle halls seemed to loom in with colors of crimson and slate. The afternoon light shone through the velvet curtains draping the tall crested windows, but not letting enough sun shine through; the halls were dappled in leaves of gold while the atmosphere existed in a hidden shadow. The world passed you by— sounds of noblemen and councils fleeting like murmuring whispers. Though, they were life that drifted away, floating almost like the fluttering clouds outside. It seemed in the time since yesterday, the Camelot realm shifted into a more normal environment— evident in the vibrant blue sky scattered with rolling white clouds. It was refreshing as it was mildly unnerving... nonetheless, the sunlight spilled through and onto two figures.

You had mindlessly processed the change in scenery as Arthur carried you throughout the castle. But of course the focus wasn't on what occurred outside... but rather what existed between you and him. There was no decline in the kiss that began back in the studio; you were the one who wound your arms around his neck and kept interlocked even while passing the halls. It would have been slightly embarrassing if not for his beyond eager reciprocation; his hands kept squeezing your body to bring you even closer– if that was possible. And you were momentarily mystified by how he could even walk let alone navigate from you kissing all over him... perhaps this wasn't the first time this occurred— but you pushed those thoughts away. By now, there was a small flourish of trust growing inside; something trivial like the thoughts of his surely former partners would not teeter you from the moment right now. And besides, he was being more than worthy of your trust thus far... maybe things were finally changing.

Eventually, in a path unknown to you, he pushed open a grand oak door into what you assumed was his throne room. There was no previous impression of what the room was supposed to look like... but it seemed a long crimson carpet ran down a walkway towards the couple of steps up to where his throne resided. It was a typical seat– if anything, it looked rather uncomfortable– but the cushions were a luxurious velvet scarlet and the armrests scrolled into carved cherrywood. There were gold accents weaved into the wood; the way the afternoon sun filtered through the oculus centered above cast the throne in a halo glow.

     Behind the throne platform were tall crested windows, each with stained glass displaying a scene of Camelot tradition: the choosing of the king. Unlike other kingdoms who employed a heir based system, Camelot began a noble judgment of a person's worth: by seeing who could pull the legendary sword, Excalibur. Once the old king retired or passed, Excalibur was placed back into the stone for the trials of another king. People in all of Camelot would gather to test their virtue and attempt to pull the sword; only, the sword would not budge unless a special someone came along. Then, they would be hailed as the next king. It was a rather fair system... Well, basing it off an inanimate object was possibly a tad bit weird to you but the sword was said to be owned by a goddess– and supposedly blessed by her too– so it made sense to let the "heavens choose" so to say. And it gave people a chance, no matter their background. The tradition tested the worth of a human soul; only the most righteous, brave leaders were possible candidates for the king– obviously good traits to have for the job.

You recalled the news many years ago when the noble king Uther passed, leaving Camelot in a limbo of finding the next king. Then, even more surprising news spread throughout Britannia when a ten year old boy had pulled the sword. Of course, that young boy was your husband: Arthur Pendragon. He hadn't been an odd choice for the job; he was raised by Uther like a son and taught by only the finest. He had a strong sense of dignity, fairness, and bravery, things Camelot needed to turn around their– at the time– mediocre status. But clearly, Excalibur was right once again for as soon as that young boy turned sixteen, the kingdom's prosperity grew. And now, here you were, getting lost in the stained colors of the triptych. Your admiration grew for the man carrying you right now, what a fine leader he was. There was an unsettling feeling bubbling inside of you... but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. And the thoughts fleeted entirely once he set you down on your feet and resumed the kiss.