Love, Faith and Family

Chapter 123

Miriam Pendragon had changed back into her blue dress as she sat on her throne, crown sparkling on her head and a white dragon curled by her feet.

The queen wore no smile on her face as she fidgeted with the Pendragon seal in her lap. Aithusa seemed to sense her distress as he lifted his head to her knee, Miriam lifting a hand to his nose before the dragon laid down again, as close to her feet as he could get, trying to soothe her distress with his touch.

She then turned to Sir Leon, who stood next to her throne, waiting attentively.

The throne next to her had never seemed more empty as she nodded at Sir Leon before looking out to the assembled crowd that filled the throne room.

Her face bore no emotion as Sir Leon's voice echoed loudly into the hall, Gwaine, Percival and Gaius standing in the front row.

"The king is dead!"

Her heart clenched in her chest, unimaginable plain numbing her whole body as she faced her kingdom.

A pain that made her want to die, but she couldn't. She wouldn't stand for her husband's death being in vain. He died so Albion could live and she would see to it that it would, even if it killed her inside.

"Long live the queen!" Leon called.

"Long live the queen!" the hall echoed, over and over again.

And then the queen stood.

The hall was silenced as she walked down the stairs of the dais.

Gwaine moved to tend to Aithusa, the dragon very trusting of the knight that he saved.

Line by line, the people that filled the hall bowed as the queen made her exit, as she made her way to her chambers - her chambers - no one daring follow.

Miriam hadn't cried.

She hadn't cried since she learned Gwaine was alive and she'd been escorted back to Camelot.

She hadn't cried when Merlin's letter had arrived.

When her brother had told her of her husband's death, and the fact that he could not return to Camelot. It wasn't his fault, and he knew that, but it still felt like it was. Merlin couldn't bear to be in Camelot without Arthur. He had no idea what his purpose in life was now that Arthur was gone, and he needed time to figure out what to do. He might return in time, someday, but for now, Miriam had lost both her husband and her brother.

And yet she still hadn't cried.

She walked through their rooms, now her rooms, taking in how different everything felt now that Arthur was no longer around.

Her fingers trailed along the dining table, along the patterns engraved on his privacy screen and then she came to the ornate handles of his armoire.

With a small tug, she pulled it open, running her fingers along the fabric of his tunics before she pulled one off its hanger and brought it to her nose, inhaling its scent, Arthur's scent, as she clutched it to her chest.

She missed him terribly.

She knew that there was no way that the hole inside her where Arthur should be would ever be filled.

Though her attention was then drawn to a box she spotted underneath the hems of Arthur's tunics, a box she'd never seen before.

Setting Arthur's shirt back inside the wardrobe, she picked up the box before lifting the silver latch and opening it. 

And then she dropped to her knees as she began to cry.

Her tears were warm as they slid down her face, symbolic of the love and grief that was consuming her heart, her soul, and her.

For inside the box were ribbons and scraps of fabric.

Every ribbon and every piece of cloth Miriam had ever given her husband to wish him luck in battle.

Some of these were years old and she never had any idea that Arthur kept them. Actually, she just thought he threw them away, maybe some got lost in battle or lost in his laundry. But every single one was present and accounted for .

And Miriam cried as she mourned the fact that her husband was dead.