Arturia blinked in disbelief; she did not think that she would ever hear someone say those words to her after Lancelot. In fact, those words were the only thing that floated in her mind at the given moment. She sat still, just looking at him as if he was not actually there. She held a blank expression that caused him uneasiness and there was a dense silence that hung around them in some sort of cloud.
Diarmuid ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, he was not sure what he was truly expecting from her. He was prepared for her to reject him though.
"Um," she licked her lips; ready to blabber on about something meaningless and not actually respond to what he had stated.
"You..." Diarmuid interrupted her as he felt his heart still beating rapidly, "You needn't say anything. I know that you do not want to be involved in relationships right now, and it was a bit impulsive of me. But, I thought that you might as well know. If you could think about it for a while, maybe until we reach Camelot and tell me your answer, it would be more than enough."
She was unsure what to respond afterwards, and so she simply gave a short nod of her head and watched as he exited the room in silence.
Upon leaving the room, Diarmuid had his eyes shut tightly and his teeth clenched. He knew that it was going to be hard to face her again, and he did not know how she was going to act around him afterwards. Maybe if they did not talk to one another for a while, the awkwardness and tension would soon ease.
Thomas was not anywhere to be seen and in fact, Diarmuid did not even know if he was in the house. He took a deep breath and walked out of the house in order to continue whatever work he was to do next.
Arturia still sat on the bed and thought about the words Diarmuid had said. They were rather strong, and it made her head feel dizzy. Her mind was in another place, really. There were many things she was and was not thinking about. The idea of a relationship seemed very difficult and improbable in her mind. They were on completely different statuses and even countries, it was not as if they were sociably compatible in the first place. But then again, why was Lancelot an exception to the rule and Diarmuid not?
Love was a hard concept for her... the only time she ever loved someone ended quite tragically and so soon after the incident, she was not really in the mindset to be looking for exactly that. It was not love that kept her far away, it was the fear of losing someone as she had lost Lancelot.
She rubbed her face and fell back on the bed, what am I going to do now? She was glad that he fancied her but she did not want their friendship to crumble after this. She was content with them being friends and laughing together, them sitting on a bed and talking; she was content with everything that they had before. Of course there were times when they were sleeping next to each other, or when their hands brushed against one another that she had wished they were a bit more than friends because her heart would beat a little faster and she would feel butterflies in her stomach. But, friends was just fine. Friends was good enough.
Diarmuid entered the small stable that Thomas owned and fed the horses because he had realized that they had not been fed the whole day. He pet his mare as he bit the inside of his lips harshly. He questioned himself for telling her and he even scolded himself a few times; he did not exactly regret it, but he did not want her to see him differently (in a bad way). He felt as if she would not even let him touch her any more. As if she would not even let him look at her because she would somehow be appalled by him. Since he had never truly fallen in love, everything seemed possible. She could hate him after all this, and he was not exactly prepared for that.
"Diarmuid," a voice came from behind him and he nearly jumped in the air, "I have been looking for you."
Diarmuid shot his head back towards the voice and saw Thomas standing by the door watching him silently, "Oh, forgive me, I was just looking over our horses."
Thomas gave a smile and sighed, "Dinner is ready," he mumbled, "Oh, and we're having a guest over tomorrow, is that alright?"
The knight furrowed his brows and chuckled, "Of course, this is your home after all."
"Oh, yes," the old man mumbled again, "and, I am certain that you will be able to patch things with Arturia, it was just a small fight anyways."
Diarmuid gave a hopeless smile and nodded, "I'm not quite worried about that."
"Then why are you sulking here as you feed the horses?" Thomas approached Diarmuid and stood next to him, "It seems as if you are very upset about it."
"I simply do not like to make her feel uncomfortable and I think that this fight surely did just that." Diarmuid rubbed his neck as he spoke, the image of Arturia in his mind very vivid.
"Since you're newly-wed, you know not of how frequent arguments are. I assure you that by the time that Arturia sits at the dinner table; she'll forget. There is but one thing that you must remember about women—about your wife—she is always going to be right. Matters not if you are correct, she will always be right."
Diarmuid let out a lighthearted chuckle, "You are completely correct."
"Well, then, let's go," Thomas helped Diarmuid with closing the stable as they walked back to the small cabin house. The moon was lighting the earth, but it was not as well as when the sun was out; of course—but Diarmuid loved the moon's perseverance.
If the moon could even try to match the sun's light, then he was able to not act awkward about what he had said. She would not mind, or at least that was what he believed; hopefully the old man was right.
The front door creaked as they both entered the house and Diarmuid saw Arturia humming a song he had never heard as she served the food. Her hips were swinging to the tune and then she turned about with a plate in her hands. Her eyes were closed as she continued to hum and she did not notice them yet.
Diarmuid wondered if that was what she would do if they were actually married. She would serve the food he made after he washed up or something. It really made him wonder; what if they were actually married...?
He heard that Thomas had joined in the whistling and Arturia's eyes shot open, the green meadows within them held wonder and surprise, "Oh, hello sir Thomas," she smiled at the man, "honey," she then greeted as her eyes landed on Diarmuid. "You know the song?" Her eyes flickered back to Thomas as he had continued to hum the tune.
"Why, of course, it's one of Camelot's folk songs; how does it go again?" Thomas smiled and watched as Arturia set the plate on the table before clapping her hands.
"I think that it starts like this; 'A sword as bright as the morning sun'," the female quietly sang, "Yes, that sounds about right; but I'm no singer, thus I'll save you the pain of hearing me continue." She let out a giggle at the end.
"Whatever are you talking about, I think that your voice is rather sweet." The old man grinned as he sat down at the table, quickly followed by Diarmuid.
"No need for flattery, Mister Thomas," she shook her head and chuckled, "My friend always used to tell me that my voice was horrid."
"Well, then that friend was a liar," the voice of Diarmuid snaked into the conversation and Arturia's cheeks lit up as her head shot towards him. He was looking down, averting his gaze from hers and she could not tell what he was thinking.
She took a deep breath and smiled again, "Aw, thank you, darling. But, that still won't make me sing for you."
He did not look up at all, just kept his gaze set before himself on whatever it was that he found so interesting, "Hmm."
Arturia sat down upon setting the last plate on the table and they said grace before starting their meal. The dinner was silent until the old man decided to speak.
"Well, how did you come about to learning the song?" He asked Arturia as he blinked at her.
The female prince smiled, "My late friend would always hum it, and I never knew what it was called until another friend of mine started singing the words to it. It's about a sword that is stuck in a stone; and only the heir to Albion can be able to pull it."
"Is it real? The sword, I mean?" Thomas smiled, "I've never been to Camelot and the word of mouth cannot always be trusted."
Arturia chuckled, "My friend, Merlin, he says that it is real and that it lies somewhere in the forest a little away from the castle. Apparently, the man that pulls the sword will unite all the kingdoms and form a High Kingdom that they call Albion."
"Albion..."
"Yes," Arturia nodded, "it is supposed to be the best kingdom ever established; a fair and just kingdom. As a little girl, I always wondered who it was that was going to be the king—they must be very perfect."
"Maybe not perfect in the eyes of many. They could seem rather weak or forgiving. A kingdom is hard to rule and no one is ever able to rule it with so much greatness. But if the legend is true, then one day a good king will save this poor little island."
"Although, it is said that Albion will never be formed. Instead, the king will die in a great battle and one day come again to—what will then be—Albion's aid."
"When do you think that that king will appear?" Thomas tilted his head as he wrapped a hand around the cup of warm tea.
The female shrugged and bit her lower lip, "Not yet, I do not think that Logres is ready for such a king."
Thomas smiled sweetly and nodded, "I have a feeling that it will be soon, even if Logres is not exactly ready."
"And what do you think, sweetheart?" Arturia looked over at Diarmuid, a small smile on her lips.
Diarmuid's amber eyes flickered up to hers and she was glad that he finally let his gaze rest on her. There was a tight feeling in her stomach but she kept the smile plastered on her face.
"I know not much of Logres and their legends. But from what I take it; I feel as if that High King will arrive soon." He blinked a couple of times and still kept his gaze on hers until she was the one to break away.
"Well," she glanced at Thomas after they had all finished their dinner, "do you have a place where I could take a bath. You see, I feel that I really must get cleaned up, what with these injuries and all."
"Oh, of course," the older man nodded and stood from the table, "I'll start the fire in the bathhouse and, Diarmuid," he looked over at the man that remained seated, "could you please start to boil some water?"
Diarmuid's eyes widened and he pointed at himself, "Me?" he blinked slowly and tilted his head.
"Yes, you...could you?" Thomas furrowed his brows.
"Right, right," the younger man nodded and then walked to the fire stove before heading back out so that he could collect water from the well. Alright, so maybe he was thinking about Arturia's answer a little too much. The worst she could say was that she did not like him; and that was not that bad...right? Oh, but it was. It was the worst thing she could possibly say to him and he feared that if she were to say that, he would be very disappointed and upset with himself.
It was not a long walk to the well, since it was rather close to the man's house and so Diarmuid simply looked up at the moon a couple of times as he heaved the four buckets of water back up the hill; that would be enough for her bath and if anything, he would go back down to get her two more.
By the time he got back up to the house, he noticed that Arturia was no longer there and Thomas either. In fact, he was alone by the stone stove. He put to boil two buckets of water and then waited until they would begin to bubble. He thought it best to take the two buckets of cool water straight to the bathhouse.
He greeted Thomas as he poured the water in the soft stone bath. Diarmuid had started to realize that Thomas was not as poor as he had initially thought. In fact, many people did not even have bathhouses behind their cabins.
"Well, you could help Arturia clean up, as I do not want her hurting herself." Thomas stated so nonchalantly that it startled Diarmuid greatly.
"Pardon?" He blinked in disbelief of what the old man had said.
Thomas blinked, "You are married, correct?"
"I think that she will be able to manage by herself, she is a strong woman," Diarmuid bit his lower lip and sighed as he finished pouring the water. "I'm sure she would want to be alone anyways..."
"Alright, I assume that you are correct because she is your wife," Thomas sighed and they both left the bathhouse together.
Upon Diarmuid's return, he noted that the water was already boiling and Thomas had sent both Diarmuid and Arturia off to the bathhouse. Diarmuid tried not to even glace at Arturia because he thought that she would probably glare at him since they were not in front of Thomas anymore.
"The moon is looking beautiful, right?" Arturia broke the awkward silence between them.
"Um, yes...it is." Alright, so Diarmuid was not so calm in the end.
"Well then," she shrugged as they entered the bath house and she watched him pour the boiling water in the tub. She really did not want to make herself see him as a man. She had been trying to avoid this from the time her heart would start to flutter when he laughed.
"If it's too hot, or cold, just tell me so I can get more water for you..." He spoke almost robotic, as if he had been rehearsing the line for some minutes before anything.
She stirred the water with her hand and nodded, "It seems to be adequate like this."
Diarmuid nodded and then he bowed respectfully before walking out of the small wooden cabin. He walked out and ran a hand through his hair, well maybe she liked him...she was being rather nice to him after his confession...