Character/s: Arthur, Gwen
Warnings: Spoilers through end of S5.
Word Count: 128
Prompt: #52 At Last
Author's Notes: I'm being bad and setting a precedent and all kinds of mean, nasty, horrible, ugly things. But I had a minor emergency while I was attempting to post last night and I just really did not want to fail at this again.
The blade rises and falls in a sweeping rhythm that beats counterpoint to staccato breaths. The winter sunlight has been whetted by icy air, and it turns the spray of blood into a shining string of rubies.
Pivot. Slice. Breath. Sweep. Step. Breath. Backhand. Pivot...
Until the breath is arrested, and the dance ends. The magic-burnished sword is no longer weightless but laden with long years of solitary reign. The battle - the world - is swept away in a lost, tumbling sea of blue eyes.
"Gwen?" It is the shivering plea of a lonely child, not a resurrected king.
She drops Excalibur. At last her breath returns. For the first time in almost a decade, she breathes. It impels her forward to brace him when he falters.