King Arthur had been fair and just. 'He' had protected against those that would harm 'his' people. 'He' had always lead from the front lines, standing firm in the face of adversity with Promised Victory in 'his' hands. 'He' had treated all with an even hand, so much that 'he' had been forced to hang 'his' own wife for the treason of adultery, because no one was above the law. And yet... had 'he' tried to build a future alongside them?
King Arthur does not understand human feelings.
Those words were uttered by a knight close to her once, a mirror of that which her people felt. But a king wasn't human. One could not protect the people with human emotions. The king protected the country... but the country destroyed the king. And it had been her fault.
Her head came down a bit, her eyes closed as she brought one hand up to rest on Aslan's head. Again, she wondered why she no longer possessed the capacity to cry. Had she shed all the tears she'd possessed when that veil of foolish ideals had been ripped from her eyes by Sakura? Or was it something else that prevented her from expressing her grief, her despair, in such a human way?
"You are wrong," she said quietly. "I deserve every bit of it. I was the one that ruined my country. I was the one that lost the faith of my people. I was the one that did not understand their hatred of me. I am the one that killed so many of my countrymen, responsible for all those deaths whether they were claimed by my sword or that of my soldiers or the strain of an army's drain upon a village." And then something in her voice broke a little. "I killed my own son."
She swallowed and opened her eyes. "I gave Britain everything that I was or could be... and it was not enough. I was not enough. They deserve a better king than I. They will always deserve a better king than I."
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King Arthur does not understand human feelings.
Those words were uttered by a knight close to her once, a mirror of that which her people felt. But a king wasn't human. One could not protect the people with human emotions. The king protected the country... but the country destroyed the king. And it had been her fault.
Her head came down a bit, her eyes closed as she brought one hand up to rest on Aslan's head. Again, she wondered why she no longer possessed the capacity to cry. Had she shed all the tears she'd possessed when that veil of foolish ideals had been ripped from her eyes by Sakura? Or was it something else that prevented her from expressing her grief, her despair, in such a human way?
"You are wrong," she said quietly. "I deserve every bit of it. I was the one that ruined my country. I was the one that lost the faith of my people. I was the one that did not understand their hatred of me. I am the one that killed so many of my countrymen, responsible for all those deaths whether they were claimed by my sword or that of my soldiers or the strain of an army's drain upon a village." And then something in her voice broke a little. "I killed my own son."
She swallowed and opened her eyes. "I gave Britain everything that I was or could be... and it was not enough. I was not enough. They deserve a better king than I. They will always deserve a better king than I."