The emptiness of the sumptuous chamber pressed in upon the lone figure who sat propped up against a pile of embroidered pillows on the overly large bed.

Queen Guinevere had eventually become accustomed to the solitude. Arthur spent many nights away on patrol with his knights, of course, but otherwise, it was typical for him to press a gentle kiss to her forehead and retreat to his own chambers instead of sleeping beside her.

The excuses had been numerous at first – he was tired after a difficult day, his body was sore from training, or his presence was expected in the council chamber early the following morning. But deep down, they both knew the truth. Their love, while sweetly affectionate, had never been based on physical passion. And after