Someone had washed her, dressed her in royal attire and surrounded her with flowers, but Arthur wanted to cast it all aside and shake her violently until she awoke.
They had borne her to the shores of Avalon and now prepared to cast her pyre out onto the silver lake.
Arthur waded thigh deep into the water and took Gwen's hand for the final time. He pressed it to his lips, but she was ice cold and tasted like fresh air.
He set it back down and through her fingers set two stems of purple flowers, picked from the roadside.