Arthur thought about the day in which the crown had been recently put into his head and all it would entail. He thought about responsibility. All those people, the whole Camelot depended on him. And it was his duty as their sovereign to protect everyone. He did not want to imagine what would happen if, at some point, could not fulfill its mission. He thought about death too. About the fact that being the king would kill him. He preferred to imagine that if he had to die, he would die fighting. Fighting for his purposes and for the things he believed in and loved: Camelot, his friends, and Gwen. It would be an honorable way to die. There was no shame to die in battle, quite the opposite. He wondered if it would hurt, which was a rather stupid question to ask. But is there something after this life? He would see their loved ones again? Like the others would regard his death? He thinks about Lancelot crossing the veil. He wanted his friend beside him at that moment to answer. These thoughts and questions often plagued Arthur, and the only consolation on it was that he could find on them is that he would die for something he knew would be worth dying for . With honor.