A/N: One shot. Lancelot is dying, and Guinevere reflects upon the man she truly loves. Disclaimer: I own nothing that has to do with King Arthur.
She looks down at him at he takes his final breaths. This dark, brooding man had come to her aide on the battlefield and now he was paying the price.
All her life, she was made to be strong. She was never to weep. And yet, this man whom she loved but could not have, lay dying and tears filled her eyes.
You must make Arthur love you. He father had told her. You must bind yourself to him for the sake of our people. Her father, the great and wise Merlin, only wanted her to do her duty. That is all Arthur was to her, a duty.
But it was not Arthur who had her heart, it was the bloodied man before her.
Lancelot. A stranger from a faraway land. This was who she loved.
They had shared few words, but it was as though their spirits cried out to one another. It was Lancelot's face she saw first while still in her dark cage, not Arthur's. It was his dark eyes that pierced hers.
Although it was Arthur who attended her when she ailed, it was Lancelot she always looked to. The way he looked at her when she bathed that night, the look she gave him before she lead Arthur into the wood, all those stolen glances they shared connected them like no other. She and Arthur could never have that.
Now, her love lay dying. "You did not have to come back, you know." She strives to keep her tears from falling. "This is not your home."
Despite his pain and the blood seeping at the corners of his mouth, he grins. "Couldn't leave you painted savages to fight alone." He gasps. "Besides, Arthur needed us."
She nods. "Your loyalty to him will always be remembered."
"No." He looks up at her, his eyes begin to glaze. "Arthur is not the only reason I returned. Guinevere…" He falters, his life is ebbing away.
She lays a hand on his chest. "Hush, my love. Save your strength."
He seems startled. "Your love? But I thought…" He coughs up more blood.
"Gods," she thinks, "he truly thinks I love Arthur?"
"Have you not felt the bond we share?" She says aloud. "Our spirits our one."
He nods slightly. "I did feel it, but I thought you wanted Arthur." His breathing becomes even more ragged. "I've never… loved a woman… as… I have… you."
She feels a tear glide down her cheek. "I know." She touches the gasping man's lips. "I love you, Lancelot."
He dies. The brave Salmatian knight passes into the next world.
And she weeps. There is such pain in her heart that she has never before felt. She weeps for him, her love. When Arthur comes, she will have to brush her tears away. But for now, she weeps for him.
Sad, I know, but please review. I really would like to know what ya'll think.