Anywhere Is

Disclaimer: Not mine.

I hit the stairs at a dead run, hearing her coming fast behind me. The top of the wall seemed overly crowded; I could see Lance standing by one of the slits used by archers. He was white faced, his dark hair blowing in his eyes as he glanced down at me.

Now I could hear them. The Saxons. My heart constricted. I shoved Lance out of the way and looked out. The masses of torches bobbing far out in the blackness reminded me suddenly of the squid fisherman of the Mediterranean I had watched from my bedroom window as a boy.

They would kill every Briton they could lay hands on.

My heart was sounding loudly in my ears. It was drowning out everything else. Beneath the frenzied tattoo Merlin's words were resounding through my soul.

You were never my enemy. Rome was my enemy. And so is the Saxon.

I never wished for her death. She was of our kin. As are you.

I could barely hear the words I was compelled to speak.

'Knights, here my journey with you must end.'

I knew this to be my fate. Tomorrow, I would lose my life, fighting, finally, for my own people. God, even in His infinite mercy, could not spare me yet again. And that knowledge brought profound regret as I thought of Rome, my beloved Rome, city of wonder, jewel of the modern world. And mingled equally with that that regret was great relief. I knew now what was required of me.

I could feel the frustration and grief emanating from Lancelot like a scorching fire. I didn't want him to try and argue with me, and I turned away quickly.

As I started down the stairs, I threw a look over my shoulder. He and Guinevere were standing shoulder to shoulder, their dark angular features thrown into stark relief. Her expression was unreadable. His was almost frantic. How do you differentiate between love and desire?

'Arthur!'

Damn, he was following me.

I quickened my pace. My stride is longer than his and he almost had to run to keep up.

He was using the only weapon he had against me. How much he knew he meant to me.

I wouldn't react, and he became incensed, grabbing my arm, spinning me to face him.

'Was it all for nothing then?'

I stared at him, wondering how he could conceivably ask me this.

'Arthur, I'm begging you, for our friendship's sake – '

These words almost broke me. I had to silence him. I reached out quickly, grabbing him by the shoulders, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck.

'Be my friend now and do not dissuade me!'

He didn't flinch at the anger in my voice, though his eyes widened, and he went still.

'Seize your freedom and live it for the both of us, I cannot follow you Lancelot!'

His face was perfectly expressionless, but I saw, in his eyes, something crumble. His shoulders dropped in helpless defeat.

All my love and admiration for him swelled in me and I felt a deep pain in my chest. I wouldn't have him see what this parting meant to me, and, holding his face between my two hands for a moment, turned away.

I felt him grip my arm urgently, but I wouldn't stop.

I left him standing, utterly alone, and walked on into the night.