The Dmgirl: Not much I can say about this, except enjoy.
Disclaimer: Lancelot, Arthur and the Blacksmith don't belong to me. They belong to Sega.
Home
Home.
It was something he had been denied for so long. It was something he had fought for, but always lost no matter how much he defended it. It was something he thought he'd never have anymore. Even while having a roof over his head.
He often thought it was because he was different. That he had been raised by a fairy, and given gifts that many were refused. Why would people give him a home when jealousy would be the only emotion to greet him? Why would people accept him when he had so much and they had so little?
As such, he had left any place he could have called as such. Even when he had found a kingdom that seemed to accept him, he had left it as quickly as he could before people shunned him, turned away from him. He had left before he showed too much of himself or made a mistake that would never be forgiven.
But it didn't erase the whisper that haunted his mind. It didn't stop the faint memory of his last moments within the ever so accepting kingdom from surfacing every time his gaze turned to the direction he knew it to be in.
"Whenever you feel weary, come back. You'll always be welcomed here."
The words were so soft, he had been certain that it had imagined it. That he had dreamed the one he had once known as loud and cheerful until he was replaced with someone who looked the same, but was a lot more centered and calm. Yet just as caring as the previous one.
He hadn't. Because it had grown in his mind, and called to him. It made him dream of the one who had once told him it was alright to be himself, along with his kingdom. It made him wonder if he was missed, and if the owner of the voice thought about him. Like he did.
His ears flicked at the sound of a scream, and he tore his gaze from the hills to the nearest village. His face stretched into a snarl as he lowered his visor, and headed towards it. He could never catch a break, it seemed. The moment his thoughts edged towards sadness, visitors of the underworld would appear, and would force him to leave them behind.
He put his sword away, and checked with the villagers if everything was alright. Throughout their thanks and apologies, they shared a few gifts that he refused, until he met the blacksmith. The same blacksmith that usually worked at the castle he had once lived in, that he had left without much of a goodbye.
He had been recognized immediately, and they had talked while the young blacksmith sharpened his sword. They had shared their latest travels, and he had only gotten up to leave when a sliver of sun was all that was left, only to be met with words he'd never hoped he'd hear.
"When are you coming home? Everyone has been wondering how you've been doing."
He hadn't answered. Simply left the young one and left the village with a speed that couldn't be matched as his mind repeated the last words he'd heard when he'd left.
"Whenever you feel weary, come back. You'll always be welcomed here."
Not even the soft hum of his shoes managed to distract him, and he stumbled over a root as his mind drove him further and further into the past. When he had met the people that would accept him for whatever reason, and taken them with him. When he had finally been able to share a few of his secrets and had still been considered equal.
Could he? Could he truly hope that the mistakes he thought he had made with the way he had been raised had been forgiven? Could he truly believe that he had been accepted? Could he truly think that he had – that he had a home?
He slowly got up, his stare already looking at the hills and beyond. To the castle that possibly held the answers to all his questions. Maybe. Maybe he could. Maybe, for once, it wasn't wishful thinking.
His shoes reignited, and he watched as the world became a blur. He watched as the sun rose in the horizon once more, only to be covered by clouds. He watched as the castle drew itself in front of him, and didn't disappear as it had so many times in his dreams. He watched as the gates opened in front of him, and heads turned to him.
His hands clenched close as he started to walk along the streets, ears catching the many whispers. Speculations, exclamations, and small cheers were everywhere as he raised his visor, and looked at the castle, at the place he'd lived in for a few years before leaving, unable to believe that he would be able to stay, but was coming back to in hopes that he could.
The great doors opened with a creek, and he found himself surrounded with people he knew, with people that had once called him "friend". He found himself in more embraces he could count, most of them tearful or violent, as all recognized him and asked what had taken him so long to return.
A long lost smile found its way to his face as he answered as truthfully as he could, unable to brush them off as easily as he had done in the past. Was this what he had hoped for? What he had wanted for all those years of solitude?
"I was wondering what could have gathered everyone at the entrance."
His face lifted without his consent, and his gaze met green as the crowd parted, along with a smile that he hadn't seen for so long.
He quickly knelt as his head lowered.
"Forgive me for intruding, Your Majesty, but I am weary of my travels and need to rest. Is there, by any chance, a place for me in your castle?" he voiced as his hand reached for his chest. He could feel his heart pounding underneath, threatening to make its way out of his ribcage and armor, to be laid bare before the one whom he had once dared to call his king.
And it gave a loud thump as a hand reached for his face, and made him meet emerald green once more. The smile hadn't moved.
"Have you found the answers you were looking for?" came the calm reply as the crowd slowly scattered, also wearing smiles. Did they know something he didn't?
"Answers?"
"Yes. Weren't you looking for something when you left?" he was asked, as a knowing glow flew in those eyes, and the soft smile slowly grew as he finally managed to piece the riddle together. He had known? Why had he never spoken?
"I believe I have, Your Majesty," he spoke, only to be meet by a quiet chuckle.
"Then rise, Knight. You'll find your room where you left it."
And rise he did, unable to help the smile he wore as he stared at the one who had barely changed in the time he'd left.
"Thank you, Your Majesty. If you don't mind, I will take my leave. I wish to leave my armor so I may be comfortable," he said, feeling his heart relaxing as the chortle returned.
"Do not let me stop you, Knight," was replied as the king stepped aside, and he began to walk towards the castle. The same castle that had he knew from the ground up.
"Although, if I may…"
He turned around slightly to see the other hold out his hand in hopes to stop him before a smile etched itself on that face.
"Welcome home, Sir Lancelot."
He felt his entire being freeze as a flame crackled near his heart. He felt his breath halt before resuming in a slightly faster pattern. He felt warmth slowly flood him, and his hands become moist.
He reached for his face, and slowly took off his helmet before putting it under his arm. No need to hide himself here. No need to protect his identity here. He was accepted for who he was. He was accepted as any other knight. He was…
He bowed as he felt the first drop of rain fall along his back, "I have returned, King Arthur."
… Home.