This is my first story! I apologize ahead of time for any grammar mistakes or bad writing. Go on good folk! Please drop me a review, even if you hate it!

Disclaimer: I wish I did, but I don't. I know you know that you know I don't own it, you know?

Come home; come home, because I've been waiting for you for so long so I can just continue life as normal. Unharmed, undead, I want you as rude and irritating as ever. You need to come home and kick my arse in training like always. I want your voice screaming in my ears to get going and do it right. I want to spar with you and smack you on the upside of the head, not Bors or Tristan. Lancelot, come home, even if it is to those abhorred wenches sharing your bed as I sleep alone in the room next door. I still want you here if all you do is make eyes at Cassandra and her idiotic friends. I would give it all up, so that you could just come home. I know you say you have no home, but I think I am your home. You no longer see Dagonet for your wounds or Tristan for the scouting updates. Jols no longer takes care of you horse, and Vanora does not cook your meals on trips. Guinevere is not your verbal sparring partner and Arthur is not your only friend. Come back to home, come home.

Walking to the tavern, Vanora is sitting with most of her children as they scurry around her and ten. The older ones stare wistfully at the gate as I did and continue to do. I smile at the preoccupied woman as she bounces the whimpering baby in her lap. I sit on the wagon of hay next to Two and Seven, who lies her head in my lap and Four, who puts his head on my shoulder. We all stare at the gate, wishing for them to come home.

"Abraxas?" asks Seven quietly.
"Yes?" I say back just as softly,
"Where are they?" She whispers back, not daring to break the odd peace that we have.
"Safe." I say, hoping that my pathetic lie will comfort the frightened child.
"Abraxas?" She repeats.
"Yes?" I question
"Can you sing to us please?" The odd, crying for comfort plea of a five year old girl pulls me to do what I have not in months. The dirty faces of Bors and Vanora's children make me picture my brothers now presumably dead and buried. We would watch the gate to our villa in Greece waiting for Father to return from battle. I would sit in my oldest brother's lap and fall asleep waiting, listening to his heart. The last time we waited for three days, staring at the gate. Now they follow in Fathers' steps commanding forces and doing battle, just as Lancelot does. I start to sing.

Hello world
Hope you're listening
Forgive me if I'm young
For speaking out of turn
There's someone I've been missing
I think that they could be
The better half of me
They're in the wrong place trying to make it right
But I'm tired of justifying
So i say you'll..

Come home
Come home
Cause I've been waiting for you
For so long
For so long
And right now there's a war between the vanities
But all i see is you and me
The fight for you is all I've ever known
So come home

I get lost in the beauty
Of everything i see
The world ain't as half as bad
As they paint it to be
If all the sons
All the daughters
Stopped to take it in
Well, hopefully the hate subsides and the love can begin
It might start now…
Well maybe I'm just dreaming out loud
Until then

Come home
Come home
Cause I've been waiting for you
For so long
For so long
And right now there's a war between the vanities
But all i see is you and me
The fight for you is all I've ever known
Ever known
So come home
Oh

Everything I can't be
Is everything you should be
And that's why I need you here
Everything I can't be
Is everything you should be
And that's why I need you here
So hear this now

Come home
Come home
Cause I've been waiting for you
For so long
For so long
And right now there's a war between the vanities
But all I see is you and me
The fight for you is all I've ever known
Ever known
So come home.

Nothing.

Not a child move or cries. Even Vanora stares at me. I look up and try to feel the customary tears that accompany this song, but nothing. I'm dried up and empty.

Nothing.

My head hangs low.

Nothing.