Beta: All hail GothVamp, the mistress of the last minute beta! All remaining mistakes are my own, so please feel free to point out further needed corrections.
Standard disclaimer: no, I don't own Arthur or Lancelot. Antoine Fuqua, David Franzoni, Jerry Bruckheimer and company own the film characters, but not the men or the legends. No copyright infringement is intended, I just love playing with the pretty, pretty men.
Author's notes: Since there is almost no information on the religion or mythology of the Sarmatian tribes, I have borrowed freely from the little that is known of that of the Scythians and pulled much out of thin air for this story as well. Non-English words and non-standard names are below. Google search is such a wonderful thing!
Sovara - 'arrow' (the constellation of the Pleiades)
Tarha - from 'tara', 'horse' (the constellation Monoceros, barely visible with the naked eye)
Ala - a unit of Roman cavalry, usually 512 strong. Literally translated, the word means 'wing'.
Arthur woke to silence and cold. The storm had apparently passed and the wind had stopped its howling. The coal in the braziers in his room had long since burned out, the ashes stone cold in the frigid winter night. He rose and wrapped himself in his winter cloak and went about refilling and lighting the braziers. When he lay down to go back to sleep, he found that he could not. Rising once more, he pulled on soft woolen breeches and a shirt before dressing in his usual leathers. He pulled on heavy socks and fur lined, soft leather boots before once more donning his cloak and heading out the door.
Making his way to the fortress' kitchens, Arthur prepared a large mug of honey sweetened, hot spiced wine and wrapped a large portion of the coarse brown bread and some cheese in a square of linen. Sipping at his wine, he exited the kitchens and crossed the courtyard outside it to climb the stairs to the top of the Eastern wall and made his way to the Northeast tower. The storm had indeed cleared, leaving a thick blanket of snow behind, which sparkled and reflected soft silver light from the waning crescent of the moon in the Eastern sky. The air was still and the stars blazed overhead.
The fortress that he and his ala were currently stationed in was built along cliffs facing North and East, where the Wall snaked across the river and up the ridgeline of a set of hills. The location made the fort eminently defensible, and the view spectacular at all times of year. Arthur loved it best, however, in the winter, when snow covered the ground and dusted the boughs of the trees, making everything look like the tales the Britons told of the Other Realms of the Fae.
Arthur was surprised when he wasn't challenged by the guard stationed at the Northeast tower as he approached and hoped that the man had not fallen asleep on duty or abandoned his post. Good order and discipline were necessary, but he never enjoyed punishing his troops, most especially when the offense called for execution. There was no one in the tower room, and the brazier's coals were banked. His heart sank as he tucked the little bundle of food into his belt and climbed the ladder to the roof of the tower, carefully holding his mug of wine, hoping that the soldier was there.
A cloaked and hooded figure straightened from leaning on one of the embrasures of the crenelated wall and Arthur breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "You are relieved of duty, soldier. I shall stand the rest of your watch. Go in and warm yourself."
"Thank you, but I would as soon stay," replied the voice of Arthur's best friend and second in command, Lancelot. He turned and lowered the hood of his cloak and flashed a smile at Arthur, his cheeks dimpling beneath his neatly trimmed beard, saying, "That is if you don't mind the company and sharing that spiced wine that I smell."
Arthur grinned back at his friend and handed him the still hot mug. "I am not accustomed to bringing provisions for a soldier who can't think to pack his own, but I'll make the exception this time." He pulled the bundle of cloth from his belt and set the food out on it in the embrasure. "I have also got some bread and cheese, if you would like some."
"You must have woken rather hungry. That is enough for two," Lancelot replied and took a drink of the wine. Then he smirked at his friend with a twinkle in his eyes, and said, "Or were
you expecting to meet a lover here?" He was certain that Arthur did not have a lover, but he always enjoyed teasing his friend.
Arthur glanced at the food and shrugged. "I just cut half of one of the loaves and took the remains of a small wheel of cheese." He steadfastly ignored his friend's jibe about a lover.
Lancelot handed the hot wine back to Arthur and took some of the bread and cheese. "So, what brings you out onto the battlements at this hour?"
"I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. You?" Arthur replied, then took a bite of the food.
Lancelot swallowed the bite he had taken and answered, "I always keep watch on this night."
They continued to eat in companionable silence for a while before Arthur finally asked, "Do you mind if I ask why?"
"No, I don't mind at all," Lancelot replied, smiling and drinking of the wine. Arthur waited, looking at his friend expectantly.
"Well?" Arthur asked after a few moments, taking the wine back to take a sip.
Lancelot turned his face up to the moon, it's light glinting in his eyes, and then glanced at the stars overhead before replying. "This is the Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year, when the Sun is born again. My people have celebrated this night for time out of mind, and I always keep watch on this night."
"In the years we have been stationed together, I have not known that." Arthur handed the wine back to his friend and continued, "We have discussed my religion many times, but I have never heard you speak of your own, my friend. Will you tell me?"
Lancelot smiled again in that way that made his cheeks dimple and that always warmed Arthur's heart. "The Iazyges worship the Sun, the Sky, and the Earth, and give thanks to the spirits of all things. We venerate our ancestors and celebrate the turning of the seasons, giving thanks for the bounty of the earth and the herds which graze upon it." He paused for a moment and took a swallow of wine before continuing. "We pay particular homage to the Sky God, Targitai, as my people are descended from him through his son, Kolaksai, who is the founder and long father of the Iazyges."
"Iazyges?" Arthur queried. "Is that your people's name for the Sarmatae?"
Lancelot gave a wry smirk, shook his head and answered, "No. Iazyg is the name of our tribe, which is one of several that make up what you Romans call the Sarmatae." He had put a bit of emphasis on 'Romans'.
Arthur smiled mischievously at his friend, and quipped, "I'd no idea that the ala I commanded was made up of the scions of a god."
"Indeed. You'd best have a care, lest Kolaksai reach from the sky and smite you." Lancelot grinned, and looked beyond Arthur's head to the sky. "He watches over us from the winter sky, yonder."
Arthur turned, looking up. He searched the stars, wondering to which constellation Lancelot was referring. Lancelot stepped up behind him, grasping his shoulders and gently turning him to face in the correct direction. He stood so close that his chest touched Arthur's back and, leaving his left hand resting on Arthur's left shoulder, brought his right arm over Arthur's other shoulder to point the way.
"There," Lancelot said softly in Arthur's ear. "Do you see? He stands ready for battle, his right arm reaching back to his quiver of arrows, his bow held up in front of him with his left hand. A sword hangs from his belt of three stars."
Arthur closed his eyes briefly, savoring the closeness of his best friend. Lancelot's touch had sent a jolt like a spark on a dry day through his body and his breath tickled warmly, smelling of the spiced wine they had been drinking. He had long harbored more than friendly thoughts toward Lancelot, whose voice close in his ear and breath across his cheek sent a frisson of desire down his spine. He opened his eyes and followed Lancelot's pointing finger to the constellation he knew as Orion the Hunter. "Yes, I see him. That is the constellation we call Orion."
"And there, up and to the right," Lancelot pointed. "That grouping of seven stars is Kolaksai's hawk, Sovara."
Arthur followed Lancelot's pointing hand with his head and nodded in acknowledgment, enjoying how the motion allowed him to feel the soft caress of Lancelot's hair and beard against his cheek. He never would have guessed that they would be so silken, and wanted to rub against them more. The thought made his face flush.
Lancelot smiled to himself in the dark. He could feel the heat that had risen to his friend's face. He dropped his hand to rest on Arthur's shoulder and turned his head to the left so that his lips were just brushing the shell of Arthur's ear, and whispered, "And if you look just to the left of Kolaksai, you will see very faintly his horse, Tarha. She was said to be the color of the morning mist, swift and tireless as the wind itself and as fierce as a lioness in battle."
Arthur's face flushed even hotter and he was grateful that the color wouldn't show in the light of the moon. He could not, however, suppress the slight shudder that went through his body at the gentle contact of his friend's lips, and looked to the left of Orion as much to break contact with those soft lips as to see the constellation Lancelot meant. The stars were fainter, but he could just make out what could be construed as the shape of a horse.
Arthur had been his best friend and shield brother almost since the day they had met, but over the years Lancelot's feelings had grown to become something much more. He had occasionally caught his commander's gaze lingering upon him and had suspected that his best friend felt the same desire as he. The heat radiating from Arthur's face and the shudder he had felt in his friend's body as he turned his head to look for Tarha seemed to confirm his suspicions, which made Lancelot happier than he had been since the day the Centurion had come to the encampment of his family and taken him away. He spoke again, lowly and only slightly louder, his voice rumbling low in his chest against Arthur's back. "Everything appears bereft of life in winter, but the land merely sleeps, dreaming of the promise and potential of the coming spring. I love this longest night of the darkest part of winter because I know that the Sun will rise again and spring will come." He gently turned Arthur to face him and sought his friend's gaze.
Arthur's eyes met Lancelot's, though he did not speak. He was at a loss for the words to tell his best friend what he felt, and hoped that he was not mistaken in his belief that Lancelot felt the same as did he.
Lancelot searched Arthur's eyes as they stood there and was encouraged by the fact that Arthur had not moved away or dropped his gaze. Sending a silent plea to all of his ancestors and Targitai, he took a deep breath and spoke strongly, "My people believe that if one speaks his heart on this night, under the watchful gaze of Kolaksai, he will be granted the opportunity to earn his heart's dearest desire. My hope and my dreams live in that belief. Arthur..."
Arthur brought a hand up to cup Lancelot's jaw and gently placed his thumb over his friend's lips to still the words as he stepped closer and leaned in to kiss him softly. Though brief, the kiss left him breathless as he pulled away only far enough to rest his forehead against Lancelot's and gaze into his eyes. "It seems your god has already heard your heart speaking and granted your desire, as mine has been granted this night." He threaded both hands into the curls of Lancelot's hair as Lancelot grasped him about the waist and held him tightly.
They kissed again, this time neither quite so softly nor briefly. They broke the kiss after a time, and Arthur murmured, "Truly sweeter than the wine." Both men laughed softly, then continued to enjoy the newly discovered wonder of each other's lips as the renewed sun crested the the few clouds on the Eastern horizon and bathed them in its golden light.