AN: Guess who forgot to upload this here when they were uploading on Ao3? Guilty, as charged.
I ask of him only his friendship,
For I am in no situation to request anything more.
It was simply a matter that the king preferred to deal with personally, the grievances had already dragged on long enough that even a mention of the name caused her hackles to rise. Best to sort it out face to face, so was her logic in that instance, before she wound up punching a messenger.
The trek itself was welcomed, even if the destination was off-putting. The route scenic, it was not well travelled as its faded, narrow path showed. Green land stretched on both sides, separated by a deep gorge of the earth. When the wind was quiet, the rushing of the water below echoed a soothing song. Past the western trees the mountains stood tall, draped in a forest of green and brown from where the wilderness still ruled, hollows in the stone-side making natural caverns and alcoves.
The horses were trotting on leisurely, a sign of the momentary peace the back road offered. Dun Stallion was relaxed, the equine seemingly happy just to escape the usual confines without being lead into battle. A strong white stallion that simply enjoyed time spent with his King, a good deal of intelligence working between his flicking ears.
The accompanying horse however, did appear to have a disgruntled air about him. A dapple workhorse that the stable hands usually referred to as 'Quiver', his usual companion being a black mare aptly named Arrow. It wasn't the equine or royal company the bothered the snorting beast, but simply its rider-
Horses probably talked. The knight he carried did not have a good run with the steed he borrowed- it had been several times throughout the journey so far that he had tried to buck off the rider. Displeased with the weight, how he carried himself- really, horses in general simply didn't seem to like Sir Lancelot.
Another rough step and the dark haired knight nearly lost his balance, Quiver obviously trying to do his best on aiding him in falling. No reprieve today, Lancelot righting his position to the beast's dismay, frustrated sigh escaping both the beast and the man's lips.
"I feel it would have been easier to send one of the messengers to get this sorted." There was a grumble in his voice that caused Arturia to roll her eyes at the childishness. If it were by carriage or anything else, it would have been fine- Horses, the dislike appeared mutual.
"I have been having Agravain deal with the discussions for the most part, but even with that hard-headedness, it seems to be trying to debate a brick wall. The alternative option was to have him come to us, but I'd rather not have him sully the ground." The King was blunt with the words she chose, the situation having been one that her travelling companion had been blissfully ignorant of.
He chuckled, adjusting his balance on the stallion once more. "My, you don't like this lord, do you?"
"Would-be lord, which is the issue." She clicked her tongue in annoyance, both relieved letting her frustration out and displaying how simply 'over' this entire situation she was. "I'm firm on getting it through the cretin's horrendously thick skull that I have no intention of reinitiating his rights to ownership; but I must be fair and diligent."
"He doesn't sound the sort to deserve it."
"Not to this creature, to my poor men. Sir Agravain is likely to crack his own skull open if he has to deal with him one more time." She glanced sideways, seeing Lancelot try to suppress his amusement. "It would not be an issue, but the manor's rightful owner is away. I suppose brotherly love dictates that surely the Lord's brother is just as suited for the job. Albeit the fact he was given the title after the former was… Forcefully made to step down."
He nodded, turning his gaze back to spy the overgrown path. For the most part he simply followed Arturia, whose eyes seemed keener than his in this greenery. Still, the tall grass and lack of visibility did raise his concerns, primarily due to the concealment that the area offered.
"I feel it's foolish to come this way without bringing others." He voiced the worry as unconcerned sounding as he could manage. It failed to be particularly effective, Arturia fairly keen on picking up these things by now.
"I targeted the scenic route." Matter-of-factly, confident as ever.
A soft chortle, glancing about the foliage and settling his sights on the deep gorge that ran through the area beside them. "I can't find ledges and crevices in the sunken land to be all that pleasant to gaze upon."
"Drearily pessimistic today, am I dragging for from other engagements? Indulge your King a little, I do savour the company after all." A grin, tossing a glance over her shoulder to see him look away to mask his own prideful smirk. She raised her chin slightly, indicating towards the woodland opposite the more rugged side. "Continuing on, why would anyone think to search this path if their intentions for me were unpleasant? Doubtlessly a royal would favour the well-travelled roads."
"Perhaps someone else's Lord," Her ears perked, returning her gaze to him. "But it is fact the King is known for going through undue hardships with no time for a respite!"
Despite the jest in his tone, Arturia fell silent for some time, concentrating on the path ahead of them. It was a sore spot when pointed out, but like all others she had her reasons for living life how she did. A needless level of self-loathing, perhaps, but something she did not want to openly admit to outside of her own mind.
The silence was uncomfortable, hanging off the edge of a one-sided joke that had been truthful and humourous to the knight. It was only as he opened his mouth to fumble some form of apology that the skies interrupted him, a flash of light and a loud rumbling from the clouds. Both raised their eyes to the grey sky.
"... The clouds gathered quickly."
"No doubt brought on by that dreary demeanour." The King hummed, lowering her head in time to avoid a few stray droplets. "I suppose I should have brought Sir Bedivere."
"I don't know how the weather would transcribe 'constant fretting' into its actions." Lancelot snorted, pausing before laughing lightly. "One moment, are you're blaming me?"
Arturia turned Dun Stallion to the tree line, horse breaking into a gallop as she ignored the question. As if to answer for her, the heavens opened up with a flooding downpour. Following a moment of hesitation, the knight and his horse followed suite.
Even with the large evergreens and other miscellaneous coniferous trees, there was little shelter from the heavy rain. Momentarily he hadn't any idea what his king was thinking, but the determined and planned path she took amongst the trees was reassuring that she had some plan in mind. He narrowly brought his own steed to a halt before bumping into the two as she pulled Dun Stallion to a sharp stop.
Ah, that made sense- one of the conveniences of the area, the naturally forged shelters offered by the stony hills. It came a tad late, but it would minimise the newfound hardship. He'd watched the dismount, body instinctively jerking forward slightly when he saw her balance falter a fraction on the wet stones. She righted herself regardless, taking her horse's reins and leading him to the mouth of the cave.
"My Lord, wait one moment."
She paused, wiping the saturation from her fringe as best she could. Without the forward motion of movement, it was difficult to keep her gaze clear. The reins of the dapple horse were eased into her hand once Lancelot's feet were on solid ground, the stallion's demeanor immediately becoming less aggravated. Lancelot gave a light scoff at this before making his way into the dark interior.
Only a few minutes elapsed after the knight's entry into the cave before out run the echoes of tiny feet against the shelter's floor, a flock of several feathered critters bursting past in a panic. The King and the steeds only watched in amusement as the smallest pheasant of the group toddled out after the others, apparently oblivious to what everyone else was so panicked about.
"Alright, that perhaps was not my finest hour. Felt more like grabbing leaves in the wind's current." Arturia turned her attention back to the long-haired knight, holding in his grasp only three of the birds. "It would seem it's vacated for the most part, now that the small snacks on long legs have run off into the rain."
"Odd that the lot was in there to begin with, I assume the heavy rains disrupted their usual nesting areas." Arturia offered a shrug with her words, spying the brown plumaged females, one of them trying its darnedest to maneuver itself to peck at the man holding it captive. The other brown bird looked shocked, while the vibrantly coloured male looked as if he accepted death. "Harem critters. Having to deal with so many women, I think the lad is thankful you're putting him out of his misery."
Lancelot gave them a shake, and the male remained listless and uncaring. He almost wanted to let the fighting female go; but a quick wiggle and hard beating of her wings let the bird take her fate back in her own claws as she broke free and plummeted to the floor, immediately darted away like a bat out of hell.
The pair exchanged glances.
"Certainly not your finest."
"She was the chosen one, off to join another harem and probably hen-peck the poor man!" He pondered on the thought as Arturia rolled her eyes. "Such a life doesn't seem so bad, a bit enviable I have to say. I fear you have no sense of adventure if it's not even remotely interesting as a concept…"
She snorted, leaning her side against Dun Stallion. "What a cad you prove to be, Sir Lancelot. If you were feathered I can only imagine the scandals you would raise, chased by a bunch of pregnant hens."
Lancelot hesitated at the visual, turning back to the entrance. "Alright my liege, you made it unappealing! Although it's neither here nor there of the matter- you need to get out of the cold."
The mention of it suddenly brought the heavy drizzling back to the forefront of Arturia's mind, a shiver running through her as that present chill resurfaced. With a nod she entered the cave, willing both the steeds into the shelter. A few steps in the pair shook their pelts, soaking Arthuria through with another layer of moisture.
She wiped what water she could from her brow, listening to Lancelot's laughter. "What lovely boys you both are. At least if we get lost, I know we have rations." One way or another she managed to secure their leads, enough slack left for them to be able to stay out of the downpour.
Unloading the horses was an easy task, droplets continuing to leave a trail over the rocky flooring as she set about beginning a fire. Her fingers were still numb and chilled, the task a tad more difficult than it should have been as a result. It remained more appealing than plucking the now lifeless poultry, regardless.
Arturia had turned her attention back to the kindling and flint when Lancelot spoke once more; "My King."
Her eyes flicked up from her work only a moment. "Yes, Sir Lancelot?"
"I have to insist you take off your clothes."
Her fingers fumbled, the friction managing to send the one valued spark. Though the wood was lightly damp, it was nowhere near the saturation point as the king, the flames rising as she settled on her haunches. A relieved sigh left her lips as she felt the heat begin to build. "I am only lightly damp. The heat of the fire will suffice enough."
The lighthearted chuckle only made her feel more uneasy as he pushed the matter. "Are you afraid that I'm going to show you up? That feels more to be Gawain's territory."
A huff- "Nonsense! I can grapple with any of my knights and come out on top, of that I have no doubt! I've no need to worry about being bested in that manner." His King puffed their chest forward, a prideful boast of a peacock confident and reassured in their own display of beautiful feathers.
"Then please, remove yourself from that damp mess."
Arturia grumbled- he was going to keep at it, she knew that. The fact she wasn't wearing her armour should have been enough, yet at the same time she knew her mind was only making excuses now. At least there was some saving grace, if she could play it off…
Her fingers fumbled with the ties of her shirt, blue easing off of her body with hesitant movements. It felt as if half the weight left her, waterlogged to the floor. She was so very, very uncomfortable, seated now in her bloomers and bindings. The King remained silent as she moved the garments closer to the flames; desperately willing them to dry faster than what was physically possible without the fire catching on.
"Arthur, those bandages?"
Her excuse had been rushed as soon as she realized they would be seen. "I was injured not too long ago. I didn't wish for the attention, so Guinvere was kind enough to tend to me."
A beat passed, and Lancelot nodded. Internally she sighed in relief, tension leaving her shoulders a fraction as she savoured the heat. The crackling of fire, sound of the horses, the quiet working of Lance and the hunting trousse he'd packed. All heard lightly over the pouring rain outside. Her heart was still slowing down, but the sounds were therapeutic, combined without being chaotic.
Her companion settled down beside the fire. Efficient enough work, really, birds plucked and oiled, spitted on some of the sturdier branches and propped upright to roast over the heat.
Another light laugh.
Arturia wore a thin frown, not hiding her glare at the knight. "What are you laughing at this time?"
His laughter grew slightly as he was called out, waving his hand dismissively as he turned the birds a fraction. "It is nothing, I swear. I should be strung up for just having the thoughts occur."
"I will find adequate punishment for hiding such things. What raises this chuckling?"
"I am sorry your majesty; it is simply hard to overlook given your short stature," His King's glaring did not particularly make him want to continue, although he was damned regardless. "Your physic is very feminine."
Arturia's heart dropped to her stomach at the same speed that the colour drained from her face. She shifted awkwardly, the mannerisms earning another row of chuckling. She cleared her throat, keeping her eyes away from him now. "Yes, I agree. I think stringing you up would be most fitting for that remark."
"Ah, but you would miss me." He countered, "And there would be no-one to cook for you on the stormy nights away from the inns."
"That excuse will only get you out of trouble for so long, be careful how you throw it around." Haughty in her remark to say the least, but it rolled of off Lancelot like water off a duck's back. All the bird remarks lately...
The cooking didn't take much longer, the meal simple with a bird between them both. It was no surprise at all where the larger male round up. At some point Arturia let her hair down to take advantage of the heat, locks slightly wavy from the rain. It only brought another chuckle from Lancelot, and she threatened to throw a small rib bone at him.
The conversation was small and pleasant otherwise- Lancelot drew what little information he could about their destination. They were heading for the land around a particular manor, to deal with a man temporarily in charge of that region. A younger gent who's name left his king's tongue bitter- Bardolf. Fulchard, the younger brother, had already proven that he was more suited to take up as the Lord of the manor, despite his younger years.
An absence, unfortunately, had just wound up with a repeated situation. Bardolf back up top, and almost secretive in the location of his brother when questions were raised.
"Is there any fear for the younger lad's safety?"
Arturia took a swig from her leather canteen. "I do not believe so. My guess is that he's flighty about the information just to make it difficult to contact the lord and raise my queries. From what I recall, Fulchard had a certain naivety to him. I can not imagine any other maddening reason why he would so willingly allow his brother to hold the fort for him."
She shook her head as both finished their meals, seemingly tired of the discussion. "Thank you for that." Lancelot gave a simple nod, sorting out the scraps while Arturia fetched the bedrolls from the horses.
"My King, your bandages are still damp."
Arturia threw his bedroll at him, more forceful than called for. "They will be fine. Drop it."
"Hmph, and risk a scolding from Sir Kay? I'd sooner jump into one of the ravines." He set it down as Arturia tended to her own sleeping affairs, his hands at the tie of the binding before she could turn to make a remark. A shout of protest rung out instead, loud and obviously startled- Lancelot's body jolted in surprise at the response, but the cotton had already unraveled.
Arturia threw herself roughly against the bedding, face down to hide her chest. Still shocked, Lancelot hadn't moved an inch and only looked on dumbfounded. The King's voice was muffled with her face pressed against the wool, and it did well to hide the redness of her cheeks. "I sleep on my stomach. I am comfortable." She very nearly followed with the crass statement 'now piss off'.
The absurdity only caused her companion to laugh heartily, jeering that the time in damp clothes already had them feverish. She nestled firmly down as Lancelot tended to the fire, stripping off his unneeded and still damp attire to leave it to dry before returning to his own sleeping arrangements. The only other words he heard from Arturia were grumpy and indiscernible.
In the middle of the night, Lancelot woke with his eyes cast to the soft embers of the fire. A brisk air was already returning through the caves entrance. With a sigh he rose, adding more kindling to the fire and stirring the flames back to life. If the heat did not dry their clothes through the night, it would just be further daylight wasted come morning.
- And most probably more odd behaviour from his King. He snorted at the fact, tossing a glance to his slumbering friend, ready to return to sleep.
He did a double take, nearly cracking his neck from whiplash.
It was apparent the King actually favoured sleeping on her back, one arm resting across her stomach and the other by her head as she dozed. The heavy sheets had covered her hips, but left her small breasts on display.
Lancelot slumped onto the ground, staring even as the crackling of fire hurt his eyes. Through the dancing of the flames, he saw his beloved King in a whole new, confusing light.
AN: This has been fun to work on, started on a whim since there's not enough love of the ship- and Iove tossing in humour and shenanigans. Dorks are cute and so's conflicted Lancelot. Most of the stuff I'm looking forward to are understandably beyond this point.
I have about six other chapters outlined and ready to work on-
They do get to their destination, for the record. Bardolf won't deal with himself- unfortunately. I can't say I have a proper 'end' in sight, but here's hoping that pops up before I work away at the remaining ideas I have.
I'll probably update/edit tags and summaries when I actually figure out what the hell.
Rambling over.