By Lost Ranger
Disclamer-I don't own King Arthur or the characters.
Guinevere had entered Lancelot's tent late that night. She noted the moonlight shining into the knight's quarters, highlighting half of his face, leaving the other in darkness. She figured it was like Lancelot himself. Half of him had a dark side; the other was a happier side. A side that still cared about the world around him.
She made her way slowly across the room, bare feet making no sound against the floor. She was so silent that the only sound was his deep breathing. He breathed as though a heavy burden rested on his chest. Like the weight of the whole world was on him.
She kept moving. Her dress hem dragged the floor as it hung loosely off her shoulders. She reached the other side of the bed without so much as a sound. She slowly lifted the covers of his bed linens up and slid in beside him.
She lied there and watched him sleep for a long while. Her eyes started to droop. She gently lay her head down on his chest and wrapped her arms around him. Sleep over took her fast. Feeling the comfort of his soft, warm skin against her cheek.
Lancelot awoke slowly. He glanced down at the person against him. He realized quickly it was Guinevere. His eyes widened at the sight of her. He knew very well that this must've been a dream. This could never happen to him. Arthur loved her and that meant she was taken. Lancelot didn't want to steal Guinevere away from Arthur. It wasn't his right to. But Lancelot soon realized this was not a dream. This was for real. For what reason he did not know.
He knew he should wake her up and shoo her away. But he stared down at her angelic like face and the words left him. He didn't want her to leave. He wanted to stay in her warm embrace forever.
"Is this to be our last night together?" she asked quietly. Startling him out of his thoughts.
"I wish it with my all my heart that it not be," he replied. "But our roads lead us in different directions. Mine back to Sarmatia. Yours is with Arthur."
"What do you mean?" she asked resting her elbow on the straw mattress. She rested her head against her palm and looked into his dark eyes.
"We cannot be together for you are Arthur's," Lancelot said gravely. "I can see it in his eyes that he loves you."
"I belong to no man yet," she said. "Arthur has not claimed me so I suppose I am still fair game." "But also, I would like to point out that I have freedom. And with that freedom I have a right to choose which man I shall love. I do admit Arthur is a good friend. He has my love as a friend. My heart of hearts was taken by another man. The man resides in this room."
Lancelot looked up at her. "I do not deserve you. You are a match to all the goddesses. You deserve the best in life. The things I cannot give," he said.
"And Arthur can?" she said. "He is a man, just as you are. You are both equal. And I would rather have a life with a man who I truly care for in poverty, than a man I hardly care for in that way in riches."
He gave her a questioning look. "Then you are a mad woman. Just as I thought," he said with a cockish grin.
"Oh really, could a positively mad woman do this?" she asked as she bent down and kissed him on the lips. The kiss was passionate and fierce. He returned it with his own one.
"If I am to die tomorrow. I will be truly happy," Lancelot said.
"I thought you were leaving to Sarmatia," she said.
"I can't have Arthur get himself killed," Lancelot said.
"What makes you think he needs you to win a battle?" Guinevere asked.
"Because," was all he offered in return.
They talked about home, freedom, and the ever-lasting complications of the loved they shared. They soon fell back asleep though. Asleep in each other's arms. Clinging to one another as if they both were a dream going to disappear in a blink of an eye. Each pondering about what tomorrow will bring.