Ok, I do in fact live. But unfortunately school is really taking up all of my time with massive reading assignments so I haven't had much time at all to write. This, I wrote last night at the encouragement of Master Zhes (charmisjess). It was heavily inspired by Lifehouse's song The Beginning, which are the lyrics down here. Um…I don't know what I'll be able to work on King or any of my other stories sigh so I apologize for that. When I have time, I'll be sure to work on them. Spring break is coming up, so maybe then. Ok, enough rambling and on with the story, hope you like it.
Walking
Past the city lights
Silence can be so disturbing
You'll find me standing in the night
The stars never seemed so unending
So unending
Hello
From the world below
I'm watching the sun burning
As the road is slowly turning
I know that in letting go
I'm learning how to live
Through a life I have to give
- Lifehouse: The Beginning
The words of earlier that night echoed in Lancelot's mind as he walked down the dark hallway, coming out into the arena that was surrounded by the stables. "Take the freedom you have earned and live it for the both of us, I cannot follow you Lancelot." He sighed, sitting down on one of the benches looking out into the open riding space. This is..this couldn't happen, Arthur couldn't stay like this, it was suicide. This is stupid.
Running a hand through his curly hair, Lancelot tried to suppress his emotion on the matter, for 15 years he had never left Arthur's side. They were inseparable, surviving numerous things...wounds, sickness, capture, battle...everything. But now, this was how they were leave each other.
It just couldn't be like this...goddess knows he would have followed the Roman even to Rome is he had to. They were so close, they could almost be considered twins. What was it really? Lancelot had found someone that...in truth? He had found someone who took care of him. Not in the sense of a parent and a child, but more like a big brother. And the other side of the relationship, Lancelot was Arthur's anchor. There would be no way for him to handle everything that he did if there wasn't someone there to hold him up at times. The Sarmatian knew secrets about him that no one else did, and that's the way Arthur wanted it. However, as Lancelot sat in the arena and thought, now that was all over, wasn't it?
Not long ago, there had been a change. Of course there had been other women that had come into the picture, but they had never really touched their friendship. Guinevere was different however, it seemed like something changed in Arthur. If his best friend was truly determined to stay and fight the Saxons, Lancelot feared he would have to face the thing which he had been dreading.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by another presence in the arena. "Funny seeing you here, I thought you might be..elsewhere tonight," Lancelot said speaking his mind before he could stop himself. It had been cold - in a way he felt the Woad had stolen his best friend; his Arthur.
She could be the same way, "Funny seeing you here as well, I would have thought you would be brooding elsewhere." Guinevere could sense the tenseness of the atmosphere in the abandon arena.
Lancelot stood up suddenly, but not making a move closer. Of course the two of them had talked before, pleasantly even, there had been no rivalry, no anger, none of the emotion that hung in the air now. But the situation had been different. "Oh really," the knight said, folding his arms, "Was it you that convinced Arthur to stay, to no possible victory?"
"He chose to himself," Guinevere said frustrated at being accused, "Nothing I, you or anyone said could have convinced him for or against his decision, you know that Lancelot."
"Is that really true?" he narrowed his dark eyes at her. It was, he knew it in his heart, he couldn't go on blaming her. "Tell me something, do you truly love Arthur?"
"Do you, Lancelot?" she replied, and then nodded, "I do love him, with all my heart."
Slowly, Lancelot started walking over to her, stopping a few feet in front of her, so that his face shone in the pale light that came in from the open door. "I know you know what your people did to him, besides just killing his mother who was of your own blood," he started softly. "But I was there too. We both still have nightmares as well as the scars they gave us. Do not think you are the only prisoner here who has been tortured."
Guinevere nodded slightly, "My people were fighting a war...but what they did, I do not condone. I was captured by Romans, yet I fell in love with one. Arthur returns my affection, he told me so."
Running a hand through his hair, Lancelot sighed, looking down towards the ground. Arthur was happy with her, he could see it in the man's eyes. It was time to let his big brother go, only then would there be a beginning. "Then take care of him," he said, looking up again, "He's lost too many people in his life to loose another, so I tell you this now, if you truly love him, then remember that. Stand by his side. Arthur has demons that he has told no one, and I place them under your charge."
She stood for a moment, staring at the knight, unsure of what to say next. It wasn't entirely what she expected to hear from him. Before Guinevere could say anything else, Lancelot was gone again, disappearing down the hallway.
It was a promise he had made a few years ago when he knew eventually they would all part. He promised he couldn't cry. Lancelot brought up a hand to wipe away his tears before he reached for the door to Arthur's room. Yes, he had to let him go...but it was so hard. The room was dark, he could see the form of his friend in bed. Quietly, Lancelot crossed over to him. Arthur smiled, his eyes still closed. "You're up late, Lancelot," he whispered.
The knight climbed in next to him, no shame in the Roman's arms. No..they were not lovers, they were friends of a closeness that few could understand without experiencing it themselves. Lancelot knew he had to let Arthur go, he couldn't hold onto him forever. But tonight, he could listen to the man's heart beating as he fell asleep as he had done other times. Before the battle, one last time. After that, there would be the beginning.
