A/N: This started off as a poem, but I couldn't really make that work. So basically it's Lancelot's thoughts on the battlefield, and the reason he has a smile on his face when he dies. Sorry it is really short, though I hope y'all like it!
All around the bodies lie, and one by one, I see their lives slowly escaping them. I see Tristan lying beside me, then his hawk flying overhead, and I feel no sadness for soon I know he shall be flying with it.
Darkness is slowly falling around me, and I am dimly aware that someone has joined Guinevere by my side. I feel rough hands clasp my own, and I hear an anquished cry to the heavens.
'Arthur,' my mouth soundlessly forms the name, as a final respect to the friend and brother who knows me best. The last farewell I will ever have to make on this Earth, and it is with honour that I know lie dying, in the hands of my one true leader.
A smile begins to fold my dying lips, as I finally can escape this world of death and darkness, sword and blade. For I have finally fought for a cause noble to myself.
After years of fighting another's wars, Rome's wars, I have fought, won, and died to save not just a mortal life, but love itself.
A warrior now parted from my blades, I am soon to join those I once killed without a thought. Yet it feels as though my bloodied hands have been wiped clean, and pure and new I am soon to ride the wind.
'Arthur,' I smile one last time as the life I clutched with fingertips is finally snatched away. My chains are broken and no grave shall wait for me now.
Arthur always said we fought for peace, but my own I never saw till now.