Lancelot
had told them once that Arthur wasn't always so solemn. That
sometimes, in a rare instance of intimacy, he would smile and jest
and be content as the rest of them so often were. But Gawain was
doubtful.
There was a chance, though, that he had reserved
such moments for Lancelot only; because no one else had ever seen it,
nor heard of it. He was kind, noble, and passionate and everything
that Gawain wanted in a leader. Lancelot had once sworn to him that
he was more than that.
It was possible that no one would know,
now that Lancelot had fallen.
Arthur's eyes were solid,
hardened. Gawain kept to himself the sorrow he saw buried deep in
there somewhere; he didn't have to tell the others, because they
saw it too.
"He would never ask
you." Galahad said it as if he knew it on good authority. Gawain
pulled back and stared into the eyes of his lover.
"And if
he did... I would tell him no."
Galahad's lips formed a
thin line; something in his eyes glinted.
"You would deny
the great Arthur?"
"For you, Galahad." Gawain was less
sure now, eyes clouded.
"For me..." Galahad smiled sadly,
"For me, you would deny he who has already been denied of
everything. Arthur, who risked his life for us... who we would follow
anywhere."
Gawain didn't answer right away. His deep, slow
breath misted against Galahad's.
"He isn't..." Gawain
finally found his voice, "A God. He is a man, just like us. Great,
yes. He's done many noble things that I could never do.
But..."
Galahad looked calm, sad, somehow, as he
waited.
"But... I will not be Lancelot for him. I am not
Lancelot." Gawain said it quietly, but he was not uncertain. He
stared into Galahad's eyes, before turning and walking
away.
"Tell me that you heard me..."
Gawain breathed into Arthur's ear, pulling away so that Arthur
whimpered at the loss of warmth.
"Tell me,"Gawain said
again, "That you know I'm not him." He accented every word with
a rotation of his hips, making Arthur groan and let his head fall
back against the wall.
"You're not, Christ, you're not
him..."
Gawain was doubtful, still, as he tugged gently on
Arthur's ear with his teeth. Licking, and flicking and sucking and
making the man come undone. The only man who never came undone.
But
the name that spilled off of Arthur's lips as he came was the one
that Gawain had expected to hear.
Lancelot.
