It was a gray day, as bleak and still as the face of the dark man that stood at cliffs edge. Clouds hung low in the night sky, thick with the promise of rain. Gone were the voices raised in arguement. Gone the laughter, the music, the poets' tale. Long ago Lancelot had left the great hallneeding a moment alone and hadreplaced hisarmor with a short tunic similar to the ones his soldiers wore. At exactly six feet, his body was muscular, with leonine grace coiled in each movement. His face arrested the eyes attention. Darkhazeleyes surrounded by a thick, black fringeof lashes peered out from behind the lock of hair that threatened to hide them. His nose was straight, not thin enough to be called patrician. A dark stubble covered his jawline, surrounding full lips. It was a mouth that could be stretched into aboyish smile to dazzle his courtiers; it was a mouth that could tighten to a fine line when following his Lord into battle. He was not a man to hide his emotions and if pushed against the wall, hishazel eyes would darken, gleaming like unfathomable gems.As he stood there, allowing the winds coming from the sea to crash against he looked very much like the warrior wageing a war with some invisable foe, perhaps fate?Bathed by the haunting glow of the moon, his face just as haunted. He frowned, deepening the lines that creased his brow as he contemplated destiney and Fate, sisters that constantly seemed to controle his life with apparent wicked joy. As thewind picked up once more his features were shadowed with the swaying leaves of the tree he stood under the old creaking limbs the sound his lullaby. He was tired, bone wary of this life he had faught so hard to gain. As if to the tree he spoke, his voice low and smokey with its intencity..."I have been presented a great challage...a dragon with a craving for my spirit. It seeks to aim and destroy not only my happiness but my will as well." Sidheach turned and faced the tree, hishazel eyes nearly glowing bright with the storm of emotions no longer hidden in their depths..."The question is--am I going to let it succeed?" Soon a nasal voice carried over the roar of the wind and waves, breakingthe silent spell..
"And the answer is..." High on alimb was a young boy grasping a higher limb, with a twisted smile the boy sailed smoothly from his perch, knees hooking around the higher limb. Upside down his head barely missed Lancelots.. He finished his sentence with an awful grimace, "...not while I live."
The tension was broken and a wide smile spread acrossLancelot's face as he strode closer to the swayingboy. On the next sway towards him he grabbed the boy and arched one dark brow.."What in the name of Behl do you think your doing Corbin?" He hissed.
"Sire, what a delightful surprise!"Lancelot merely smiled dangerously as he swung theboy with agonizing slowness.
"I surrender!"Corbin yelled.."Imagine if my parents saw you tortureing me so. Why they would be revolted if I dump the thick bean pottage I had for my lunch!"
"The only thing revolting around here is you"Lancelot retorted pulling theboy by his ears until they faced each leaned close to Lancelot's ear and whispered.."I feared ye were looseing your inward battle...I sought only to help"Lancelot whispered back.." I guess tis better than swinging in on a noose like you did last time. You almost gave me and your parents apoplexy." without warning he shoved theboy away from his body to sendCorbin squealing through the air.Lancelot neatly sidestepped Corbin's grab for his nose as he swung back towards him. Laughing he merely shook his head and turned once more to look out over the sea.
Corbin was the first and so far only son of Arthur and Guinevere, and quite against Lancelot's will, his godchild. The boy was the very image of Arthur, from the strong chin, the dark curls of hair to the thin lips that more often than not was seen to be smirking with some inner secret knowledge. But Corbins eyes, ah those were all his mothers. From the tiniest golden fleck to the very shape they held her wildness, her determination. Each time Lancelot looked into those eyes he was taken back, back to a brief time when Guinevere had been free from the side of her king husband. When she had just been a girl they had rescued from another Roman bastard. Even then, bone thin and ragged as she was, there had been something about her that drew him to her. He had often times wondered, over the years if ,during that late night coversation had he not told her that he would have left her and the boy to die, would Arthurs happiness be his now?
It was wrong to covet anothers happiness, especially a manhe held inhis heart as a brother but he could not help the traitorous love from growing. He had thought that with the passing of time his love for Guinevere would fade, instead with each passing year he grew to love her more. Thankfully he had learned to hide it well keeping it locked so deep inside of his heart, that not one of the Knights knew, dispite how close they were. Closeing his eyes he enhaled the salty ocean air and forced his mind on other things, anything except for the one he couldn't have. Yet like a ghost she was there, whispering to him, calling for him so real that it had him opening his eyes and blinking back the fog only to slightly startle when a soft hand rested on his shoulder.
"Lancelot are you ill? I've been calling to you for awhile now." There was a pause and Lancelot could almost feel the smile that touched those soft full lips of hers..."Dreaming about me? " she teased and Lancelot nearly groaned, instead he turned and captured the hand that had rested so casually upon his shoulder. Bringing it up his lips lightly brushed against the silken skin at the back of her hand, his eyes, dark and stormy as the sea gazed up into hers. He watched the amusement glitter in the depths of her eyes as he lowered her hand slightly so that he could speak.
"Always Your Majesty" and silently he added...always and forever..