Two: Scorned Lovers
Lancelot could finally breath outside of the hall. The wiping air tossed his dark curls, stinging his cheeks before he entered the barn. His long armor, weaved with black leather was dirty, and at times like this he knew he should have taken a wife. She surely would have time between tending to the garden and children to wash off the dirt. At one point, he figured Lana would be taking up that job, until Rome offered something else.
Foolishness came over his mind, the idea of how he could allow himself to become so attached to something that was frowned upon. Lancelot spent more time draping his thoughts in lost memories. He found himself swinging a sword, gutting his enemy and in the glimmer of his blade envisioning her face. For once in his life, he held a weakness, and just when he figured the flaw had disappeared, she'd returned with a Roman title, and tanned skin.
He cursed himself, more than Arthur knew. His mind worked in a fashion none of the Knights could imagine. When her face glowed in the low lit room, not only did his stomach stir, but his skin chilled.
"You give me a nasty glare and then follow me?" Her voice was noticeable, anyone at any part of Rome or Britain knew Lana's voice, and the wrath she attempted to use with it. Her sinful glare flickered onto his, and Lancelot could feel the awkward air turn violent.
"I did not follow you. Nor would I take the time,"
"Yet you take the time to mock me and raise hell."
"Can't raise what you're living in." Lancelot barked back, his voiced echoing in the barn, raised firmly with each word as Lana pushed him with hers. With his dark hair drifting over his forehead, he watched as she lowered a axe she was holding, until she held nothing in her palms. He could still notice the tattered marks she received in battle, what felt like years ago. She took the place of a Knight, something Arthur couldn't stop, especially when she saved his life on more than once occasion. Her skin, was no longer tender and smooth. But callused and dirty. Her body was muscle, and most from a distance couldn't notice her beauty until she was in eyes view. Her face, the last tender part of her body, naturally unharmed by her years of war came into eye sight, Lancelot could swear all those around fell in love. After all, he fell for the trick.
"After ten months you have nothing to show," Her murderous words hit Lancelot dearly...What did he have to prove to her? She made it clear, walking out on him that they were now nothing. What was she hoping? He was ride after her, call her name and kneel down? Lancelot never knelt, or did he waste his time attempting to swoon Lana after everything she'd said and what he'd done.
"What else do I need to prove?" His voice turned, it wasn't harsh, just misunderstood. With his eyes wide, as though tears could form, Lana crossed her legs, perched up on a box full of hay. She listened to him, as if she was asking for an excuse. "You left me Lana Castus. I have been here, fighting you're battles-"
"Do not assume that my interaction with Rome means I am sending you're missions." Lana lied, directly to his face. Her story as to why she left for Rome was to become a scholar, when truly she was there to be a commander and evenly distribute their soldiers. Besides that, she gave proper missions to outposts, such as this one. Lancelot's face became enraged as she held her ground.
"Then you've spend you're hours in Rome knitting I suppose? Beg you're pardon maiden, but to see you knit I would need to be intensely drunk."
"You believe my time in Rome is my passion, my choice?" Lana shouted, she almost looked like Lancelot when fury covered his eyes. "These Knights hold my heart,"
"These Knights?" He snarled as she rolled her eyes. "I can live without you're heart," The bitterness which existed in Lancelot shined without any warning, Lana stood up, her bottom lip hanging, as her eyes yearned for a proper answer.
"It's hard to believe how much I once trusted you and loved you will all my being." Lana muffled in a whimpering tone, her eyes glittering with the arrival of tears, baring down on her lashes. Lancelot coughed off any emotion, and the automatic retraction of his words to comfort the woman he loved.
"Why did you leave?" Taking a step forward, his sinister eyes latched onto hers, pushing her for the correct replies. "If it wasn't you're choice, you're passion, then why leave? Why grace Rome with you're temper?" With her fists tightly clenched, Lana lifted her chin, her brown eyes seemingly black as Lancelot watched her movements.
"I left to make Arthur happy." She clarified.