CLANG

It was the sound of metal being brought down with great force onto another piece of metal. He wasn't a blacksmith, never really wanted to know more than he needed to keep his weapons repaired and battle ready. This was done more for him then for his weapons though - he wasn't even working with them- he just had a heated sheet of steel and a big hammer and he was planning on beating the crap out of it. He had no shirt on and sparks were flying up and burning into his skin, but he didn't care.

CLANG

He was far to prideful, far to easy to offend at times and perhaps a tad bit hot headed – all this he had been told, but he was upset, damn it! Wasn't he worth any time? Wasn't he worth acknowledgement or a look? Sometimes he was the entire world and other times it was as if he stood there invisible and unmissed. It hurt more than he would ever admit, more then he could really justify with words.

CLANG

He usually didn't like pain, cringed away from the chance when he wasn't angry, drunk or in the heat of battle. So he seemed brave most of the time to people, only those who knew him intimately knew how much it scared him. He really wasn't as brave a Knight as others would expect. But he was angry at the moment, so the pain of the heavy hammer tearing his shoulder muscles and the stinging burn of the sparks searing into his skin soothed him.

TWANG

That wasn't right….

Looking down at the metal he realized that because it was still malleable while he was hitting the same spot over and over again, he had completely warped it. Wrecked it, he could hit it in a different place, but that wasn't the point. Seeing that dented and broken sheet slowly fading from red drained the anger out of him, causing him to drop the hammer on the floor and glance down to his chest with a sigh.

"Fuck it"

At least he wasn't bleeding; he was just going to be in a lot of discomfort for the next couple days. With a sigh he turned to the fire and closed the door so as to put it out and prevent any undue accidents before making his way out of the Smithy hut and back to his own room. He barely slept in this place anymore but tonight he was going to, he had nowhere else to go.

The bed had been cold and lonely that night, not that Arthur had much of a chance to sleep in it. He was kept up till the far reaches of night were loosing their hold before he finally managed to stumble back to his room. He nearly panicked when he noticed that the bed was empty, till he remembered that Lancelot had gone out with Tristan to do some scouting. It caused him worry, they were going north of the wall overnight but he knew how touchy that subject was, so he hadn't said anything.

Liar.

He had asked Lancelot not to go and had not received an answer. He could have commanded it but he knew he would have a very pissy Knight for several days afterwards.
It was his worry that had him up only three hours later and standing on the wall watching Tristan ride back.

Tristan rode back alone.

His heart froze in its place; he could feel it hanging here in his chest even as he ran down the stairs of the outpost and towards the approaching rider.
"Where is he?"

Tristan sat there for a moment, blinking at his commander without comprehension, "Arthur?"
"What happened to Lancelot?" Arthur snapped his hands up and dragged the man down off his horse, only to get a knife pressed lightly to his throat.

" I've been away all night, I wouldn't know."

Arthur growled and pushed the smaller man back, " He went out with you!"

Tristan put his knife away as he stumbled back, shaking his head, "You asked him to stay, so he stayed for you."

"What do you mean he stayed? He wasn't in the bar all night and he definitely wasn't in bed when I got there this morning."

"Where were YOU all night, Arthur?" there was a sly grin and a quiet shake of the bird handlers head before he lead his horse into the stables and tack room.

The commander just stood there, watching the other man walk away with his head tilted, "I was working…"

It hurt more in the morning. He hadn't slept very well that night, it wasn't only the loneliness or silence that came with it, it was the pain scattered across his chest and arms, the glowing red spots of pain that kept him from moving at the moment. He had also had nightmares again, he hadn't fought a battle in a couple of weeks- but it had been so long that he had slept by himself that he had been assaulted by horrible images whenever he closed his eyes.

The sun was rising now, warming up his room and sending him into a sleepy and peaceful sort of lull until his door came flying open with a loud bang.

"What are you doing here!" Arthur was standing in the door, breathing through his nostrils like an enraged bull and watching Lancelot lazily open his eyes.

"Trying to sleep. Go away…" He kept the blanket up around his shoulders, arms underneath, masking the marks over his skin. He knew that he'd get an earful for that as well and he didn't quite want to fight right now. He just wanted peace.

"I thought you had gone with Tristan!" his commander stalked into the room, shutting the door firmly behind him, " where were you last night?"

"Here."

"Why?"

"Cause it's my bedroom, you generally sleep in your bedroom."

"You sleep in MY room!"

"When you're there, yes. I don't see the point in sleeping in your cold bed, seeing as how you're the brave Roman commander, it's bigger than mine. It's pointless for just one person."

"This is NOT about the size of my bed, Lancelot!"

The other Knight just frowned and closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath, "no its about you being a typical Roman asshole, Arthur. Leave me alone, I want to sleep"

"You serve Rome, Lancelot"

"Yes, for just five more years and then I will serve no one. I never was Roman and I never will be Roman, you're all a bunch of self involved inconsiderate pricks."

"I am still your commander, you will show me respect" Arthur frowned at the other man, he wanted to walk over to his lover and shake the Knight till his eyes opened again, but he didn't, he just turned around, " When you're out of this mood, come find me. Until then, I only want to see you when I order it."

And he left with the slamming of a door which caused Lancelot to open his eyes to stare painfully at the ceiling.

"Five new bloody dispatches to be delivered to more southern outposts, all high importance… I don't understand it" Galahad said, looking down at the five sealed scrolls on the table, "Arthur is a stickler for protocol, but he's never written this many reports."

"It's probably because him and Lancelot are having a bit of a spat," Tristan grinned as he approached, dancing a knife over his fingers, "though that only happened this morning..."

"They're fighting? I don't think I've ever seen the two of them fight… argue, yes… but not fight." Galahad said carefully, looking over to the knife wielding Knight curiously, "who do you think will win?"

Tristan shook his shaggy head at that, offering a cold smile and a bit of a shrug, "its not who will win, oh pure one, but who will break first."

"Who's breaking what?" a surly tone came from behind the two of them, making Galahad jump a mile- Tristan only turned around to shrug to Lancelot, "We're discussing the dispatches. You think we should break them up between messengers?"

Lance frowned and shifted uncomfortably beneath his leather shirt, burns really chaffed a great deal, "No, I'll take them all."

"You know Arthur likes keeping us close to the fort in case the Woad's come a-calling" Galahad said carefully at the other man, glancing down to the scrolls, "what if we need you?"

"I will not be missed, runt." Lancelot scowled at the blonde Knight, grabbing the scrolls and shaking his head, "and I don't give a flying fuck what Arthur wants."

Tristan grinned as he walked away, offering a shrug and looking at a very shocked Galahad, "What?"

"Why are you grinning? Arthur could have him killed for that. I've heard of Roman commanders that have done so for less."

"Arthur would not, oh innocent one. He is more like us than he would care to admit," Tristan grinned again at that, "and I'm grinning because it means more woads for me to kill, Lancelot always takes so many with his two little knives"

Blood… and screaming, crying people… so much blood. He knew it was a dream, he always knew it was a dream, but he couldn't ever wake from these ones until the dream let him go.
He didn't believe that dreams held any sort of power over him, or that they meant anything. They were just dreams, things that brought his worse deeds to light and made him relive things he'd rather of forgotten, but just dreams. He found peace in fighting, in using the concrete reality of his two blades. When he was fighting, it was him doing the fighting, just him- and that was what he wanted. He could escape the reasons and the foes for those brief moments that he was confronting them. His world was based in cold, hard facts and realism, he refused to do any dreaming or admit that anything or person controlled his fate but him.

He didn't like the blood though, nor the death. A needless death, he would fight for Arthur because the commander had earned his respect, he would fight for Rome because of a pact made by his ancestors, generations ago, but he saw his own people when he fought the woads.

That was why his dreams were so horrible; in them he was killing his own people. Usually, anyways; this dream was different, very different and so much more frightening because of that fact. He was fighting with the Woads, against another army… he saw his brothers – Arthur's Knights- falling and he could do nothing. He was not even fighting, just sitting astride his horse on a hill above the battle… unable to go forwards.

Arthur turned around and looked to him, raising his hand and motioning for him to come forwards as a larger warrior loomed behind the Roman commander. Lancelot screamed and kicked his mount forwards mercilessly, knowing it would be too late; far too late, because even as he descended the hill with both swords already drawn, the warrior's weapon was descending into Arthur's chest.

Arthur was smiling and looking the happiest he'd ever seemed, blood flowing over his lips as Lancelot approached.

Lancelot woke in cold sweat, sitting up and staring at the dead fire. His horse whickered at him in the night as he sat there gasping for breath. He had been gone 14 days now, returning from the south and his last delivery, he could have been in the outpost now. It wasn't very far away, he just decided to spend one more night out though…. because he would have been approaching after dark and the gates would not be opened once the sun fell from the sky.

"I can't sleep anymore, can you?" he said softly, looking over to his horse.

Another whicker and the sound of a hoof scraping the ground was all he needed to stand and pack up camp to begin the journey back to the outpost, "we'll be there in time for breakfast"

To him the sight was the most beautiful this world had yet shown him, Lancelot – and he knew it was Lancelot in the pit of his stomach- approaching the fort with the rising sun at his back, casting an almost dreamlike feeling to the situation. He saw Lancelot look up finally, saw him pause as he realised that Arthur was watching, saw the horse be urged to pick up speed for the last leg of the journey. When he heard the gates begin to open, turned and descended to meet his wayward Knight.

"Lancelot…"

The rider slid off his mount and turned towards the other man, tilting his head carefully, "you're alright."

Arthur blinked, stepping towards Lancelot as a stable hand led the man's horse into the stables, "of course I am, and you were the one who's been gone for a fortnight"

"I had a dream…" Lance frowned slightly, running his eyes over the other man, voice lowering, and "just last night."

"One of your nightmares?" Arthur paused, letting his own voice get quieter, even though they were again alone in the courtyard, "You had to fight?"

"No, it was different," he raised his hand to run his fingers across his commander's cheek, "I'm sorry."

Arthur leaned into the caress, closing his eyes partially, "no, you do not have to apologize, we were both wrong. What happened in your dream?"

"Something I'll never, ever let happen as long as I am still breathing." Lancelot offered him a bit of a smile, patting his cheek softly, "I would die before I let your soul be trapped here, Arthur."