Here's the last part. Originally when this story was supposed to be much shorter, this was going to be chapter two, but I got more bunnies for the other chapters and it kept going. But this is my favourite, and this is the original image I had in my head the whole time writing it. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, I hope you liked reading it as much as I did writing it.

Part 7

Lancelot stood near the doors, watching as Arthur painfully lowered himself on his knees and leaned on the rail at the front of the sanctuary. The Roman placed elbows on the rail and rested his forehead on his folded hands. It was a position Lance had seen a few times before when Arthur prayed; sometimes when he went looking for him and found him in the small chapel they had at the fort. But the chapel was nothing compared to the monastery.

As he continued to watch, he noticed Arthur's shoulders starting to shake. It was quiet; he couldn't even hear Arthur whispering anymore. In the silence, this place took on a different quality. For a few moments, Lance felt that he didn't belong here. This was not his place.

The entire time that they had been staying here, there had been this eerie feeling of peace, almost as if it was a dream. While there was no danger of the peace being taken away...that in itself almost seemed to add to the uneasiness. Now he felt it again.

Slowly, Arthur pushed himself up to his feet again and turned to limp down the isle, with no surprise on his face at seeing Lance standing there before the doors. "We should leave if you're ready," Lance said with a sigh.

With a sigh, Arthur nodded. His grey eyes looked around the church, taking in the details. It had only been his second or third time in the church sanctuary, but Lance could see the light in the man's eyes. As he helped the wounded man out, Lance could recall teasing Arthur some about his religion. Now at least, he knew not to do it now.

They passed by Gawain and Galahad, asleep on each other's shoulders, sitting on a bench next to the covered path. "We'll leave tomorrow morning, that should be enough time for Gawain," Arthur said once they got to the small courtyard where their rooms were.

"That's fine with me, I'm just anxious to get back to the fort, we've been gone a long time," Lance replied.

Arthur smirked a little, "Why is that, are you missing the barmaids again?"

The Sarmatian rolled his eyes and playfully hit his friend's shoulder, "Very funny." He stayed outside as Arthur went back to his room to take the weight off of his leg again for awhile. Lance leaned against the wall, looking out to the single tree in the middle of the square. The peace would be gone tomorrow as soon as they left, but it would never leave his memory. A memory of the hauntingly beautiful singing and an image of Arthur kneeling in prayer would stay with him always, until his dying day.

finis