Disclaimer: I do not own any of the character names, save my own original creations. I do not wish to be compensated for this work, nor do I wish to infringe on any copyrights held by any stakeholders of the movie King Arthur. This work is an original creation, based on the legend of King Arthur and his knights.
Scribe Notes:
Calliann: Here you go, the walk on the battlements. I think the chapter titlekind of gives it away, but I hope you enjoy it. I am nervous about posting it, since its the long awaited "you-know-what". I hope I do not disappoint!
Sokorra Lewis: You bet, thats the whole point. One day they wake up and realize that they need each other since they have been with each other. Have to have some strife in there of course. If that bunny ever gets out of it's cage, I will look forward to reading it! Glad I can inspire you, as you give me encouragement with your words.
Ailis-70: Hey! Guin growing on you? My goodness I'll have to make her walk around in a huff or something, or order some of the women about. Just kidding. I am glad that I am able to give her a bit more depth and help you understand her. Looking forward to your response to this chapter.
LovelyHeidi: Thank you! I am really happy you liked it. I enjoyed writing it very much. It was fun to play the game with them, and have a bit more of Jols come out in the open. I truly love his smile. he feels genuine to me whenever I see him on the screen, no matter what character he plays. he adores Cerys, and I like that dynamic. He is her "workhorse", and long time partner keeping the fort afloat.
History2: I love your reviews, you give me insight into my own words and I relish it. Yes, he does sort of confess his love, unconciously then realizing. How many times have we done that where we either say "Love you" to a friend or stop ourselves from saying it too soon in a relationship that seems "perfect"?
Chapter 25: Kissing Away Walls
As they walked towards the wall, Cerys' stomach was flipping itself over and over like a fish on dry land. Here she was, hand in hand with her Lancelot, a normal everyday friend thing to do, yet she was so nervous she could barely stand it.
Since he had come home, the same feeling she had endured while he was away had become stronger. She had been so happy for his homecoming, and his kiss in the stable yard had again given her head a spin. This time, she had not run. She had wanted his kiss this time, which confused her.
She had tried her best to stay away from him, but... she was also drawn to him. She so loved their trading of words, their quiet time together. She had thoroughly enjoyed their jest of a bet, and been quite relieved that he had not won. He would hold true to it, of that she was sure.
This was different though. They were alone now. She wanted to be alone with him, but at the same time, was not quite sure what to do or say when alone with him. She worked on a good conversation starter silently as they walked.
Lancelot had not been angry about Brinn, which was very good. She was relieved that he was not going to make Brinn move back to the stables, and leave her rooms empty. She had enjoyed the company so much these past few weeks, that when he moved to the barracks eventually, it was going to be a very quiet place.
She thought quickly to how she would spend her evenings after dark with him holding a book in his lap while she would sit cross-legged beside him and teach him words. He was reading whole sentences now, and almost to the point where he was equal with her skill. She would need more lessons from Arthur soon. He was a smart young boy, and more and more he reminded her of a young Arthur.
Arthur entered her thoughts then, as they continued to walk. She was quite taken back by his reaction to her hands. She was not quite sure how to interpret that yet, other than his needing a break from fighting; it perhaps was wearing his resolve down to a nub. Guinevere must have exaggerated.
"You are thinking much too hard Cerys." Lancelot said as they reached the wall. "It is a night to relax, not whittle in your head."
"I am not whittling." She said, breaking from her thoughts.
"Yes, you are. Now stop."
She stuck her tongue out at to him and they climbed the stairs, her in front of him, holding her skirts as he carried their wine.
Once up on the wall she turned to take her wine from him. A halo of light from the torches along the wall came from behind him as he mounted the last step, highlighting his mass of curls, his strong jaw... She took a breath in. His broad shoulders sloping to muscled arms, and his legs, so strong from riding, barely keeping in his leather trews. His hands, wide and strong... twice the size of her own...
She was coming undone at the seams! What was wrong with her? She had never noticed him this way before.
She put a hand to her stomach to still it. Gods, this was insanity. She should not be here with him. She willed herself to control.
"Cerys, are you well?" He said, coming to her, his face closer, bending to see into it.
She waved him off. "I am fine. Perhaps a bit of wine and a climb makes the head spin slightly."
He laughed softly and handed her cup over, putting his now free arm around her shoulders. It was a chilly evening, and she was glad for her cloak, and more glad for his body heat, now radiating on her side. How could this man comfort her and yet make her so jumpy at the same time?
She knew at that moment that she could not deny it anymore.
She was desperately in love with her best friend.
She had been fighting it, pushing it away, but, there it was again. If only he would feel the same way! She already knew he would not be interested. He was not the type to settle down with one woman. She had been witness to so many of his trysts she had lost count.
They stopped along the wall near a turret and looked out south towards the cemetery. She leaned a shoulder against the wall of the turret and faced out, sipping her wine. They chatted for a few moments on nothing, on the horses, on the winter weather. Cerys set her cup down on the wall, its coldness making her hands hurt. She tucked them away in her cloak.
"Do they still hurt?" He asked, leaning up behind her, his own cup joining hers on the wall.
She nodded. "A bit sometimes. Dafydd says that they may hurt for the rest of my life. I did much damage."
She could feel his fingers curl around her shoulders, holding hard. She heard his breath intake sharply. She spun, his hands settling back on her shoulders once she faced him.
"What is it?" She asked.
He looked away from her, his eyes unreadable, set hard. His throat working as he swallowed. She poked him.
"Lancelot! Your fingers are hurting my shoulders!"
He released her, and their eyes met. She was locked to them, the pain swirling through them so evident, it broke her heart.
"Gods, Lancelot, what..." She began.
Without warning, his arms went around her, crushing her to his chest. She could hear him breathing in and swallowing. Was he willing himself not to cry? She threaded her hands in under his cloak to find his waist and circled him. Her cheek warm against his chest, she could hear his heartbeat, fast and strong. Then she felt his lips on the top of her head, softly pressing.
His hands rubbed her back, on top of her cloak, and he pulled her tighter. She felt his shaking, ever so slightly.
What kind of mission had these men gone on? She pondered that a moment in his grasp, letting him silently battle his control. First Arthur breaking down, now Lancelot? She wondered at what they had seen, what they had to endure. She shuddered involuntarily.
She never asked the men about their missions, she was not really sure if she ever really wanted to know about the battles, the killing. Not with Gawain's nightmares showing the horror it truly could be. She knew these men were supposed to be hardened killers after years of fighting. It did not bother her, for she saw human behind knight. They were not their station; their station was only part of them!
There was time to reflect on that later, she pushed it out. Lancelot needed her comfort at this moment, it seemed.
"It's alright..." She whispered softly, her hands now patting his back. He pressed his lips harder to the top of her head and she shifted away, looking up to his face, her chin resting on his chest. He looked down to her, his own eyes showing such torment that it took her aback. How she cared for this man, how she wanted him to smile at just that moment. She brought a hand up and brushed away a tear that he had finally let fall. She wanted to... Her thoughts were a jumble.
"Tell me." She said.
He let out a larger breath and looked up, swallowing once more. "I am just... I am upset."
"About what?"
"That we were off on a goose chase, while you were here... working so hard and almost..." He hitched, pulling her in again, forcing her cheek to his chest again. He rocked her slowly.
"Almost what?" She said, her brow furrowing. He was upset about her? She was not sure she understood.
"You almost died, from what the story was told to me."
Oh. That was it, she thought. He was worried the same way Arthur was, about death and losing loved ones. No one had perished on this tour, but still... Her men were behaving strangely, that was for sure. They were just blisters!
He loosed his arms from her and took her shoulders again. He looked into her eyes and shook her slightly. "I could not bear it if you had... had died. I feel guilty for not being here to protect you."
She pursed her lips.
"Protect me from what? Myself? It was me who blistered my hands and did not eat. It was me who did not sleep for worrying about the harvest and about you..."
A hand flew to her mouth. What had she just let slip?
"Me?"
"I always worry about you when you are gone. About all of you. It drives me to pacing, to not sleeping. To working myself hard to block out the thoughts of your death so far from home. You mean so much to me..." Cerys hung her head. She had, of course, confessed this to him in the baths, just never verbally before. Now he too would know her weakness, unless Tristan had told him, which she quite doubted he would.
He sighed then, a hand coming to her head and stroking her hair. She broke their embrace and leaned her back against the wall, her fingers twisting together.
"I am sorry." Was all he said. He came towards her again, this time in front of her, one arm leaned up above the wall so he was close to her. He tilted her chin with his other hand; making her meet his eyes, now clear again.
He was inches from her right at that moment. She could feel his body, she felt so vulnerable. She wanted to move away, put space between them, but she couldn't move, and part of her did not want to anymore. Her abdomen was warming, her breath quickening. She wanted too much to comfort him, show him all was fine, and she needed his comfort... she needed to know he would be alright...
"Lancelot... I..." She started, but stopped. She frowned, looking away, then back to his eyes. Damn those stabbing eyes! They were making her want what she could not have.
They were making her do things she would regret.
She reached up a hand and placed it over his heart, just where she knew his crecent moon scar was. She pressed her hand into his chest. She never took her eyes from his. He groaned softly and covered her hand with his.
She stopped thinking, her mind blanking to all but him. She reached up on her toes and met her lips to his, hesitantly. She lowered herself again.
He blinked. She blinked.
A heartbeat later, she was pressed up against the wall, his lips down on hers with force. Her hands came up around his neck, her fingers twining through his hair, pulling him in.
He opened her lips with his tongue, devouring her. She responded, arching her body, her own tongue tasting him. She moaned softly as his arms circled her waist, hefting her up along the wall level with him, held by his arms, his hands over her hips. She felt so hot, the fire burning in her now. She could feel him, hard against her through his trews. He moaned into her mouth, his fingers digging into her, his kiss becoming more insistent.
Pleasure ripped through her stomach, down through her abdomen, out through her toes. She gasped and shook slightly, not sure what to make of it.
She truly would die now, she thought as she gasped again, this time as his lips trailed down her chin to her neck. Her hands grasped his hair, pulling harder.
"Oh!" She breathed.
He broke from their kissing, his breath ragged, and his eyes dark with desire, one eyebrow raised and a smile on his lips. Had he felt her shake? What was he thinking? She looked to him, her own eyes mirroring the desire he was showing.
They stared at each other, their breath mingling in the night, steaming about their heads. She was possessed, and she could not think about anything more than this heat, this shock of desire radiating through her body. She wanted more from him.
"Cerys." He whispered, putting his forehead to her. She kissed his neck, her lips brushing softly over skin and he responded, moving and capturing her mouth to his once again.
She pulled away from him finally, and he let her go, sliding back down the wall to her own feet. Her shaking hands went up to her hair to smooth it away from her face. He stopped her hand and he finished the job, bringing his hand to rest on her cheek.
They stared at each other. Cerys was unsure of what to say or do next. She cleared her throat.
"Lancelot I... I..."
He put a finger to her lips and shook his head. "Shush. Drink your wine." He handed her cup to her. She drank deeply. She felt so hot, even with the chill. His arm went around her again, his lips on the top of her head once more. He wrapped his cloak about both of them as she drank. They stayed that way, both stilling their breath, his arms holding her close. All she could hear was his heartbeat, slowing down.
"Lancelot!" A voice from below echoed up to them. They both looked down over the wall as Bors and Lorina looked up, arm in arm, the baby in a shoulder sling across Lorina's chest.
"Bors! Turning in for the evening so soon?" He answered.
"I have my duties to attend to." He said as he patted Lorina's behind. She tossed him a saucy look, and pinched his arm.
"He thinks he's a stallion, this one." She taunted.
He laughed and placed his other arm about her, picking her up and kissing her cheek loudly. "Ah but I am, you know. Now, woman, let's be gone and leave the lovebirds to their own making."
"Goodnight Bors, goodnight Lorina." Cerys managed, earning a wink from Bors and a look from Lorina that said 'you-must-tell-me-tomorrow'.
"Goodnight Cerys, be gentle now, these knights, they are not as tough as they seem." Lorina said, her eyebrow raised. That earned her another pinch to her bottom and she squealed, slapping her husband's arm.
Be gentle? Lovebirds? What had that meant? She looked confused.
"It seems we were discovered." Lancelot said dryly.
"Oh dear... Oh dear..." Cerys said. She was not sure if she liked that or not. What would people think? What would they say? She put her hand to her face and looked worriedly at Lancelot, his arm still about her shoulders.
"Don't fret Cerys."
"I must go. Really I must." She broke from his embrace completely, gathering up her cloak and giving him her cup. She furrowed her brow. Stop this nonsense! She thought and took a deep breath to calm herself.
"Have you eaten?" He asked suddenly, his stomach growling loudly.
She shook her head. "No. I am not hungry."
He took her arm and they walked back towards the stairway in silence. Once down the stairs, they walked slowly to her rooms, pausing at the door. He leaned against the doorframe, bringing himself close to her again. Her hands went up to his chest, his arm around her waist.
"Goodnight Lancelot." She said finally. She must keep distance or she would reach for him again. How he had made her feel this way, she wasn't sure, but right now she needed to think on it. She was very confused.
He brushed his lips to her forehead and straightened. She hoped he could sense her need for space. She prayed that he would not follow her in. She felt such desire for him up on the wall, but she was not sure she was ready for...for that.
"Goodnight, my Cerys." He said softly. He touched her cheek once more and he turned and walked away.
She watched him until he rounded the corner towards the common and she closed the door, leaning against it, her eyes closed, her fingers pressed to her lips.
Dear Reader:
And thus we have broken the barrier. First kisses are always the ones we remember, the ones we unconciously measure against. First kisses can be confusing, exciting, and most of all, steamy.
May all your kisses be like the first.
Cardeia
