Chapter 13: A Gentleman's Proposal

"I do believe, my lady, that I should be able to catch you." Lancelot gently reached for her hand and helped her down from the carriage. She smiled slightly at his queer behavior, feeling his hand squeezing hers tightly.

"Why, I'm beginning to think that you are a gentleman, Lancelot." She teased him.

"Now when did you get that impression?" Lancelot smirked. "When was I ever a gentleman? Sometimes I never believe that I'm so grown up." With that, she turned around and took him by her shoulders, smiling brightly.

"Well, there's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes. Every human being on this earth is born with a tragedy, and it isn't original sin. He's born with the tragedy that he has to grow up. That he has to leave the nest, the security, and go out to do battle. He has to lose everything that is lovely and fight for a new loveliness of his own making, and it's a tragedy. A lot of people don't have the courage to do it. But you, Lancelot," she smiled, leaning closer towards him with a crafty grin plastered on her face. "You have all the courage to do so, because you're a person of real courage, not the idea of a man with a sword in his hand, but a man who saddles up anywhere even if you're scared to death."

Lancelot didn't say anything; his muscles seemed frozen, and for a second she thought he hadn't heard her. He looked at her with amazement in his eyes. Then, after shaking his head slightly, he slowly began to smile. Then, he began walking calmly towards the brilliantly lit castle, smiling. She trailed behind him, both occupied by their own thoughts and emotions for the moment, and she was glad for the time to recover her composure. Lancelot stopped walking and turned around. He was standing by the edge of the lake looking out over its surface, his hands thrust into his pockets. His expression was thoughtful.

"What is it?" Elena asked, curious.

He looked at her. "Take a look at something, will you?" He reached into an inner pocket of his pants, withdrew a small object, and tossed it to her. Thinking it was some sort of trinket that he found and wanted her to see, she caught it...though she wondered at his odd timing. It was a small, flat box of the sort that might hold a medal or an amulet. She opened it, and her mouth fell open.

Inside was a ring.

"Oh," she sighed, carefully withdrawing the ring and holding it up. The band was gleaming silver, and the stone was in plain setting...just one very large diamond. She wanted to say something but seemed to have lost the ability to speak. Lancelot walked slowly up to her until he could reach out and take the ring from her numb fingers.

"My mother gave me this ring when I left Sarmatia. She told me that if perchance I met a woman that I couldn't even imagining losing, one that I loved too much for words or pictures to visualize, I should bestow upon her this ring." As she watched, stunned, he lowered himself to one knee before her. Elena's mind whirled as he looked up to her, holding her hand in one of his and the ring in the other.

When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, but firm. "Every morning when I open my eyes, I think I can't possibly love you more," he said. "I go through my day as I always do. I meet with Arthur and discuss war and battles, I fence, I practice with my sword and my bow, I talk to you and hold you, I read, I eat, I sleep. And then the next day I wake up again and see you sleeping beside me and I'm amazed to find that I love you even more...and once again I think that that must surely by the limit, that now I can't possibly love you more. Then I repeat the entire process. I'm still waiting for the day that I wake up and I love you only as much as I did when I went to sleep. I don't think it'll ever come, and I don't want it to." He smiled up at her, his eyes overbright. Elena returned the smile, her knees feeling as unsteady as warm pudding. "When I think about my future, there are so many things that could occur, some many obstacles that I might have to overcome this day or the next, so many changes to face. The only thing that I know that is constant in my future is that you're there. I can't imagine my life without you." Some sound escaped her throat, a sort of half-laugh and half-sob. The tears were leaking steadily from her eyes now. She couldn't stop them.

"Elena, will you marry me?" He whispered, his eyes full of hope and not a little bit of nervousness. "What do you think?"

Elena dropped to her knees, lowering herself to his level, and put her hands on either side of his face. "I think I'm the luckiest woman in the world." She said softly.

"Will you then?"

"Yes Lancelot. For all the world, I will." Her smile widened into a happy grin, the tracks of the tears on her cheeks shining.

When the lump in his throat subsided, he whispered to her, "You are the answer to every prayer I could offer. You are a song, a dream, a whisper, and I don't know how I could have lived without you for as long as I have. I love you, Elena, more than you'll ever imagine. I always have, and I always will." Her lower lip trembled as she heard the reality in his voice. She collapsed into his arms, sighing with happiness. He caressed her hair and soothed her, in ways that reminded her of romance stories she had read when she was young. And it was only Lancelot who could caress her hair in his certain way and calm her down in his passionate manner. No one could replace Lancelot's void in that respect. No, she realized, even if someone did try, it wouldn't have been the same. No one could have succeeded because it was Lancelot who stroked her hair so lovingly, and loved her so ardently. Forgetting everything, she gazed up into Lancelot's dark eyes with a trembling heart. He bent down, seeing the fiery infatuation enveloping her other senses. He took advantage of this time, kissing her with every relish and every passion he possessed that belonged rightfully to her.

He tenderly ran his fingers over her cheek. "I'm usually unsure about a lot of things in my life...the war between us and the Saxons, my duty as a knight, and my staying here in Camelot. But not about this...I know you're the one I should be with." With that, he took the ring from his hand and slipped it onto her naked fourth finger. She smiled, looking at the extravagant jewelry on her hand, then back up at the knight.

"It's beautiful, Lancelot."

"Not as beautiful as you. Nothing is as beautiful as you." He said, gently tracing the outline of her cheek, then taking her hand in his. He kissed her lips, her cheeks, and listened as she took a deep breath.

"Oh, Lancelot...I love you." She murmured softly, bringing her hand to his face and touching his cheek, brushing it softly with her fingers. He leaned in slowly and kissed her again, still soft and tender, and she kissed back, feeling what he said and believing what he thought.

She closed her eyes and parted her lips as he ran his fingers up and down her arms, slowly, lightly. He kissed her cheek, her eyelids, her lips, and she felt the moisture of his mouth linger wherever his lips had touched. The sky blinked an unearthly gray and lightning cut the sky. Rain sheeted itself against everything, drowning out all other sounds. Elena smiled inwardly to herself as she continued to kiss him in the rain, noticing how he leaned into her and felt the heat between them, felt his body, and his arm tight around her. Her body began to tremble from cold and warmth, and Lancelot, marking this, wrapped her closer in his embrace.

Elena opened her eyes and watched him through the prism of raindrops, marveling at the beauty of crystals surrounding them. She saw his body glisten with crystal beads rolling down his face and onto her. And then there were hands on her shoulders, Lancelot's hands, and he was kissing her. And when she put her arms around him, he was soaking wet and the water chilled her through her clothes and his skin was cold as ice but his hands when he touched her burned. He tasted like rainwater and tears. And with every drop, with every breath, she felt herself slipping into a state of reality. A state of love.

And when they walked back towards the castle together, their arms were linked around each other's waists, not bothering at all with the rain splattering down on their clothes.