Three days had passed and still Lancelot had not woken. The dead had all been buried and life was slowly beginning to return to the fortress, but no matter how hard he tried Arthur could not make himself leave his quarters where he had ordered Lancelot taken after the battle. What business that needed to be conducted was done in his rooms in hushed voices so as not to disturb the injured man.
Worried as he was about Lancelot's continued unconsciousness, even more troubling were Gawain and Galahad's accounts of what had happened. He could not believe that Gwynevere would attempt to kill Lancelot after he had risked his life saving hers. There was no reason for her to do so. There was a truce between them and the Woads. With the exception of Gwynevere, there still was. He and Merlin had confirmed it two nights before when they had buried their dead side by side. Their victory over the Saxons was only temporary and they needed to stand united if they were going to survive.
"How's he doin'?" Bors asked, his voice oddly quiet as he appeared at Arthur's door.
Arthur sighed wearily, his eyes never straying from Lancelot's face. "The physician assures me that he is no worse, but at the same time he is no better. The arrow very nearly struck his heart and what happened after only made things worse."
Arthur knew that Bors was already aware of this, but it was still something he found himself repeating time and again. No matter how often he said it, though, it never seemed any more true than it had three days ago when he'd run up to see Gawain with his axe leveled at Gwynevere's throat. That she had not attempted to plead her innocence only confirmed Arthur's fears: he had bedded a woman who had tried to murder his best friend.
"Blaming yourself will do you no good and he would be the first to tell you that," Bors said, nodding his head in Lancelot's direction. "Now off with you. Vanora ordered me to send you down to the tavern to get some hot food in ya. I'll stay with Lancelot until you return."
Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but Bors immediately shook his head.
"You know it'll do you no good. She'll just send Gawain and Galahad up next and all the ruckus of us hauling you out will wake sleeping beauty over there."
Still, Arthur hesitated. "If he so much as stirs…"
"I'll holler out the window."
The decision made, Arthur still hovered at Lancelot's bedside, unable to move away. He knew that Bors would look after Lancelot, he trusted the other knight implicitly, but still Arthur feared to leave Lancelot.
"I will return soon," Arthur murmured, running his fingers through the rumpled curls before sliding his hand down to cup Lancelot's pale cheek. "As soon as I am able I will come back."
Lancelot's response was not vocal, but when he turned his face into Arthur's palm he found it harder to step away.
"He will not wither away in the half-hour it will take to get some good food in you," Bors pointed out as he slumped down into Arthur's vacated chair. "Besides, it'll do the men good to see you out there."
Before he could change his mind, Arthur turned and strode from the room. Lancelot would be well looked after by Bors. Any of the knights would protect each other with their lives. Arthur refused to believe that it would come to that this time. Lancelot was recovering safely within Arthur's own rooms and Gwynevere was banned from the fortress. She would not be allowed to harm Lancelot on their own ground.
When he entered the tavern, Arthur was pleased to note that little seemed changed from before the Saxon invasion. The number of patrons was fewer, but the activities themselves were unchanged. Men drinking and gaming while women flitted about and chatted in their midst. The only thing Arthur found himself missing was Lancelot's presence. Even when he was doing nothing but drinking it was impossible not to notice the dark-haired knight.
"Arthur!"
The cheerful shout came from Galahad, raising a mug of ale in silent toast while he balanced a girl on his lap with his other hand. The smile on his face did not quite reach his eyes, but then they were all still reeling from the recent battle.
"How's Lancelot?" Gawain asked as Arthur sat down at the table the two Sarmatians had claimed as their own.
He was still shifting about on the bench when Vanora set down a bowl of stew, hunk of bread and a mug of ale down in front of him. Arthur nodded his thanks, the firm look he received from Vanora informing him that he was expected to eat every morsel she chose to set before him, hungry for it or not.
"Still alive," was the only response he could form when Gawain repeated the question.
Arthur wished for all the world that he could give a different answer. That he could tell them that Lancelot was awake.