Ficlet - King Arthur - Frostbite 1/? - Arthur/Lancelot
Title: Frostbite (1/?)
Fandom: King Arthur
Pairing: Lancelot/Arthur, implied Gwain/Galahad.
Summary: How things should have gone. (According to deannawol and I anyway.)
How have we come to this? Two days ago, we were planning our trip home and laughing around our round table. I wonder if you knew about the plans we made? You talked of Rome and of your plans there more often in these days. Fifteen years together and you really thought that we would wave farewell and leave you to the decadant politicians of Rome?
And here I thought you the intelligent one. I wonder what Bishop Germanis thought. We were sent to you to learn our place - as less than full citizens. Instead you taught us pride, brotherhood and respect for a man we were supposed to hate. Bors was the one to sugguest it - last equinox, when he was well into his cups and maudlin without Flora's presence. He had been looking at the marks you made to remind us how little time remained.
"Four months...s'not a lot of time, is it? And then we all bugger off back home. Goodbye Britannia. Goodbye Romans and weeks of misery."
"Goodbye Arthorious." Gwain pointed out from his seat by the fire, carefully avoiding my eyes. "He'll be drinking wine with his old friends and discussing philosophy with them."
Galahad was asleep, head in his lover's lap. Those two I envy. Their relationship is simple, deep and uncomplicated...but despite your annoying tenacity, I would not trade you for anyone. Particularly not that waifish Woad woman who would have been better left to rot. I hear her talking to you, hear her poison- But we will get to that.
"By all the gods, we can't let him go back to Rome all by himself!" Bor insisted.
"Who said he was going back to Rome?" I inquired from my own seat - carefully cleaning my nails with the dagger you gave me five years ago as I did.
"He did." Tristan has never believed in sutblty.
"Well, he is going to be surprised then." I said. I may have been a little over-confident but well, you always did admire my tenacity...
Have I mentioned lately that Gwain has grown to be annoyingly superior? He looked up at me, still stroking his lover's hair and smiled. "So when are you telling him that he's coming with us?"
I couldn't answer that. Yes, I had thought about it and cravenly failed to ever get you into a conversation regarding it a thousand times already. Almost from the moment we started sharing a bed, in fact. But I never could. I'm still not sure why.
Give me blue painted Woads or naked Celts by the thousand and I'll laugh and spit in their eye. Ask me to take a horse across a broken bridge and I'll thank you. But sitting at the table with you and hearing you speak of freedom, of the inherent nobility of man terrifies me.
You believe it. You say that you believe in a God but you're wrong. You believe in an ideal that men can and should make. You have no time for blind faith or the fripperies of men like Germanis. I envy you that faith and I fear for you when I see that passion light your eyes. It drives you, inspires you and so inspires us. Those like Germanis fear it and so fear you. From that fear comes the determination to control or destroy you.
It is also a bloody nuisance. Your sense of chivalry is going to get you killed unless your God truly does watch over fools. And let us not get started on your apparent belief that you are indestructable...We go to meet Bishop Germanis and you go charging off on your own. Which means that I needs must go hurtling after you. The Woads, by the way, seem to be in the throes of some bizarre matyrdom complex - perhaps they're catching your religon? Another point against it, if I must fight with others alongside me, I really prefer that we aim to get out alive.
Last but definitely worst, fifteen years of philosophy and you've got me doing it. Me! I never put this much thought into matters until you started preaching to me. Now we're going north - in the rain and the cold and the dark forest paths. We probably aren't going to make it back south of Hadrain's Wall, never mind home to Summeria. Which isn't a cheering thought...and if that pompous Roman windbag opens his mouth once more, I'm going to gut him. Slowly. Painfully. Then, I'm gong to dance. On his entrails. Oh, and laugh.
The boy - who was deemed important enough that we were sent to save him with no regard to our safety - seems to be little more than a ghost. He's watching you a lot but I can't tell what he thinks, what he makes of your stand against his father. I do think that his father is going to be a problem. You destroyed what he obviously thought of as his God-given authority in less than ten minutes. The people are yours but I don't trust those fat, lazy fools who call themselves soldiers.
He has learnt the hard way that we are loyal to you. Dagonay made that perfectly clear when we stuffed him into the wagon. He was talking of the dangers we risked by following such a madman. Gwain translated for Galahad and Borr - if we supported you, there would be problems with our discharge from Roman services. If we were 'sensible' then he would not only ensure our discharge with honour, he would 'gift' us with gold.
Dagonay hefted his axe - he only carries a sword at your insistence and for use in enclosed areas - and rather casually destroyed one of the smaller statues; the head and shoulders one. "Rome has given us only empty promises, Arthur has never broken his word to us."
Not much of a talker, our Dag but he has a tendancy to put his finger on the nub of the matter. The fat fool flustered a bit then conceded defeat. Which brings us to now. The people have packed their worldly goods in the wagons and we trudge along. Tristian is scouting ahead. Considering the the pitying looks he's been giving me since you carried that wench out of her prison, it's probably a good thing that he's out of range.
Still, I never claimed to be the voice of reason and if Tristian isn't going to give me an argument, I'll argue with you. I see you staring off into space to one side of the caravan and I know that look. Impassive, bland and utterly unrevealing, it's your shield against the world. My lips tighten of their own voalition. Whatever the bitch said, it's gone deep and it's obviously hurt you.
Were we alone, or at least only in the company of brother Knights, I would be blunt but I am horribly aware of the eyes watching us and am forced to try subtlety ...which fails me yet again. I fumble for words and the look in your eyes, lost and appealing for aid that I don't know how to give, makes me want to grab your horse's reins and send us all galloping away from proud fat fools and naive village idiots. But I am forced to turn away again, helpless and seething.
One promise though, if that Woat wench cannot keep a civil tongue, I will ask Bors to ...explain... a few things to her. Starting with the fact that you're taken and finishing with an assurance that we aren't letting her have you without a fight. I'd do it myself but I don't trust myself with her. I've never had much paitence for those who prey on your better nature.
I don't have a better nature but for the sake of your damned honour, I'll refrain from showing her that.
For now anyway.
Fandom: King Arthur
Pairing: Lancelot/Arthur, implied Gwain/Galahad.
Summary: How things should have gone. (According to deannawol and I anyway.)
How have we come to this? Two days ago, we were planning our trip home and laughing around our round table. I wonder if you knew about the plans we made? You talked of Rome and of your plans there more often in these days. Fifteen years together and you really thought that we would wave farewell and leave you to the decadant politicians of Rome?
And here I thought you the intelligent one. I wonder what Bishop Germanis thought. We were sent to you to learn our place - as less than full citizens. Instead you taught us pride, brotherhood and respect for a man we were supposed to hate. Bors was the one to sugguest it - last equinox, when he was well into his cups and maudlin without Flora's presence. He had been looking at the marks you made to remind us how little time remained.
"Four months...s'not a lot of time, is it? And then we all bugger off back home. Goodbye Britannia. Goodbye Romans and weeks of misery."
"Goodbye Arthorious." Gwain pointed out from his seat by the fire, carefully avoiding my eyes. "He'll be drinking wine with his old friends and discussing philosophy with them."
Galahad was asleep, head in his lover's lap. Those two I envy. Their relationship is simple, deep and uncomplicated...but despite your annoying tenacity, I would not trade you for anyone. Particularly not that waifish Woad woman who would have been better left to rot. I hear her talking to you, hear her poison- But we will get to that.
"By all the gods, we can't let him go back to Rome all by himself!" Bor insisted.
"Who said he was going back to Rome?" I inquired from my own seat - carefully cleaning my nails with the dagger you gave me five years ago as I did.
"He did." Tristan has never believed in sutblty.
"Well, he is going to be surprised then." I said. I may have been a little over-confident but well, you always did admire my tenacity...
Have I mentioned lately that Gwain has grown to be annoyingly superior? He looked up at me, still stroking his lover's hair and smiled. "So when are you telling him that he's coming with us?"
I couldn't answer that. Yes, I had thought about it and cravenly failed to ever get you into a conversation regarding it a thousand times already. Almost from the moment we started sharing a bed, in fact. But I never could. I'm still not sure why.
Give me blue painted Woads or naked Celts by the thousand and I'll laugh and spit in their eye. Ask me to take a horse across a broken bridge and I'll thank you. But sitting at the table with you and hearing you speak of freedom, of the inherent nobility of man terrifies me.
You believe it. You say that you believe in a God but you're wrong. You believe in an ideal that men can and should make. You have no time for blind faith or the fripperies of men like Germanis. I envy you that faith and I fear for you when I see that passion light your eyes. It drives you, inspires you and so inspires us. Those like Germanis fear it and so fear you. From that fear comes the determination to control or destroy you.
It is also a bloody nuisance. Your sense of chivalry is going to get you killed unless your God truly does watch over fools. And let us not get started on your apparent belief that you are indestructable...We go to meet Bishop Germanis and you go charging off on your own. Which means that I needs must go hurtling after you. The Woads, by the way, seem to be in the throes of some bizarre matyrdom complex - perhaps they're catching your religon? Another point against it, if I must fight with others alongside me, I really prefer that we aim to get out alive.
Last but definitely worst, fifteen years of philosophy and you've got me doing it. Me! I never put this much thought into matters until you started preaching to me. Now we're going north - in the rain and the cold and the dark forest paths. We probably aren't going to make it back south of Hadrain's Wall, never mind home to Summeria. Which isn't a cheering thought...and if that pompous Roman windbag opens his mouth once more, I'm going to gut him. Slowly. Painfully. Then, I'm gong to dance. On his entrails. Oh, and laugh.
The boy - who was deemed important enough that we were sent to save him with no regard to our safety - seems to be little more than a ghost. He's watching you a lot but I can't tell what he thinks, what he makes of your stand against his father. I do think that his father is going to be a problem. You destroyed what he obviously thought of as his God-given authority in less than ten minutes. The people are yours but I don't trust those fat, lazy fools who call themselves soldiers.
He has learnt the hard way that we are loyal to you. Dagonay made that perfectly clear when we stuffed him into the wagon. He was talking of the dangers we risked by following such a madman. Gwain translated for Galahad and Borr - if we supported you, there would be problems with our discharge from Roman services. If we were 'sensible' then he would not only ensure our discharge with honour, he would 'gift' us with gold.
Dagonay hefted his axe - he only carries a sword at your insistence and for use in enclosed areas - and rather casually destroyed one of the smaller statues; the head and shoulders one. "Rome has given us only empty promises, Arthur has never broken his word to us."
Not much of a talker, our Dag but he has a tendancy to put his finger on the nub of the matter. The fat fool flustered a bit then conceded defeat. Which brings us to now. The people have packed their worldly goods in the wagons and we trudge along. Tristian is scouting ahead. Considering the the pitying looks he's been giving me since you carried that wench out of her prison, it's probably a good thing that he's out of range.
Still, I never claimed to be the voice of reason and if Tristian isn't going to give me an argument, I'll argue with you. I see you staring off into space to one side of the caravan and I know that look. Impassive, bland and utterly unrevealing, it's your shield against the world. My lips tighten of their own voalition. Whatever the bitch said, it's gone deep and it's obviously hurt you.
Were we alone, or at least only in the company of brother Knights, I would be blunt but I am horribly aware of the eyes watching us and am forced to try subtlety ...which fails me yet again. I fumble for words and the look in your eyes, lost and appealing for aid that I don't know how to give, makes me want to grab your horse's reins and send us all galloping away from proud fat fools and naive village idiots. But I am forced to turn away again, helpless and seething.
One promise though, if that Woat wench cannot keep a civil tongue, I will ask Bors to ...explain... a few things to her. Starting with the fact that you're taken and finishing with an assurance that we aren't letting her have you without a fight. I'd do it myself but I don't trust myself with her. I've never had much paitence for those who prey on your better nature.
I don't have a better nature but for the sake of your damned honour, I'll refrain from showing her that.
For now anyway.