Garden of Bones
Author: shadowspun
Title: Garden of Bones
Rating: G
Pairing: Gwen/Lancelot, Morgana/Leon
Characters: Galahad, Gwen, Mordred, Morgana
Summary: Gwen and Galahad visit Lancelot's grave in Dunkirk.
Warnings: canon death, angst
Word Count: 194
Prompt: 395, crimson
Author's Notes: Somehow I came up with a sequel to BRASS and Waterloo Teeth. As such, this one is a bit depressing.
Galahad tripped over air on his way to the grave. He flushed at the snort and giggle he heard coming from the dark-haired boy on the other side of the rows of headstones. His mother simply took his hand quietly as they walked on, ignoring the boy’s soft cry of, “There’s Uncle Arthur’s grave, mother. Father must be close by, right?” Galahad carried a letter for his father. He’d written it himself in clumsy script that was improving significantly under the tutelage of Sister Marie Sabinian’s ruler.
His mother stopped in front of his father’s grave and wiped tears from her cheek before kneeling on the ground to pluck a weed that was attempting to grow. Galahad didn’t know what to say, so he simply knelt beside his mother and set his letter beside the delicate bouquet of crimson poppies and baby’s breath that Guinevere gently placed on the ground. He didn’t know how his father would be able to read it, but both his mother and Sister Marie Francis had assured him that the father he’d never met would know what he’d said in the letter, so that was good enough for him.
Title: Garden of Bones
Rating: G
Pairing: Gwen/Lancelot, Morgana/Leon
Characters: Galahad, Gwen, Mordred, Morgana
Summary: Gwen and Galahad visit Lancelot's grave in Dunkirk.
Warnings: canon death, angst
Word Count: 194
Prompt: 395, crimson
Author's Notes: Somehow I came up with a sequel to BRASS and Waterloo Teeth. As such, this one is a bit depressing.
Galahad tripped over air on his way to the grave. He flushed at the snort and giggle he heard coming from the dark-haired boy on the other side of the rows of headstones. His mother simply took his hand quietly as they walked on, ignoring the boy’s soft cry of, “There’s Uncle Arthur’s grave, mother. Father must be close by, right?” Galahad carried a letter for his father. He’d written it himself in clumsy script that was improving significantly under the tutelage of Sister Marie Sabinian’s ruler.
His mother stopped in front of his father’s grave and wiped tears from her cheek before kneeling on the ground to pluck a weed that was attempting to grow. Galahad didn’t know what to say, so he simply knelt beside his mother and set his letter beside the delicate bouquet of crimson poppies and baby’s breath that Guinevere gently placed on the ground. He didn’t know how his father would be able to read it, but both his mother and Sister Marie Francis had assured him that the father he’d never met would know what he’d said in the letter, so that was good enough for him.