Ante Bellum by astolat (R)
Fandom: KING ARTHUR (2004)
Pairing: Arthur/Lancelot
Author on LJ: astolat
Author Website: Here
Why this must be read: This is a short but sweet post battle portrait of mid-service Arthur and Lancelot; they are still young but already poisoned by the dirty futility that is war.
It's essentially a PWP but the characterizations and dialog are so dead on that it reads like a piece of a book that you can't remember why you didn't finish. It does have the normal angst that fuels their relationship but it's not heartbreakingly sad like so much fic in this fandom.
He shrugged his mail back on, groaning softly, his muscles cracking as he stretched his shoulders back. Arthur got up out of the warm bed and knelt down to strap the greaves back onto Lancelot's legs.
"Who's playing the servant now?" Lancelot said, looking down at him. "I can manage."
Arthur ignored him and checked the tightness, slipping two fingers inside the leather straps, then stood with the breastplate. Lancelot ducked inside it, and Arthur stood close in front of him to fix down the shoulder plates again, breathing in the smell of iron, of sweat. Lancelot slung the sword-belt on with practiced ease, the movement as natural to him as water, and looking at him, complete again under arms, Arthur couldn't imagine him ever a farmer, ever a man of peace.
Ante Bellum.
Enjoy this lovely and realistic portrait of love in war.
Pairing: Arthur/Lancelot
Author on LJ: astolat
Author Website: Here
Why this must be read: This is a short but sweet post battle portrait of mid-service Arthur and Lancelot; they are still young but already poisoned by the dirty futility that is war.
It's essentially a PWP but the characterizations and dialog are so dead on that it reads like a piece of a book that you can't remember why you didn't finish. It does have the normal angst that fuels their relationship but it's not heartbreakingly sad like so much fic in this fandom.
He shrugged his mail back on, groaning softly, his muscles cracking as he stretched his shoulders back. Arthur got up out of the warm bed and knelt down to strap the greaves back onto Lancelot's legs.
"Who's playing the servant now?" Lancelot said, looking down at him. "I can manage."
Arthur ignored him and checked the tightness, slipping two fingers inside the leather straps, then stood with the breastplate. Lancelot ducked inside it, and Arthur stood close in front of him to fix down the shoulder plates again, breathing in the smell of iron, of sweat. Lancelot slung the sword-belt on with practiced ease, the movement as natural to him as water, and looking at him, complete again under arms, Arthur couldn't imagine him ever a farmer, ever a man of peace.
Ante Bellum.
Enjoy this lovely and realistic portrait of love in war.