Drabble: Tempest
Lancelot stood alone on the highest tower of Camelot as the thunder boomed and the lightning zigzagged its way across the dark sky. He was soaked to the skin, but he didn’t care. Perhaps he would catch a chill, sicken and die. Or maybe, just maybe lighting would arc itself down and strike him dead or hit the tower and he would perish in its collapse.
The rain on his drenched face mingled with his tears and hid the desolation of his heart. Tonight, newly married and crowned Queen Gwenhwyfar would be sharing Arthur’s bed and Lancelot wanted to die.