Fic: Sauvage
Title: Sauvage
Fandom/original: Arthurian
Characters: Kay, Arthur
Rating: PG
A/N: As usual, from a mismash of sources, but influenced heavily by T.H. White in particular.
After the funeral rites had been concluded, the party prepared to return to Camelot, where the king was currently holding court. It was a rather large party; even if the younger knights had never met Sir Ector, or met him only briefly, they knew he had fostered their king, and deserved respect. Of course, many of the older knights had known him well, though the presence of men like Gawain and Lancelot accented the loss of others, like Lamorak and Tristan. Everyone could see the king was visibly moved, as the priests completed the mass.
That evening, Kay was speaking with the head groom when a messenger summoned him to the king’s chamber. The steward had to shake his head to himself as he followed the boy; Arthur should have taken the finest room in the manor, but had instead set himself up in his old room, the one he had been granted when he became Kay’s squire. He had been so proud of that, having his own room. Such a small thing.
“Your highness. You wished to see me.” It wasn’t a question. Kay didn’t make a habit of asking questions to which he knew the answers.
“Yes, Sir Kay. Come in.” Arthur felt old too, today; Kay could tell it. Sir Ector had died a peaceful death, an old man - but his death recalled others, Pellinore’s especially, that had been anything but peaceful. Percival, Pellinore’s youngest son, had stood there gangly and copper-headed in the sunshine, a full knight now. It seemed a century since Kay had stood in this room last, and he guessed that Arthur felt the same.
Once the messenger had left them and the guard had retreated to the outer hall, Arthur said, quieter, “Kay… you should stay on a few days. A week or two, perhaps.”
“With respect, my lord, you need me at home.”
Arthur chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Yes, that’s true. But you’ve trained the staff well enough to get by for a fortnight. You used to go questing, you know, when we first began.”
And he’d been awful at it, they both well knew. Kay was a decent enough soldier in a war, but he’d never had the head for questing errant. He could have been a decent jouster, if he’d devoted all his time to practice, but he'd had real work to do. He had trouble remembering the last time he’d earnestly tilted.
“I was much younger then, your highness. Besides - ”
“Kay.” Arthur stood and, for a moment, it was easy to see the Wart, a little taller, and with more muscle, but the Wart nonetheless. “Please do this for me. I’d stay if I could… but I cannot. After all… I’m not bound to him by blood.” There might have almost been bitterness there, but his tired smile didn’t falter. Arthur’s smile was often tired, these days. “They’ll be expecting the royal party back.”
Kay’s instinct was to argue, but he could see that Arthur’s mind was set upon both his departure, and Kay remaining. He contented himself with grumbling that he didn’t know what Arthur expected him to do out here alone.
“The estate is yours, you know. You can decide if it needs repairs, if you want to keep the staff or reduce it. You should survey your lands.”
“A pox on my lands. I’ll never be here, will I?”
Gently, Arthur said, “You might still have a son, one day.”
“Faugh.”
Arthur knew Kay well enough to see he’d won the argument. “Thank you. We’ll expect you back no earlier than the fortnight.”
“And not a day later,” Kay shot back, but then added a half bow, out of form. “Get some sleep, your majesty.”
“I shall try,” Arthur said, sitting once more and picking up one of the many dispatches that had found him even here.
--
Once everyone had gone, Kay rode out into the forest. A great deal of the Forest Sauvage was included in Ector’s… now Kay’s lands. They weren’t impressive by most measures, but they were substantial enough.
It was autumn, and it was gray and cool, the world going slowly to sleep for the winter. Most trees still had at least some leaves, but without direct sun, the eye was tricked into sliding everywhere and nowhere at once. Kay didn’t need to look, he found. He remember the tracks from earliest childhood.
He remembered their games, when he and the Wart had just been two boys, both with dreams of becoming knights one day. Of course, Kay was always determined to be the better knight, but had no doubt both of them would be there, one day, serving the king, whoever it happened to be at the time. Kay didn’t much care, as long as he got to use a sword, and ride about on his horse all day. It was the life for him, he'd had no doubt.
Here was the tree where Merlin had sat, as Kay looked skeptical and Arthur listened with rapt attention. Half of what the wizard said had sounded mad, the other half dangerous; still and all, Kay had often wondered what it had been like, being a hawk, or a fish, or an ant. Arthur had tried to tell him, the first time, but Kay boxed his ears out of jealousy and told him to stop making up lies. He'd never apologized.
There was the clearing where they’d gone to celebrate, after he’d killed the griffin. Looking back, it had been one of the best days of his life. A moment of true glory, when he’d thought he’d had the makings of a great knight. He had seen a path of glory, all laid in front of him, straight and easy, that summer afternoon.
Sir Kay was an excellent steward. No one, even the most generous, would say he was a great knight.
As he rode on through the falling leaves, he idly wondered if he should have brought a bow and a hound, but decided that his mood was much too reflective to focus properly on a hunt. He did stop to collect an apple or two, when they were in easy reach; he remembered having to climb for them, and suspected the climbing had made them sweeter.
He wondered if Inglewood looked much like the Forest Sauvage. He allowed himself a moment of idle fancy - if the king had asked his brother, rather than his cousin, to honor his bond. How riding through the woods with her this day would have turned sour reminiscence to sweet nostalgia, sharing his boyhood with someone to whom it would be new. But then… The loathly lady, whose nickname had stuck, though now ironical, seemed happy enough with her lord, though he came from a place of rocks and foam, and not trees. Besides, Kay wasn’t Arthur’s real brother, while Gawain was his real cousin. Perhaps that made all the difference.
Arthur had to be who he was. That did not change the fact that, now that Ector was dead, Kay was completely alone. He spurred his horse on, a bit faster.
He remembered, when a youth, telling Arthur that the forest was haunted. So perhaps he should not have been surprised, when it was true. Five days later, he could take no more, and went back to his place. His father had asked for this position for him, as a boon, and Kay would be damned if he wasn’t the best royal seneschal that Britain had ever known.
Fandom/original: Arthurian
Characters: Kay, Arthur
Rating: PG
A/N: As usual, from a mismash of sources, but influenced heavily by T.H. White in particular.
After the funeral rites had been concluded, the party prepared to return to Camelot, where the king was currently holding court. It was a rather large party; even if the younger knights had never met Sir Ector, or met him only briefly, they knew he had fostered their king, and deserved respect. Of course, many of the older knights had known him well, though the presence of men like Gawain and Lancelot accented the loss of others, like Lamorak and Tristan. Everyone could see the king was visibly moved, as the priests completed the mass.
That evening, Kay was speaking with the head groom when a messenger summoned him to the king’s chamber. The steward had to shake his head to himself as he followed the boy; Arthur should have taken the finest room in the manor, but had instead set himself up in his old room, the one he had been granted when he became Kay’s squire. He had been so proud of that, having his own room. Such a small thing.
“Your highness. You wished to see me.” It wasn’t a question. Kay didn’t make a habit of asking questions to which he knew the answers.
“Yes, Sir Kay. Come in.” Arthur felt old too, today; Kay could tell it. Sir Ector had died a peaceful death, an old man - but his death recalled others, Pellinore’s especially, that had been anything but peaceful. Percival, Pellinore’s youngest son, had stood there gangly and copper-headed in the sunshine, a full knight now. It seemed a century since Kay had stood in this room last, and he guessed that Arthur felt the same.
Once the messenger had left them and the guard had retreated to the outer hall, Arthur said, quieter, “Kay… you should stay on a few days. A week or two, perhaps.”
“With respect, my lord, you need me at home.”
Arthur chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Yes, that’s true. But you’ve trained the staff well enough to get by for a fortnight. You used to go questing, you know, when we first began.”
And he’d been awful at it, they both well knew. Kay was a decent enough soldier in a war, but he’d never had the head for questing errant. He could have been a decent jouster, if he’d devoted all his time to practice, but he'd had real work to do. He had trouble remembering the last time he’d earnestly tilted.
“I was much younger then, your highness. Besides - ”
“Kay.” Arthur stood and, for a moment, it was easy to see the Wart, a little taller, and with more muscle, but the Wart nonetheless. “Please do this for me. I’d stay if I could… but I cannot. After all… I’m not bound to him by blood.” There might have almost been bitterness there, but his tired smile didn’t falter. Arthur’s smile was often tired, these days. “They’ll be expecting the royal party back.”
Kay’s instinct was to argue, but he could see that Arthur’s mind was set upon both his departure, and Kay remaining. He contented himself with grumbling that he didn’t know what Arthur expected him to do out here alone.
“The estate is yours, you know. You can decide if it needs repairs, if you want to keep the staff or reduce it. You should survey your lands.”
“A pox on my lands. I’ll never be here, will I?”
Gently, Arthur said, “You might still have a son, one day.”
“Faugh.”
Arthur knew Kay well enough to see he’d won the argument. “Thank you. We’ll expect you back no earlier than the fortnight.”
“And not a day later,” Kay shot back, but then added a half bow, out of form. “Get some sleep, your majesty.”
“I shall try,” Arthur said, sitting once more and picking up one of the many dispatches that had found him even here.
--
Once everyone had gone, Kay rode out into the forest. A great deal of the Forest Sauvage was included in Ector’s… now Kay’s lands. They weren’t impressive by most measures, but they were substantial enough.
It was autumn, and it was gray and cool, the world going slowly to sleep for the winter. Most trees still had at least some leaves, but without direct sun, the eye was tricked into sliding everywhere and nowhere at once. Kay didn’t need to look, he found. He remember the tracks from earliest childhood.
He remembered their games, when he and the Wart had just been two boys, both with dreams of becoming knights one day. Of course, Kay was always determined to be the better knight, but had no doubt both of them would be there, one day, serving the king, whoever it happened to be at the time. Kay didn’t much care, as long as he got to use a sword, and ride about on his horse all day. It was the life for him, he'd had no doubt.
Here was the tree where Merlin had sat, as Kay looked skeptical and Arthur listened with rapt attention. Half of what the wizard said had sounded mad, the other half dangerous; still and all, Kay had often wondered what it had been like, being a hawk, or a fish, or an ant. Arthur had tried to tell him, the first time, but Kay boxed his ears out of jealousy and told him to stop making up lies. He'd never apologized.
There was the clearing where they’d gone to celebrate, after he’d killed the griffin. Looking back, it had been one of the best days of his life. A moment of true glory, when he’d thought he’d had the makings of a great knight. He had seen a path of glory, all laid in front of him, straight and easy, that summer afternoon.
Sir Kay was an excellent steward. No one, even the most generous, would say he was a great knight.
As he rode on through the falling leaves, he idly wondered if he should have brought a bow and a hound, but decided that his mood was much too reflective to focus properly on a hunt. He did stop to collect an apple or two, when they were in easy reach; he remembered having to climb for them, and suspected the climbing had made them sweeter.
He wondered if Inglewood looked much like the Forest Sauvage. He allowed himself a moment of idle fancy - if the king had asked his brother, rather than his cousin, to honor his bond. How riding through the woods with her this day would have turned sour reminiscence to sweet nostalgia, sharing his boyhood with someone to whom it would be new. But then… The loathly lady, whose nickname had stuck, though now ironical, seemed happy enough with her lord, though he came from a place of rocks and foam, and not trees. Besides, Kay wasn’t Arthur’s real brother, while Gawain was his real cousin. Perhaps that made all the difference.
Arthur had to be who he was. That did not change the fact that, now that Ector was dead, Kay was completely alone. He spurred his horse on, a bit faster.
He remembered, when a youth, telling Arthur that the forest was haunted. So perhaps he should not have been surprised, when it was true. Five days later, he could take no more, and went back to his place. His father had asked for this position for him, as a boon, and Kay would be damned if he wasn’t the best royal seneschal that Britain had ever known.