FIC: Servitus
Title: Servitus
Character: Lancelot
Rating: PG
Word Count: 195
Summary: For the Spirit challenge at Knights500; pre-movie and AU
Winter was especially harsh this year. The wind was bitter and fierce, bringing sickness down from the mountains and into his village. Very few families were spared the loss of a loved one. His, unfortunately, was not. With eyes empty as the vast steppes of his homeland, Lancelot watched as his family trudged back to the village. Turning back to his brother’s grave, Lancelot bent down on his haunches and dug his hand into the ground, scooping up the dirt and allowing it to fall through his fingers, the motion somewhat soothing to his troubled state of mind. He tried once more to wrap their sorrow around him like a blanket, in the hopes that their grief could become his own, and dislodge the jealousy and anger that snaked around his soul and squeezed bitterness into his mouth. For it was he who must now answer Rome’s cruel call, her never-ending need for Sarmatian blood to purge rebellion from her far-flung lands. It was he who would die in the service of a hated mistress, while Gareth’s spirit remained here in the land of their birth.
Lancelot knew that he would not be so fortunate.
Character: Lancelot
Rating: PG
Word Count: 195
Summary: For the Spirit challenge at Knights500; pre-movie and AU
Winter was especially harsh this year. The wind was bitter and fierce, bringing sickness down from the mountains and into his village. Very few families were spared the loss of a loved one. His, unfortunately, was not. With eyes empty as the vast steppes of his homeland, Lancelot watched as his family trudged back to the village. Turning back to his brother’s grave, Lancelot bent down on his haunches and dug his hand into the ground, scooping up the dirt and allowing it to fall through his fingers, the motion somewhat soothing to his troubled state of mind. He tried once more to wrap their sorrow around him like a blanket, in the hopes that their grief could become his own, and dislodge the jealousy and anger that snaked around his soul and squeezed bitterness into his mouth. For it was he who must now answer Rome’s cruel call, her never-ending need for Sarmatian blood to purge rebellion from her far-flung lands. It was he who would die in the service of a hated mistress, while Gareth’s spirit remained here in the land of their birth.
Lancelot knew that he would not be so fortunate.