(for medraut and gawain) did you know it would turn out this bad if you did it this way?

[asshatoforkney]

It's a perfectly lovely day outside, and if Medraut's out and about, he likely won't notice anything amiss. Not at first. It's quiet except for some distant birdsong and the sighing of the breeze, and there's no one else around.

No one who's actually alive, that is

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[northernprince]

Medraut is heading towards the woods, planning to enjoy a nice solitary walk amongst the trees. He’s never minded the cold of course, but he’s enjoying the sunshine quite a lot - and despite the nice weather, there seem to be few obnoxious Mansion dwellers about

[firstbornoflot]

And to think it was actually a good day.

No, really. One filled with exertion, but also with goodliness - with smiles from pretty women and memories of Ragnelle, and with a little baby who sometimes makes him think a little too much of the son he never raised.

Ah.

A familiar site.

Gawain knows it before he sees it - something about instinct, perhaps. Something about habit. Swords and blood and steel, violence, gore and pain.

And the man he spots... that gait, he would know anywhere.

For a split second, the blood betrays him - into loyalty to his blood. "Brother," he calls, just as he breaks into a run. "--- what -- "

If someone wounded his brother...

[northernprince]

Medraut stops moving at the sight of his brother running toward him, and slumps onto the grass. His grip on the sword doesn't loosen -- his knuckles are as white as his face, under the blood. He sees Gawain and he expects to see Arthur too, for a moment, with the horror and disappointment on his face that made Medraut wish Lancelot had finished him off too.

It's not real, he knows it's not. He's gone from that place now -- there's no Arthur, no Lancelot, he's safe from all that here.

But then why is his brother dead. Why again"Gawain," he says, as his brother draws closer. He feels he can barely breathe to get out the words. "Jesus Christ, Gawain. Oh, God, please

[firstbornoflot]

The blood shouldn't make him freak out. Gawain's seen so many things. Endured so many adventures. So much death and decay already, and his own brother at Camlann, sitting on his fallen dead.

And he can't, this time, pretend he doesn't care.

He catches him, steady by sheer force of will, though his knees are buckling.

"What is it, brother - who hurt you?"

And his first thought (oh, shame) is for Melou.