═ 𝘊𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘈𝘥𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 ═
[TW/ Intoxication, infrequent strong language, sexual language]
Lancelot's honour and loyalty is put to the rest. Ari calls into question who she can and cannot trust.
❖
lover, hunter, friend and enemy
❖
Ale. Wine. Honey mead. Their sweetness so pungent and fruitful, finely crafted at their best and shoddily bootlegged at their worst but all circumstanced to turn even the sharpest of minds into a blithering fool. He seldom touched the stuff, and with good reason.
"I think that you could ease my pain right now."
Lancelot did not know what the Red Spear in all of her apparent intoxication was implying for him to do exactly. But then her thumb sitting at his jaw moved across, ruffling up the scruff on his cheek to press at the corner of his lip, and he gathered her lewd intention.
Instinctively his mouth pursed together tighter and he was frozen stiff, not wanting whatever this was to happen but somehow unable to tell her. He had never been here before. His eyes were fixed on hers in a wild warning but she seemed to not even notice, her darkened gaze dropping elsewhere. Where he had clasped his fingers around her exposed wrist could not even flex for fear that she would slip through his vice in that instant where he would let go.
She tried to lean in perhaps to kiss him, in his newness to intimacy he at least knew that much, but he did not want to find out what her empty affections tasted like.
His movement was quicker than her own as he leant away in a flash to try and evade her forthcoming, every muscle in his side hardening practically painfully to allow it but to no avail. Her face still followed his own with nothing but an inch of air's gap, her body beginning to press against his, and he had nowhere else to go except the ground which would only make this worse. Gripping his hand more tightly around the thinness of her wrist, he tried to snap her focus to a point of pain, his thumbnail indenting her skin. If she was sober then the deterrent would have worked better than it did, because it didn't at all. So he resulted to snatching her hand off of his jaw at the cost of her nails scratching against his skin as she refused to let him go.
"You are drunk," Lancelot snarled, retreating his face as far within the cavern of his hood as possible, "and I will not do what you want me to." His insistence was cold, so very cold but nothing in him felt warm about this. He would not betray Ari, ever. He would not look at another woman in the way that he looks at her and despite what he had seen growing up, he did indeed believe that taking from a woman what was not his without her coherence was without fault, a sin. His hands and his body were for his queen and his queen only.
Red's eyes picked up to his, a gnat's whisker away from her own. He could see the darkness that comes with inebriation, the resentment flooding in the pitch for his rejection of her proposition whether she was aware of it or not as she glared into what felt like the remnants of his soul. Unwavering yet barely breathing at all, Lancelot bit down on an invisible gag to keep his resolve. One finger at a time she got his message and let go of his face, releasing him from the jaws of the wolf that had him trapped.
This odd feeling of a quivering in his veins did not settle when she leant forwards instead, over his knees and he tensed further, almost wishing to push her away though that was not kind, and soon enough Red sat upright again anyway, clicking her tongue as she gripped those fingers around the flagon of apparently bottomless ale instead. She swayed a bit as she turned her body back towards him, his own still rigid with a scowl on his face that may never leave him.
"Fine," Red spat out, looking him solidly in the eye, "run along to her. Bed her and fuck her until both of your own troubles go away."
A fire flamed in his stomach, a thunder in his head for how callously the woman spoke of what was none of her concern, he did not even know that she knew of his and the queen's affection for each other anyway, for there was nobody else that she could be speaking of. It felt like there was jealousy in what she said, resentment maybe but he didn't know why and put it down to the dreary effects of ale.
Lancelot did not want to dignify her crudeness by responding, he wasn't certain that he could hold his tongue anyway without saying something that might haunt him tomorrow.
Red's gaze unfocused and dropped heavily down to the ground, her hand beginning to swirl the few droplets left in the flagon around and around as she lumbered over and sloped her shoulders. He did not think it wise to leave her in this besotted state. She could fall and injure herself even more than she already was.
So he did, he went to Ari but not to do as the raider woman had said. He found her still watching over those who were injured as healers continued to do their work, keeping an eye for a few minutes before she turned to her own tent for some rest. Quietly, he cleared his throat to let her know that he was nearby, staying out of sight.
Ari heard the voice, the low gruff like a growl that was distinguishable to only one man. Twisting around, she tried to find him and could see him somewhat between the shadows of the surrounding tents, "Lance?"
Her brows pinched when he said nothing, staring at her yet not in his usual way. He looked reserved, frightened even, and she knew that something was wrong.
Ari stepped towards him, joining him within the shadows and unfolded her arms with her concern laying thick, "What are you-"
"The Red Spear is drunk," he pushed in, "and upset. She should not be out in the forest alone." Lancelot looked through his darkened lashes sheepishly, wringing his hands through behind his back with his worry for not knowing if he should say what had almost happened or not, what Ari's friend had asked of him.
She stood before him, her eyes darting to the darkened forest over his shoulder. Ari did not ask him how he knew this, her lips parting and voice breaking quietly as she lifted her eyes to his again, something noticeably different about them which she could not put her finger on, "Where is she?"
"Not far from my tent," Lancelot answered too quickly, his lowness scratching at his throat. Her brow quirked up at that and he thought that maybe he could have phrased it better. "In the woods, very drunk," he emphasised the latter description.
Ari's softly gaping expression relaxed into something which just looked tired. Dealing with the inebriation of the Red Spear was not a task that she would have liked to be doing today, but Ari knew how her friend was grieving and Lancelot was right, she should not be left out there alone in this bitter cold.
"Take me to her, please?" She requested kindly.
He nodded in return, squeezing her hand for a moment as if for moral support for what he knew was on its way before leading her out to circle the tents, past his own to where the Red Spear was laying down on the root this time.
Ari felt her heart sink to see her friend this way as she approached, her body barely illuminated by lanterns hung further into the camp and flayed out like she'd been dropped from a great height and landed there. She did not care for the heated words that had been thrown about earlier between them, nobody deserved this.
Lancelot watched as Ari walked over to the raider and stood a distance away himself, not wanting to get close. Nothing had happened between them but he felt wrong, a sickness in his stomach like he'd betrayed Ari when he knew that he had not. All of these circumstances were an anomaly to him. Months ago he had never had one woman look at him in any way at all other than with distaste, and then there was the Fey queen who looked at him like he was something other than a murderer, who he had given his heart to. And now there was another, a woman who had seemingly just wanted him for one thing only, and he didn't know what to do with that.
Though the raider was not a Fey, she was someone within this forest, Ari's camp, and Ari felt like she'd let her down. I shouldn't have allowed this, she should have gone to her friend after the meeting earlier and perhaps if she did then maybe this wouldn't have happened.
Looking down, she stood beside the raider, "Red?"
It took a moment, but when the Red Spear came to she seemed more than happy to see the queen above her - "Ah! Your Grace," the raider cajoled and threw her arms sluggishly up into the air, simultaneously letting go of the flagon which flew somewhere off to the side. With an unsteady tilt, her head turned and her eyes pathetically searched for wherever her ale had landed.
Helpless, that's how the queen felt as she watched her friend struggle to even hold her own head up. Ari glanced slowly back across to Lancelot who still looked as he did when he had come to her. "You weren't wrong," she acknowledged him tiredly, watching for a moment as Lancelot shook his head in a stiff agreement.
He was not wrong, not wrong at all.
Ari pursed her lips in a grimace and crouched to her knees to try and gather up her friend's waffling limbs. "Red let's get you to your tent, it won't do to sleep out here," she encouraged soothingly, putting one of the raider's arms around her own shoulder and attempting to sit her up.
Lancelot did not offer to help, standing awkwardly and idly, rooted in place out of the way. If he saw that Ari was really struggling then he would intervene but until that point, he wished to keep a distance from the raider for now.
"I don't want a tent," Red whined like a child whose apple had been stolen, slumping her body against the queen's, "I want a ship, I want their bloodied heads in my hands." She brought up her hand still stained a little with the crimson of her people and gripped the air, making a taut, clawed fist to emphasise her decree.
Taking the woman's weight, Ari sighed quite heavily but she could not find it in her to dispute what Red was demanding. Revenge was an understandable instinct for the blood spilled today but it would not do. Instead, she tried to move things along, wrapping her arm around her friend's waist, "You are far too drunk for this talk, let's go."
Somehow, she lifted herself onto her feet, dragging the drunken Red Spear up with her. Lancelot held his breath for a brief moment as the pair stumbled to find a footing together, his own feet stepping forwards absentmindedly.
"Come on," Ari hushed, adjusting her grip on the raider's side and her wrist dangling over her chest, "let's do this steadily, shall we?" She watched down at the two pairs of boots on the ground and tried to take a step, squeezing with both of her hands on their holds as encouragement but the woman at her side slumped even further into her, almost falling forwards as her face came in close to the Sunborn's own.
Ari immediately flicked her eyes to try and view her but the woman was far too close for her to see her as anything but a half shadowed blur, the scent of ale sitting strongly on her ragged breaths.
"Just so you know," Red breathed heavily and unevenly in Ari's ear, slurring, "he refused this, so..." She gestured with a limp flick of her wrist that was dangling down at her side up at herself, her eyes seemingly growing weary and drifting shut.
Ari's face pulled back with a confused scrunch and the dent between her brows deepened as she looked across to Lancelot. It was obvious that he had heard the raider's words from the unwavering scowl that was sitting on his face, but that wasn't her priority right then. She didn't entirely knew what that confession meant anyway, refused this? Putting it aside for now, they began their journey back into the camp.
It took four times the number of steps and minutes than it would normally have done to escort the Red Spear around the outside of the main body of tents to not disturb anyone sleeping with her lulling of yet another incoherent sea shanty, and to get her to where she would be best put down for much needed rest.
Lancelot trailed behind the pair, leaving a few paces in their stead and keeping his arms ready at his sides to catch either of them if need be. He didn't say anything, his jaw clamped shut with that irked feeling still lingering within him as he kept his eyes on Ari, flicking them occasionally to see if anyone had spotted the queen dragging Red through the outskirts of the camp. It would not be a good image for any of them if word of it were to spread, discretion being his friend in most things in life.
The biting chill ran along the ground, batting at the tents and rustling up above them in the trees where the man in the moon casted his shadows, playing with the darkness like it were his puppet. Lancelot wished that he were back in his tent, someplace warmer than this as his fingers began to freeze down beneath the edges of his cloak. A lack of rain was the only saving grace tonight to end this disastrous day, and he prayed, silently, to whatever would listen that the rest of the night would stay that way.
Ari stepped in small, childlike strides whilst Red shuffled at her side, her injured leg almost dragging behind her as they approached a certain tent where the queen hoped that one person in particular would be, someone much better suited to handling the raider's indiscretion than herself. The burden of the half passed-out woman was beginning to weigh her down though, an ache stiffening through her spine and thankfully the tent that she was seeking was now in sight, it's closeness a welcomed relief.
But she could have groaned with her exasperation to see that there were no shadows on the tent's walls, no light flickering inside and so obviously there was nobody home. Great, she huffed and bit down on her jaw, knowing now that there was going to be an even greater journey across the forest to where the raiders were mainly camped to bring Red back to her own tent.
Almost as she went to turn them both and carry on, Arthur came out of the shadows from nowhere and Lancelot stepped back right away, not making even a single sound and casting himself into the darkness out of sight. He hid amongst the murk of night and held a bated breath for some unknown reason to him, watching as the human came forwards quickly to the women.
Arthur's face, clouded with concern, ducked to try and see Red's dropped towards her chest, her body slouching in the crook of the queen's arm holding her up by the waist. "What happened?" he implored, shifting his gaze up to Ari.
His apprehensiveness and quick feet gave Ari the impression that he had been looking for his mate, and he probably hadn't thought to have checked over in Lancelot's far corner of the camp.
"This," she tossed the empty flagon over to him which had been dangling from her wrist as an explanation. From Arthur's reaction as he caught it, gesturing his eyes beneath pinched brows down between the flagon and her own unblinking glare, she could see that he knew she was unimpressed. Though Red's drunkenness was not his fault, she tried to remember that, seeing the beginnings of three purpled patches on his cheek.
Sighing made her body feel not so taut as she lifted the barely-conscious woman's arm from around her shoulder, preparing to essentially hand her over. "She will put up a fight," Ari inhaled shallowly to catch a breath, "but she should not be alone."
Arthur looked a little wide eyed, a deer caught in the sights of a wolf and neither moving forwards or back.
Ari was completely holding the Red Spear up in a rather graceless manner, expecting that the human would have been by her side to help by now. She did not have time for his embarrassment, and her complete lack of interest in his romantic life at that moment flooded through in her voice, "I am not oblivious to your relationship with her, Arthur, please just help me."
It took a moment of consideration but Arthur regained his senses and he nodded, stepping forwards to help Ari carry the woman inside of his tent as quietly as they could, trying not to disturb anyone else around them. He took up Red's other arm around his own shoulder and the pair of them got her into the tent, rolling her down onto his cot.
They both watched her for a moment as she fell asleep right away, unsurprisingly. "I'll see that she's alright," Arthur promised the queen, turning his eyes up to her in the low light from the now lit lantern.
Ari acknowledged him but said no more, rubbing the tiredness from her eyes as she turned her back and wished that she had her cloak with her in anticipation of walking out into the cold twilight again.
She stepped away from the tent, looking around and squinting, wondering where Lancelot had gone to. He was right behind them on the way here and now she could not see where he was. But then two streaks shimmered a deep crimson, underlit by a low sitting lantern and then the whites of two eyes of the same face caught her own, and in the dead of night she knew that he was there.
There was an agreement which did not need to be spoken that they would find some privacy for a moment to speak, and Lancelot definitely had something which he wished to confess before the dawn came.
He walked amongst the shadows, his cloak hiding him from the eyes of the ever present man in the moon as he wound in a trail around to his right, his ears tuning to her footsteps that only pure Ash born hearing such as his from a distance could discern. They met together on a path, stood at a cross between six or seven tents and he saw her go to open her lips, so pink with the icy air, but his thumb pressing over them stopped her, not yet. They were still too surrounded for what he wished to say.
Ari's chest expanded quickly with the sharp intake of breath, her mind and body freezing to a halt with how he touched her so softly, his intention clear in this darkness for what he was asking of her. His skin was cold as she touched it, delicately curling her hand around his and lifting it away from her lips. He tilted his head beneath his hood, a well known gesture between them for her to follow as he lowered their hands between them, and she did.
They led one another around the back of more tents, as far away from the clearing as they could get but still see one another. It was fortunate that the camp was illuminated by lamps and torches even more than usual this night, but unfortunate as to the reason why.
There was a small cluster of three trees which had grown close together side by side and Lancelot spotted them, moving his feet in that direction and bringing them both around out of view. He turned to face her and sidestepped, his cloak swooshing out of his way as he glanced to what could be seen of the camp, making sure that they were not followed or caught sneaking off like this.
Ari just watched him, that face so stoic and stern on the surface yet holding a modicum of compassion and kindness beneath. She sidestepped too and faced her back to their cover, reading the question which she suspected was in his eyes before he asked it.
"Arthur is with her," she hushed, not letting her voice disturb the calmness that had been found after so much chaos, "she will be fine."
He met her eyes but allowed his to fall away as he nodded, good, that's good.
Ari could see that there was something troubling him, it was concerning her as well for she did not understand. She took his hand more fully into her own by their side, repeating what the Red Spear had slurred in her ear with the undercurrent of a question, "She said that you refused her."
The storm that was brewing, fuelled by a guilt for even allowing himself to be in a position where something may have happened, picked up, replying as steadily as he could, "I did." Though could he have done it sooner? Should he have just walked away before Red had even had the chance to proposition him in that way? He did not know.
It took a moment for Ari's mind to realise what may have happened, what he wasn't telling her so openly. A flame of spite ignited somewhere deep within, something biting which told her to protect her kin, "Did she try to-"
"No," Lancelot shook his head stiffly, pursing his lips after pushing out the refusal and yet again his eyes fell away down her shoulder. He felt her hand squeeze with a constant pressure around his and he wasn't sure if she knew that she was doing it or not.
He had hushed her too quickly, and her breath shook because now she saw the truth. "Lance that's not right, you need to know that," Ari claimed, begging for him to understand. He was new to intimate acts, to being touched or set upon by a woman and she didn't truly know what had happened on that root, perhaps jumping too far ahead in her quick judgement? But she cared too much for him to let this slide so easily.
"It was words, nothing more," Lancelot attempted to calm her, cutting in swiftly again with his levelled husk, "and they were the ale's, not her own." He could see that she was not convinced, so he stepped even closer to her, taking both of her cold hands in his when there were merely inches of space between them. He needed her to listen to what he would say, to not let her mind turn before he had spoken, and he had her whole attention, wide pitiful eyes looking up to him which he met earnestly, "She said that I could ease her pain, and I told her that I would not. Then I came to you."
Ari couldn't fathom why he was making excuses for Red's behaviour. Words or not, she would not tolerate him being treated in such a way. "If... if she," she had to be frank with what she was trying to say, sighing, "it is not just men who can take advantage of women, Lance."
Lancelot read between the lines of what Ari was implying and his brow pinched, the raider had done nothing of the sort. And even if she did, her drunkenness would still make it appear as if the other way around and in every essence, it would be Lancelot's wrongdoing, something deserving of guilt and he would never do that, never take what was not his.
"She did not," his head shook more freely this time around, "she was out of sorts and seeking comfort, that is all."
Seeking comfort? What - "Why you?" Ari didn't mean to sound so shocked but many people here did not like him, Red herself even said to her directly that she was not interested in Lancelot in that respect, and there was an extremely exclusive group of very few who saw him as a source of companionship.
There was no answer which came to mind, "Does it matter?" He was not phased by her tone, but how she looked at him like her heart was slowly falling to pieces made his own crumble to the dirt.
She did not know how to answer, her tongue twisting with a jealousy that another woman had even looked at him like she does, even if the woman was out of her senses.
Lancelot breathed through the slight defensiveness within him and answered his own question, "I think that she was past caring which man it was." Given how that flagon was empty when he got there, he thought that perhaps any male would have satiated her wants, though the one which revealed themselves within the darkness just happened to unwittingly be him.
Her gaze shifted between his eyes, her heart not knowing how she was feeling and she could not find any answers in the reflection of the storm. Betrayal, yet not by him. Loyalty, for she has never doubted the words that fall from his lips when he tells her that he is hers. And exhaustion, so much fatigue from the weariness from this day that she could no longer keep her attention so high, letting her face fall away, biting her cheek in a disgruntled habit.
He watched her hide her face from him and he did not know what she was repressing deep down within her mind, if she was mad at him and refusing to show it. Such silence between them was not going to be helpful to the situation, the tension neither coming nor going, just sitting awkwardly within the air. They had done that before, pushed each other away and he had promised himself that never again would he allow it.
Wetting his lip, he squeezed her hands and softly prayed of her, "Ari please say that you believe in what I have said."
Blinking, Ari looked up to the storms swirling once more, the distant lights from the camp casting a shimmer across his eyes and she saw the worry within them, immediately wanting to console his fret. She was not coerced into agreeing with him, for she truly did trust him, "Of course I do, I would never not." And she didn't know why he would think otherwise, but perhaps somewhere in this conversation she had given him reason to doubt.
Still Lancelot felt a need to reassure her despite what she had said, "I would not have done what she wanted whether she was drunk or not." Firmly and without fault, he held her gaze, that golden so rich even in the half-light, "You are the only woman that I will not deny." When he tells her that he is hers, he means it, and he rarely says something that he does not mean.
The sentiment encouraged a gentle smile to play on her lips but it faded to something serious just as easily, "But only if you wish it, Lance." She reaffirmed the words that she had previously spoken to him, on that night so warm and fiery before the throws of passion took hold, "I told you when we were together that I won't disrespect you."
Lancelot had not forgotten. He knew that she had told him such things as that because up until that night he was new, untouched, a flight risk and they both wanted to stay in that moment. He had not anticipated that once the first seed had been sewn, that her regard for him would remain so high as it was within that bedchamber. He could feel as she looked at him like she had somehow gathered each ounce of her soul and held it captive in her eyes - that her feelings were as honest as his own. No queen would aspire for the touch of a traitor if it were not true.
Chilled, pale knuckles brushed across her cheek, opening his palm to cradle her jaw with his sure promise, "Nor I, you." He meant it in any regard, for in his mind was only her.
Ari closed her eyes slowly, tilting her face into his tender touch. The day had been so rough but his softness soothed her. She placed her hand over the weave of his royal blue, leathered tunic, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. Meeting his gaze once again she confessed, almost sighing, "I do miss having you by my side though." Those words had been said before and each time was still as full of longing as the one previous.
As simple as that, his worry disappeared, a warmth of contentment rising through his chest which counteracted the gloom of how he missed her too. "I know," Lancelot sighed, stroking his thumb back and forth at the corner of her lips, "soon, we will find a way."
"Is that a promise?" A flirtatious look dusted over her expression, awakening a small flutter at the prospect.
He did not like to habitualise making promises, there would be less scrutiny that way then if he broke his word. But for her and only her, Lancelot would, always.
"Soon," he repeated with a slow nod of his head, swaying from one foot to the other as he edged closer, looming over her like he does, shrouded by his hood. A coy grin flashed across his own face, his attention dropping towards her lips which were so inviting, his voice following in its depth, "Though, perhaps the Fey queen would allow me to steal a kiss from her before I leave?"
How could Ari refuse him when he put forwards his request so poetically? Dragging her tongue across her lips, catching the plump lower between her teeth, she counteracted his request as Lancelot dipped his face towards her, presuming her answer, "I thought that stealing went against one of your commandments."
Lancelot was astounded by her capacity to find ways and means to tease him, and he raised a brow full of curiosity for how she knew that, retracting just slightly into his hood so that her face was not such a blur.
Ari grinned at the break in his demeanour, shifting her forgotten hand in his by their side to play with his fingers, leaving a featherlight touch along the sensitive outer curve of his hand. "My father taught me to know my enemies," her voice rolled like a temptress well versed in such a game, and she knew him... thoroughly.
She knew what that did to him, how such a delicate fingertip made his composure wane and his heart palpitate. He was fully aware of her hand resting over his chest and that she could most definitely feel his breaths losing control. Shivering at the touch which sent a heat up his neck, Lancelot's exhale shuddered, "I do not wish to think of your father right now."
Her lip curved at the witty remark. Her hand running up his tunic, she hushed, "Then think of me instead."
________
wc: 5315
OOOOO Lance, you had us worried there for a second 😮💨
Okay so the content warning was mainly to make you wonder if Lanceboi actually was going to do what Red wanted or not. And if you seriously thought that he would... then you have some explaining to do lol
I'd say that he handled himself well, but Red's definitely got some apologising to do... Ari was so confused as to how to react.
Ari again teaching him how to have a *respectful* relationship that can still be a little naughty... wait and see 😏