[TW// intimidation, internal conflict, internalised/resolved homophobia. Canon-typical religious opinion. CW// angst and some shouting]
Ari's past comes back to haunt her and Lancelot unravels a heart aching lie.
"Lancelot?"
He looked up from where he sat now alone, since Squirrel had run off for his scouting lesson, to be met with the pale blue of his brother's eyes as the younger Ash sauntered towards him. His brother held his usual light-hearted airs and the injury to his arm no longer seemed to be bothering him as much, though it was still obviously bound beneath the stitched together sleeve of his grey coat.
"Hector," he acknowledged him.
The younger slowed to a halt outside the armoury, thumbs patchy with dark markings of the Ash folk and tucked in his sword belt. "You busy?"
Lancelot was sat on a log sharpening arrow heads, did he look busy? He raised a sharp brow as an answer.
"Ha, of course you aren't," Hector answered for him, chuckling at his own humour.
"What do you want?" Lancelot asked but it wasn't harsh.
Hector, sniffling with the midday chill, looked down on his brother. "Its my turn to be on lookout for the afternoon up on the outcrop. Wondered if you wanted to join me?"
Stuck in a habit of always saying no to wandering far from the camp, Lancelot almost parted his lips to do the same again. But instead, and only after consideration, he agreed. He was pushing his luck with the elders already today, so what was one more reason to annoy them being added to the long list? He left the armoury tidy like he wanted it and fell in step with his brother towards the west of the forest.
The outcrop. It was an odd piece of land though no stranger than the rest of this camp. Like the ledge in which Ari had fallen from, it stuck out at the edge of their boundary and looked across to where the forest thinned into rolling hills. It was a good vantage point to see anyone approaching and still well hidden enough by evergreens.
They found a trail that belonged to the patrol route and followed it westwards. General chatter between them shifted to Hector's main point of concern when he thought that the coast was clear of prying ears.
"Things are going well with..." Hector looked around as if to see if anyone was listening before concluding his question on a whisper, like it was a crime to say her name aloud, "Ari?"
Caught off guard by the question, it took Lancelot a few paces to answer. "Yes." As well as well could be in their circumstance, Lancelot thought.
Hector didn't pick up on the slight hint of doubt in his brother's reply. "Should I be calling you 'My Lord' soon?" He nudged an elbow against Lancelot's, wiggling his brows and grinning like a child though his brother ignored his attempts.
"No." Lancelot knew what his brother was asking and squeezed the refusal out. What is it with everyone today? First Squirrel and now Hector. The topic of kings and Lords had come up twice now already and it was barely high noon.
The elder Ash was like water sometimes and Hector could see through him clearly. He knew that Lance wouldn't part with Ari but also that whatever plan he was making, it wasn't going to last in this gossiping camp. "You can't keep this a secret forever."
It was Lancelot's fault that Ari was doomed to a life of hiding in love when she deserved so much more than that, and for this he felt guilty. But he could not give her up, he didn't want to.
"It won't be easy," he said.
Hector's attention wandered off through the thick woodland. "Good things usually aren't."
Something in the way that Hector voiced his opinion made Lancelot believe that he was speaking from experience. Comparatively, his younger sibling had lived so much more of a life than him, many of the things in which Lancelot was learning now were old news to Hector.
Without really knowing why he was admitting such a thing, Lancelot wet his lip and broke his silence. "I feel... different." And he sounded uncomfortable.
"That's because you're a man now," Hector teased, watching across the trail with a cocksure smirk.
Hector's allusion was far from subtle and that is not what Lancelot had meant. His lack of experience with a woman had never made him less of a man and he was not embarrassed about that anymore. Unamused by another untimely repartee - Lancelot rolled his eyes and pushed at his brother's uninjured arm, and the shorter man stumbled, laughing as they walked.
"I get it though." Hector chuckled an honest sound as he pulled himself back together. "I was right when I said you look happy" - on that morning after their night in the castle. He couldn't help but think of the contrast to his brother's life before now. "Must be weird after everything that has happened to you."
Lancelot didn't disagree with him. Happiness and joy were his most unchartered emotions but he understood what they felt like now. He knew what feelings to label as happiness and though most people didn't have to think of it - he did, like a child learning to walk he had to place one foot in front of the other.
Hector noted his brother's silence, the rustling of dry leaves amongst the low grasses the only thing offering response. There was a rather sullen, faraway look behind that hood and he thought that maybe he was wrong. Had something changed that he did not know? Though it was perhaps just his brother getting lost in his own mind again. Still Hector lowered his tone and his face with concern. "You are happy? Aren't you?"
Of course Lancelot was, and he didn't intend to sigh. "Yes."
"Then the problem is...?"
Hector led him on and he sighed again, turning his face to the density of tall beech trunks passing them by. He had nobody else to talk to on the matter of his heart so Lancelot allowed his brother to pry. Pursing his lips and clasping his fingers around the edges of his flowing cloak, he thought about the best way to say this.
"I am hiding who I am from the Fey again."
When he was with the Paladins he had been two people - the one he shows the world and the one he kept to himself. One had been disappearing but now there were two again - who he is with everyone else and who his is when he is with her. He wanted to be honest and open but they would never look at him the way his brother did, the way Squirrel does. Or see him as Ari sees him.
"You mean you're having to hide that you are in love with the queen?"
Lancelot grumbled an indefinite noise which leant to the side of agreement with that conjecture.
Hector understood his turmoil. "I've been there brother. I fell in love with someone who I shouldn't have."
That was news to Lancelot's ears and he looked across, forcing his shoulders to twist until he could see past his hood. "What happened?" He didn't usually ask questions, Hector commonly gave up details willingly, but if his brother had been through the same thing as he was now then he unexpectedly wanted to know how that story went.
Turning his face back to the trail to escape the piercing stare, Hector let out a pained sigh. "Doesn't matter." He shook his head to cast the questions away, regretting the fact that he said anything in the first place.
Almost looking at him with pity, Lancelot tried again. "Hector..."
"I'm here by myself, Lance," Hector quickly interrupted though, casting a glance across the trail and scoffing an ironic laugh, "that should give it away." He thought that answer may suffice.
Yes he was here by himself, so the love had not lasted, but Lancelot thought that there was more to this than what his brother - who turned his eyes down to his boots - was revealing. What if like him, he had fallen for a highborn or someone far above him? A Lord's daughter or a Lady, perhaps? That would explain it. Or maybe his feelings were unrequited?
"Who was she?" He asked with intrigue.
Hector tried to be suave and brush it off. "Erh, pfft it doesn't matter."
It was obvious how the younger was evading the elder's interest on purpose. Lancelot couldn't understand why when Hector had always been so much of an open book. He didn't think that there would be anything that could surprise him now. "You know of my feelings for Ari and you will not tell me of a woman you once loved?"
Subconsciously, Hector had sped up his pace. "Nope."
And Lancelot strode to stay in line, pressing the nerve. "Why not?"
The answer came through gritted teeth - "Because you will not be pleased." He squeezed his fists so that they did not tremble.
Why would I not be pleased? Lancelot did not know of enough women to care for whoever it was, unless she was Ari, but he highly doubted that. He had never recognised an internal battle within his brother but he saw it then as their pace quickened yet again. "You have not judged me and I will not judge you."
"Lance, stop!"
Hector ground to a halt, scuffing at the stones in the trail with his outburst. "I am not who you think I am!" He watched as Lancelot's brow pinched and face twisted as if he were insulted, and he knew that it made no sense, not even realising that he'd crossed the line where there was no going back. I- I can't, but his brother's eyes were imploring with him. Something, just say something, "The church taught you to hate Fey... well they taught you to hate me too."
Lancelot saw the unease of his brother's breaths and a shine to his eyes that was not there before. He heard the shake in Hector's voice. Hate you? Why would I hate you? For some reason his heartbeat pulsed in his throat, and before he could comprehend the claim, Hector shrunk into himself and tried to walk away.
Forgetting himself, Lancelot called out with a demanding voice he uncommonly used. "What are you saying?" The weight of his glare on the younger Ash's back dragged him to a halt.
Hector wet his lip with heavy breaths as he turned about on his feet, unprepared to see such a cold storm staring back at him. Once again he was that boy, the one beaten down into the earth by his own kin. He didn't believe that his brother, a man plagued by injustice of scripture, would wish to speak to him again after what he was going to so tensely admit.
"It is not just women who I love."
It's not just... oh. It could not have been made any clearer to the elder standing in horror. Lancelot's stomach sank low, not knowing what to believe now as the other man left him alone.
~•~
A small roll of bread, her half full water skin, a spare dagger just in case and her sword. Ari was all packed with her saddle bag and ready to go, just missing her horse. She was oddly excited and calm at the same time, having mapped out a route in her mind that should take them a couple of hours at a leisurely pace. Her things were on her cot and she went to buckle her sword belt when the same shiver of nettles as earlier dragged down from the base of her neck - only this time she was for sure alone in her tent. There was a footstep, then another in the mud and again and they were growing closer. Her hand drifted and braced around the hilt of the dagger at her hip.
"Ari?"
The tight grip which she kept on the dagger relaxed, for she knew that voice well.
"Yes, Gawain, what can I do for you?" She began to turn midway through her question to see the Green Knight casually stood in the entrance of her tent, hands folded behind him. His expression appeared a little tight like he had been recently, his shift in demeanour with her a conundrum that she was still trying to figure out.
Gawain considered his words with care for a moment. "Not for me, but rather - for yourself."
Ari looked at him, puzzled by his phrasing and how his open jaw was wavering like there was more to be said. With a gentle flick of her wrist she gestured for him to go on with what he was saying and he took liberty to step a little further into her tent.
"I fear," Gawain started slowly, ambling towards the queen with a deliberate stride, "that people are noticing how close you are with Lancelot."
He had seen them when Morgana arrived, how her hand effortlessly held the Ash man's arm as she dragged him back and that was not the only occasion where they'd touched. He could not have been the only one and he noticed a few of the Fey around them seeing it too.
She watched him come closer but did not speak, her brows knitting together. Like with the elders a few hours ago, Ari waited for him to say what he truly meant in case she had the wrong idea. Incriminating her relationship on accident was the last thing that she wanted to do.
"They are only now just coming around to him being here," Gawain continued, "and being on our side. They might react differently if they knew your -" he looked over her face, his words seemingly stuck on his tongue. Then his voice dropped more firmly, "True situation."
What exactly was he suggesting? Her 'true situation'? If he somehow knew of her intimacy with Lancelot then it wasn't his business to be saying such things.
Ari didn't like what he was implying, though it was true. "My relationship with Lancelot is nobody's concern." Least of all Gawain's. She turned from him to collect her bag. He has already prodded her about this once and Ari was reluctant to let him do it again.
"But it is - all of our concern, your Grace," he stressed, adding the last part to remind her and his insistence turned her face to him again. Her lips parted without knowing how to react while her knight stepped closer towards her in her silence, a prominent thumping more loudly within her chest. The darkening green of his eyes began to look down on her though not due to a difference in height, and Ari soon felt trapped.
"Gawain-" "Arianne-"
They said each others names in unison, each one intending to silence the other.
Gawain looked her square in the eyes to an extent where it unnerved her, her breaths pushing out a little shakily. The queen was no fool, she knew why he was doing this now. Standing so close to her.
"This is not really about Lancelot, is it?" Ari narrowed her eyes on his.
He stayed silent for a moment as he stepped forwards again, permitting the bitter lump rising in his throat. It wasn't something which he was proud of yet still it was there, nagging at him. A low burning fire was growing in her eyes as she figured him out, and it reminded him of a time long ago.
A delicate, warm fingertip touched her temple, then stroked down the outline of her face and Ari was in shock more than anything, too stunned to do something about it. Her face paled. Her throat could not swallow how ill she felt or her lungs - breathe, when he cradled her cheek in the softness of his palm.
"I have not forgotten," Gawain hushed with the tender voice of a man who cares, eyes darkening as they cherished the prize he had once won. He could still see the young woman within her - the one who gave herself up in those long, sweltering summer nights. The one whose mouth was reserved just for him and whose thighs parted without too much persuasion.
In an urge to be freed from his hold, Ari panicked. "That was once, long ago Gawain." She had not forgotten either but she did not want to relive that summer. Jerking her face out of his palm, she moved herself back and nearly pushed at him. "There is nothing between us anymore."
Gawain's stare seemed to harden as his hand fell away, not with aggression but envy. On the night when he was on patrol he had seen her with the Ash man, how cosy they were by the fireside. But then as Lancelot went to move away she grabbed at him and pressed her rosy lips against his, and he held her body swept into his own. His stomach knotted to watch his friend have what he could not and mislead everyone here about the extent of his relationship to the only woman that he himself has ever truly cared for. And it only made his blood boil in envy, a sourness stick to his tongue to think that it is more than just a kiss which has been shared between them.
His lip twitched to rebuke that assertion. "Ari-"
"I will pardon your concern but you should leave." Ari interrupted him with a diplomatic dismissal before he could step any closer again. Her body straightened and her chin rose to keep her composure, showing no weakness. Lancelot would not take kindly to this if he knew what Gawain was doing right then and she honestly didn't want the knight here anymore either. There was a line and he had crossed it, though was lucky that he was her friend for she could have found a much sharper way to remove him.
Gawain was adamantly rooted in the ground where he stood until he stepped back without argument, raising his hands in surrender. "You should think on what I have said, your Grace." He gave her one last long and knowing look before twisting away.
Ari glared blankly at him as he turned to leave, and when he was gone her lungs emptied completely. She had hoped that some things would not resurface when she saw him again, alive, unlike she had been reliably informed.
It was the summer after she had just lost Benni, and the young Green Knight was more than charming. He was fresh and captivating and staying in her camp for a while, and she was young and foolish. Ari did not at the time regret giving in to his ways since he was good for a distraction. It was not love, it was just lust and weakness. She put the distance between them and they chose to remain as friends, and he soon left the camp anyway to various other forests. But he was here now, back from the dead, and apparently jealous of something that would never again be his.
Perhaps he is right, she thought, maybe she had let her guard relax too far when she was with Lancelot where others could possibly see. She does not know how Gawain knows, but he has made his awareness of her 'true situation' with Lancelot very clear. And now she had a bigger problem; stopping Lancelot from finding out.
~•~
How long did Lancelot stare into the depths of the forest as the one he called his true brother disappeared off into the distance? All of his mind spun in fast whirls and he did not know how to make them stop. Was it anger or a lack of comprehension that flooded his sickening thoughts? Hector... one of them. Those who he had been taught to despise with the same fervour of his own kind. Those who sought an unholy and unclean affair. Not just women...
They were demons. But Hector was not a demon. He did not understand.
His masters claimed that love and to love is sacred, a gift between Adam and Eve. But what Hector speaks of is cause for damnation. Though if that is the case then he is damned too! For laying with Ari willingly without wedlock. But Ari is not like him in body, he is a lover of who was intended - the 'natural law', and he has moved past the shame of his own sins and learned that there is nothing to fear for his soul.
But Hector was not the same. Was it just lust which he felt? A wandering eye? Or had sins been committed and such temptation acted upon?
The dirt scuffed beneath Lancelot's boots as he turned and paced in circles, back and forth to clear his mind.
Laying with Ari had gone against what he was taught, he told her so, and he had done it anyway without seeing the burning of hellfire. He had accepted his own fate as a Fey - against what he was taught, without succumbing to the pulls of the Devil. His knees had not met the floor as he bowed to pray for weeks and he did not feel lost or astray. So much of what he had been taught was false.
He had seen red brothers once flogged with more lashes than he dared to count in front of everyone at the Paladin camp for being caught together intimately in the woods. They were branded as unclean and cast out from their ranks. Could he do that to Hector? His own brother?
Lancelot growled in frustration, rhyme and reason opposing each other in a battle which neither were winning. As he turned a particularly acute rotation on his heel, the amulet hidden beneath his shirt snapped against his chest.
"I see you still have your amulet at least, looks just like it did when we were children," Hector pulled his own amulet out -
"They're the same," Lancelot muttered, toying with the carved leaf between his thumb and forefinger. Thinking back to that night as they first sat together as men, reunited in the grace of firelight - he had promised to make things right for them. After everything that he had done to his brother, each way that he had mistreated him, could he go back on his word?
What would you do, Lance? If it was Hector who had been dragged from the woodland and held down to his knees where all could see? The flog in the Devil's hand. Let it happen? Think that he deserves it? Take the leather in your own hand and obey the Devil's command?
He was lost in debating something that he did not understand. But he was sure of his feelings, that family was more than just blood. And he had the choice to lose what he had found now or push himself aside.
If it was Hector who had been dragged from the woodland and held down to his knees - then he came to the conclusion that he would not watch as it happened. He would fall to the ground and cover his brother, taking the leather stings to spare Hector from such pain.
That instinct made up his decision for him.
He had not followed for a while and by the time he approached the dead end of the trail, having followed his brother's scent, the younger Ash was stood staring across the hills below from the outcrop. It was almost poetic, the way he stood alone at the precipice.
Hector felt his brother come to stand beside him, neither of them saying a word. He did not know what there was left to say or if saying something was going to make this uneasiness worse. His heart fluttered like a bird in his chest for the blow which was to come, no doubt. He'd be cast aside again by his brother and unlike in his childhood, he understood why this time.
Lancelot laced his hands together, his shoulders sloping. Light reflected in the distance of the rolling hills, the dewy grasses almost twinkling like starlight. In their silence, he gathered his courage to say what he had thought of on his way here.
"The church taught me that I am damned." His voice came out softly like the hills, his usual rasp quietening. "But being with Ari has shown me that I am not."
Hector was not entirely sure where this was going and kept his eyes forwards for now, still anticipating the cut to the tie between them.
For all his life, Lancelot's mind had been someone else's. His choices of who to obey and who to hate had not been his own. But who he loved and what he thought of those around him was his decision now with his newfound free will. He had made up his mind. "You are right, I should hate you. But for all that has happened in our lives... I won't." He took a breath, turning to the younger who was already looking at him, eyes blue like his own and glossing over. "You're still my brother, and I am the last to tell someone who they should or should not love."
It came so easily that for a second, Hector thought his brother's acceptance was perhaps a twisted joke. But a ghost of a smile flickered on Lancelot's face and the dread in his veins settled to an alleviating calm.
"Thank you." Hector was uncommonly solemn. "That means a lot... coming from you."
His gaze flicked up and away a few times to Lancelot's expression, under the lingering impression that at any moment his brother was going to change his mind and push him away. There was still a hesitant bundle of nerves in his throat, residual from earlier when he snapped and intentionally incriminated himself.
There was a reason that he had not said anything of this to the elder Ash. "You were the only one I've ever been afraid to tell. I didn't expect you to be so... calm, given how the church raised you." It wasn't fair to make assumptions of his brother's beliefs, but as the spearhead of the Paladin crusade he didn't think that his prejudice would be any different to that of the rest of them.
Lancelot had never seen his brother so sheepish, always covering up how he felt with a rogue scoundrel façade. He envied that carefree nature. But now that he knew what was being covered, he couldn't help but feel some sort of guilt that he'd been so closed off, making his own blood believe that he had to hide from him.
He didn't want to say the wrong thing, for his words to come out not as he intended. He began to turn himself back to face the landscape touched by the cold midday sun. "I am learning that they were wrong. On many things."
Fey, love, salvation, his duty - so much of what he once blindly believed was truth was just the obscured opinions of another who knew no better. If he wanted others to accept him and his love for their queen then he had to almost lead by example, show them that he could change. Make well on his promise that his actions would speak for him.
Hector nodded as he guessed what his brother was alluding to, shifting his gaze sheepishly to their boots.
There was still some intrigue in Lancelot's mind around who Hector's lover had once been, and why he was thus here alone. "Who was he?" He asked, appropriately amending the question this time around.
A smile dusted across Hector's lips as he remembered all too well. "He wasn't anyone, the locksmith's son. Lived a few cottages over from us." The fond memories faded to a bitter sting which made him wipe at his nose and straighten himself. "You don't need the details, Lance. Don't want you fainting off of the edge of here." He scuffed a tiny stone off of the edge of the precipice to prove a point, listening as it rolled and scraped the rocky earth beneath them.
Lancelot mistakenly took offence, a crinkled brow again on his face as it turned. "You think me so spineless?" His brother's eyes shot to him in a flash.
"That's not what I meant, I just, I -" Hector quickly tried to clarify but fell short of a decent explanation. "I don't want to lose my brother." He'd tell him some day, when the news was not so raw and the conversation felt more comfortable than it did right now.
A softness took over the sharpness of Lancelot's features, much like it had done when his brother returned mostly unscathed by the Paladin ambush. "You will not," he promised, "not because of this anyway."
Because of this. Hector heard something pitiful in the way Lancelot said that. He knew its not what his brother expected, given the time they'd spent together he had probably thought to have him figured by now. But everyone has their secrets, and the fact that he does not care for what sits between a person's legs when it came to affections was his.
"Right." He looked down to where the healing wound was along his arm, recalling the day when his brother worried for him. "Something about a Paladin sword or infection, I recall," he shot back.
Lancelot had a growing urge to tell him that on occasion his jokes were not necessary, but found himself smiling at that one and played along, casting his eyes over the land. "Something like that."
They fell back again to their usual routine, of Lancelot being poised and focussed whereas Hector intended to rile him up in some way. "I see you're not tense anymore. Did you pull off my suggestion of finding a tent?" He tried to find some familiar, lighter ground between them again.
Of course Hector's need to pry would never be satisfied, and Lancelot was annoyed with himself that he didn't have a more praiseworthy answer. "We have... spoken."
Hidden in quiet corners and around the dark side of moon lit trees. But no, nothing beyond heated kisses and warm embraces.
"Spoken, is that all?" Hector sounded disappointed, perhaps even sorry for his brother.
"Remember it is the queen that you are speaking of." Lancelot thought it best to remind him. Ari may be open and friendly with her people but she was still their leader, and she deserved to have privacy just like any other.
"I haven't forgotten." Hector shook his head at him. "Anyway you're the one whose in bed with her, it's you that's gotta be mindful." Lancelot gave him a look, one that was more disapproving for this than their prior topic of conversation. He knew that the hooded one knew exactly what he was speaking of but he spelled it out for him anyway, hushing his voice for no reason in their solitude.
"You were so obvious the other night when that witch turned up - you put yourself right in front of Ari. And again when the raiders were attacked - you did it then too." He watched Lancelot deflate as if he hadn't even known that he had done these things. "You don't see the way that you look at her Lance but I do, so I doubt I'm the only one who sees it."
Lancelot looked in his brother's eyes, filled with a weighted worry. He flittered his gaze down to the ground, mouth twisting to find the words on his tongue. The tightening of his chest caused a gruffness in his voice. "You are saying that I am too vulnerable around her, that I should stay back and allow her to get hurt?"
Hector's shoulders dropped. He felt sorry for him in having to hide his affection and it was an unfortunate thing that he understood too, but that notion was only half of what he was trying to say.
In a rare moment of profound wisdom, Hector reached out for his brother's shoulder. "To care for someone does not make you vulnerable, Lancelot. If anything in this world it makes you stronger."
Twigs snapped behind them, interrupting this conversation and both Ash men turned sharply, mirroring each other in reaching for their swords. Both were surprised to see that it was a friend and not a foe who startled them.
Gawain was wading through the slightly longer grass towards them on the outcrop, a look of determination on his face mixed with something else that neither Ash could pin down as they lowered their swords back into their scabbards.
Lancelot was more concerned for how much the Green Knight had overheard of their talk than the reason for him being here. A thought passed through his mind that maybe something had happened in the camp, but the knight would be traveling with more haste if that were true.
Green eyes came up once Gawain was out of the grass, shifting between the two of them before settling on the younger. "Hector, you may go back, I can take over for you."
"Oh, erh." The two Ash men shared a cautious glance before they looked to the Green Knight. Their friend's offer sounded more like an order than an offer though, and neither knew why. Hector didn't particularly wish to leave but Gawain was eyeing him expectedly, enough for him to cower. "Okay, well I'll see you later, brother." There was an edge of trepidation in his voice as he said his goodbye and walked away from the rocky outcrop, looking back at the remaining pair with unsettledness in his eyes.
Lancelot knew before anything else was spoken that this was not an optional situation - the Green Knight had dismissed his brother with too much intent. Gawain replaced Hector where he had been stood at his side, hands resting on his hips in his typical casual stance. This wasn't unusual to the two of them anymore, but something was off today.
The suspicion grew in his veins in their silence until he could no longer hold his tongue. "What is it that you are wanting to say, Green Knight?" As he looked across the hills, he had no inkling of what it could be, only that it was evidently worth bothering him with.
Gawain did not shift or change, mulling over what he was here to advise. "There's a boat in the port," he began, green eyes staring across the landscape, "it is heading east to where the sun shines and rain doesn't rot your toes." He lifted his foot out to stress the suggestion and laughed to himself, though it lacked in much genuine humour.
His jaw began to ache from where Lancelot grit his teeth, hearing what his friend was not truly saying. With hands fidgeting out of sight, his composure waning - he challenged - "Are you trying to tell me to leave, Gawain?"
Tell you? That wording wasn't quite was Gawain would have chosen. He was eloquent in his depth. "I am merely saying that it could be easier for you..." He slowed for emphasis, "Where nobody knows your name."
__________
wc: 5.7k
This was so difficult to make gifs for, so you get one of Hector :)
IT WAS GAWAIN WHO HAD SEEN THEM!!
Hector, my baby. ILY.
Lancelot accepting him as he is is *growth*
And um Gawain, what are you trying to say?