#shanic

Not this time. This time, he found himself feeling rather lonely. Gone was the comforting feeling that accompanied him when he’d wish to be alone. This felt unfamiliar, and he felt out of place.

Any job was supposed to make Lancelot feel worthy; make him feel as though he had a purpose, a usefulness to the kingdom’s thriving life. And he’d always felt this way, even during the most unbearable tasks. But now?...

Now, it felt different. Now, he’d wish to be by Arthur’s side, the taste of adventure on his tongue as they roamed the vast lands, tied to a duty and yet free.

It’s not that this feeling was new – far from it, really. It had always been difficult for the knight to return home – to return to the usual, to the mundane– when he’d experienced quests where the horizon felt unrecognizable in the strangest of ways, where the wind could whip your feet harshly, where everything felt different.

With every return to the castle, this feeling had grown, the need for a sudden excursion, the pull that urges you away from somewhere you’d once considered home.

This time was no exception. In fact, this time – for reasons beyond Lancelot’s comprehension – the need to be far away was unbearably overwhelming, almost managing to suffocate him. It was stronger than it had ever been, and the knight couldn’t help but ask himself why?

He should feel joy in serving in his Kingdom! He should feel fulfillment in every task, regardless of what that entails!

And yet why do you wish to be by Arthur’s side, far away from the walls you guard now?

The knight had to resist the urge to physically shake his head, banishing the thoughts that gnawed at his mind. He knew better than to let himself be so reckless. It was highly inappropriate to think such things.

Still, – he desperately justified – wasn’t it simply normal to struggle to adjust oneself after being away from home for so long? Right, sure! Of course it was.

And while he was getting used to standing aimlessly for hours again, Arthur was surely in the same situation; struggling to adjust as royal advisors pinned him down to the chair in his office. It was highly likely that he was sitting for the same amount of time as Lancelot stood. (Or longer, possibly.)

It was normal, the knight supposed, that Arthur was so secluded to his desk. It made sense, really, to have such a hefty workload after spending a fair amount of time away from the castle – away from the responsibilities he tended to.

And yet, the thought of Arthur, locked away in his office and tied to an impossible amount of paperwork… it sent a cold shiver through the knight’s spine.

“Sometimes, it just doesn’t feel like I’m the right person for this.”

The king’s words echoed heavily in Lancelot’s mind. He could hear it as though it was spoken to him just now; a voice soft and full of chagrin. A voice that comforted him, that led an entire kingdom. A voice that was now trapped in between four walls.

This wasn’t right. And Lancelot was resolved to do something about it.

-

The knight paced anxiously in the hallway, walking the short distance from one stone wall to the other. He was surely about to light the carpet on fire, his steps rapidly burning across the thin red surface. Perhaps it would be more practical to walk down the length of the corridor, but at the end of it stood Lancelot’s destination, and he wasn’t sure he was quite ready to walk past it.

It was late, very late. But the evening was the only time where Lancelot found himself free. (With the exception of the nights he spent guarding the castle. Luckily, he wasn’t given those shifts very often – there were several others who somehow preferred working nights. Those tasks were therefore handed to the few who could somehow stand them.)

The evening’s quietness was a blessing and a curse. Lancelot was content to find himself alone here, undisturbed by staff that most likely slept at this hour. It allowed for frantic and nervous pacing, away from any that would question it.

But the night also brought some rather unfortunate things. What if Arthur was no longer in his office? What if the king had retired to his bed for the evening? The knight was far from being permitted in the royal bedroom, that was for certain. He was already risking a lot by showing up here, a few dozen steps away from the door of the king’s office.

He was acting irrationally, out of stupidity. If he knew what was best for him, he’d turn around and retire to his bedchamber.

But he wasn’t doing this for himself. He was doing this for the king. And he truly feared for Arthur’s well being; the blue hedgehog could only stand so much, and his advisors were known for pushing him past his limit. (Lancelot despised them, but the king was obliged to keep them around, even if it seemed like he didn’t appreciate them much either.)

Lancelot’s duty was to aid his king, in any manner possible. Some would call him ridiculous, over-baring, or perhaps other unkind words; but this didn’t matter. Because Arthur’s happiness was essential, and it seemed like the knight was the only one to think so.

He mustered up his courage, taking a shaky breath that was frankly out of character for someone as stoic and assured as Sir Lancelot. Turning on his heels, he reluctantly travelled the steps necessary to arrive upon Arthur’s office. There was no one guarding the heavy wooden door, likely dismissed some time ago.

And yet, from beneath to doorway, a soft golden light swept the edges of Lancelot’s feet. He found himself relieved to find Arthur’s presence; and yet he felt a little annoyed, too. It was far too late for the king to be awake and working, Lancelot would’ve preferred to find his office empty.

The knight brought an unsteady hand up, giving a soft tap to the door before him. A few seconds passed, and then there was a response, as soft as the knock he’d given. “Who goes there?” It was tired and a bit defensive, perhaps annoyed by the sudden disturbance.

Lancelot shuffled awkwardly, responding through the barrier. “It is Sir Lancelot, my liege.” Silence filled the hallway once again as the knight awaited a response, feeling an odd mix of excitement and nerves at being near the king’s presence once again.

It had been a few days, and yet why did it feel like an eternity?

There was no response, just the muffled sound of someone shuffling around. And then, the door was opened, basking the gloomy hallway in a warm light. Lancelot stood face to face with Arthur, who’s features softened considerably as he recognized the man before him. A familiar smile stretched on his face, making the knight’s stomach flip. He’d missed that grin.

“Lance!” He whispered excitedly, observing the areas that surrounded the knight, relieved to see he’d come alone. “It’s really you, huh?” The comment was weird, but the dark hedgehog did nothing to question it, nodding softly. Arthur stepped sideways, extending a hand behind him, a grand gesture to welcome Lancelot inside. “Please, come in.” He urged when Lancelot seemed hesitant. Any form of doubt vanished at the words, and the knight stepped into the office, letting Arthur close the door behind him.

The room looked as it always had, bookshelves lining the stone walls, sturdy and wooden, stretching from the floor to the ceiling – (the only exception being a large window behind the royal desk. The bookshelves effortlessly curved around the large round opening, as if the wood had a mind of its own.) They were (quite predictably) covered in books, but it didn’t make the sight any less mystical. This collection was expansive, these tomes nothing short of impressive. The small library contained every colour imaginable, some items even bound in leather (or other materials Lancelot failed to recognize.) Most of them were quite weathered, as ancient as the castle itself.

In the middle of the room stood the sturdy oak desk (wood identical to the bookshelves of course); it was gently placed atop a lush crimson carpet. The only thing that differed from the usual scenery was what sat atop the desk; a pile of parchments tall enough to be compared to the size of Lancelot’s torso. The knight eyed the paper with distaste, his suspicions confirmed in an instant; they were working the poor king to exhaustion.

Arthur strode around the furniture, moving to sit in the plush armchair that sat behind it. He swung his legs over the armrest, leaning his back against the other side. It hardly looked comfortable, and yet Arthur was grinning widely, seemingly at ease with the position. He gestured for Lancelot to sit, and the knight obeyed, taking a seat in the chair that opposed the king’s.

Lancelot still wore his armour, but opted to lift his visor, allowing his sovereign to see ruby irises. Unlike the knight, Arthur simply bore a scarlet cape; its edges adorned in white feathers. His golden gloves sat atop his hands, metallic and shimmery in the soft light of the chandelier. Apart from his shoes, the only other accessory was the crown; simple yet lustrous, golden, and adorned with precious jewels. It wasn’t gaudy or obnoxious; it was light and rather small, and somehow still fascinating. Lancelot had always admired it, secretly adoring the way it contrasted with Arthur’s royal blue quills.

It was strange to see him in this royal attire. Arthur opted for simplicity in their travels, finding a distaste for anything too lavish. The knight had always found him dashing in simple fashions, but this style suited him just as well, painting him in a different light. Lancelot couldn’t help but muse: For a man that didn’t feel like a king, by god did he ever look stunning dressed as one.

“Lance?” Arthur questioned, tilting his head (disregarding the fact that his crown could easily slip and fall – it didn’t, thankfully.) The mention of his name snapped the knight out of his trance. The king was smiling brightly, and Lancelot couldn’t help but feel as though he’d missed something.

“I’m sorry-?” He apologized, not knowing what he was apologizing for. This didn’t seem to bother Arthur in the slightest, the hedgehog spinning around in his chair to sit (somewhat) properly. This was changed quite rapidly as he immediately propped his elbows on the desk, resting his head atop his palms. Lancelot found the sight to be charming. There was something amusing about the casualness in Arthur’s movements versus the regality of his appearance. (Nobody else could really make that work, but his majesty certainly pulled it off.)

“Don’t be sorry! I just asked what brought you here.”

“Oh.” Lancelot muttered softly, bashing himself for having gotten so distracted. It wasn’t like him to miss sentences, especially when spoken from the king. (What was the matter with him lately? He was behaving so out of character.) “I wanted to check if you were alright.” He answered honestly, not feeling the need to evade the truth. “I hadn’t seen you in a few days and I thought it best to assure that you were still alive.”

Arthur laughed loudly, a rich sound that enveloped Lancelot whole. The king moved to lean back in the chair, clutching at his stomach, as unmoving as ever. “Aw, man.” He sighed, giggly. “Was that a joke?”

The knight hadn’t meant to be humorous – to be genuinely concerned about Arthur’s safety at all times was a heavy thing to carry around. But, he supposed the statement sounded quite funny, and seeing Arthur smile was a reward unlike any other.

“I leave you for a few days and you develop a sense of humour, huh?” The blue hedgehog teased, still lightly clutching his stomach. (He’d managed to shift positions three times in the last five minutes, all while Lancelot sat still as a statue.) The knight was smiling shyly, revelling in the presence of his sovereign.

“You tend to rub off on people, sire.” He mused, content to see Arthur get thrown into another fit of giggles. It was only when the king’s laughter calmed down that Lancelot’s smile faded, replaced by a slightly concerned pout.

As nice as it was to see the king once again, Lancelot couldn’t help but feel concern nipping at his mind. Although Arthur’s behaviour was quite jovial, there was something hidden beneath the surface. Perhaps harder to pinpoint if you weren’t around the sovereign often – Lancelot had spent enough time besides this man, enough to notice when something had changed.

It was very small, almost dismissible. Arthur’s eyes were a tad duller than usual, and underneath them sat dark circles. The knight fought the need to wince – such a reaction would be highly inappropriate, and he didn’t wish to worry the man before him. Though, he wondered: Had the king gotten any sleep since his return to the castle?

The answer was more than likely yes, since it had been a little bit since their return. He’d certainly slept, or else Lancelot would be facing a corpse, not a living, breathing, and smiling individual. He’d slept, but definitely not enough.

“So, you came here to check up on me, huh?” The blue hedgehog asked. The words were not malicious, they were spoken softly and of concern. Lancelot had missed this voice. He felt guilty in the way it excited him.

“Yes, of course. Your absence is of concern to me, I only wish to make sure you’re alright.” (A lie, Lancelot would realize if he possessed more self-awareness. Time would make a fool of him.)

“Thanks, Lance.” The king’s verdant eyes shimmered softly, and although they bore the burden of exhaustion, they seemed to shine with something else, like they always did when the two were together. “I’m okay, though, really.” He reassured in a small voice. The knight nodded softly, not wanting to disagree with his king. He knew Arthur was lying; it was evident in the large stack of parchment besides him that the king hadn’t had a moment to himself since his return.

“Yes, of course, I-“ Lancelot felt guilty, knowing the man before him held so much pain, keeping it all locked away, placing the wellbeing of an entire kingdom before his own. It wasn’t Lancelot’s job to ease this pain. He wasn’t supposed to be aware of it.

I should be going. I’m sorry for interrupting you.

The words he wanted to speak so desperately were lodged in his throat, unable to escape. He needed to stick to his code, to chivalry, to formalities, to everything he’d been taught. But he couldn’t. He simply couldn’t. Before him sat a person that was overwhelmed and trapped, so how could Lancelot stand by and watch this, how could he dare to walk away? His heart ached. He’d been forced to confront his own moralities too often as of recent, and it was surely about to tear him apart. How could a man violate his own principles like this? Lancelot was not sure how he could manage to do such a thing, and yet one glance at Arthur was enough to make the knight doubt everything he’d ever known.

He would protect his king until the day it got him killed.

Lancelot did not walk away. He did not apologize for his intrusive behaviour; he did not speak in the way he’d been taught to. Instead, he spoke softly, as if he was speaking to a friend. Because that’s what Arthur was becoming, was it not?

“Would you like to get out of here?”

His words surprised Arthur, who tilted his head again to look at him curiously. “I’m not technically allowed to leave the castle at this hour.”

“Oh.” Lancelot was surprised to find himself disappointed. He’d allowed his mouth to speak freely, he’d neglected to think twice before speaking, and now, he would live with the consequences. Even if it made him feel ill. “Yes, of course.” He tried to recover, offering a timid smile, despite the metal that separated him from the other hedgehog. “I was being a bit ridiculous, I suppose.” His voice was barely a whisper.

“But!” The king spoke excitedly, springing up from his chair to stand besides Lancelot. “I happen to be king, and, if I recall correctly, whatever I say goes, doesn’t it?” He bounced from one foot to the other, his energy sparking uncontrollably, as if he hasn’t been locked in the same room for a little over a week.

Hope sparked in the knight’s chest, any previous chagrin dissipated under Arthur’s words. “Yes, I suppose that-“ He’d started to respond, but Lancelot’s words were cut off as Arthur grabbed his wrists with his hands, tugging harshly and yanking the knight up to his feet very suddenly. The dark hedgehog yelped surprisingly, finding himself standing much too close to his sovereign. A blush threatened to burn through his cheeks as Arthur observed him fondly, taking the knight’s hands in his own.

Thank the gods he was wearing a helmet, the face he’d pulled was certainly very idiotic.

“Well? What are you waiting for, Lance?” He spoke excitedly, and when Arthur received no reply, he didn’t wait any further; the king spun on his heels, hastily dragging his knight out the door.

-

“This is not the way to courtyard?” Lancelot questioned as Arthur rapidly led them through the corridors, trying – and failing – to remain as quiet as possible. They spoke in hushed voices; the knight afraid that someone would see the two of them in this state.

“Nope!” Arthur spoke excitedly, offering no further explanation. The knight hummed softly, excitement buzzing through his veins. He was not going to question the king any further, curious as to where the blue hedgehog could possibly be leading them. There wasn’t much in this part of the castle, this area tended to be highly restricted.

The knight was perhaps too eager. This felt a lot like an adventure, like a way to escape the mundane aspects of life. Like always, Lancelot craved adventure, and the promise of one – albeit short, he’d have to return to the castle by sunrise – was thrilling.

Arthur stopped moving suddenly, halting before two large ornate doors. Lancelot barely had time to catch himself, stopping before he could crash into the man besides him. Arthur held onto his hand tightly as he opened one of the doors, the two of them wincing as it creaked heavily.

The room behind the threshold was dark, but even in the absence of light, Lancelot recognized where Arthur had brought them. He’d never seen the room himself, but there were more than enough rumours to paint a vivid picture in his mind.

Arthur tugged at his arm, but Lancelot’s feet were rooted into the ground. He refused to step inside.

“Lance.” The king urged softly, trying to get the knight to budge. It was of no use, the dark hedgehog was much stronger than him, and he could hardly be moved.

“I can’t- Arthur, I can’t go in there.”

“Why not?” He spoke as though Lancelot was being ridiculous. Lancelot was absolutely not being ridiculous; he was the only one still holding onto common sense.

“Because it’s strictly forbidden.” He replied as though it was obvious, his eyes widened in a mild panic.

“And? I’m the king, remember?”

“Yes, but- what if people see?”

“They’re all asleep, dude.”

“But-“ Arthur rolled his eyes, yanking the knight with all of his strength before he could refuse once again. The pull would’ve normally thrown someone else to the ground, but it only managed to make Lancelot stumble forwards a few steps. It was enough distance to allow Arthur to firmly shut the door behind him, effectively trapping him in.

“Well, you’re here now anyway! Might as well enjoy it.” Arthur spoke jokingly, ignoring the way that Lancelot fidgeted, feeling tense, awkward, and out of place as he observed the space that surrounded him.

Arthur moved to ignite a lamp besides the bed, the small light barely enough to brighten the large room. Unable to stop himself, Lancelot marveled at the grand bedroom that stood before him, effectively shocked into a silence.

The rumours the maids had spread around did not do justice to the real thing, not by a landslide.

The first thing the knight could notice (the biggest thing in the room, for that matter), was the bed. The bed was absolutely massive, boldly adorned in striking crimson sheets that shimmered brightly in the low light. Lancelot guessed it to be silk, too shy to walk the distance and find out. The bed’s frame was larger than the mattress itself – wooden, with tall beams that stretched into a sort of pavilion. Hanging from the structure were cobalt curtains, adorned with golden thread. (They, too, shimmered – although, it was different than the way sheets glowed. Lancelot theorized these were made of velvet.)

The dark hedgehog almost cursed in astonishment, biting his tongue for the second time that night. It’s not like this speech would shock the king, who tended to curse quite often when they were alone. Still, he was reluctant to admit just how much this room excited him.

There were large bookshelves, and unlike the office, or the library, these displayed personal items as well as books. Lancelot could not discern them well enough in the darkness, surprised to find himself disappointed by this. (Perhaps there would be another time, another opportunity, where the knight could fully commit the room to memory. He shook this thought as soon as it had bloomed.)

The wardrobe besides the bookshelf was massive, nearly half the size of Lancelot’s entire room. On the other side of the room sat a vanity, a velvet stool that matched the curtains was tucked beneath it. (Lancelot noted that the curtains hung heavily upon large windows were the same as the ones on the bed. Whoever decorated had been very thorough – nothing was out of place.) There were large armchairs, additional dressers, and more carpet than was necessary. All in varying shades of oak, with bright reds and blues, the occasional purple seen here and there.

Lancelot drowned in the beauty in the king’s bedchamber, flustered and unable to speak. Arthur didn’t pay much attention to him, quickly moving around the room to fulfill some kind of task as his knight observed. The king shed his red cloak as well as his crown, throwing them haphazardly onto the large vanity. He moved to the wardrobe and extracted a dark charcoal cloak, similar to the one he’d worn on the night of the masquerade. This one was simpler, its thread the same colour as the fabric. There were no ornate patterns, no unnecessary lavishness, and yet, it suited him well, the knight mused. The king returned by his side, flipping the hood of his garment to conceal his royal blue quills. (they matched the curtains, although those could’ve been there far before him.)

“Ready?” Arthur questioned.

“Always.” Lancelot readily answered.

-

The wind nipped harshly at their feet as they ran, cutting through the dark horizon with no particular destination in mind. Arthur had started to brag about his speed, to which Lancelot had made a not-so-subtle comment uplifting his own. Someone had challenged the other (it had been Arthur, who would later refuse and insist that Lancelot had driven him to it), and they’d ended up far away from the castle, only stopping when their legs begged for it.

They found themselves at the top of a mountain, somewhere not too far from home. The castle could be seen in the distance, dark and imposing under the night’s gaze. Atop the mountain stood a single tree, its base the size of Lancelot’s entire room, with large branches that dangled loosely to caress the ground. Lancelot had never seen it, or any of the like; it was magnificent. It’s there the two hedgehogs stopped, sitting down in the cold soil and leaning back against the sturdy trunk.

They quietly observed the horizon before them; in between small verdant leaves stretched a portrait of their beautiful kingdom. The castle and its town, surrounded by lush plains and mountains that stood proudly. The flora varied drastically all over the land, but here, it consisted mainly of pines, their sturdy frames covering entire portions of land. Above it all stood the sky, beautiful and imposing as the stars stretched on to infinity; each constellation carefully eying the land bellow it. Watching, protecting. Lancelot was in awe, finding that there was nothing quite mesmerizing as the sight that stood before them.

Once he’d regained enough strength, Arthur shot Lancelot a sly smirk. “I totally won, by the way.” The king was hardly one to resist bragging, even if his arrogance was slightly exaggerated. The knight hummed in contentment, not upset in the slightest. There was no point in arguing, he’d lost and that was that. Arthur was a worthy opponent, strong in ever sense of the word. It did not bother Lancelot that his companion was able to surpass him with ease; he was the only one to do so anyway, and Lancelot took a liking to the rare challenge.

The knight shuffled quietly, bringing armoured fingers to his head, positioning them atop his helmet. Carefully, it was removed, placed gently by his right side, Arthur taking up the space to his left. Lancelot ran a hand through his dishevelled quills, combing them to the best of his abilities. The motion was slow, yet carefully practiced. It felt calming.

“It’s beautiful, dontcha think?” The king whispered in soft admiration. Lancelot opened his mouth, shifting his gaze to the man besides him for the first time since they’d sat down. He’d expected Arthur to be fixated on the horizon, but the king’s bright eyes were solely focused on him. It sent a shiver down his spine, and he closed his mouth suddenly, feeling all sense of basic sentence structure leaving his body.

He felt bare. It wasn’t often that the knight found himself without his helmet. Arthur was the person who’d seen him without it often, and yet, Lancelot still felt very odd without it. Vulnerable, exposed. His every expression easily discernable.

But he didn’t feel uncomfortable. He never felt uncomfortable around Arthur. And so, even if it rendered him a bit more timid than usual, there was a part of him that somehow enjoyed it. To be able to bare himself in this way, to share this part of himself with the man who unknowingly held all of his admirations.

Arthur’s smile was as bright as ever, his spirit gleeful and free. Lancelot didn’t need to pry to know; the trip was easing the exhausted king’s mind.

“What are you referring to, Arthur?” Lancelot whispered back after a long silence. They didn’t need to whisper; there wasn’t a soul to be seen for miles. And yet, it felt necessary. This moment was basked in tenderness, neither man daring to shatter its soothing effect.

The blue hedgehog’s smile only seemed to get wider at the mention of his name. He would never get wary of hearing it fall from those lips. (The king thought it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard; those six letters, spoken in that deep rumble that seemed to make his soul come alive, his heart catch on fire. – He wouldn’t admit this, he was barely able to let himself know it.)

“Everything.” The king answered. He reluctantly pulled his eyes from the knight besides him, moving to observe the horizon.

“Mm.” Lancelot hummed once again, a soft agreement that warmed the hedgehog besides him. They were subjected to silence once more, and neither dared to interrupt it, feeling comfort in each other’s presence.

The king had felt a hole in his heart, the absence of his most trusted knight was something he could not bear. He hadn’t chosen this, however – it had been one event after the other, people shoved in his face, speaking rapidly of important things. It was paperwork and more of it, never-ending requests and rule changes, enough to make a regular man nauseous.

Arthur was no regular person – far from it. And yet he’d started to feel dizzy, cooped up in between four walls for hours on end, never knowing escape from the objects that surrounded him. Servants brought meals to his desk, retrieving the empty plates when they were done.

And he’d found himself thinking about Lancelot far too much. Did Lancelot think of him, too? Surely he had, for he’d come to save him from the continuous nightmare that was life. A real knight in shining armour, sitting so still besides him, gazing up at stars like they held all the answers.

The king was staring – again.

“I missed you, you know?” He’d spoken before any thought, ignoring the advice many had given him. Consequences could easily be dealt with, but Arthur could not bear to bite his tongue.

“You- you missed me?” Lancelot turned to face him once more, observing his sovereign with the same admiration he’d held for the stars above him.

“Yes, of course dude!” Arthur playfully jabbed him with his elbow, giggling at the way it caught Lancelot off guard; nearly making the knight tumble sideways. “You have no clue how boring it is up there.” He uttered a bit sadly, dismissively waving towards the castle’s general area. None of them turned to look at their home, eyes fixed on the other.

“Hm, I can only imagine.” The dark hedgehog heaved a small sigh, offering the ghost of a smile to his companion. “Although, if you must know, I’ll have you realize that guard duty is far less entertaining without you by my side.” He confessed, ignoring the warm sensation that sneaked its way up his muzzle.

“Hm, I bet.” Arthur said pensively. “It’s always funner when we’re together eh?”

“I must agree with you on that subject.”

“You say that like you don’t agree with me on everything!” The king rolled his eyes playfully, any semblance of annoyance ruptured by the grin on his features. Lancelot was beginning to smile too, small fangs pressing lightly against his bottom lip, very visible to the man before him. “I can be wrong, yaknow? Like yeah, I’m the smartest, and the coolest, and the king, but still! Pobody’s nerfect, right?” He poked Lancelot’s reddened cheek, unable to see the blush in the faint light.

“Pobody’s nerfect?” The knight questioned, an eyebrow quirking with amusement.

“Mhm, never heard that before?”

“I can’t say I have.”

“Mm. You’re a funny guy, Lance.” His words were beginning to feel tired, quieter. A breeze swept underneath the branches’ protection, sending a shiver up Arthur’s spine. Lancelot noted this, his face morphing into one of concern.

“Are you cold, Arthur?” he questioned, worry pooling in his gut.

“Little bit. No big deal though!” he reassured, hugging himself tightly. Ever the optimistic one, even when freezing.

“It is of concern to me, you know? If the king were to fall ill under my guard, I fear the royal advisors might never let me step foot near him again.”

“Oh, Shush! Don’t-“ But Arthur did not have time to finish his sentence before Lancelot was wrapping an arm around his shoulders, the other underneath his knees. Carefully – and a little awkwardly – the knight maneuvered the king to sit upon his lap, positioning him so that they’d be face to face; their noses mere inches away from each other.

Arthur yelped in surprise at the sudden shift, but he did not put up a fight. (Lancelot had almost expected him to. Arthur tended to put his needs behind other’s, reluctant to get help at times.) The king adjusted himself, sitting comfortably between Lancelot’s legs, his entire body warming in a matter of seconds.

The two men simply stared at each other. It’s not like Arthur had the option to look anywhere else, the only thing filling his vision – apart from the handsome knight before him – was the tree’s large trunk. He was stuck staring into ruby eyes, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Lancelot’s view was breathtaking, and yet he opted to keep his gaze on his sovereign, as if he were somehow better than the picturesque horizon beyond him. “Better?” The dark hedgehog inquired. He was fully prepared to do whatever it took to make the man before him warm again.

“Mhm, yeah- no, yeah, I’m- you-“ The king fumbled his words, a rare event to bear witness to. For as many times as Arthur spent the entire day speaking, he never so much as fumbled once. Lancelot laughed at the king’s misery, a deep and warm sound that manage to further the blue hedgehog’s distressed state. He felt woozy and fuzzy all over, like he’d had too much to drink – and yet he hadn’t consumed a single drop of alcohol since the masquerade, a few evenings ago. Good luck explaining that later. He thought to himself.

“Glad to hear you’re doing fine.” Lancelot finally responded as his laugh subsided, leaving room for an unusual smile. Arthur noted the presence of fangs in the corners of his grin. How much of yourself have I yet to see? How much of yourself have you hidden from me? The king wondered in awe as he observed the sharp teeth.

“Mhm, yeah, totally.” He responded absent-mindedly, the urge to verify how sharp these canines truly were was beginning to nip at him. He resisted – Lancelot would begin to think he was insane if he reached out and started caressing his teeth.

“If I may inquire, why did you only bring a simple cloak? Surely the one you bore earlier would’ve kept you a bit warmer?”

Arthur reluctantly tore his gaze away from the other’s mouth to fidget with the fabric of his garment, observing it in the low light.

“Oh, this is just the cloak I usually grab when I don’t wanna be seen. It’s pretty basic and hides my face well! Although it is pretty light, I must admit.” The hedgehog frowned a bit, dropping the fabric to bring his hand to Lancelot’s chest piece, running gloved fingers over engravings. “How are you not cold in this shiny thing?”

“My mother cast an enchantment upon it. It keeps me cool when the days are warmer, and it contains more heat when the nights run colder.” The knight swore he could feel the king’s touch, despite the metal that wrapped his hand, despite the metal that covered his chest, it burnt him – the same way if always did.

“Woah.” The king murmured in awe, paying closer attention the magical metal before him. It looked ordinary, there was no odd sheen to it, no special glow. And yet, Arthur swore he could feel it, this protectiveness that Lancelot’s mother had so tenderly given. He was fascinated. “Think she could make something for me sometime?” Arthur asked in excitement.

“One day.” Was all Lancelot offered.

Arthur hummed, continuing to trace patterns with his gloved finger. It made an odd noise, but it was quiet, and he couldn’t stop himself from doing it. The king was never one to sit still, much to the advisors’ chagrin. They never managed to make him kick the “bad habit.” Arthur didn’t think of it that way, he simply liked to move. It helped him focus, in a way that he couldn’t possibly explain.

“Who’s your mother anyway?” Arthur pried, curiosity nibbing him. Lancelot had never mentioned any family, and he rarely spoke of anything personal. The blue hedgehog couldn’t resist the urge to question, to know more.

Lancelot didn’t answer for another while, smile fading as his glance was casted elsewhere, somewhere far beyond Arthur. The king let out a small yawn, the evening taking a grasp of his body. His limbs had begun to feel heavier, his head a little weary.

He’d spent far too many nights laying awake, and this was the one he couldn’t see through? His eyelids felt as though they weighed a ton, but he fought them, determined to banish this sudden fatigue. Lancelot’s gaze fell back to his, expression neutral as he assessed the man before him.

“Perhaps that conversation is better left for another day. You are quite exhausted Arthur; you’ve missed too much sleep.” Lancelot had slipped through the cracks, managing to avoid a conversation he did not wish to have.

“Mnm? No ‘m not tired.” Arthur tried to defend himself, but the low rumble of his favourite knight was soothing, lulling him into a comfortable state. Too comfortable.

His head drooped down, forehead colliding with a metallic shoulder plate. It was oddly warm. Oh, right, it’s enchanted! He mused. Arthur seriously needed something like that of his own, the hedgehog had a weird inability to dress weather appropriate.

He rested his weight on his companion, arms lazily moving to wrap themselves around Lancelot’s torso. Arthur was greedily enveloping him, probably too tired to notice he was practically snuggling into his most trusted knight.

Lancelot briefly stiffened, but relaxed quickly, the familiarity of the king’s arms overwhelming. He’d craved this touch since they’d danced. Since when had he known this?

“We need to return to the castle.” He urged quietly. “Need I remind you that you could get sick out here, your majesty?” The knight had uttered the title in an attempt to jostle the other awake, but Arthur showed no resistance to the formality. How much sleep had he lost? The question sprung into his head once more.

“His majesty is suuuuper warm now!” His voice was muffled by the contact, and Lancelot felt his breath become irregular, his heart throwing an unsure rhythm in his chest. He feared Arthur might hear it, but the man seemed too dazed to notice much of anything. “Plus, yer like. Super comfortable, yaknow that? Super warm and super like nice and warm. Mm.”

“Is that so?” Lancelot’s words were barely above a whisper – the flutter of a moth’s wing could be heard louder than that. His heart was doing funny things; funny things it only did when in presence of Arthur. The stubborn, adventurous, and absolutely exhausted pile of blue fur in his lap.

The pile of fur in question that was now completely and uncharacteristically silent, his breaths barely visible beyond the thin cape he bore. They were slow and steady, an undeniable indication that Arthur was now sound asleep. In Lancelot’s lap.

The knight muttered a curse to himself. What was he going to do with a mighty sovereign, sleeping upon him? Why did this situation feel like a blessing, when it should’ve been an annoying inconvenience? And why was his entire body melting under the touch?

Lancelot had a million questions, and terrifyingly: zero answers.

But he knew that they were alone here. He knew he could let himself slip even further, if only a little. The ebony hedgehog moved quietly, his arms shifting to envelope the hedgehog before him. Embracing him, pulling him closer to the warmth of his chest.

As much as he’d wanted to, the knight could not bring himself to regret his decision. Arthur had come alive, far away from his responsibilities – just like he always had when they were alone.

Lancelot had done good, had done better than he could’ve ever hoped for.

Tonight had felt so grand. That same jittery feeling overtook him; the one he’d felt all night after sharing one too many dances with Arthur. (He’d barely slept, but rest had been the least of his concerns.)

He’d seen the king’s bedroom in all of its glory, he’d admired the vast horizon that sat ahead of them, and he rested upon a massive tree, the biggest he’d ever seen– but that wasn’t it. And Lancelot knew it. Because, what made any day larger than life itself, what brightened the sun, and what made Lancelot’s heart twist and turn in unpredictable and fascinating ways, was Arthur.

It was, it had always been, and it would always be – Arthur.

So much for returning to the castle before sunrise, huh?

-

When the king awoke the next morning, he’d found himself surrounded by silk bedsheets, comfortably nestled in a warm bed. A dark cloak – one that belonged to him – rested upon his vanity, neatly folded besides a few discarded items.

And as his memory caught up with his conscience, he found himself wondering just how he’d gotten here.

-

<- previous part!!

following part!! ->

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A/N

> this was so lomg hhhhhhhh!!!! it’s pretty rare that i write such lengthy things, i could’ve definitely cut some parts or split the chapter but i didn’t really feel like it!! It seemed right to leave it like this :3