#sonlance

“Here—this is a good spot.”

Sonic spread his arms out wide as they approached said spot, just off the riverbank. A sprawling oak tree cast shade over the otherwise open landscape, and flecks of sunlight touched the ground through the leaves. Sonic sat himself down against the oak tree’s trunk and let out a long, contented sigh, closing his eyes. “Perfect.”

Lancelot, however, stopped dead in his tracks five feet from Sonic and turned around, sword pointed to the ground and his hands resting on the hilt.

Sonic opened an eye, stared at Lancelot through it, and then opened the other, stared some more, and sighed loudly.

Lancelot didn’t react.

“C’mon, Lancelot,” Sonic said, sitting up. “You know I didn’t invite you along to stay there and stand guard all afternoon! Don’t be so boring.”

“It’s simply my duty,” Lancelot said stoically. “Also, I applaud you decision to leave the cape and crown behind, but I do wish you would have brought your sword, my lord.”

Sonic groaned even louder. “If I brought that loudmouth along, we’d never get any peace.”

“Regardless, my lord.”

“Regardless,” Sonic mimicked, standing up. “I don’t think there’s any threat you’ll have to, er...save me from here, Lancelot. Hey, is that even your real name?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Sonic watched Lancelot from behind, waiting for a response to his first statement. Of course, none came. He sighed again and approached his ever-loyal knight, setting a hand on his shoulder gently and speaking more softly. “I’m serious, Lance. I wanted you to have a few moments of reprieve, too. That’s why I asked you along.”

Lancelot’s shoulders fell just slightly, slowly, hesitantly.

“Please? Put your sword down and sit with me for a bit?”

“Al… alright, my lord,” Lancelot conceded, sheathing his sword. He walked with Sonic back to the tree, lying his sword down in the grass and being careful to take a seat a respectful distance from his king. His king, however, wasn’t having it, and scooted closer to his knight.

“You don’t have to call me that all the time, you know.”

“Very well, my king.”

“No, dude,” Sonic shook his head, sighing. “Just… call me Sonic, alright?”

“King Sonic.” Lancelot nodded.

“Close enough, I guess.” Sonic rolled his eyes, stopping the roll directly above him to stare into the canopy of leaves above them. A single yellowing leaf floated down, landing on the grass a few feet away from them, and Sonic looked back out over the river. It was early autumn, and only some of the trees had started to change color, highlighting the otherwise vivid greens with pops of red and orange and yellow here and there. He’d never been much of a winter fan, but he loved the prelude to it: the brilliant colors of fall and the crispness in the air, even on sunny days like this.

Content and relaxed, he instinctively leaned into Lancelot, resting his head on his armored shoulder—and immediately felt the knight’s body stiffen beside him.

“Your h—King… Sonic..?”

Sonic glanced up at Lancelot, and couldn’t keep himself from smiling at the black hedgehog and his absolutely flustered face. “Yes?” he asked innocently, cuddling up just a bit closer.

“Is, um,” Lancelot stammered, seeming about three seconds away from spontaneous combustion, “is this… allowed?”

“Is what allowed?”

There was a slow but heavy sigh, and a cautious string of words to follow: “I’m… a knight, and you’re… my king.” Something accented the otherwise-flustered words, something…

“Hmmmm,” Sonic considered, reaching down for Lancelot’s hand. He took it in his own, and tilted his head at it. The blue hedgehog was not oblivious to Lancelot’s stolen stares, his fierce overprotectiveness, the way he found every opportunity to kneel in reverence and, when he was particularly brave (or overcome, as it were), kiss Sonic’s gauntlet—the way his dedication was just ever so slantways and different than that of Sir Percival or Sir Gallahad. “Well, you all decided that I’m the king, right?”

“Ye…s.”

“And logic would have it that the king can say what is and isn’t allowed.”

“Of course.”

“I can also ask for council on my decision.”

“Y…es.”

“Do you think it ought to be allowed?”

“I…” Lancelot hesitated. He looked away from Sonic—then back at Sonic—then down at the ground—then up at his sword. “I am… unsure how I am to proceed, your highness.”

“Hey.” Sonic held Lancelot’s hand just slightly tighter in his own, soft eyes boring into Lance’s. “Look. I’m being straight up and direct with you. I don’t want you fighting to please me or what you think it is I want. What I want is you to…” Sonic hesitated, choosing his words carefully for once, “be honest with me. You’re… my most trusted knight.”

Lancelot stared at Sonic, dumbstruck, before finally, a soft smile swept across his face. “I… cherish your words deeply, King Sonic.”

Sonic returned the smile, and nodded with a courtly grace. “Now… do you think this ought to be allowed?”

There was a long pause, a deep breath, and finally: “Y-Yes, your highness,” Lancelot stammered, fumbling to close his visor as if Sonic hadn’t already seen the deep blush on his cheeks.

“And in accordance with that—may I not only hold you close, but also kiss thine stately face? That’s what you refer to my face as, isn’t it? Stately?”

“Plea—I—Y-Yes.”

“So as king,” Sonic continued, lifting Lancelot’s hand closer as he turned to face him, “I’ve decided it is not only allowed,” he said, staring Lancelot straight in the visor as he lifted Lancelot’s hand ever closer, “but reciprocated.”

And then he lay the kiss.

And if not for the intense warmth radiating off of the knight’s body, one might have mistaken him for dead—or at the least, cursed with a petrifying spell—from how he froze at that exact moment.

And Sonic would have been lying if he said he didn’t greatly, immensely enjoy it.

But Sonic wasn’t a liar, and so he let the giggle out audibly as he leaned over to dismantle Lancelot’s helmet. “You really don’t need this huge piece of junk obscuring that stately face, either. Have I told you how much I love when you say that? It’s really cute.”

“Y-Your highne—”

“I know, I know. It’s just chivalry.” Sonic grinned. “That means something way different where I’m from. Kinda funny, actually.”

Sonic finally eased up, letting Lancelot’s hand down and pulling away from his flustered face. He could see the cogs spinning in the black hedgehog’s head, about to spark and catch fire from moving too fast. He sat and waited for the figurative steam to dissipate before speaking again.

“Thanks a bunch for your council.” Sonic paused, watching Lancelot run a hand through his quills, before smiling, softly now. “I’m serious, though. You don’t have to hide your feelings behind that helmet or your knightly duties. Even if it is cute.”

Lancelot cleared his throat and finally spoke. “Well… thank you… Sonic.”

“You’re welcome, Lance.” Sonic winked. “Now can we just enjoy this shade and the river? Together.”