Page 19 of Embrace of Dragons

Except, everything Lancelot wore seemed especially made for him. He dressed all in gray, the lightweight fabrics form-fitting without molding to his body. He also wore a “beanie” on his head, covering the shock of his platinum hair. But if his intention was to hide himself from notice, he needn’t have bothered.

Everyone always noticed him. He simply did not possess the looks and form that could be ignored.

Arthur had certainly tried. To no avail.

Without a word, he set off on a blood-pumping pace in the direction of the park.

In his time, running for sport had never been part of his daily life. He trained to fight, or he fought. Either in hand-to-hand combat or on the back of a horse. Running was for foot soldiers.And they didn’t need to train for it when all they had to do was know how to carry the weight of their armor and weapons while charging at enemy forces.

In the many months Arthur spent in the modern world, he had a lot to adjust to. He was grateful for a place amongst the Beasts and other immortals in the Yukon Territories. Grateful for the shelter that provided all conceivable luxuries he could ever need.

He enjoyed training and learning new martial moves with warriors far stronger and more experienced than he. He liked contributing to the building of new homes for the local villagers and doing physically taxing chores. His days were full, and his body was tired at the end of them.

But his mind never stopped. The restlessness within him only churned faster, like a top that never ceased spinning.

He’d had a lot of time to think, even though he avoided it, since he was “liberated” from the Celestial Realm. A magical prison of the Jade Emperor’s making, was his own interpretation.

He was made to understand that though Ben, Ere, Annie, Red, Rui and Wolfe had broken him out, it was Lancelot who saved him.

He’d been dealt a mortal wound in his own time, turned to stone in the Celestial Realm to preserve his life, then brought back to life again through the binding of his life force to Lancelot’s.

Why did the man volunteer to do this? Why did he insist on following Arthur everywhere, always watching from the shadows, protecting him?

Words had been said between them (Arthur’s words) that could not be unsaid. Whether Guinevere was solely to blame or all of them equally, Arthur didn’t care anymore. Too much of hispast, too much of the pain he wanted desperately to forget, was tied up with Lancelot.

He didn’t know who he was anymore, if not a King who fought for and protected his people. After Guinevere was gone, his duty was all he had to live for.

Everything else was a lie.

Now, he was no one. He did not know what kind of life he wanted to lead. Left on his own, he didn’t even know how he would make a living. To provide for himself much less anyone who might depend on him.

Yet, Lancelot continued to follow him. The daft manvoluntarilyand permanently attached himself to Arthur.

Arthur both deeply resented him for it and was immeasurably grateful.

At least he was not alone in this. He never felt alone when Lance was near, even if chasms of grief and heartache separated them…

~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~

Reign of Uther Pendragon, Dark Ages Britain.

Was it any surprise that Lancelot excelled in all of the events, hands down?

After the elven creature roundly defeated Arthur in the toughest event, up close and personal, where all of a warrior’s capabilities were put to the test, everything else seemed like a foregone conclusion.

He brought back the largest stag Arthur had ever seen to win the hunt. He beat everyone else in the horse race by such a long lead, they couldn’t even see the dust kicked up by his steed’s hooves.

Gratifyingly for Arthur’s competitive spirit, Lancelot’s side of the melee lost, despite the other man’s best effort to carry the skirmish on his own shoulders.

In group events such as these, no one wanted to side against Arthur. All of the best battle-honed warriors chose his side to fight on. If Lancelot chose to be contrary, he should have reconciled himself with the inevitable loss.

But it had been a close thing.

Even while his side lost rather pitifully, Lancelot himself remained standing. If the referee hadn’t called the event, he would have kept on fighting. And Arthur wasn’t entirely certain he wouldn’t have won against them all in the end.

To conclude the first day, Arthur retired to his tent with a body covered in bruises, bones aching and feet dragging. But inside, he was filled with exhilaration.

He’d never encountered a warrior the likes of Lancelot before. Never even dreamed such a man could exist. And he was only a boy!

---