lanselos_du_lac

Lancelot tightens his arms around her, gazing at her -- he feels too many things to say, just now.

(He loves her, he is fairly certain he does, but he has already said as much in telling her he would not leave her. He burns with loss, and the ache of knowing the truth of what he feels for Arthur, and the gathering understanding that if they had all but known better there didn't need to be a decade or more of hurt and deception and drawing apart instead of together. He is hopeful and lost all at once.)

So instead he pulls her in, hugs her close, resting his cheek on her hair for a moment.