[Semi-Closed Post] Sadmas Aftermath

[lanselos_du_lac]

Rather suddenly, after this latest mansion event or incursion of unexpected visitors, Lancelot will not be seen around and about as has come to be usual for him. He is not drilling in the field in the mornings. He is not in the café seeking pastries or companionship. He is not around the kitchens or libraries or, seemingly, anywhere.

Lancelot keeps to his room. If he bathes or shaves or uses the bathroom, he does so carefully and avoiding anyone he might meet. If Laertes leaves food outside his door, folk will find it still there later in the day. If anyone knocks, he will not call them in. He lets the mansion provision him with bread, cheese, water-- sometimes wine or whiskey -- but he doesn't much want any of it.

He cannot bring himself to speak to anyone. He cannot bring himself to do much of anything at all. The best concession he will make, with the understanding that there are those who will worry, is that he does not lock or bolt the door.

[Typist note: Anyone who might be really worried about Lancelot's sudden disappearance or withdrawal is welcome! Post is "semi-closed" really only because a character would have to deliberately decide to enter, and no one will stumble across Lancelot by accident.]

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[lanselos_du_lac]

He wants to say no, but he takes up the bread and holds it, in a gesture of I will try. After a moment he says, "Arthur was here."

[timebethine]

"Ah." Laertes lets that answer hang between them with all the weight it's due. "I met him. He spoke well of thee--he loves thee dearly."

[lanselos_du_lac]

All Lancelot manages to say is, "He--"

Then he stops, sets the bread down again, and scrubs his hands over his face, presses the heels of his hands to his eyes.

"He is gone. He was not supposed to be gone. I don't understand it."

[timebethine]

It would not comfort him, to say, The man who came for me from Denmark is also gone, and Enjolras and Grantaire's beautiful friends who taught me the world's elemental secrets. Mordred with his dark looks is gone. Queen Gertrude is gone. Each man's grief is unique in all the world, and Lancelot grieves for a man who is like a brother to him. "I'm sorry," says Laertes, low--and though he warned Arthur away from Lancelot, he finds that he means it when he says, "I wish he could have stayed with thee."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He stays still, and says quietly, "He gave me a choice. I said I would stay. But-- I thought he'd no choice himself. I thought he would be here, and we would--"

[timebethine]

Laertes reaches across the table to take his hand.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He lets him take it, though he's trembling. "Laertes, I love him."

[timebethine]

"He loves thee, too," says Laertes, rubbing Lancelot's fingers between his own. "He told me thus. I ... I wish he could have stayed for thee. It was not his choice to go. Know that. I watched a man fade into mist, and vanish. I swear to thee, it was not his choice."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"We did agree, that he would go home without me."

[timebethine]

"Even so--has Tress not tried a thousand ways to go home? Or the dragon, Temeraire? Whatever thou didst agree with him, his own will to leave had no bearing on whether he could. It was not his choice, even if it was his will."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Laertes, I--"

[timebethine]

Laertes quiets. It is not (he remembers belatedly) his work to have all of the answers.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I think I cannot bear this, much as I could not bear to think of leaving folk here."

[timebethine]

"I have no answers for that," says Laertes, looking down at the table--at the plate, at their hands. "I left my sister in Denmark, and that loss is a wound in me, but I would not go back if I could. I know not the shape of thy grief. But I can listen, and be with thee whilst thou seekest the edges of it."

[lanselos_du_lac]

At the moment his grief feels so overwhelming, it crowds out most everything else. He wants to weep, but he thinks he cannot. He doesn't doubt his answer -- he just believed he could keep Arthur with him.

"Thou'rt a good friend," quietly, eventually. "I am poor company, and I would spare thee, but-- I only just understood."

[timebethine]

"It's a hard thing, to lose a brother. I blame thee not for thy grief."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Something from his memory of that day finally surfaces and he refocuses on Laertes. "And thee-- thou'rt here. Hast come to no harm?"

[timebethine]

"Ay, none but what resulted from mine own foolishness. I hid me in the woods, and wrenched mine ankle wandering home in the dark. I ought to have ... I ought to have spoken to him, instead of fleeing and hiding like a child. It shames me, that I did."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Reynaldo?"

[timebethine]

"My father's man," he agrees, nodding. "He wanted to know that I was well, and that no harm had befallen me. He had a letter for me from my father. I mean to burn it. There is nothing in it that I would read a second time."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Because he's too taxed to be anything but blunt, Lancelot says, "I was prepared to kill him, should it be necessary. I would not have him take thee against thy will."

[timebethine]

Laertes's grip tightens on his hand. "I might have thanked thee for it. Thou art a steadfast friend, Lancelot. I'm grateful for thee."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"He seemed to finally believe me that thou'rt happy here, and safe. He did not try to harm thee?"

[timebethine]

"He did not. He seemed to believe me, that returning home would be fatal to my happiness, and let me go. I wish him well; I hope he may find better work than this."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot nods, "From what I understand, Sagramore and I were of a mind. I am glad to hear he left you be. I should despair to find you gone as well, knowing thou wanted to stay."