[Open Post] ..only want to glean the purpose..

[lanselos_du_lac]

Since they learned of Shen Yuan's death, things have been subdued; rightly so, Lancelot reasons. He has done what he can to be a support for those he loves, and to keep his own worry and anxiety at bay. He worries about how they are all doing, about whether or not they are safe, about what he can do to make anything better -- which often feels like nothing. It's unsettling, and he wants to stay settled and present for them, so he determines to find a way to be so.

As has always been the case for him, being outside helps. The weather is warming and true spring is settling in. (He has difficulty keeping track of what time may be like back in Britain¹, but he suspects that it is early summer there. If so, then he supposes that means he is another year older, which is a strangely hopeful thought.) And so, after his lunch with Susan, he heads back out -- he might ride, or walk through the woods, or explore the lake. Whatever keeps him out in the sunshine, under the sky.



^{1: He has not quite realized this yet, but he has generally stopped thinking "at home" when he means Camelot, or Britain in general. That this place -- no, these people -- have become home in so short a span is something he has to take by degrees, lest he worry about what it means for his relationship with those he left behind there.}

Comments

[timebethine]

"Not yet wholly--but soon, I fear it will be wholly. Thou wilt be welcome in our home, though."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I admit, that saddens me to hear," squeezing his fingers gently. "But, above anything, I would have the two of thee happy."

[timebethine]

"I think not that we'll be happier there--Sagramore loves other people too well; my circle of friends is smaller, but I, too, would prefer their company to the birds' and the squirrels'. But I had rather a thousand times that we be a little less happy, and alive." He squeezes back.

[lanselos_du_lac]

There's another thoughtful hesitation as they walk a few more steps. "Why hast thou concluded that these attacks are the work of the so-called mansion spirits?"

[timebethine]

"Because there was no agent to wield the weapon in either case. The weapons wielded themselves."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He frowns, "When there is mischief on the part of the spirits, it is not targeted, as these attacks clearly were."

[timebethine]

"Is it not? They brought thee Arthur."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"They did not bring someone only to me," though his tone is a little more uncertain now. "They brought Reynaldo to thee. Lucy to Susan. Grantaire's friends. Many others."

[timebethine]

"Each one of them targeted. They did not bring me someone from Denmark whom I knew not."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye, but-- not each was a harm. Even Arthur... good came of that, even if it was difficult."

[timebethine]

"Ay--and Szarka is a great good, and the joy of my life," Laertes concedes. "I am grateful. Think me not ungrateful. But these spirits are creatures of whim and caprice, not of charity. They seek not what is best for us. They may yet do us greater harm for their amusement, with no more malice than a cat pouncing upon a butterfly."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"That is possible," he can concede that much. It seems to him that this is not so different from the world before this one, which has its own forces that none can understand. He does not want Laertes and Sagramore to leave the mansion, and he can think of several other arguments -- but he can sense, too, that Laertes is afraid, anxious. He'll raise none of those arguments now.

They walk along for another few steps before he says, "I will do whatever I am able, for thee."

[timebethine]

He leans against Lancelot's shoulder. "But what might I do for thee?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot lets go of Laertes' hand in order to put his arm around his shoulders. "What thou dost now," quietly. "Be with me. Spend time with me. Let me love thee."

[timebethine]

Laertes looks down, embarrassed. "I will. I'll be a better lover for thee."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He stops, turns Laertes to face him. His tone is firm but very gentle. "I did not say I needed better from thee," he brushes a hand along Laertes' jaw, "I like thee as thou art. I think, sometimes, that I could be better for thee, I admit."

[timebethine]

Laertes looks up, surprised. "What? How? Thou hast been the utmost of a man in all things."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Hear thyself," with a little lopsided grin.

[timebethine]

A small, answering smile. "Well, then."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"So thou seest." He cups Laertes' cheek and kisses him, sweetly.

[timebethine]

That brief, sweet kiss is like a ripe berry; at once, he craves another. "How wouldst thou while away the hours with me, then? I'd be grateful of a rest, and a quiet pastime."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot lingers, looking at him, brushing his cheek with one thumb. He can think of nothing to suggest, struck as he is by the sight of him in the dappled light of the woods. So instead he kisses him again.

[timebethine]

That kiss feels so nakedly earnest--not craving or claiming, but like a kind of beholding; it makes Laertes feel seen and treasured, held like a precious thing. He shapes his hand to the dip of Lancelot's waist, and lets himself appreciate the well-honed beauty of his form in the same innocent, undemanding way.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot lets the kiss draw out, and when he draws back a little he says softly, "I love thee."

He knows he hasn't put it quite so plainly to Laertes before. He feels he should have said it sooner, but now -- in the warmth of spring, in the quiet under the trees -- seems as good a time as any to correct that lapse.

[timebethine]

Laertes gazes into his eyes, so near a shade of hazel to his own. There is gold in them, and honey-brown, and a warm brown like molasses; there are tiny threads of moss-green and the green of patina on copper. Laertes could gladly spend a day finding all of the subtle hues in Lancelot's eyes. He traces a knuckle over Lancelot's cheekbone, marveling at the way the sunlight illuminates his skin. "As I love thee," he answers. "My heart, I love thee so dearly."