Hello and welcome to the second installment:,) Thank you for the love on the first one!!! Here’s an exciting chapter for all of you, pls enjoy <3
(wc; 3576)
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Lancelot tugged nervously at the cuffs of his sleeves, folding, and unfolding them, unsure of what looked best. Were the sleeves too long? Were they too short, or too tight? The knight began to feel claustrophobic in this new attire, unfamiliar with the fabric that clung to his body.
In reality, the suit fit him perfectly. It was made to do so. Arthur had urged all the knights to take use of the castle’s tailor, so that everyone could look their very best, and nothing less.
Yet, as he gazed upon his reflection, Lancelot felt that something was wrong. He was uncomfortable. The man in the reflective glass usually bore armour, strong, heavy, and striking in its every aspect. The knight wasn’t used to seeing himself like this, clad in simple black fabric, void of all protection. It stuck him with an ugly feeling, leaving a bad taste in his mouth.
It had been so long since he’d done something like this.
On soirées such as these, Lancelot opted to work. Festivities, large social gatherings, anything that required luxurious attire and superficial conversations; it was far from the knight’s areas of expertise. And so, instead of risking an evening of unpleasantries, the black hedgehog could usually be found guarding the castle grounds.
Tonight, however, was one of those rare evenings where Lancelot would find himself attending the festivities, instead of eagerly avoiding them. What could’ve enticed him to visit such an event? He almost cursed to himself as he fought with his necktie.
But Lancelot knew well enough why tonight was different than the others. A masquerade ball, thrown in honour of the king’s return to Camelot. The city’s citizens as well as the castle’s residents had been overjoyed to welcome their king home, back from such a lengthy voyage!
The knight grumbled to himself as Arthur’s words replayed in his mind, like a gentle encouragement, keeping the hedgehog steady. If it weren’t for the few sentences they had shared, Lancelot would’ve surely fled the city, in an ill attempt to avoid participating.
“Sir Lancelot, will you be attending?” The king had eagerly asked after personally delivering the news to his most trusted knight.
“What for, Sire?” Lancelot had asked too quickly, too impolitely. He mustn’t be so foolish when there are eyes and ears around every corner, intently observing when you were uninformed of their presence.
“I am aware that these festivities are not your cup of tea, but it would bring me great pleasure to have you there. After all, it’s you they welcome home too!” With a wink and a charming smile, Arthur had won over Lancelot’s mind.
“Of course, my liege. If it is your wish, I will grant you my presence.”
“Great!” Arthur’s eyes shone brightly, the young king barely containing his joy as he bounced from one foot to the next. “See you then, Lance!” And before the knight could respond, the king had vanished, leaving Lancelot alone in the empty corridor, with a heart that was beating too quickly.
Lancelot knew this idea was preposterous. He was a man of honour, a protector for his kingdom, but that was all. He was no ruler; he was nothing more than a simple knight. Tonight, the castle celebrated their king, nothing more.
And yet, he would still be attending, with less dread than he’d thought. Because at the end of the day, Arthur had wished for him to be there, and that was enough to entice Lancelot into entering the most dreadful of situations.
After having undone and redone his tie a few dozen times, Lancelot felt satisfied with the way the fabric fell. He nervously raked his hand through unruly quills, meticulously adjusting every aspect of his appearance.
The final piece rested upon his bed, a simple black mask that would serve to cover the space surrounding his eyes, and not much more. He felt a bit silly, dressed like this. It was quite easy to identify him, with bold red stripes and eyes that glowed to match them; but Lancelot couldn’t bring himself to care.
There was no one who’s affections he yearned for, no one he’d be willing to dance with tonight. And so, silly disguises did not matter.
With a heavy sigh, he felt himself to be ready. As ready as he would ever feel, with an unsteady heartbeat and a nervous tremor in his hand.
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It had been a long time since Lancelot had seen the castle’s grand ball room decorated so lavishly. It was almost unrecognizable, the dull grey of the stones now adorned in silky fabrics that stretched on for miles, looping around each other to create ridiculously large bows.
The chandelier had been delicately ornamented with fragments of orange-tinted glass, giving the room a dim and warm glow. Thin tables lined the walls of the room, their surfaces crowded with a ridiculous number of delicacies; finger foods, deserts, and alcoholic beverages as far as the eye could see.
This is where Lancelot quietly stood, awkwardly shoved in the space between two tables, his tense back flush with the cold wall. Observing. Watching the clumsy dances of intoxicated nobles, the way they swayed and laughed to themselves, messily following the rhythm of whatever ballad currently played.
Some had put more efforts into their costumes than other’s, their masks stretching to cover their entire heads, their attire shielding every inch of their bodies. Others, much like Lancelot, wore a simple mask and a flattering – yet, not overly extravagant – outfit.
But everyone seemed to be mingling and socializing with an effortless ease, one that perplexed Lancelot as he struggled to will himself to move. He stood there like a statue, bitter drink in hand, unable to find the courage to participate.
Those few recognizable heads were entranced in animated conversations, ones that Lancelot didn’t dare interrupt.
It’s not that the knight was so lonely, it was the opposite, really. Guests had repeatedly approached him during the night, offering their gloved hands for a ballad or two. The dark hedgehog had politely refused those who’d come his way, not keen on spending his time trying to dance with strangers. He was already uncomfortable enough without having anyone stepping on his toes.
The knight was an excellent dancer, which came as a surprise to anyone who’d been lucky enough to find out. His partners had been few and far between, and yet, Lancelot had never found someone who moved with an agility that leveled his.
With another polite decline, a shake of the head and a “no thank you”, Lancelot winced. This evening had felt like all the others, and the knight felt his patience running thin. With a small sip, his drink had been finished, the alcohol burning lowly in his core.
What was the point of attending this event any longer? Arthur had been the reason for his visit, and yet he had gone hours without seeing a glimpse of his king’s royal blue quills. His words rung loudly in his mind; a promise that had gone unfulfilled.
“See you then, Lance!”
This had all been for nothing.
His gaze swept the room once more, in a final attempt to finally locate his sovereign. His search was fruitless, Arthur was nowhere to be seen. With a defeated sigh, the knight gently set his empty glass on the table besides him, shuffling through the busy crowd and out of the room.
The alcohol was now softly buzzing through his system, going hand in hand with the pounding headache that had manifested a few hours ago. He wasn’t used to drinking, preferring to stay sober in case the need for sudden action would arise. Tonight, he’d indulged a bit, searching for courage in the bitter taste of the bubbly wine. It hadn’t helped.
Lancelot now found himself roaming the empty hallways, searching for the nearest exit onto the castle grounds. The heat of the crowd, the constant heavy buzz of conversation, the loud music echoing off the ceilings - they had rendered the knight’s head to an aching mess.
He was tired, tense, and still unreasonably nervous, despite having done absolutely nothing with his time. All the ugly emotions were threatening to spew out of him, overwhelming his senses.
Lancelot stumbled upon an exit, thanking the heavens for the small open doorway as he rushed through it. The knight found himself outside the restricting walls, excitedly breathing in the fresh air the night offered him.
Relief washed over him like a tsunami, and he felt content in having successfully located a tranquil area. Here, there was a small breeze that managed to cool his scorching hot fur, easing the stress that had taken a hold of him so violently. It was quiet, away from chattering voices and string instruments.
Lancelot stood still for a while, barely out of the reach of the castle, just closing his eyes and breathing. And when he’d felt he’d finally regained his senses, he opened them once more.
The sky was clear, offering itself in all its splendor. Stars decorated the inky blue surface, constellations proudly presenting themselves before his eyes. The moon was also keen to grab his attention, shining brightly above him, her light bright, yet soothing. For the first time tonight, Lancelot felt a sense of comfort. The sky above him was far more beautiful than any artificial decorations, too intricate to recreate.
Bringing his gaze back down to earth, the young knight realized he’d been standing on a small path. A narrow strip of dirt cutting through the grass, snaking its way into the stables. Not wanting to get back to the festivities – desperately trying to distance himself from them, really -, Lancelot decided to follow it.
It was as though every stepped furthered his ease. The farther he brought himself from the party, the easier it was to breathe, to think. The only source of light came from a single lantern hung from the stable’s exterior. The faint beam casted dark shadows on the few objects it could reach, soon enveloping the knight in its light, gifting him a shadow, too.
As he had approached the stables, Lancelot had felt his body growing heavier. Whether it was due to the lack of sleep or to the night’s exhausting events, he could not say.
Seeking for comfort, he gently sat on a stack of hay that resided bellow the lantern, resting his back against the harsh wood of the building behind him. It was by no means comfortable, but Lancelot was used to finding rest in such places.
Closing his eyes, he released a heavy sigh, one he had held on to all night.
Here, his thoughts were quiet, uninterrupted by others who searched for his attention. Here, he could let his composure falter, if only for a moment. It was difficult to keep such a strained exterior when the evening’s breeze tickled your nose, when silence enveloped you whole and beckoned you home.
“Hi!” Came a voice besides him, shattering the peace the knight had made for himself. And just like that, his back had straightened, posture becoming impeccable under another’s presence. He found himself obliged to regain his composure, his hand coming up to awkwardly tug at his mask as his eyes fluttered open.
“Hello.” He responded simply, standing to greet the figure besides him. The person, whomever they may have been, was covered in a dark cloak, a midnight blue that blended beautifully with the sky around them. Their mask was more intricate than Lancelot’s, stretching to cover the majority of their features, leaving nothing but a smile and their eyes. The mask was the same colour as the cloak that surrounded it, and it had been carefully decorated with an intricate pattern, laced in a golden thread. The knight squinted, observing. He did not recognize who stood before him.
A simple white glove peeked out of the cloak, the hand extending towards the confused knight. Was he to take this stranger’s hand in his? Absolutely not!
“If you are to ask me to dance, I’m afraid the answer is no.” He grunted, bothered that someone had come to such lengths to court him.
“Lance, it’s me.” The figure whispered, bringing their exposed glove to push their heavy hood away, revealing a crown of messy blue quills in its stead. Lancelot’s eyes widened in shock as he took in the man before him, his heart thrumming with excitement at the recognition of his king.
The knight’s body seemed to move by itself, kneeling onto the ground before his sovereign, his head hanging lowly as he paid his respects.
“My liege.” He uttered, outraged at his own behaviour, at the foolish words he’d so carelessly uttered. He’d refused a king’s invitation.
It wasn’t before Arthur chuckled awkwardly that Lancelot realized what he’d done. Not only had he been foolish in the way he’d spoken, but he’d been careless, abiding old formalities that rendered the king uncomfortable.
As quickly as he could, the knight brought his body upwards, an apologetic look in his eyes as he searched his king’s gaze. The bright emerald eyes he’d grown familiar with were now encased in a deeper shade of blue, which only served to make them brighter. “Forgive me.” The knight whispered. “Forgive me for my impoliteness, and most of all, forgive me for my formalities. It is odd for me to adjust to this, please excuse my actions, for they have become habits.”
Unsatisfied with his apology, Lancelot brought himself closer to his king. His hand moved to touch Arthur’s, his fingers delicately turning it in their grasp. With another gentle step forward, Lancelot brought his sovereign’s hands to his lips, leaving a tender kiss to the knuckles that lay beyond his gloves. This would serve as an additional apology, he thought, bringing their hands down and reluctantly separating them.
It was hard to read Arthur’s expression in the faint light, and yet the knight swore he saw a slight tint of red decorating the exposed cheeks before him.
“No need for apologies, Lance.” He quickly reassured, his hand waving in the air in a dismissive manner. The man before him nodded curtly, despite his disagreement.
The two fell into a comfortable silence, gazing at each other as the gentle breeze caressed their exposed fur. Curiosity pricked at Lancelot’s mind, and so he gave in to his urges and questioned his king.
“If I may ask, what is a person such as yourself doing here?”
“I could ask the same of you, Lancelot.” Arthur replied quickly, a wide smirk plastered over his features. Lancelot found himself glad to see his smile, not to have it covered by his eloquent disguise.
“Yes, I apologize…” He started, unable to stop himself. Lancelot would never be able to fully shed himself of formalities, it was just the way he’d been made. “As you know, such festivities are not my favourite. I attended as per your request, but I fear I could not give you more of my time.” Where were you? He resisted to ask the question burning on his tongue.
“That’s alright.” Arthur uttered sadly, fiddling with the edges of his cloak. “I would’ve hoped to steal a dance out of you tonight, to celebrate your return and all.” Lancelot felt his stomach tighten at the confession. “But I respect your wishes. I shall leave you be.” He nodded politely, turning to leave his knight alone.
Lancelot observed the king walking towards the castle, carefully following the small dirt path he’d followed earlier. His cloak swayed gently with his movements, sweeping the ground bellow him elegantly.
And Lancelot couldn’t stop thinking once again. Replaying the events of tonight, wondering if Arthur had been near him, if the two had seen each other at all. And then he thought of his words. Arthur had hoped to dance with him tonight. But the night wasn’t over yet, was it? As long as the sun stayed hidden, they had time. And Lancelot wouldn’t waste it, wouldn’t dare to fail in fulfilling his majesty’s wishes.
“Arthur.” Lancelot found himself calling after his king. He hadn’t spoken very loudly, still afraid to use the unfamiliar name, and yet its owner had heard it. The king stopped his movements, turning around to look at the man he’d left behind.
Lancelot took a few long strides to join him, pushing them out of the lantern’s short sight, clouding them in darkness. He stood straight as he spoke, resisting the overwhelming urge to fiddle with the cuffs of his sleeves. “If I had known it was you, earlier, I wouldn’t have refused so eagerly.” He admitted, feeling flustered. “I hadn’t wished to dance with anyone tonight, I must admit. But to dance with you? It would be an honour.”
Lancelot spoke truthfully, the lack of light aiding in his confession. This was a strange evening filled with even stranger events. But the knight had been truthful; what greater honour than to receive his king in a ballad?
“Thank you, Lancelot.” Arthur responded with excitement, his grin easily visible in the darkness. He hadn’t bothered to use a nickname, wanting the knight to feel the extent of his gratefulness. Lancelot nodded sharply, ever-so-serious as he was.
“Alas, I fear I do not share your excitement in returning to the festivities. If it is your wish, I shall go with you.” The dark hedgehog spoke lowly, his features tense at the thought of returning indoors so soon.
Arthur rolled his eyes at Lancelot’s statement, giving him a light punch to the shoulder.
“Lance, if you really believe I’m eager to return in there, you don’t know me very well.” The king felt himself to be over the moon in Lancelot’s presence. To have a friend who could treat him like a person, and not like the almighty god he certainly was not. “I came out here to grab some air when I spotted you by the stables. I must say, your disguise is not really effective.” Lancelot smiled briefly, tugging at the thin mask that barely covered his features.
“Yes, I apologize for that. My disguise is not nearly as intricate or beautiful as yours, Arthur.” The compliment made the king’s entire face flush a deep shade of red. It had been a long time since he’d received such delicate praise, softly accompanied by the mention of his name. If he was over the moon before, he didn’t quite know where he was now. The young king could barely contain himself, his body thrumming in excitement and anticipation.
“We’re not returning in there.” He waved a hand behind him, as if the castle was the most boring thing, compared to who stood before him. “If you’ll have me here, it would be my honour.” Arthur extended his hand once more, and this time, Lancelot took it.
“The honour is all mine.” The knight whispered as their bodies connected, the two men placing themselves in a position they’d been well trained to be in.
From their spot in the courtyard, the music could barely be heard, like a faint melody that almost seemed imagined. It was enough for them, though, and they started a slow ballad, bodies moving around the uneven ground.
It was Lancelot who’d taken the lead, much to the knight’s surprise. He’d never had the privilege to share a dance with his king before, and he’d boldly assumed Arthur to be well trained in this skill.
It was quite the opposite, really. It became apparent very quickly just how terrible Arthur was at dancing. As fast and cunning as the hedgehog could be, he seemed to possess little agility, and no sense of rhythm at all.
As they continued in their slow ballad, Arthur stepped on Lancelot’s feet more than the knight thought possible. With every mistake came a soft “sorry!” whispered bellow him. Lancelot had spent his whole evening dreading something like this, to be trapped in a dance with someone who could not move. Even intoxicated, the knight danced better than the king.
And yet, Lancelot found himself enjoying it. It didn’t bother him how terrible a partner Arthur was being, and he couldn’t bring himself to mind if he’d tried to. If it had been anyone else, then perhaps it would be a different story. But the dark hedgehog found comfort in his partner, a man he admired too much to be bothered by.
Whether it was evading formalities or getting his foot crushed every two seconds, Lancelot made an exception for his sovereign.
And even if he danced with perfection, the knight still felt awkward and nervous. But these emotions were far from the same ones he’d experienced earlier; he felt them now in a way that delighted and excited him beyond belief.
Here, with Arthur’s head neatly tucked besides his, their chests connecting boldly, he felt it. Every emotion, nervous and excited, melting together to form an overwhelming warmth that spread through his body.
It made his fingers tingle, rendered his legs fuzzy and unstable, and propelled his heartbeat forwards.
It was a prestigious thing, to share such a moment with a king. And when the song had shifted into another, neither man dared to separate from the other’s grasp.
Lancelot decided to blame the overwhelming warmth on the little alcohol he’d consumed, oblivious to the fact that Arthur was doing the same thing.
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<- previous part!!
following part!! ->
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A/N
> this will eventually be posted on ao3 but until then i shall post it here!! Again, thank you for all the love on the first part!! I know it doesn’t seem like much, but every note makes me smile at my phone like a lunatic LOL! Special thank you to user teamxdark who reblogged the first part of this silly little fic!! i’m a big big fan of their work and if you don’t know them, please go check out their profile and their wonderful writing <3
> p.s; all parts of this fic will be under the tag “a strange bond” and “myr writes” on my profile!!! Okay that’s everything, I’m off to sleep PFFT
I've watched and played lots of Kimura Takuya content the last months and this, these here, are my fav roles played by him (so far).
No Ryo because ... Kazama exists. He just kicked Ryo out of my Top 6. I'm sorry. I have a hard crush on sadistic Kazama. He is sexy. Waaaay older than me but he can get it 24/7. My body is ready.
Can't wait to revisit this after watching more of his work ~
