A strange bond (6)
Wowow two years since the last update? how very on brand for me.. My apologies to anyone who has to re-read this fic because of how long it has been since the last update, I seriously did not think it would take me this long to get in the groove again!
That being said, I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I look forward to what comes next, and I'm excited to start wrapping up this lovely little adventure with all of you!
read it on ao3 here!!
(wc; 5688)
-
Lancelot was thankful to have recovered from his cold quickly enough. Being bedridden did not suit his interests; he found the lack of fresh air and the restriction of his freedom to be suffocating. Soon enough, the blankets had begun to feel itchy, the pillow lumpy and uncomfortable. The air in his room felt stuffy with his overstayed rest, yet he was no warmer from it.
He’d realized, to his dismay, that his quarters did not smell of home or familiarity. Rather, they smelt of wet stone and old carpets, a scent that did very little to appease him.
Once the nurse had given him the permission to return to his duty, Lancelot was all too eager to separate himself from his bed. His place of rest had been tainted with this tension that he could not easily rid himself of. This malaise softened the idea of his return to work, his hands and feet restless as he moved to dress himself for the first time in days.
Mostly, his eagerness to reunite with his workload revolved around Arthur. In being able to see him again, to touch him again.
The king hadn’t been able to visit since the last time they’d seen each other. The cold he’d caught (and had subsequently given to Lancelot) had made him fall behind in his duties, his already overwhelming workload seemingly doubling in the matter of a few days. Despite all the efforts of the castle’s higher-ranking staff, there were verdicts, concerns, and a whole lot of paperwork that they simply did not have the authority to take on.
And so, the familiarity of old routines fell upon the two hedgehogs once more. Arthur was lazily draped on his throne for most of his days and rather overwhelmed by paperwork late into his evenings. Lancelot stood by his king’s side when his duties allowed him so, his posture firm, his nonchalant expression hidden behind his visor. Still, he felt his hands thrum with a longing, having to stretch his fingers out before they attempted to guide him towards his love.
It was in Lancelot’s nature to feel relief in routines, in certainties. He’d had a history of preferring ‘how things were’ regardless of whether they’d benefitted him more or less than the change.
And yet, this time around, the regularity felt less like a warm hug and more like a tight grip around his neck, threatening to squeeze him just so – enough to make him suffocate.
Yes, there was relief in being out of his quarters, but there was something different, something overwhelming about this return.
It felt as though his heart had grown three-fold, and with it, the longing he held for Arthur. He’d yearned before, yes, but he’d been satisfied with the other man’s mere presence. Now, however, that same presence felt like an itch under his very skin – it reminded him of what he could have, what he could feel. Soft touches, stolen kisses. He craved them now. If it made him selfish, if it distracted him, then it was a bad thing. Selfish? A knight? His entire purpose was to serve as a disposable body, one that could bravely defend the kingdom and its ruler, but one that would ultimately be replaced, should age slow down his movements or should death welcome him in. Distraction was frowned upon as well – fractions of a second lost to foolish desires could cost the kingdom its life, he’d been taught.
Knowing this, still he stood there, wanting nothing more than to feel Arthur’s lips upon his once more. He was starting to become everything he’d been taught not to be – tendencies repressed, personalities changed to fit into a certain mold. Years, a lifetime of noble pursuit, and…
And he was learning that love was complex.
The meetings dragged on longer than ever, the days bleeding into one another as if it were some sort of joke the universe placed upon him. In the evenings, when he tossed and turned on his mattress, he wondered how he could be so happy and yet feel so unfulfilled. The contradictory emotions rendered him nauseous.
This day felt no different. His back was pressed against the cold stone of the castle walls, his very presence tethered to the material feeling, as to not drift away to another world. He’d given up on keeping track of the conversation long ago. He was content in eyeing Arthur as some of his council members talked hurriedly around him, the king frowning lightly as he responded, seemingly bothered by the subject matter. The round oak-wood table was full of councilmen and nobles, their voices filtered out by the buzz in the knight’s ears.
He was too busy cataloguing every move Arthur made, observing the way his features scrunched and pull, noting most of his expressions veered towards negative emotions rather than pleasant ones. God, Lancelot could not help but think, why does he look so good when he seems focused? There was a pinch in his brow, lips caught in a neutral frown. His cheeks were flushed with the warmth of the room, adding colour to his royal fur. It was a stern look that betrayed his light personality, and yet it felt genuine. This was Arthur in his element, this was a King with subjects and duties, one that was willing to sacrifice every facet of his own well-being for the peace of his kingdom. He’d do it without needing to be asked – really, he’d been doing it for years now.
His eyes were tired, his motions lazy in the late evening, but the black hedgehog could still not help the way his heart leapt when the other’s eyes grazed over him. He smiled so softly, so briefly, yet it was already cemented in Lancelot’s memory; a thought that could warm him, even in the coldest of nights.
It wasn’t until he heard his own name that his attention was pulled to the conversation, seemingly for the first time that night.
“Yes, and Sir Lancelot will accompany you as you requested, my Lord.” Arthur’s eyes shifted as he nodded, pulling his focus towards the older noble sat to his right.
“Excellent, and the preparations regarding supplies and accommodations?” He leaned his head in his hands as he spoke.
“Yes sire, all should be in order. A messenger arrived today with their response; as it were, they are currently arranging a room for you and your knight. The preparations have been going smoothly, and all should be ready for your departure tomorrow, your highness.”
The knight felt lost – who were the mobians the council was discusing, what was happening tomorrow, and had Arthur requested his presence? He was starting to regret his previous disregard for the conversation.
“Thank you.” Arthur spoke, and just like that, the conversation shifted to an entirely different topic. There were talks of profits and of upcoming harvests, of legalities and additional paperwork, and all matter of things Lancelot did not try to understand. He kept himself as focused as he could, hoping to catch more of the information he’d missed, but before he knew it, the meeting had been concluded, and he’d been dismissed to his own quarters.
Time was the only one who could answer his questions, and she would be peacefully silent until tomorrow. Despite his curiosity and the unfamiliar buzz of excitement (or nerves, he could not tell) sleep found him easily, lulling him into a dreamless rest.
-
The knight made his way to the dining hall first thing the next morning. It wasn’t hunger that’d sent him here eagerly, but rather his curiosity. He weaved rapidly between tables, chairs, and other mobians, ignoring the sweet scents of maple syrup and strawberries as he kept his focus on the captain of the guard – a red echidna he scarcely agreed with. And yet, today, he was happy to see the other man’s face, because it meant he’d get an answer.
Gawain eyed him wearily from where he sat, holding the fork in his hand rather tightly.
“Captain.” He greeted, steadying his breath. The man turned to him, nodding sharply. The two stayed silent a while longer as the knights around them chatted, their awkward silence easily dismissed by everyone. It wasn’t necessarily unknown that the two had a bit of a rougher history - Lancelot liked to question the captain’s decisions, and Gawain never took too kindly to criticism.
“Bit early for assignments, don’t you think?” He grumbled as he tossed a few potatoes around his plate, lazily stabbing them with his fork. The knight let the passive-aggressive comment roll off his shoulders; he’d already expected this kind of response.
“Are they not ready yet, captain?” His tone was perhaps a bit too smug, but he couldn’t help himself. Something about Gawain provoked him, and vice-versa. Sometimes it benefitted them, mostly when it came to besting each other physically. Other times, it wasn’t so useful.
Purple eyes flicked his way in a warning.
“You’re to leave with the King this afternoon.” A bored response. He could feel his heartbeat at the tip of his fingers, excitement bubbling in his chest. “You are to act as his personal guard for the following week.”
Personal guard.
He’d have time alone with Arthur. For an entire week.
Lifting his hand, the captain points his fork ahead of him and slightly eastward. “Sir Percival has more details.” He speaks, returning to his breakfast once he’d done so.
Lancelot granted him a nod as he left to inquire about more details with Sir Percival.
-
He’d grabbed his leather satchel and filled it generously, as Sir Percival had suggested. He’d brought some light linens to sleep in comfortably, since they’d be resting in a private villa, and not on the forest floor. Lancelot very much liked sleeping on the ground, especially when it was under a canopy of trees. The air in the forest smelt fresh and sweet, the scents of pine and grass melting perfectly together. The only thing he disliked about sleeping amongst nature was the vulnerability it placed him in – he slept lightly, aware of every little sound around him. In those moments he was never able to fully relax, his duty to protect the King looming over him.
It surprised him to learn that he was not aiding the king in any quests, but that instead, he’d be accompanying him on a rather leisurely journey. A villa meant freshly made beds, warm hearty meals and private personal quarters – although Lancelot heavily doubted he’d be privy to as much luxury as his sovereign, he still found himself excited.
Lancelot’s heart thrummed heavy in his chest, the pace increasing with every passing hour . A carriage had been arranged for them, a bright white vehicle attached to two cream-coloured horses. A chauffeur sat above them, on a make-shift seat jutting out from the carriage’s exterior.
There were servants bustling around in the courtyard, storing various bags and boxes in compartments hidden cleverly beneath the white façade of their transportation. A man was addressing chauffeur, the both of them pointing southward, conversing with an air of agreeance.
It was early spring by now, and although a cold wind threatened the return of winter, Lancelot found his cheeks warm. It wasn’t the magic within his armour that made him feel so, it was something different, something foreign. He didn’t have much time to question it before he was being inquired about, his possessions hastily tucked away as he still struggled to grasp the situation.
Soon, none of it would matter – Arthur had arrived, and things seemed to be wrapping up just as the king took his first steps into the east courtyard. A few members of the court fussed at his side, undoubtedly tying up loose ends before the king’s departure. The king nodded to a few of their comments, offered a few choice words, but promptly dismissed them as he reached his knight.
His most trusted knight.
His friend.
Lancelot gave a curt bow of his head upon the arrival of his king – keeping up appearances. What the others could not see was the soft smile and rosy cheeks of the brave knight, hidden beneath thin sheets of metal. Arthur gave a small nod in return, but his smile spoke nothing of formalities or politeness, it was wide and easily reached his eyes. Lancelot noted there was an additional mirth in the other’s features, a lightness that made him more endearing than ever before.
The dark hedgehog would be lying if he’d said he wasn’t looking forward to the travel they were about to share. Besides, time alone, away from prying eyes – it was like currency to him. He worked hard for it, and did not dismiss its value.
-
There were two benches inside the carriage, facing each other. They left enough room for tired legs to stretch out comfortably without hitting the passenger that faced them.
These seats were clad in a bright blue fabric, a velour texture that Lancelot envied to feel against his bare fur. On the walls lay a floral wallpaper, its vines climbing up to the ceiling where they were interrupted by a small wrought iron lantern, currently unlit. Windows lining their sides were slightly obscured by sheer yellow curtains, pulled taught in an attempt to give privacy. It was tastefully decorated, this even Lancelot could admit. But what was most admirable was that its appeal to the eyes did not compromise its comfortability. In fact, the knight could barely feel the bumps in the dirt road as they trod rapidly through the countryside – he could not recall ever travelling so well before.
As Lancelot looked around in slight awe, helmet discarded besides him, he caught the eye of his friend. The cobalt hedgehog eyed him fondly, unphased by the luxury that surrounded them. He’d grown up with these accommodations, seeing them as nothing more than common, now.
“Do you always travel like this?” He inquired, before adding; “when I’m not by your side, of course.” He knew Arthur did not always travel this way, because he’d been there to witness the king journeying in very different ways – mostly on foot, but sometimes on horseback. Still, those methods of travel paled in comparison to this one.
“God, no.” Came a rather blunt response, though his tone was playful.
He furrowed his brows in question, struggling to see the aversion one might harbour for such a luxurious thing.
“I used to.” He starts, eyes wandering where Lancelot’s had. “Prefer it, that is.”
Humming, the knight replied, “If I may ask; what changed your mind?”
“You did.”
“I did?” Lancelot echoed the statement, taken aback by it.
“Of course you did. Haven’t you noticed how much you have changed me?” Arthur continues, his smile soft and caring. Sighing, he glimpses at the passing trees outside their window. Cedar, pine, cedar, cedar, oak. The forest whisked far away from them as they sat. “I used to prefer travelling this way, and I would’ve been a fool not to. It’s faster, more accommodating. You can bring God-knows how much luggage with you, wherever it is you are heading.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed. It’s quite the feeling.” He notes as the trees are slowly but surely replaced by a meadow, green grassy fields painting their view. With this, the king turns his sights on his knight again.
“But something changed when you and I started travelling in different ways. I’d never experienced it before. You made me discover something new, which is a rarity for me, you know?” Lancelot nods. Yes, he does know. He knows that as much as the idea of a king evokes freedom, the reality is much different. Arthur, not unlike his predecessors, is more bound by the throne than simply loyal to it. This is not to say that his rule is disingenuous! Lancelot would threaten anyone who dared think so. Arthur’s heart was very much in the right place, but it did not change the fact that he was born into this role, like his father and his father before him. Whereas Lancelot had decided to dedicate himself to a life of undying loyalty and servitude, Arthur could never have decided to be anything other than what his blood declared him – a royal man. “There was something so foreign about aching feet, about the taste of fresh spring waters, and about the smell of grass upon a dewy sunrise… foreign it may have been, but welcoming nonetheless. It even began to feel familiar, you know? Like home, somehow.”
The knight stayed silent for a moment.
Of course, he knew – he’d known for a long time. He’d felt the call of mother nature throughout the years of his adult life, a call that left him yearning for more of her, always more. It was never enough.
Standing, he opted to sit besides his friend now – this was more informal, warmer, and so it felt appropriate for the conversation. With his movements, the other shifted too, angling himself to face him properly. Arthur’s hands, carefully folded within his lap, were soon enough covered by metal.
“Of course.” He smiles warmly, fangs poking at the skin bellow. “Of course I understand.” It was spoken in a soothing voice.
“You do?” There’s a smidgeon of doubt in his voice, and Lancelot finds himself wanting to kiss it away.
Nodding, he allows his left thumb to start rubbing small circles into the soft fabric of his lover’s gloves. “I have longed… for weeks now. Longed for travel, travel by your side.” He admits rather quietly. “I’ve always felt at home around trees and lakes, under snow and rain. But with you, Arthur...?” He breathes in shakily, leaning forward into their shared space to bump their foreheads together. He feels his throat tightening under the weight of emotions, the taste of confessions lining his tongue – and he finds himself unafraid to think them now, to allow them a space to exist in his mind.
But he does not speak them here – instead, he clings to them for a little longer.
Chuckling softly, he moves to press a soft kiss on cobalt fur – a chaste brush of his lips against the other’s cheeks. When he parts away, emerald eyes peer into him. They’re a bit cloudy, as his surely are.
They don’t breathe another word for a while, ears flushed and hearts thrumming as the carriage brings them far away from their home.
-
The Villa is bigger than he’d expected; an imposing building composed mostly of red bricks; it’s burnt orange façade temporarily interrupted by massive circular pillars made of white stone. There was a sort of order to the building, as though every piece had been placed purposefully. It differed from the castle, whom with its many additions and renovations over the years had ended up being a clash between many styles, materials, and centuries. He’d inquire about the history of the building to Arthur at a later hour, when he did not risk making a fool of himself in front of their host.
Their host was a small grey hedgehog that looked no older than a young adult (that is, if he was not still a teenager). His style seemed at odds with that of his estate: it was simpler, and much less grandiose. Dark grey cloth wrapped around young shoulders in the form of a simple two-piece suit, a style that looked unfamiliar to the knight.
This mysterious host greeted them rather personally, sharing a warm embrace with Arthur as soon as the two were close enough to do so. Lancelot stood quietly behind his king as the embrace morphed into pleasantries, opting to observe the world around them. They were in some sort of courtyard, or perhaps an entrance to the villa, paved with the same sort of white stone that made up the pillars that surrounded them. A few mobians (presumably servants, or perhaps staff from the villa) walked about, fussing with their newly arrived carriage.
“Sir Galahad,” The king declared rather loudly, roping the black hedgehog back into the flow of the conversation. So, Galahad is the name of this young lad, then? The others turned to him then, as Arthur continued to speak; “It would be my great honour to introduce you to my knight, to my personal guard, but most importantly - to my most trusted friend. Sir Lancelot.” The silver hedgehog extended a slender hand outwards.
“Any friend of Arthur’s is a friend of mine.” He spoke fondly as the knight met his hand, firmly shaking it.
Friend?
Yes, that was certain, they were friends – more than – but to be introduced as such… was oddly enticing.
Sir Galahad was quick to offer a tour around the estate to Lancelot, joking that Arthur did not need such a thing as he gently elbowed the man. The two laughed together as they began walking around the carefully manicured grounds – Lancelot was quick to follow in their footsteps, leaving his belongings behind to be handled and safely tucked away (yet another unfamiliar luxury).
The best word to describe this sentiment was this: it all felt foreign. Here, people treated him with as much (if not a little less) respect as they did with Arthur. There were strange luxuries, ones he’d never even drempt of being offered. Yet a stark contrast to this was the way this new aquaintannce held himself. This Sir Galahad felt so casual- with him, there were barely any formalities, instead, there seemed to be friendship, fondness. The two men walking before him conversed with ease, their tones longing and reminiscent. This too, was odd. Lancelot could not recall a time where Arthur had ever behaved in this way: so naturally, so effortlessly. He could not help but feel his heart swell with warmth, observing the man he loved carrying himself with such ease, the previous tension pinching his shoulders now replaced by the shake of laughter. It was a sight he’d commit to memory.
It all made him wonder what this week might be like: would there be more moments like these? More moments like the one they’d shared in the carriage, early in their journey?
His heart fluttered at the mere thought.
-
“And here, you’ll find your chambers. I thought it appropriate to finish our little visit here.” The three hedgehogs stood before ornate wooden doors encased in concrete arches. He’d found the courage to inquire about the materials and learnt that they had not been a stone at all. It was a hardened mixture that replicated the feel of stone, while allowing artisans more flexibility. Their host had been eager to inform them about this strange technology, going on about how the invention had revolutionized architecture as they knew it, centuries ago. Lancelot found himself rather interested in this spontaneous learning opportunity.
Arthur thanked his friend along with a polite nod. “Your stay is more than welcomed here. It is the least I could do for an old friend.” Their host nods back in a similar manner. “Please, if there should be anything you desire, do not hesitate to call upon me.”
Sir Galahad bid them a temporary farewell, leaving his guests alone to be settled in after their long journey.
Arthur made for the wooden doors, Lancelot, however, hesitated besides them. He’d noted the absence of another door at the end of this small corridor – perhaps their host had forgotten to show him where he’d be resting? Turning around, he sought to capture the attention of Sir Galahad, only to find that the man had already disappeared.
“Something the matter?” Arthur had one hand on the doors, pushing them slightly ajar. The other hand reached out towards his friend, firmly grasping at his armor-clad forearm. The dark hedgehog shifted with the touch, shaking his head.
“Not at all.” He reassured. “I was simply wondering where my quarters are located – I am sure someone will know the answer. I shall attempt to fetch a maid, had we not seen one watering flowers around the corner?” His attempt to walk away was interrupted by the hand on his arm, tightening in an effort to hold him back – it worked. “My liege?” He inquired.
“Oh, Lance.” Arthur spoke, laughing softly.
Oh goodness – had he missed something? He did not share in the cobalt hedgehog’s laugh as he racked his brain for an answer. Perhaps, he’d missed the introduction of his quarters during the tour? This seemed unlikely, given that he’d made sure not to get distracted during their walk, not wanting to seem rude or ignorant in front of their host. As he tried to recall a lapse in his memory, his friend’s laughter quieted, leaving naught but a sheepish smile on his features.
“Your room is here.”
“Here?” Surely not – there were only two doors and they both led to luxurious accommodations beyond his status. “Pardon me, Arthur, but where will you stay if-“
“Here.” He interrupted again, pushing against the wood and dragging Lancelot alongside him.
“Here?” He was starting to sound really daft, but it was beyond him at this point.
“Forgive me for being presumptuous,” Arthur began, continuing to pull his friend as they took their conversation out of the hallway and into the room. “I thought you’d enjoy it if you and I could… share. A room, that is.”
“Oh.” He mumbled softly as the proposition fell on him.
“If it’s not to your liking, I can arrange for separate quarters to be prepared, it’s no issue.” He spoke rapidly, a bit nervously. “Understand that I would never expect anything of you, Lance.” Arthur’s hand reached out to squeeze his own warmly – a sign of trust.
“No!” The knight blurts out rather unceremoniously.
“No…?” The king questions, his hand twitching.
“I don’t wish to stay anywhere else.” He elaborates, squeezing the other’s still trembling hand. “If you want me – if you will have me, I am yours.” He reassured, soft smile lacing his features.
“Oh!” Arthur breathed a sigh or relief before throwing himself onto the other in a tight embrace, almost pushing them to the floor with the force of his embrace. His arms found their way around the dark hedgehog’s neck, his head following them to burry itself in the warm, soft fur. The suddenness freezes Lancelot for a moment, but the warmth of another body manages to ground him quickly enough. His arms wrap around a firm waist, fingers tracing cloth-covered skin as he mimicked his lover’s movements – burying his muzzle in cobalt fur. “It is very unlike me to be presumptuous in this way. I do not like it, you know?” The soft voice tickles the exposed skin of his neck. “Thank you.”
-
Dinner is served later in the evening. It is a small affair, the exhaustion of a day’s travel still apparent on the guests of the villa. Following their meal, Galahad invited them for a stroll along the gardens, an invitation they gladly acquiesce. There is comfort in the familiarity of a darkening blue sky and the smell of the trees that surround them. The silver hedgehog converses with Arthur, the old friends informing one another of their comings and goings since their last encounter. Lancelot chimes in here and there, preferring to remain quiet. He spoke mostly when he was spoken to, content in listening when he wasn’t called upon.
It is only when the sun sets past the trees and when the wind’s bight grows colder that they retire to their separate quarters for the night. Entering Arthur’s room – their room – Lancelot takes time to properly take in the space. A white-stoned fireplace (fire already blazing in its hearth) stands tall in the center of the left wall, above it rests a floral painting encased in a golden frame. The floor is far from bare, its surface decorated with lavish carpets, ample seating, and a gorgeous canopy bed draped in light purple fabric. The décor is sweet and light, unlike the grand regal style Lancelot is most used to seeing (the one used throughout the castle, of course). It’s different, it’s fresh – like most things here it is a change, a welcomed one.
In the fading evening the unpack their belongings, Arthur introducing different facets of the room as they did so. He points out dressers, nightstands, and a small door tucked away in the right corner of their room. This door, he explained, led to a private bathroom – it was a luxury Lancelot had never been privy to.
The way the blue hedgehog navigated the room, the way he guided the other through the unfamiliar space – it spoke of familiarity. It was not the first time he’d stayed here.
Arthur had settled into his nightwear quickly; a pair of pants and a simple shirt composed of red-dyed cotton. He settled into bed as Lance locked himself in the large bathroom, opting to change himself in privacy. He peeled away the layers of his armour, setting them on a small dresser. He donned his nightly wear – a white nightgown, the fit of which was a little too large for him. He liked it this way, restrictive clothing never seemed to do him any favours. Stepping back into the room, he found himself hesitating besides the bed, quietly observing Arthur as the man read through some sort of document he’d brought with him.
The sound the pages made as they were moved around melted nicely with the crackle of the fire – which was now a bit smaller than it had previously been. There were a few moments of silence before verdant eyes began drifting upwards. “Are you quite alright?” he pondered, discarding his stack of papers onto the small nightstand besides him.
There was a deep inhale before a curt response: “Yes.”
Tilting his head, the other man seemed doubtful. “Come here.” He gently tapped the blankets to the side of him, where there was an empty space. It was truly more than enough room for Lancelot to sit or to lay – it made up more than twice the size of the cot in his quarters at home.
The knight shifted, movements slow in uncertainty as he moved to sit on the edge of “his side” of the bed. Of their bed. He felt the mattress’ weight shifting as Arthur moved to sit besides him.
They breathed in silence for a few beats before his lover spoke softly. “Lance, if you would like another room, it is not too late.” The tone was meant to be reassuring, but instead it sounded a little sad. “I’ve told you; I do not wish to make you uncomfortable. That much would sadden me more than your absence.”
He shook his head. “No, I very much wish to be here with you.” That, he was certain of – he had no fear of Arthur’s closeness, in fact, it had been the only thing on his mind for weeks now. He’d been craving it too much to even imagine fearing it now – no, it could not be that.
“What is it then? Whatever the trouble is, please allow me to make it go away.”
“I’m not…” He bit his lip. “I’m not always great at sleeping in different spaces, you know?” He sighs softly, fidgeting with his hands in his lap as his eyes are kept down. “With the outdoors it’s different, I think. When we journey outside of carriages and villas, that’s normal for me, I suppose. But I’ve always had trouble acclimating to other spaces. The light is different, the scent in the air is different, it’s all just… a bit jarring, for me.”
“If you want, we could return home first thing tomorrow. I’m sure Galahad would understand- “
Lance cuts him off then, turning to look into his eyes. “No! No, I want to be here.” A blue hand strokes the soft fur of his muzzle, the touch a delicate encouragement to keep talking. “It’s just, I wanted to warn you, I wanted you to be aware. The first night spent in an unfamiliar environment is not easy for me, that’s all.”
“Oh, Lance.” It’s a breathy voice, one that agitates the butterflies in his stomach. “You are of no burden to me, this much you should know.” He leans into the hand that still holds his head. “I understand how something like this can be jarring. In fact, I find that I am only acclimated to it because was forced to be – I used to feel the same way as you do now.”
“You did?”
“Absolutely.” He chuckles softly. “The first time my parents brought me here…” He hesitates, softly shaking his head. “Well, I suppose it’s a story for another time. I would not wish to worry you before bed.”
Lancelot nods carefully, melting into his friend’s ever-lasting hold on him, tethering himself to the one thing in the room he wasn’t estranged to – Arthur.
“Come.” The king beckoned him further into the mattress, where he half-forced, half gently coaxed his knight into laying down against him. He pulled the blankets tightly over their bodies as the dark hedgehog nuzzled his nose into the other’s chest – a vulnerable move that made Arthur’s heartbeat speed up tenfold.
He removed his gloves, hands now bare as they ran through black quills. It was a repetitive motion that he’d be ready to do for hours, so long as it should sooth his friend. “Lance?” He asked as the firelight dimmed around them.
“Mhm?” Came a muffled response, the vibrations of which tickled his ribs.
“Anytime you feel scared or anxious, I want you to wake me up, alright?”
“Mm.” Came a tired agreement.
The royal hedgehog closed his eyes but kept his steady petting of the other’s quills. Tired, he revelled in the warmth of his knight, his friend, his beloved. As he drifted off to sleep, he could not help the excitement bubbling in his chest as he thought of the following days, or most importantly, what he had planned for them.
-
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A/N
Comments, likes and reblogs are always welcome and appreciated but never demanded or expected!!
It's been a while since i've rambled on here! It's been almost one year since i've uploaded anything, and two years since i've taken care of this fic specifically. Being a full time student who works one shift during the weekend is not without its challenges, and i've found myself too tired on my only day off to even think about writing for months now. One of my goals for the new year was to spend more time writing, but it is kind of one of those things that i can't really force, so i'm just happy i was able to do it recently <3
So, yeah! I guess happy new year from me (in april), and hopefully it'll be the year of many more chapters! I'm sure there are a lot of new folks in the fandom since the sonic movie 3 and so if you are new here welcome welcome!!!! Enjoy gay hedgehogs <333
Byebye for now, hopefully we will not be seeing each other in another two years!
