#ofprydain

[llallwgan]

@ofprydain / lancelot said: ‘ you’ll feel better after your bath. ’ illness & injury prompts.

❝ YES, and then we will have a nice dinner. ❞ Galehaut smiles so hard it makes his cheeks ache. He has not smiled like that in some time. He FEELS FINE how he is. Sure, there are a few cuts and scrapes that must be addressed and he is certain he will be sore tomorrow but they’re both beautifully, wondrously, remarkably ALIVE. He walks beside Lancelot, where he belongs, boar proudly hefted over his massive shoulders, blood drying on his face and leaves and dirt soiling his hair. A satisfactory but unexpected conclusion to a pleasure stroll.

Hunting had not been the objective of this excursion but it is difficult not to kill a raging beast when you see it charge your lover. The boar had darted out of the tree line abruptly, TERRITORIAL and hellbent on eliminating the being that intruded its sanctuary. Instinct had taken over and Galehaut had drawn his knife and pounced on it before it could reach Lancelot. The battle had been hard won but Galehaut had emerged THE VICTOR, unbitten and mostly unscathed. He is proud of it too, a little, though he is trying very hard not to show it.

❝ You have faced down lions. I am sure you could have taken the boar, ❞ ACTUALLY, he isn’t sure. He could not tell if Lancelot had spotted the animal or not. It would be a sad ending for a warrior so powerful, to die in a place of tranquility by the tusks of an animal who fought without provocation. He does not want Lancelot to think he views him as WEAK. He is anything but. Even the strongest man deserves moments of unguarded PEACE. Galehaut wants desperately to give that to him. ❝ but I told your king I would return you to him unharmed and I must keep my word. ❞

[advitameternal]

@ofprydainI ⸻ ↳ ' can feel you watching me… even when you shouldn't.'

Her  lips  sank  in  her  bottom  lips  as  she  gazed  at  him  as  he  was  getting  out  of  the  bath,  taking  a  step  closer  until  she  was  close  enough  to  reach  for  him.  She  didn’t  look  away,  her  eyes  filled  with  something  she  had  tried  for  so  long  to  suppress.   Guinevere  let  her  fingers  brush  the  edge  of  his  arm,  enough  to  send  a  spark  through  her. 

“  Can  you  really  blame  me?  ”

Her  voice  was  gentle  as  she  wrapped  her  arms  around  his  neck,  pulling  him  closer.  There  had  always  been  something  pulling  her  toward  Lancelot,  something  she  was  tired  of  ignoring.  They  had  given  in  when  he  rescued  her,  and  now,  she  could  not  imagine  her  life  without  his  touch,  or  the  taste  of  his  lips.

“  I  cannot  help  myself.  No  matter  where  I  am,  there  is  something  drawing  me  to  you.  ”

She  breathed,  her  arms  gliding  around  his  torso,  fingers  brushing  against  his  chest.  Her  lips  brushed  against  his  neck  as  her  limbs  relaxed  as  they  always  did  when  he  was  close  to  her.

[eynsavalow]

@ofprydain must travel by cart

"You have defeated me in fair combat, majesty. I am yours to command," Lancelot said, his head bowed before his king. He couldn't help but wonder if his mother had intended this. Of course only the man who yielded Excalibur itself could defeat him.

"The heads of your enemies will hang from the rafters of your hall, majesty. Just show me where they are."

[advitameternal]

starter  for  @ofprydain  .

Servants  rushed  into  the  castle,  arms  laden  with  food,  and  jars  of  wine.  Guinevere  stood  at  the  edge  of  the  grand  hall,  the  chatter  of  lords  and  ladies  swirling  around  her  like  distant  noise.  Musicians  played  soft  music,  which  did  little  to  settle  the  tension  brewing  in  her  chest.  She  held  a  goblet  in  her  hand,  her  gaze  moving  to  another  figure.  Elaine.  A  woman  she  could  not  bear  to  look  at,  and  yet  …  She  did  not  have  a  choice.  She  was  the  high  queen,  and  she  could  not  seem  to  appear  mean  without  any  real  reason.

❝   Lady  Elaine.  Welcome  to  Camelot.  I  trust  your  journey  was...  comfortable?   ❞

A  mandatory  pleasantry,  though  Guinevere’s  interest  in  the  answer  was  minimal.  Her  smile  was  polite,  and  restrained  at  the  same  time.  Distant  in  a  way  that  was  hard  to  miss.  She  couldn't  help  it,  as  much  as  she  tried  to  play  the  part  of  the  perfect  hostess,  the  perfect  queen  —  there  was  just  something  about  Elaine  that  made  her  insides  clench  in  a  painful  way.

[lefayed]

‎‎ywain said: ❛ that is where you are wrong.  ❜ / @ofprydain

'ywain!' how often had she cooed her son's name as she rocked him in her arms as an infant? or murmured it tenderly as she soothed scraped knees? yet more and more, she speaks his name as she does now...with exasperated frustration. this son of hers, her own flesh and blood, becomes more of a mystery to her day by day and it is frightening. from the moment she first looked into his eyes, he seemed to be her son and hers alone, yet now she sees flashes of his father in him and worse...a third person...himself, an identity that is being developed entirely on its own and seemingly at odds with her influence. 'you do not know your father as i do! have not had to endure him as i have and I say to you that he will be endured no more!' she is half tempted to reach across and take her son by the shoulders as if shaking him might somehow make him understand all that she cannot find the words to say but instead, morgan remains rooted to the spot, ice-blue eyes narrowing as she tries to discern her son's thoughts (what mother cannot anticipate their child's thoughts?) 'all sons idolize their fathers, it is the natural way of the world but he is a weak man, deserving not of praise, but of contempt.'

[llallwgan]

@ofprydain / lancelot said: i need to be someone without you. our share of the night.

❝ I see. ❞ NO, he does not. Sometimes he does. Sometimes it is like they are two halves of a whole, thinking, moving and breathing in sync. Sometimes understanding Lancelot is like a labyrinth with no correct passage to follow. He has devoted himself to learning his LANGUAGE, not Gaulish but the shifting of his eyes and the sagging of his shoulders. He could study Lancelot for a thousand years and never completely understand him, never extrapolate the correct meaning from his words.

They had both lived a life before they met, Galehaut had more of a storied existence than Lancelot but neither of them were children. Both of them had spent long enough in the world to become SOMEONE. He supposes, in some small way, he may understand what Lancelot wants. It is the desire of every man to tread a path he blazed himself, to carve off bits of the world for himself. Galehaut had carved away half of Prydain, had burnt a wide swath before he found the path he wanted to follow. It continued to twist him and exhaust him like a labyrinth with no correct passage to follow and he was GRATEFUL for the experience.

❝ You are someone without me. Someone I am unworthy of. So I give you all I have, not to consume you, not to annex you, I love you more than all the world so I share with you every piece of it that is mine. ❞ The sun is setting over the ocean. Galehaut turns his gaze from it. If Lancelot is leaving again, he would like to look upon him for as long as he can. ❝ What is it you ask of me now? ❞

[llallwgan]

@ofprydain / lancelot said: [LANCELOT] wipes  away  the  blood  from  [GALEHAUT]’s  face,  their  hands  trembling.

The stars are a beautiful blur overhead and so is Lancelot. There is blood dripping down his face, burning hot in the freezing night air. It doesn’t hurt. He has survived far worse. A good knock to the head won’t be his unraveling though Lancelot looks like he THINKS he is dying. Certainly the warrior has seen ghastlier sights, survived greater wounds himself. Galehaut will be fine. He needs a moment, just a moment out here to get his bearings, then he’ll be able to make it back to Camelot. If Lancelot doesn’t freeze or die of fright in the meantime.

❝ Why do you tremble, dear friend? ❞ Galehaut catches his lover’s hand in his own, brings it to his lips and kisses it. Bloodied or unbloodied, hand or face, it is a privilege to kiss Lancelot. Enough to keep him warm. ❝ Are you cold? ❞

He sits up a little, fully intending to remove his cloak and wrap it around Lancelot’s shoulders. Instead, the world spins and he feels like he is falling, though that is physically impossible since he is already laying on the ground. No, just a little longer, he thinks. He’ll lay here a little longer and then the spinning will stop and he will be strong enough to get up. Gods know Lancelot cannot lift him and if he stood and fell on him, they would be in a much worse state than they are now. The band of Saxons is dead. They’re safe, mostly. Safe and together under a blanket of stars.

❝ Lie with me and I will warm you. ❞

[bndruidharchive4]

@ofprydain: "try not to get yourself killed." — from guinevak

"–i'm sorry," she says, and means it. not really for the help she gives refugees; she can never be sorry for that. not for the late hours she refuses to account for, or how she must slip, cloaked and hooded, beneath the notice of the watch, or even really how she might indeed one day find herself at the wrong end of someone's blade because of it. but she is sorry that guinevak knows anything of it. implicating her husband and their brothers in her subterfuge was one thing (or rather, that they knew kara too well, and were too equal a match to her stubbornness to not be party to it), but dragging dear guinevak into it was another entirely. "i did not mean for you to find out," she tells her good-sister, her smile the only peace offering she can give. "i would not want any harm to come to you by knowledge of my actions."