The round table wasn’t exactly a familiar concept to Marian, but he spoke it as though it were a tangible thing, so she accepted it as such. If she’d learned one thing about Fableton, it was that its inhabitants had arrived via many roads. Just because there was no round table in hers did not except it from existing in his. She was familiar enough with the concept of a knight, though, and knew there weren’t many kinds of circumstances under which a knight and a king would part under unhappy terms. Like she’d turned a blind eye to some of Robin’s more questionable behavior, accepting he could be a good person who sometimes made mistakes, she decided to give Lancelot the benefit of the doubt. They didn’t know each other, and he had brought Arthur here. In spite of an unhappy parting, that was a caring action at the very least.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, deliberately keeping her voice light. “I know my own times were complicated and fraught with difficult choices, and many unhappy partings. Do you wish to attempt improvement in this world, or are you at ease knowing he’s in a safe place? If you wish to say, I can make you some tea while you wait.”
A small, wry smile touched his lips. He thought there was no chance of improving things with Arthur, but that wasn’t something he would say to a near-stranger, and certainly not with Arthur in earshot. However willing Lancelot may have been to mend things between them, he understood how effectively he’d burned that particular bridge.
“I wish to cause him no further harm, and I think that would best be served by my leaving.” He didn’t think Arthur would appreciate him sticking around for tea or anything else, and he was ready to be on his way home to Guinevere instead of interfering where he wasn’t wanted. He dipped his head in farewell. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Marian.”
Arthur had listened to the quiet warble of conversation from his spot at the bowl of the toilet. He’d retched a few times and still felt the swill of nausea in stomach, but nothing had come up and he wasn’t going to force it. So, eventually, he rose to his feet, slowly descending the staircase and lingering awkwardly at the bottom as the last of the conversation trickled out.
“If there is tea on offer, I will have some,” he called to Marian as he made his way back into the room. For all his pride and his shame, he still couldn’t quite look Lancelot directly in the face. “And if you wish to stay, I shan’t stop you. I suppose I owe you something in the way of thanks.”
@ladyxmarian @knightedlancelot
