Together for Every Step - Silvermagess (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

It's been a month since Gawain had been summoned to Chaldea and he's taken it in stride as he does most things. His Master, Ritsuka, is a worthy man, so he sees no problems in treating him as he would a king. Serving another is something ingrained him, making up the very fibers of Gawain's being. And it isn't like he's alone either. Bedivere is there, constant and steady as always. And there is a younger version of his King, pure eyed, a young girl not too different from how Gareth was. It aches to see her at times, but he admires this Lily regardless. Despite being young and impetuous, he can also see the start of greatness in her and when Gawain isn't devotedly following Ritsuka, he attends at her side. And he makes other friends too. He's always had a talent for getting along with everyone, even his enemies. He has made friends with people such as Siegfried, Cu Chulainn and Robin Hood, even if the gentleman in green is as different from him as night and day.

And of course there are the many inestimable ladies, beautiful, noble and vile, though even the latter category is worthy of his love. Putting aside Gawain's king, there are warm-hearted maidens like Mata Hari and he's enjoyed the times he's received an all too friendly hug from her. And there are the darker ladies, like Medea, who unsettles him a bit and fills him with dread. Yet, he still cannot help but admire her, because what is a knight if not an appreciator of women?

There had been a few misadventures since being summoned, correcting those small singularities that pop up, going on many adventures, some better than others. But Gawain had weathered it all, with his usual smile and good humor. He had good friends, good food, his King and a Master worth serving. The only thing he could ask for at this point was Gareth and Gaheris, and he knew not to worry too much over such a fate. If it was to be, it would be. He could not make selfish demands of his Master, who already carried so much on his shoulders. Still, it was hard not to hope that every time someone came through the gate that it would be either one his siblings.

And today, like any other day, was a day of summoning. Not that Gawain was attending the event. Instead he'd been training on one of the many dummies in Chaldea's training grounds, an automated construct made to take on any form you so choose. Today he had chosen to duel some of the wolf men they sometimes encountered and had set the room to simulate a dark forest. His companion, Robin Hood had laughed at him. "I didn't think you'd take my suggestion seriously," he smiled as he knocked and loosed an arrow at one of the beasts, causing it to go down with a whine. "You usually just go all brute force, sun or not…"

"Well," Gawain said as he effortlessly swung his sword, "l am realizing more and more that I need to be effective. And I'm fighting under less sunny fields than I'm used to anyways." Back home he'd fought in his share of castles and forests, but usually, he could arrange it to be under the sunny sky. "It's good to have a sense of diligence." He wasn't weak at night, but he was discomforted by it. And he needed to change that, if only for Ritsuka's sake.

"Hmmm…" Robin shot a few more of them and they fought for a while in silence till the last of the simulation was finished. "That horse of yours referred to you as a gorilla and I can't say I disagree. You have no finesse…"

Gawain frowned, but nodded along. He'd come to respect this man's wisdom, even if Robin would have scoffed at the idea of being treated as such. "So what you would suggest? That would still allow me to fight as a knight." It wasn't meant as an insult, but he also knew that Robin Hood had a very different ethic of fighting and honor, despite how much he tried to depreciate himself. Gawain wasn't quite sure if he could let himself go to that same place.

"You knights are too uptight," Robin Hood sighed as he sat down cross legged on a rock, simulated, but all too real in this space. One of the many mysteries of Chaldea, science and magecraft. "But, you have to be willing to go in for the kill sometimes," he paused, "on humans, not just monsters."

"I know that as well as anyone. I am a knight." Their armor and swords were tools of butchery, no matter how much Gawain might like claim chivalry. Even he understood that, especially with his faint knowledge of how he had acted under the Lion King's reign.

"Hmmm, that's not quite it though, is it? You have to go into it with an 'I'm going to win no matter what mentality, no matter what I have to do." He pulled out a cigarette and lit up, taking a long drag. "You've had a moment like that, haven't you? Where you had to win, no matter what and stopped caring? Because there was something you just couldn't let go of?"

Gawain feels a flash of memory then. Pursuing Lancelot after he'd killed his brothers and sister. Pushing even when Arturia clearly had no heart for it. Dueling Lancelot under the sun and then being defeated at night and mortifyingly spared, with nothing but that seeping wound to his head for his troubles. Mordred's betrayal forcing them back home and fighting tirelessly, despite Gawain's dizzy spells, the blow of that blade having done more than cut some skin. Lancelot trying to come onto the battlefield at Camlann to save them all. Gawain repelling him desperately, against all human reason, that head wound splitting open. And then Mordred striking against him at night when he felt his grip on his body and his sanity slipping…

"Yes," Gawain said after a moment, sheathing Galatine, placing a hand on his hip as he regarded Robin, sitting ever so comfortably. "Though I don't know that I want to push to that point again."

The corner of Robin's mouth quirked down as he held his cigarette in his fingers. "You look haunted, mate." The words were said jokingly, but somehow they cut for a moment, before Gawain regained himself.

"Aren't we all?" He laughed. "But I'll take your advice-" There was a beeping suddenly and a seam opened in the wall and who should pop her head in, but one Saber Lily, looking flushed and excited.

"Oh Miss!" Robin waved with a cheesy smile as he ground out his cigarette on his pants, never one to smoke in front of the younger girls. "Here to watch me wipe the floor with him?" Robin gestured towards Gawain, smugly.

"We aren't even fighting," Gawain sighed, even as he smiled. "What is it, My King?" She flushed for a moment and Gawain wondered again on Bedivere's advice, that he should perhaps call this girl Arturia instead. Even if she remembered the future where she was indeed their king, emotionally, she was still that child who had just pulled the sword and was running around the land with Merlin and Kay. Such things as being King of England were not yet a settled weight on those small shoulders. But, old habits die hard, especially when her face was the same, just as fresh and smooth as the day she would welcome him as a young adolescent into Camelot.

Getting over her embarrassment, Arturia became grave. "The summoning was successful."

"Oh?" Robin hmmmd, arms crossed? "Anyone important? I hope it's not another Elizabeth…"

Indeed they all hoped for that. The countess, while charming on certain occasions, was still too much presence for one body, let alone two. A third would probably destroy Chaldea with her uncontained energy.

"No," she said and swallowed hard. "It's Lancelot." Gawain instantly felt his whole body clench, though Robin merely laughs.

"Oh the big one. The guy they tell all the tales about, like Guinevere and oh…" Robin blanched a bit, belated realization hitting and then chewed his lip looking around as he rose. "I just remembered I have to go. That Lizzie, she wanted me to help her with a song and you know me. I love that girl's singing…" he said as he quickly headed towards the door that was still open, bowing to Arturia quickly before leaving. She pressed her hand against the wall and the hidden buttons there, causing the door to disappear, leaving the two knights alone in the artificial forest.

There was silence as she fiddled with her hands for a bit and then Gawain finally spoke. "Did you meet him yet?" Seeing her slowly nod, he felt his mouth tighten. "How was he?" Was he the bedraggled man Gawain met on the field of Camlann? That pensive man in the days before his affair was revealed? The teenage boy who came to Camelot for the first time, wild, energetic and unsure? Or…

"He seemed fine…" Arturia said, sighing. "Like he did back," she paused, but then decided to carry on, "like in the Holy Land." He took her meaning well then. He knew that she had been there, helping to fight against the Lion King and had fought the Round Table, or those who would call themselves that. A summoning he had no true memory of, even though it often plagued the faces of others and Bedivere whenever he came into their sight. "But he had no memories of it either. He was just a proud knight, as always."

As always.

While many described Gawain as the White Knight of the Round Table, Lancelot was the one who had shone the moment he came in. Gawain had sensed as much when the man first came to Camelot, had seen the spark of potential and had chosen to sponsor him to the Round Table. And he'd seen him mature and become a man, one Gawain had been proud of to call his friend. Before…

"Gawain, what do you want to do?" Arturia looked at him sternly, for once utterly serious, which wasn't a look Gawain ever wished to see on a young girl. Bridging the distance between them, till they were only a foot apart, Gawain smiled.

"My King, I don't quite know yet, but I promise you, I will not give you any cause for grief. Neither you nor Master. That much I have vowed in every life I have had since I died." Has he always succeeded? No. But no matter what, Gawain's heart has never wavered from that one wish, to be the perfect knight, even if he ultimately stumbles along the way. "Granted, I cannot promise exactly what will happen, but I promise that I will speak to him…" He frowned then, "in a week, if possible. If you think you can grant me that grace." Their Master was another matter and Gawain would just hope it wouldn't come up at all. But even though they were both servants, he still felt the desire to answer to her.

"I… that's good," Arturia said, smiling, moisture in the corner of her eyes and for a moment, Gawain felt the desire to wipe those tears away, as he would have for Gareth when they were young. But obedience held him back. And the storm quickly passed, and she smiled in relief, wiping the corner of her eyes. "I don't know what I would do if the two of you fought again."

"We won't fight," Gawain said decisively. "I promise you that. No matter what my heart may want, I will not let it come to blows. And I know he will not either." Lancelot had tried back then, Gawain understood that now. His friend had held back as much as possible during their duel, even though he could have easily killed Gawain at the end. All that time, Lancelot had been trying, in his own inept way to do what was right. He couldn't help but smile despite himself. "It will be fine."

He did spend the next week to himself, often dematerialized, which was a strange feeling. He liked going around in his physical form whenever possible. It allowed him to feel more grounded, more himself and not just a ghost of the past. But he needed to be in this state, where he could contemplate more freely and avoid Lancelot. It was akin to a sort of meditation, like what he had done sometimes at church, staying in the chapel long after everyone was gone and the air was freezing. During those moments, Gawain would calm his mind as he found a stillness in his body and think on the world and his place in it.

This meditation was more personal, selfish even and in the end, it felt like Gawain's mind and thoughts went in circles more often than not. But a week later and he finally decided to materialize again and did it right in front of Bedivere, who was walking down the hall. "G-Gawain!" He jumped and then shook his head. "Ah I hadn't seen you for a while and thought…"

"No need, friend," Gawain said as he clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Where are you heading? To see our king?" No person was more attentive to her than Bedivere and no person more cherished by the king than he. It had made many knights jealous when they were alive. And if he was honest, Gawain couldn't help but admit he also felt that pang, though he knew it was for the best. He could only ever offer the devotion of a knight. Bedivere could offer the devotion of a friend, a thing in rare supply for a king.

Bedivere nodded, an air of unease affecting his whole demeanor. "Were you doing the same?"

Gawain shook his head. "But let me walk with you some of the way." They started to head off, the corridors in Chaldea being long and surprisingly complex for such a facility. Servants didn't always get to room with where they wished, let alone in convenient places, so sometimes it was a journey to go anywhere. As they walked, an uneasy silence filled the air until Gawain spoke. "So is his room along the way?"

He saw Bedivere flinch, knowing that they were talking of their new arrival. "Yes it is. Half of the way."

"Good. Make sure you show it to me," Gawain said, trying to keep his face neutral, a near impossible feat for someone such as himself.

"Very well. Though Gawain, please-"

"-I know that I have given all of you reason to mistrust my ability to-"

"-Gawain that's not what I-"

"-control myself," Gawain said, not missing a beat as they kept walking, "but truly Bedivere, I do not mean to quarrel with him again. I just, I need this. Otherwise I cannot move forward. And I am sure he wants the same."

And Bedivere quieted down at that. "Gawain," Bedivere said as they finally stopped in front of what must be the door, "please, whatever happens after, if you want to talk, just know that I will listen." He said as he reached out and clapped Gawain's shoulder with his good hand. Gawain felt a surge of warmth in his heart and smiled, overjoyed that this man was here with them.

"I think I will regardless of the outcome friend." And without a word, Bedivere nodded and went on his way. Gawain waited until he was around the corner and gone and then paused in front of the door. A moment's hesitation passed before Gawain pressed the button. He heard Lancelot's voice on the other end, but couldn't quite get himself to answer and after a tentative moment, rang again.

The door opened along with some sighing. "Listen you can't just-" And the two's eyes met and they stared at each other for a while, as if locked in place. Lancelot was not in his armor, much like Gawain, stripped down to the body suit they wore for easier movement while fighting. His hair was short, giving his friend a clean cut look. Gawain doesn't think he's worn it that short since the middle of their careers. A bit before Guinevere then.

"Gawain…" Lancelot blinks finally and then frowns, eyes downcast. "You're younger than I was expecting." That's right, when Lancelot had come to Camelot, Gawain had thirty five, fully an adult. Gawain was at least ten years younger than that, past his duel against the Green Knight, but no longer ashamed of his failure. He was at the time when he had most shined, both the hero and the sidekick in many legends.

Gawain laughed lightly. "And you're younger than when we last met," he sighed. "May I come in?" Wordlessly, Lancelot stepped aside and Gawain entered, noting that room was still sparse, the bed unused, as it usually was for most servants. There are a few flowers on a nightstand along with a few books, and a table with a few chairs in the center for taking tea and entertaining, but otherwise it's a surprisingly austere room, like a monk's.

"Are ladies already sending you flowers, Sir Lancelot?" Gawain said as he looked around, sitting down at the small table his former comrade gestured to. After a moment, Lancelot did the same, arms folded.

"…some of them," Lancelot sighed. "Some of the young staff members…" He flushed, as if he had endured something painful, an experience he knew all too well.

"Say no more," Gawain nodded. "I know exactly what it is like. They will calm down in a few days." There was silence as Gawain looked over his friend's face, Lancelot's gaze cast downwards. It was a handsome face, but not conventionally so, at least in their island of Britain. Yet he made up for it in terms of that regal bearing, one that captivated all who looked up them. A knight indeed.

After a long enough beat, Lancelot decided to speak. "Sir Gawain I…" He swallowed and then perhaps surprisingly, rose. "I know I cannot make up for the past or any of the wrongs I have done."

"That I know," Gawain said, face hard set now. He saw what might have been a flinch on Lancelot's part. But Lancelot persevered.

"The King pardons me and always had," he said, reminding Gawain of one of the few betrayals of his respect Arturia had ever committed. "But I have wronged you perhaps just as much, if not more. You and your brothers," Lancelot then flinched, "and sister…" That's right, Lancelot wouldn't have known Gareth was a girl at the time. It was news that had only gotten out after that horrid ordeal, something that had only added to the scandal of what had occurred.

"You and I both know this, Lancelot. Please tell me that you are not here to repeat the past." Somehow, despite his best intentions in coming here, Gawain could feel his hackles rising. Had he over estimated his own calm and maturity?

Before he could lose his temper though, Lancelot strode closer to him and then, got down on one knee, causing Gawain to turn his seat around so that he was looking down at Lancelot, more in shock than anything else, at this odd show of… fealty?

"Please, Sir Gawain," Lancelot's voice was shaking, "I do not ask your forgiveness or understanding, but…" He then pressed his forehead against Gawain's knee, looking more like a child than the grown man he was, as if asking a priest for forgiveness.

Gawain bit the inside of his mouth, everything he felt and had been thinking on churning his gut. The room was silence save the noise of their breathing. After a moment, Gawain found something coming out of his mouth, unbidden.

"I can't forgive you," he said softly, causing Lancelot to stiffen. "I cannot ever do that. I loved the King, but Gaheris and Gareth," he paused as an old pain washed through him, "all my hopes rested with them." The two people who had been with him through a lonely childhood, who he had protected and watched rise in the world, cut down over something so senseless, so horrid. "And Agravain, we had no great love for one another, but he loved the King. I often wondered why it couldn't have just been he who died," Gawain sighed, "And I hate myself for that thought now. Because I wonder…" Meeting in adulthood after a childhood they were too young to remember, Agravain had rejected his overtures and Gawain had closed himself off, to protect himself and his siblings from the toxic taint of Morgan and any connection to a man who was surely a spy. But, what if he had tried harder? Gawain had often thought about it, but had never had the courage to follow through. And then Agravain had been gone and would always remain the brother Gawain had failed.

"But," Gawain sighed. "All I can do is wonder. About so much that happened," he said as then reached out a hand and let it rest on top of Lancelot's head, causing him to flinch. He merely stroked that hair though, short and softer than it seemed. "And what could have changed. Why you didn't talk to me back then before all of that happened. Why didn't you tell me you were feeling that way about the queen and the King?"

"W-what?" Lancelot choked, gripping the fabric of Gawain's pants. "You knew why."

"What, I wouldn't have listened?" Gawain, felt a bit of edge in his voice. "Or I would have reported you myself?" Then he sighed. "I know that our utter devotion to the King left you feeling like an outsider and that you felt it wrong." Even I think so now, Gawain thought to himself. "But," for the first time there was something choking in his voice, the tears he'd been holding back becoming obvious now. "We were friends, despite all that. Good friends. And you never told me once how you were feeling. And I never saw that." And there it was, confessed, a hurt that he had only recently realized he'd felt in this new life. "I could have stopped you from making such a mistake. Or if you had already fallen into her bed, to keep it from continuing. And if you had persisted in that folly, I could have protected you both from Agravain. Could have even reasoned with him and kept him from revealing the two of you."

"You know that isn't true, Sir Gawain," Lancelot sighed, letting his hands grasp around Gawain's ankle, as if he needed extra stability.

"You don't know if it is," Gawain said as he let his hand slip away finally to rest at his side.

"Hah, so you give me new guilt think over," Lancelot said as he finally looked up, tears streaking down his face. Gawain's own throat was tight now, his eyes watering.

"…I am not here to guilt you." Gawain said slowly. "I have my own share of the blame in this matter anyways."

"No, Gawain you-"

"It's because of me the King died, not you, no matter what they say," Gawain said softly. "I raised an army and forced the King to pursue you, with no thought to the strain a large force would cause. I let my rage cause me to run roughshod over her, even though I knew she hadn't wished to pursue the two of you," he sighed, trying to hold his own tears of frustration back. "And then, when we dueled and lost and you tried to show me mercy, I selfishly refused..." And forced Lancelot to humiliate himself, out of pride and rage.

"I knew," Lancelot softly laughed, "that you wouldn't give in. But how could I ever kill you?" Lancelot's voice was soft and wondering, as if just uttering those words was absurd.

And the tears were now threatening to come out full force. "Hah, yes how could you?" How could he have not taken that for what it was, a sign of the deepest love for a brother in arms? But Gawain couldn't have accepted it either. "And then Mordred happened, we went back and we were losing. And who should come…" And then the tears finally came out. "You. Like a hero. With an army to save us. And I…"

"It's not guaranteed that I would have helped you win," Lancelot said quietly. "At the time, I only wanted redemption. My own army was still ragged and morale was low. They didn't want to fight for your people. It was my selfishness."

"I should have thrown pride away." Gawain wiped his eyes, "and after it was too late and you were gone and Mordred had done me in, I lay there dying and realized…" He shook for a moment, "that a part of me had been relieved to see you. Glad even. And I had thrown that away, along with my loyalty, the thing I had prized the most."

"Gawain you did nothing-" And he stopped as Gawain cupped Lancelot's face in his hands.

"Please, Lancelot," Gawain said as Lancelot looked downwards, trembling as if afraid. "We were both at fault for what happened in Camelot back then. Whatever pain I held in my heart, it was immature of me not to forgive you."

"Immature? Only you of all people could say that," Lancelot said, almost marveling.

"Lancelot, please rise," Gawain said as he let go shifting in his seat. Lancelot complied, standing up, and Gawain followed so that they were both facing each other on equal terms. He then held his hand out and Lancelot stared, bewildered. "Lancelot, let us work together for now on, for our Master and his cause. And put the past behind us."

Lancelot seemed frozen for a moment and about to mutter any number of protests until his face settled into a pained smile. "Sir Gawain, yes…" And he squeezed his hand and it felt so much like all those years ago when they first met, the man's grip just as strong, almost Gawain's equal. "As long as you wish it, I shall happily walk down this path with you."

And once again, tears were at the corners of Gawain's eyes. Nay, they were bursting forth even as he smiled. "I will hold you to that promise then." And then, acting on impulse, Gawain pulled him into an embrace, feeling Lancelot go rigid and then relax against him. There was nothing said for a while as he felt the dam of emotions spring forth. So many things that had been on his mind and in his heart were now released from his person and he had heard so much he needed to hear that something was come undone in him and his body couldn't cope with it.

"Sir Gawain," Lancelot murmured, his own voice rough, "I promise, that never again shall I ever give you any cause for such grief. I swear this on my honor as a knight."

Gawain pulled away and looked up at him, his own face sad yet and laughed as he finally pulled back and wiped his own tears again. "Please Sir Lancelot, I do not need any promise such as that." Promises, no matter how well intended, had a way of breaking, whether you wished them to or not. "All I or any of us need is for you to fight alongside us." And to never leave them again.

"Then I promise: as long as I am able, I will stay here, with you."

"Good man," Gawain said as he patted his arm then. And he looked around the room once more and saw something in the corner he had missed before: a chess board. So he still, despite his poor skills in the game played? Well Gawain knew how to change the mood. "Lancelot, do you want to play a game?"

Following Gawain's eyes, Lancelot smiled softly. "Of course. Always."

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Those early days are clear in Lancelot's mind, like one of those pictures that people in Chaldea take with their cameras. His arrival in Camelot is the clearest among them. He was a young man just turned eighteen and had pushed himself into the British court with ease, using his charm and talent to impress the King and many of his knights. Of course others hated him, jealous, or so young Lancelot had liked to think. He had been idiotically enamored of his own talent back then. He had been raised by the Nimue, the fairy of the lake instead of in the court of men. Such a thing made one egotistical, especially when they were gifted with a holy sword. And it didn't make others love you.

In particular, the King's brother, Sir Kay, seemed to hate him immensely and a faction of knights had gathered around him who felt the same about this young Frenchman who didn't know his place. Lancelot welcomed it, a foolish youth who thought being alone in the world was only natural and had nothing to say about his person. Besides, the King seemed fond of him and that was what mattered in the end.

And so when it was that he was to participate in a tournament with the other knights, Lancelot was more than thrilled. Because he knew he would take the prize and the King would declare him champion. Such was his ego back then, a boy who believed he needed no friends, yet desired the admiration of one lone, cold sovereign. So it was that he found himself out on the tournament grounds, on a bright summer day, everyone in attendance. Many ladies had offered him their favor, though Lancelot had settled on a maiden named Felice and had her yellow handkerchief wrapped around his lance. He'd won in every jousting match, even unhorsing proud Sir Kay, who had given him a stiff and formal nod and nothing more.

When they'd gone from the joust to sword fighting, Lancelot had proved even more impressive yet, defeating all the best knights. Light hearted Palamedes didn't take him seriously and failed. Elderly Pellinore had also been felled. Sir Bedivere, now that had been a challenge and Lancelot was secretly impressed by his technique, so capable despite being so hampered by his physical defect. But ultimately, the man didn't have the physical strength to make up the difference and he had lost, though they had shaken hands afterwards and Lancelot suspected he had found a supporter.

As Bedivere walked off, Lancelot could hear the cheers, but also the unsettled whispers. Because there was yet a knight to have beaten him and it was beginning to sit ill with those who distrusted him. Their best heroes were all falling before a foreigner. Lancelot merely leaned against the fence that cordoned off the arena, relaxing, helmet hanging on a nearby post, Felice waving to him. He gave her a gallant smile and let his eyes wander over to Arthur's seat where the King sat with an expression that was cool, but interested, conferring with a few men who had been sitting next to him. One of them rose and said something to Arthur and the King nodded as the man came to forefront of the balcony.

"Sir Lancelot," the man called out, voice carrying easily, "having dueled so many of my brother knights, I would think you must be exhausted. But if you would do me the honor, I, Sir Gawain, wish to duel you." Gawain? The King's nephew? Lancelot remembered having seen him when he'd first met the King and during a feast, but hadn't thought much of him. Gawain bore the same heritage as the King though, pale skin, blond hair and blue eyes, but in stature was tall and broad. Handsome enough as well, Lancelot supposed, though he didn't make it a point to think on men that much.

"Hmmm," Lancelot said as he rose from his spot and called out, "Very well, I accept!" Despite the matches of the day, he was not tired at all. And no matter how big this man was, his size didn't equal talent. Lancelot had felled giants with ease and wasn’t going to lose to some nobleman who had likely won his place through the ties of family obligation and not talent. The man strode off the promenade, shouting for a name, Gaheris, causing a young freckle faced boy come, no doubt a squire. They strode off to a tent to prepare and Lancelot started to stretch and limber up, as the crowd's noise increased in excitement, a few of them now giving mean, smug sneers. The looks you gave someone who was about to be made the butt of a joke.

Some champion perhaps? Well they were about to be disappointed again.

"You should have quit while you were ahead," came an aristocratic voice to his left and Lancelot glanced back to see the source, Dinadan, leaning lazily against the other side of the fence, in his casual wear, a dark bruise on his cheek. He had been unhorsed early on before Lancelot could fight him and seemed to have lost his taste for the tourney quickly.

"If he is really so strong, then why wasn't he fighting until now?" Lancelot sighed as he saw Kay leaning over and whispering something to the King, while glancing in Lancelot's direction.

"Oh, Sir Gawain is no coward. You haven't heard of him?" Dinadan said. "The bloody arse is famous around here. The most chivalrous of us all," the man said with some mocking admiration.

"What point is it to listen to a reputation? Often they are lies," Lancelot said, as he felt his armor, to make sure it was tight, and waving over his squire, Lionel, who had been sitting back quietly. The boy began to adjust the straps on Lancelot's armor as he continued speaking to Dinadan, who was rolling his eyes.

"That attitude is why no one likes you here. Even I know when not to be smug or joke."

"And when not to wave a lady's pantaloons to distract your enemy?" Lancelot snorted and Dinadan shrugged.

"You all laughed."

"Of course we did," Lancelot said as his checkup finished and bent his head down so Lionel could wipe his brow and then offer him a swig of water from a water skin. "Is this man really so great?"

"You'll find out," Dinadan said as the crowd hushed and Lancelot glanced in the direction everyone was facing to see his opponent stride out, wearing armor so bright and polished that it almost glowed white, a great helm in his place. Lancelot gestured at Lionel and boy went away, scurrying over the fence.

"We shall see," Lancelot said as he set his own helm on his head and readied his sword, striding over till they were five feet between them. "Well met, Sir Gawain," Lancelot said as he examined his opponent, noticing the curious pattern of white lilies over his breastplate. The armor was almost too pretty and he couldn't help but delight in the thought of ruining it. Pompous peaco*ck. "I hope I do not dent up that fine armor of yours too badly."

"Sir Lancelot, you are too kind," the voice echoed from the helm, lighter than Lancelot had expected and pleasant. "I would not want to harm you either."

"Oh?" Lancelot laughed and then he turned as the King rose from his spot, raising his hand, ever the regal figure.

"Brave knights, may you fight with honor," he said and they both bowed to one another. "Begin!" Arthur shouted and his hand chopped down through the air and Lancelot wasted no time in lunging forward, lashing out with the heavy wooden swords they all used to fight in these duels. Though it would be more accurate the call such a thing a club.

Still, even with their full plate armor, it still hurt, the sword sturdy and hard, treated with care and wrapped in lengths of cloth. And Lancelot's sword managed to strike a blow against Gawain's breast plate due to his speed, making sure to quickly dodge out of his enemy's reach. This guy seemed to be a little shorter than him, though it was hard to tell up close. But Gawain was also sturdy and thick, something armor couldn't quite hide or cover. Like most large men he was probably slow, so if Lancelot just stayed out of his grasp he could whittle him away, like he had Kay and then it would be-

And suddenly the white knight was in his space, sword coming down in an arc overhead and it was all Lancelot could do raise his blade to meet it. The impact reverberated through his arms all the way down to his legs and Lancelot half wondered if he had just blocked the blow of a draft horse's hoof. He had to wring out every ounce of effort in his body just to hold that blade in place and when the two of them finally broke apart, he found himself thanking God. He could hear cheers going up through the crowd and, cries of Gawain's name now and he couldn't help but wonder if this was all some cruel joke being played on him, but what it was, Lancelot couldn't figure out as they continued to exchange punishing blows.

This man's strength was beyond anything Lancelot had seen and couldn't be attributed just to his mass and size, not when he moved so damn fast and when every blow felt like a boulder was about to crush him. He could feel the sweat pooling in his armor and his breathing becoming more labored than it had during any other fight. Worse yet was that Lancelot barely seemed to make any headway against this man. Blows hit here and there, but none of them seemed to count, even when other men would have been staggered by them. It was beginning to congeal in his mind, a thought that he might lose. And before the misery of that thought fully struck Lancelot, it happened.

Attempting to parry a blow from the side, his sword broke completely clean in two and Gawain's sword landed, forcing Lancelot to hit the ground, the impact shattering, everything going black for a second. Instantly, he heard the King's voice callout, "The match is to Sir Gawain!" Loud, raucous cheering went up in the stands, but it echoed hard in Lancelot's head and helm, as his body lay dazed, not fully understanding the beating it had received. He could hear Lionel's voice and felt the lad struggling with his helmet before pulling it off.

"My Lord!" The boy looked down on him as Lancelot blinked up at the brightness of the day. The noise was even more deafening and Lancelot could feel the sour taste of defeat and people's quickly lost favor in his mouth. A few others had entered the arena including Sir Dinadan, who laughed merrily.

"Ah he knocked you good boy!" Lancelot could spit fire at this man. He knew! If Dinadan noticed his rage, he didn't care as he gestured towards his own squire who began to help Lionel with stripping off Lancelot's breastplate. "God, let's see how you're doing though. How's your breathing?"

"It's…" Lancelot gasped, feeling an ache in the side that had been struck, along with countless other bruises starting to form.

They stripped off his breast plate finally and Dinadan slid his hand under Lancelot's tunic pressing around. Lancelot cringed and hissed through his teeth as he answered a barrage of questions before Dinadan finally backed away, satisfied. "I'd talk to that physician later to make sure, but I think nothing broke. You're just going to have a nasty bruise for a while."

The two squires helped him up and Lancelot groaned, feeling dizzy. "What was that? I feel like a bear attacked me."

Before Lancelot could receive an answer though, his opponent strode over, no doubt done bathing in his victory and addressed Lancelot's attendants. "He is well then?" Seeing some nods, the voice seemed relieved. "Thank the heavens! I had thought I knocked you far too hard!" And after a moment, Gawain reached up and unbuckled his helm, pulling it off. And Lancelot couldn't help but be struck for a moment, seeing the man's face up close and really, really looking at him for the first time.

To say he was handsome would have been an injustice. Nay, almost more beautiful than handsome, like a Roman sculpture, all elegant features, perfectly formed and shaped. A mouth made to smile and an expression so gentle, that surely any woman wish to be loved by it and any man would want to laugh with it. His hair was damped with sweat, but golden, more like the wheat of a field than the bright sunshine of the King's. His brows set a little heavy, but it was more charming than boorish as it might have been in other men. His eyes were a light blue that was sharp and deep, strangely piercing without destroying the overall effect of softness that his face had. There were little signs of his older age here and here. The start of crow's feet around his eyes and a premature touch of gray at his temples, but they didn't take from his beauty.

Gawain chuckled then and it was the kind of laugh that spread joy and Lancelot couldn't stop himself from feeling a surge of warmth at this man. All despite his previous terror. Dinadan shook Lancelot out of his reverie with a friendly slap on the arm and looked at the squires. "You get him stripped down the rest of the way and ply him with some wine alright?" And then the man turned to Gawain. "Did you really have to beat him up so bad? Makes me glad I only ever dueled you at night."

Gawain frowned in a way that was almost more of a childish pout. "He wasn't giving me a choice." And then he looked more fully at Lancelot, who by now was divested of the weight of his armor, feeling blessedly lighter. "Do you think you can stand?"

Lancelot nodded and Dinadan and Lionel each got on one side of him, Gawain extending a gauntleted hand, helping him find his foot. Lancelot instantly felt the blood rushing to his head nearly collapsed forward, bracing himself on that white armor, which had barely any scratches on it.

"Careful!" Dinadan shouted as he and the squires quickly made sure to steady him. But all Lancelot could think of was how much taller he was than this man, surprisingly so. He had suspected Gawain was a bit shorter, but during the fight, it had felt as if this knight had towered over him. And even now, there seemed to be a largeness of self-emanating from Gawain. It was too much and frustration suddenly bloomed in him anew, because he could still hear the crowd murmuring and chatting and was reminded of the fall he had no doubt taken in their eyes, punished for his bravado, for being an outsider.

"I am fine," Lancelot managed, not quite able to meet Gawain's eyes. "I think I need to lie down in my tent, my Lord." It was said as politely as possible, while actually lacking all the graces this man was due.

"Very well then," Gawain seemed to cringe, as if sensing the dismissal, but backed away and Lancelot couldn't help but feel some regret at his own ill behavior. "It was a good match though, Sir Lancelot. You did me great honor today."

"You did me great honor," Lancelot muttered to himself as he lay in the room that had been given to him in the castle that night, the bed firm and old, yet somehow a comfort to his sore body. The physician had told him that he would be fine and had not broken or ruptured anything, but that he had best not be jousting or engaging in any rough sport for a while. Bed rest today and then gentle exercise and riding were permitted for the next few days before he would likely make a full recovery.

Lancelot had sulked in his tent, forcing a smile at Felice when she had come to visit him alone with her attendants, still ever so devoted, though the sight of the maiden had done nothing to buoy his spirits. The feast held that night had been in Gawain's honor, though everyone claimed it was for Lancelot as well. He had attended, more to maintain what little face he still had, only able to eat lightly. He still ached and had to wonder if perhaps the physician was mistaken and something had indeed been broken.

He barely remembered much of the dinner except a feeling of mortification throughout, one he had struggled to maintain his head through. The King had given him some kind words of encouragement, the highlight of the evening, though even that had been soured, with Gawain sitting by his Uncle's side, wearing an indulgent smile. When Lancelot had finally been able to escape, alluding to the recommended bedrest, he had left with Lionel's help and now he rested, ruminating with drink nearby.

He had hoped to stay in this kingdom and become a knight of the King. Nay, even join the famous Round Table. He had felt assured that he would. The King liked him it seemed. He had charmed at least half the knights and almost all of the ladies. And he had nearly proven his prowess. But then Sir Gawain had happened…

How could he hope to join the Round Table when something like that monster was there? Forget Sir Kay despising him! What did he have to offer in the face of such a warrior? One who wasn't even a youth anymore!

Grabbing his glass of wine, Lancelot took a swig, when he heard a knock on his door and regretted sending Lionel away for the evening! "You may enter!" He called out as he set aside his glass and then blanched when he saw his visitor enter.

"Forgive me for bothering you, Sir," Gawain said as he stepped in, carrying what seemed to be a thin box under his arm.

"N-no," Lancelot stammered as he made an effort to sit up and get off the bed, only to have Gawain wave his free hand.

"No please, do not move yourself so." He looked around the room, soft in its candle light. "I am the one intruding on you. And will gladly leave if you so desire it."

He half wanted to evict him, but at the same time, Lancelot could remember his rudeness earlier in the day, an offense he couldn't afford to repeat. "It is fine, Sir Gawain. What brings you here? Shouldn't you be enjoying the feast?" It was in his honor and he was indeed dressed the part, wearing a black tunic trimmed in gold and green, which displayed his body perfectly, from his broad shoulders to his narrow hips. It made Lancelot, who had stripped down to his shirt and trousers feel underdressed.

"I enjoyed it plenty," he smiled. "I could ask you the same thing."

"Still feeling rough," Lancelot said, reclining against his pillow and gestured towards the chair sitting in the corner. "Please sit though Sir Gawain," and watched as his senior obliged, grabbing the chair and pulling it next the bed.

"Really now," Gawain said, resting the box on his lap. "A man can easily rest at a dining hall table." Was his lying that obvious, Lancelot thought, feeling his face heating up, but fortunately, Gawain didn't seem intent on pressing him. "But I did not come to nag you over being such a hermit. I merely wondered if you would indulge me in a game of chess."

"Chess?" Lancelot muttered, now looking at the box Gawain held. "I mean, I am not sure if I could truly entertain my lord, being as I am…" He still wasn't sure why he was being subjected to this torturous visit in the first place. It was irrational, but Lancelot couldn't help but feel a sense of shame welling up, and at least half of it was at his own ungenerous thoughts. Because he could sense that Gawain was sincere. This was not a man who told lies.

"Are you not confident in your abilities?" Gawain smiled and now Lancelot found his irritation only growing, annoyed at how baited he felt.

"No, not at all!" He realized he had raised his voice and cringed back against his pillows. "I just have not played for a while and am unsure if you use different rules in this land.""…it is alright. I can teach you if they are. And I don’t just wish to play against you, but to talk."

Lancelot blinked, but then sighed, realizing that he probably couldn't get out of this without causing offense. And feeling guilty for even thinking so. "Very well."

With some work, they managed to drag over an end table near the bed and position themselves so that Lancelot wouldn't have to move overly much. Despite Gawain's claim of wanting to talk, the start of the match was dedicated merely to playing and the rules were not too different from France's. Tragically, Gawain was quite good. Very good in fact. Just as Lancelot had thought he was gaining the upper hand, he'd suddenly realize that his tactics had instead landed him in danger.

He was caught in a particularly difficult place when the subject changed. "I want to apologize to you for earlier today," Gawain said. "I did not mean to deceive you about my strength."

"What deception can there be my lord? The strong are strong." He couldn't help but still feel a little foolish, though the worst of his earlier irritation had calmed down since they had started playing. Something about this man's presence was calming, even when he was focusing on a game board.

"Not when one has a unique and special talent." Lancelot looked up at Gawain. "I am surprised no one told you as much, but since we are to be allies and friends: when the sun is out, during the morning and afternoon hours, my strength triples."

Lancelot blinked and started to laugh. "M-my lord, what?" Yet, something in the back of his mind said not to laugh, that it was not impossible, when the King he currently wished to serve was eternally a boy and could beat whole armies back on his own. Not when Lancelot himself held a holy sword, gifted to him the by the fairy who had raised him. "How would such a thing even be possible?"

"I…" Gawain said hesitantly as he moved a pawn forward, further pressing Lancelot's already poor position, "…was blessed by a holy man a long time ago. Ever since then, I have been like that. No one can hope to beat me in that state."

"And right now?"

"I am just the same as any other man at night," Gawain smiled as he watched Lancelot attempt to counter him. "Not weak by any means, but just as human as anyone else."

Lancelot frowned. "That's why it felt like I was smashing my sword against a brick wall." He felt like a fool. No wonder so many of them had looked smug in the stands.

"Funny, I felt the same way," Gawain said as he instantly countered, leaving Lancelot feeling even more pressed, not just on the chessboard, but in general. "It has been a long time since I had to go so hard."

The words were kind and Lancelot wasn't sure he could handle them. Because how could they be true? And how could he deserve such when his own thoughts were so cruel? "You do not have to spare my feelings Sir Gawain," he said as he tried another move to extricate his king from the situation. A desperate one.

"I am not sparing them," Gawain said, taking a different move than expected, instead of the one that probably would have ended the match. As if he had decided to toy with Lancelot. "I truly sincerely felt frightened there-"

"-Stop lying! I am not a child!" It came tumbling out then, that feeling of tension bursting apart with every bit of hurt Lancelot felt. "Just admit that you all had your fun and put me in my place!"

He saw Gawain's stunned look and instantly regretted the words he had spoken and not just the social consequences that would come with offending someone so powerful in Arthur's court. It felt as if he had offended a brother or dear friend, even though he had only just truly spoke with the man today and he instantly wanted to take back those words. But his body and face were still frozen in anger.

After a moment though, Gawain's shock softened into a sort of indescribable softness. "Sir Lancelot," his voice was quiet as he rested his hands on the board. "I will admit that I did decide to go out there to keep you from winning the final round." Somehow he hadn't expected that admission and Lancelot felt his body almost weaken. "But I didn't do it because I wished to humiliate you."

"What do you call-"

"-I want you to be part of the Round Table," he stated plainly and Lancelot flinched back. "But, as you are now, if you win all the way, it will create problems." As if seeing Lancelot's confusion, Gawain sighed. "Sir Lancelot, I did not mean to say so, but you are rather arrogant. And that might have earned you favor in France, but here, too much of that is unbecoming. It alienates people and causes distrust. We value unity above all."

"You… think me too arrogant? Then what do you call your reputation?" He had heard the cheers for Gawain and saw how much the man's fellows admired him. "Just because you are the King's nephew-"

"-And that means nothing in the long run," Gawain stated. "Because I cemented my position not through my status, but through my deeds and character."

"Did you just say I have no character?" Lancelot finds his mouth gaping a bit. "You come in here and insult me like this?"

"I never said you have no character, but it's weak!" His voice is suddenly raised, and Lancelot cringed. "You are young and conceited and at this rate, you'll be hated more than you are respected even if you do enter the Round Table!"

"Y-you just…" didn't this man just say that he wanted Lancelot to enter the Round Table? "Then why…"

"Because," Gawain said as he settled down, "I know that with time, you will grow past your flaws and will become a knight good and true, the best of us."

He felt his face flush, not sure how to handle such words that would have sounded like a lie coming from anyone else, but everything this man said seemed to come from his heart. "What makes you think that?" Lancelot had been praised his whole life, a monster of a man in the body of a boy, the son of a fairy of the lake who always drew awe from those around him. But somehow, all of that paled in comparison now.

"You strive hard, I can see that. Saw that on the battlefield where you met our army. Your skill in the tournament, is part talent, but also drive. And you are kind and generous to ladies when they come to you. And most of all…" Gawain paused, "…the King admires you. And the King is a good judge of character."

"I don't see what that has to do with beating me up?"

"Because everyone needs to lose sometimes. You're used to winning and that makes you co*cky. You're young and a foreigner, yet you came here no doubt looking down upon our small kingdom, didn't you?" Lancelot choked then and Gawain sighed. "You would not be the first. Britan has always been like that. We are small compared to your France and are made up of many dissolute clans and tribes fighting one another. The idea of there existing a King who would unite all of that would sound absurd. Especially since Uther tried and failed. You are not the first, and you will not be the last."

"You're right," Lancelot sighed, eyes turning to the chessboard again, thinking about how he felt corned like his king, the black piece sitting alone. "I did come to sate my curiosity after my Mother sent me out into the world." Nimue had told him to seek his destiny and become a knight and he had found himself with no direction to go. For who should he serve? His Father had been a King, but he'd been slain and along with it, Lancelot's birthright. To stay in France and forever resent knowing that he could have been a King in his own right would have been torture. "I did not know where to go and when I heard of the King of Knights, I decided to see for myself, with no true intent in mind." It sounded petty now that it was said aloud, instead of the proud adventure Lancelot had imagined it.

"And you were captivated by him, as we all were." Gawain smiled, also glancing at the chessboard. "But, you don't know how to reign in that personality of yours yet. And have had no reason to, when you are excellent beyond all others"

And Lancelot couldn't even be offended, because now he was fully seeing the shape of what Gawain was telling him. "And so you hoped that by beating me, you will curb my worst tendencies."

"Perhaps. I think that once you get past your embarrassment you will think on it and rally. And the others will not become jealous either."

Well they would be jealous still, Lancelot knew that much. Men were men in the end. Not everyone could be as pure as this Sir Gawain or the King. "And you also get to preserve the order in their eyes, don't you Sir Gawain? A young knight coming in and becoming the senior knight over all his elders would sit poorly with most people. But if he comes only second to someone already established and admired, then it is no horrid matter."

"You are astute, as I knew you would be."

"What if you had lost though, Sir Gawain?" Lancelot raised an eyebrow. "What then?"

Gawain sighed. "I would not have lost, Sir Lancelot, though I did consider it and felt it would still be to the good. You would have proven yourself a knight without peer. Everyone knows my strength and they would have looked on you as truly capable. And there would be other ways to humble you in the future."

"Such as at chess," Lancelot stated bluntly. Gawain laughed a little then and somehow the strange soreness in Lancelot's chest released. "So what I take from this conversation is that you wish to be my mentor?"

"Not so much that Lancelot as a friend."

"A friend…" Lancelot said softly, thinking on it again. He liked the sound of it. "I half don't want to accept, because I am still cross. But, as you have just told me, frustration will do me some good."

"It will not all be frustration, I should hope," Gawain smiled at him warmly. "In fact, tomorrow, we should go riding together. The weather will likely be fair."

Riding with this man under the blue skies of a summer day, with a refreshing breeze in the air. Somehow it felt like a perfect picture in the Lancelot's head. "Very well. But first, I think you need to finish beating me in this game."

"Gladly," Gawain smiled and the room felt as if it didn't even need a candle, it seemed so bright.

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Fighting as a Heroic Spirit is not much different than fighting as a human being. You follow your Master's orders and execute his plans to the best of your abilities. Gawain is particularly suited to this role. His talents as a Servant had been quickly recognized, particularly when it concerned those everyday battles that were necessary to Chaldea's survival. He was considered a strong and reliable ally by most of the other servants, if maybe a little thoughtless, a confusing complaint. Sure he was a little bossy on the battlefield, but that was a matter of him offering his expertise to his Master and other Servants who had no such life experience.

Of course, Lancelot's star had also begun to rise since he had joined their ranks, proving himself an effective addition, his Arondight cutting through any barriers, living or immovable. Centuries later and it was still an inspiration and Gawain couldn't help but feel a bit of pride in him. And perhaps a bit of annoyance at times, such as in this moment, where they were fighting a Spriggan. They were accompanying their Master on a hunt through a forest when a pair of the stone giants had attacked. One on its own was bad enough, but two, with their earth shattering stomps was a nightmare. Ever in sync, Gawain and Lancelot had decided to draw one off, leaving their Master, along with Robin Hood and Arash to deal with the other.

They'd put enough of distance between themselves and the main group to ensure that the Spriggan's quakes wouldn't cause any harm, but now they had no support from Ritsuka and his potent Mystic Codes. The day, which had started out sunny and bright, was now overcast, so Gawain's advantage in battle was gone. And this thing was pressing them hard, too many of its blows landing. Lancelot in particular had taken some strikes, entirely avoidable ones, judging by his companion's cursing. Gawain himself was doing well enough, so much so that when the near fatal mistake happened, he was unprepared.

The Spriggan had done one of its stomps, a fierce one which staggered Gawain, bringing him to his knees. Trying to right himself, Gawain looked up to see it upon him, its fists clenched together like massive hammer bearing down. Desperately, he tried to raise Galatine in an attempt to take some of the force out of the blow. But it never came because suddenly Lancelot's back was in front him. How Lancelot had even managed to get in front of him so fast, Gawain wasn't able to figure out, but he felt a confused fury rise in his chest. The pure stupidity!

"Lancelot what are you-"

But then Lancelot raised his Arondight as if to soak the blow, a blow Gawain knew he wasn't going to handle, not with the hits his friend had taken early. And when the Spriggan hit him, Lancelot was blown back instantly, forced right into Gawain and they both ended up rolling across the ground only stopped when they crashed into a tree, both bodies taking an impact that would have killed weaker Servants and had nearly destroyed them both.

"Y-you idiot," Gawain hissed through his teeth as he somehow managed to rise to his feet, shaking with the effort, tasting blood in his mouth. Lancelot was laying there on ground, not responding save for a weak groan, bruises marring his face. It was all lost now and Gawain felt a cold wind blow through his heart.

He bent down to shake Lancelot. "Lancelot, we need to go back to Chaldea right now!" He heard a murmur of what must have been assent, because Lancelot's body dissolved into Spirit form. Gawain soon followed suit, muttering an apology to Ritsuka, even though it wouldn't be heard.Afterwards, he would be told that the situation had resolved itself well enough. Robin and Arash managed to defeat their Spriggan and the other one had vanished, likely distracted from its original targets.

But, despite that, Gawain had been filled with dissatisfaction. He disliked losing and even more so, he disliked losing because of incompetence, especially when it wasn't on his part. And when this seeming incompetence had been a growing a thing, a problem with Lancelot, that was now impossible to ignore. After a few days of healing up and steeling his heart, Gawain decided it was time for a talk as the people of this era called it. When he finally found Lancelot, he was actually leaning against a wall in one of the hallways, chatting with one of the many female staff members. The two of them were laughing animatedly as if no recent disaster had occurred. Who was this girl? Casmira from engineering? About 35, so not actually a girl and thus not to Gawain's tastes, and not even particularly curvaceous, though otherwise pretty enough. And somehow, Gawain couldn't keep himself from being annoyed as he heard the happiness in Lancelot's voice. Of all the nerve…

"Really? I will have to seek out this Thursday Night Live on the television," Lancelot smiled and she nodded, eager, eyes shining.

"I think you'll like it! This season is really good! Though the last one…" She trailed off as she saw Gawain, who waved at her, keeping his face neutral. "Sir Gawain! I'm glad to see you're doing better!" She smiled, oblivious to any mood he was repressing.

Lancelot turned around and gave Gawain an indescribable expression. Despite having been the more grievously injured party, he seemed to have healed much faster. Curse him. "Sir Gawain, it is good to see you whole again," Lancelot said, as if unsure of himself and Gawain had to bite the inside of his mouth. Having a row in front of a lady was never called for.

"I am glad to see you have mended as well," Gawain said, as if nothing was amiss with him. "In fact, I really need to you to speak with me right now." Both Lancelot and Casmira blinked, but Lancelot didn't argue.

"My Lady," he turned to the engineer and smiled gallantly, "I am afraid my good companion needs me, so I will bid you good day." She flushed, as most women of this era did at such simple lines and then smiled, giving Lancelot and Gawain a wave, before going off to whatever task she had no doubt been side tracked from. Lancelot's face then became resigned as he turned to face Gawain.

"…Sir Gawain, what is it you wish to speak of?"

Gawain had meant to find some private place to speak to Lancelot, but the words were out of his mouth before he could even form them in his mind. "What were you thinking back there?"

The shock on Lancelot's face passed quickly as if he had been practicing for this moment. "I was trying to help us win."

"By being thrown right into me?"

"You were going to get hit."

"I could have taken it," Gawain hissed through his teeth, bristling at the insult he felt lay hidden in the words.

"Just barely!"

"I could have taken more than you at that moment! Instead," he felt himself becoming red with fury, "you not only broke yourself, but impaired me too much to fight!"

"What, is it wrong for a knight to protect his comrade?"

"When it is unnecessary, yes?" Gawain raised an eyebrow as if in disbelief. "And this isn't the only time you have done so! There have been many incidents! Like with the dragon!"

Lancelot blanched, remembering that embarrassment clearly and seemed stupefied for a moment.

"It…" Lancelot trailed off then, as if counting those moments in his head and then tapped his chin, sheepish. "I guess I have been doing it a lot."

"And I never see you doing it for anyone except maybe Mash. Or any of the women." He frowned then as something uncomfortable began to fall into place. "You never bother with the rest of the Round Table or with the King…" And Gawain realized exactly why this annoyance had been growing, as if suddenly it all came together. "You are treating me like a woman. Why?"

Lancelot's expression became horrified and he turned beet red. "S-sir Gawain, I assure you I had no intention or thought of doing such to you. I definitely do not think of you as such either."

"I should hope not, or you are blind." Gawain knew that his face, while pretty, was still masculine and even that aside, his build and indomitable personality should have dissuaded anyone from making such a mistake. "Have I done something to make you think me weak or emasculated?" The only reason he wasn't more outraged was because it was mingling with an odd feeling of discomfort.

"No!" Lancelot said sharply, then quieted down, brushing the back of his neck. "I would never think anything so offensive of you."

"I am not offended," Gawain said as he felt his feelings settle down a bit. He was still bothered, but there was also, something indescribable, a sort of prickling under his skin. "I merely wish to know what it is you are thinking at this point." Any answer that could relieve this growing feeling would be acceptable.

Lancelot looked around the hallway, as if to make sure no one was coming and then, as if not satisfied despite its emptiness, pressed a button to the door behind him and gestured for Gawain to come with him. Gawain followed him inside the room, empty and unused save for random storage. There were boxes, some kind of lance in the corner and a number of children's playbooks in here, as well as some scribbles on the floor, a sign that the little girl trio had probably ducked in at some point. Closing the door behind him, Lancelot sighed, massaging his temples.

"Listen, Sir Gawain, I did not mean to treat you like a woman. I only have the utmost respect for your skills."

Gawain crossed his arms, sighing. "And yet-"

"-and yet, some of what you say is true!" Lancelot spoke, as if he was making a confession. "I have made sure to go on missions with you as often as I can."

"I noticed that much," Gawain laughed, "Though Master himself insists too. We make a good team." Normally.

"It is more than being teammates for me, Sir Gawain," Lancelot frowned, and then swallowed. "I… want to protect you. More than anyone else. The thought of losing you fills me with a dread that I cannot even begin to explain."

"I…" Gawain didn't know how address the emotion in those words and began with something simple, almost rote. "I feel the same way for you, Sir Lancelot. You are part of the Round Table and my dearest friend-"

"I do not mean like that!" Lancelot snapped and Gawain flinched, causing something sad to cross the other man's face. "No, I do not mean to be cross," he sighed. "It is just more and more, I feel that you are the one person I must hold onto in this place."

Those words heated Gawain up and then he shook his head as if to dismiss the feeling. "You need to be treating everyone else with the same accord, Sir Lancelot," Gawain said as he raised a hand to the back of his neck, feeling self-conscious, the skin there burning.

"No, I do not." Lancelot said sharply, causing them both to start. "But, that aside," Lancelot said as he regained his composure, "I did not mean to insult you, Sir Gawain. I know that you are a warrior without peer. One of the few I considered my equal in life. Nay, even now."

"Then please, Sir Lancelot, do not be throwing your life in front of mine like that. It makes matters difficult. And it calls into question my own ability."

"I realize that now," he straightened up then. "I have been a bit ridiculous, haven't I?"

Gawain laughed now, remembering more incidents. "That time with those hands, where you didn't even give me a chance to use Galatine. Afterwards, Master had to scold you for wasting our time."

"Point taken then," Lancelot was fully ashamed now. "I will make an attempt to hold back, regardless of what my heart is urging me to do." Again with those strong words that seemed out of place with the situation.

"I… do not fault you for that," Gawain said, hesitating. "But, if you need to vent that urge towards someone, do it for Master. He's the one that will not survive otherwise." Not that Lancelot had been failing in his duties, far from it. He was an excellent Servant, present discussion aside.

"That might not be possible," Lancelot said. "My feelings for you would bother Master if he was on the receiving end of them." The room froze for a moment and Gawain wondered how he was to respond, when Lancelot clapped his shoulder. "But Sir Gawain," He leaned in close and Gawain felt any of his protests swallowed in his throat, "know that whatever else, I do not apologize for protecting what is important to me." For a moment, for just a moment it almost seemed as if a kiss was going to happen. And then Lancelot pulled away and was out the door far too fast and Gawain pressed a hand to his face, glad he couldn't see his own expression. He leaned against the wall, feeling himself overcome.

Surely he had misinterpreted that look. Perhaps Lancelot had just been overcome, as was often the case. Maybe it was just the debt he felt for what had happened between the two of them in life. Maybe...

Treating him like a woman. Nearly kissing him.

Gawain shook his head, as if trying to sort his thoughts.

Master would be bothered to be on the receiving end of such a thing.

He swallowed.

I do not apologize for protecting what is important to me.

Nothing. It's nothing. Gawain thought to himself. Surely it couldn't be that. But now he was remembering other moments outside of the battlefield and this room.

He remembers a time when they were watching one of those movies on the tv and discussing the contents of it intently. A drama it was called, so utterly different from any of the plays that would have been present in their time. They had somehow been engaged in talking for an hour after the ending and had in particular been discussing the feature they found most novel, a side romance involving two men. They were naturally aware that the modern world was more broad minded, but seeing such a thing had been a bit of a shock, though the discussion was mostly good humored.

"I cannot believe they kissed like that," Gawain laughed as he lounged back on the sofa.

"You of all people can't?" Lancelot smiled from the opposite side, relaxed and at ease, a more common sight these days. "Didn't you kiss a man once, nay thrice?"

Gawain rolled his eyes, not surprised to hear once again the tale of his folly with the Green Knight. It was his most famous tale in the modern world and the first adventure of his youth. And naturally everyone fixated on that one bit, over other equally relevant parts of the poem. "That was part of a particular ordeal and you all know that. You were not even in Britain at the time."

"And yet everyone told me the tale," Lancelot laughed. "It surprised me, because I had such a different image of you back then."

"Of course," Gawain sighed, "I was married to Ragnelle then and as unfortunate as that was, I did try to act somewhat… respectable." He still charmed women here and there and was often tempted, but he tried to be something of an example. And because of that, people had often assumed him to be more upright and prudish than he actually was.

"Somewhat… and yet you ended up kissing a man because his wife kissed you."

By now Gawain should have been over the embarrassment of it, but for some reason it was pricking at him today. "And what does that have to do with anything?"

"Did you enjoy it? I heard he was quite handsome and from the sounds of it, the Green Knight was practically wooing you with gifts." Lancelot's smile had softened a bit, no longer quite as joking as Gawain would like. And it was probably the first time anyone had been serious in asking him and Gawain had to think about how truthful he should be.

"…so what if I did?" he said after a moment's deliberation, causing Lancelot's eyes to widen. "You are right. He was a handsome man, good and courteous…" It wasn't something Gawain had ever admitted before and it almost felt like a relief. "And on top of that, a beautiful woman had kissed me and I could not touch her in return. Those feelings had to go somewhere."

"…what if it had gone farther and you had to-"

"-I don't know. But I have thought often through the years when I was alive that I regretted not finding out." A full truth out in the open now and Gawain watched Lancelot's face carefully, not sure what reaction he hoped to see there.

Lancelot's face looked as if he had been struck by lightning and he quickly turned away, placing a hand on his face. "I… Sir Gawain, I did not mean to pry into such a thing."

"Are you discomforted?" It was said gently on his part, not wanting to worry his friend, because Gawain knew Lancelot far too well.

"No," Lancelot shook his head, not looking at him. "I am merely shocked that you would say such a thing so openly."

"Should you really be so scandalized? When you had Sir Galehaut always attending to your every need?" Lancelot turned to look at Gawain then, face flushed, looking irritated.

"Oh come on now, must you all comment on that?" Lancelot ducked his head then, almost looking ashamed. "Besides, what he wanted was something I could not give. He was but a brother to me. One I hardly deserved."

"Poor Galehaut," Gawain sighed sadly, but decided to tread a little more carefully, least he say something improper, even if he agreed that the man had deserved better. "But, my point being, you never thought any less of him despite the nature of his own feelings, did you?"

"No. And I never meant to imply that I think less of you for such a thing," Lancelot now looked even more puzzled, as if thinking on some deeper question. "I have… just been wondering for a while honestly, how you thought on such matters."

"Really now?" Gawain had chuckled and been about to ask why, when they'd been interrupted, by who he couldn't remember at this point. But he'd not dwelled on that discussion, and now Gawain was thinking he should have. Because if he had, he could have stopped this unfortunate turn of events.

Sure there was the possibility that Gawain was mistaken and Lancelot just had feelings of fraternal brotherhood towards him, but at this point, that seemed unlikely. And, he didn't know what could come of such a romantic inclination on his friend's part. It couldn't be. Not after everything that had passed between them.

Forgiving Lancelot for betrayal was one thing. Being his friend despite the murder of his siblings was another thing. But to accept a lover's relationship with him and to even be happy over that fact…

"Why am I even thinking of this as if I am a participant?" Gawain said to himself, stunned as he sank to the floor. Really, what did it matter if Lancelot loved him that way? Lancelot was a ridiculous man who fell in love at the drop of a hat, who wooed ladies constantly, despite their availability. The only shame he ever felt was that Mash might witness his behavior. And there were only so many ladies in Chaldea to woo, let alone any who would be charmed by his act.

Perhaps Lancelot was bored and had decided to expand his horizons. And that question about the Green Knight now seemed highly calculated, as if searching for a desirable answer. Though the shock on Lancelot's face had almost seemed dismayed. Had he been hoping that Gawain would have said no? Perhaps Lancelot had thought that such a rejection of male love would dampen his fantasies, but instead, had found his passions encouraged and being the weak man he was, unable to do anything but follow them?

"That fool…" Gawain dragged a hand down his face. "Why is he doing this me?" Why did he feel so overcome by this? If anything, Gawain should have felt disgusted, or at least discomforted, as any man would when he had to reject a companion he esteemed. Gawain had done it often with women in the past and never felt much regret other than that sadness of causing tears. And he had even more cause to do so for Lancelot's sake, least he allow the man to twist in agony over an unfilled hope. Of course, if Lancelot meant to follow the ways of courtly love, that merely meant he would love Gawain from afar and hold him in high regard. It would be a thing that was merely an inconvenience to Gawain, nothing more. And if one put aside their past together, it was even something to be flattered by. Despite his flaws, Lancelot was a good knight, brave, kind and just, the pride of the Round Table and the envy of all. There was no shame in being loved by a man like that. And no shame in accepting or desiring such a love…

Gawain flushed and ran his hands through his hair at the unbidden thought. That was the real problem wasn't it, his own reaction? Because why should he be so bothered unless his own feelings were the ones that were inappropriate? Let Lancelot have his foolish, misguided love for him, it was not Gawain's problem. But instead, Gawain was here acting like a besotted youth, torn up in knots over it.

The idea was… appealing. Somehow he could see the two of them together like that and nothing felt out of place. It felt like a natural outgrowth of their friendship, which had deepened in this new life. The two would be a fitting pair. Yet, how could Gawain ever justify it? A part of him still ached at the thought of all that had happened between them, even though it was a memory for an older version of him.

But as a Heroic Spirit, he also knew everything, the sum of his whole existence. And Gawain being who he was meant that such a long off event was still one he felt keenly. He wasn't someone like Fionn, who could brush off his older self like it was nothing. To Gawain, the tragedies of the future were there as if he had experienced them in the flesh. He had always been young at heart, but he was also that knight who had entered his middle years and saw all his hopes dashed. And now the thought of the man who had wronged him was causing Gawain to feel things that were… too soft and sentimental to be accepted.

Of all the loathsome-

And as if to save him from falling into a spiral of pain, the door opened and he could hear a couple of voices giggling. "Hey, hey, today I get to be the mommy!" Nursery Rhyme said as she came in followed by a pouting Jack.

"No, I'm the mommy!" She said and then they both paused as they saw Gawain, frozen and boggled at this intruder into their private sanctuary. "Mister… how did you find our secret spot?"

Gawain rose, trying to school his face into something more fitting for a couple of little girls to see. "Oh I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude," he laughed. "I was just lost." Not a lie exactly.

"Hmmm," Nursery Rhyme looked at him curiously, "did you need us to find the tall knight?" Gawain flushed a little, because it seemed even small children noticed they were a duo.

"No," Gawain shook his head. "I think I remembered how to find my way. I will leave you to it," he bowed, trying to make his exit as quickly as possible, when he felt a hand grab his cloak and looked down to see Jack staring at him with those odd, frightening eyes.

"Mister, you're all red and sad, are you alright?"

Was it that obvious? But he smiled and shook his head. "No, I'm fine. You two have fun now and don't fight, okay?" And he left as quickly and gracefully as he could, despite the chaos now running amok in his head.

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

It's a small Singularity, set in some small English Town of the 1980's and Lancelot isn't quite sure why he's here, or what he's even supposed to be doing as a warrior, since everything seems more riddle based. He doesn’t consider himself a fool by any means either. A knight often has to figure out riddles and solve impossible tasks to complete their quest. But the trials have been infuriating and the town is like something out of Shadow's Mountain, some sort of serialized television series that only Ritsuka and Emiya seem to know of, so the two them have been taking the lead. Ritsuka had been particularly excited, spouting off those "memes" that he so loved.

Lancelot's done his part, hitting on housewives in order to gather info. His efforts have met with mixed success, due to Mash giving him dirty looks and worse yet, Gawain laughing at him. Normally such a thing wouldn't have bothered Lancelot much, because Gawain's laughter was not cruel, merely a light hearted jab at Lancelot's expense. Lancelot had done the same to Gawain in the past, with just as much gentle mocking. But instead it had set at something in Lancelot and now he was decompressing in the local diner, having a cheap black coffee, sulking instead of doing anything useful.

When he heard the sound of a bell and a familiar voice, Lancelot's heart sunk as he looked up and saw that Mash had indeed entered the diner. She froze when he caught her eye and he was sure she was about to pivot and leave. But then, much to his surprise, Mash elected to walk over and sit down on the other side of the table, though she said nothing, looking annoyed and uncomfortable, save for when the waitress came to take her order, though Lancelot was only half listening as he observe red her.

It was strange to him even now, how against all odds, Mash looked so much like Galahad, as a woman. Or rather, very much like Galahad's mother, a thought that caused all sorts of discomfort. Even now, Elaine's ghost haunted him.

"Dad," Mash's voice came sharply, and his thoughts jumbled around into his head, before settling back down.

"…you are here to yell at me for earlier," Lancelot rubbed the back of his neck, unpleasant tension settling into his muscles. He wouldn't say he'd never known shame, but it was different when your floundering was witnessed by your daughter/son. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"-she was married and her husband came in!" Mash hissed at him and Lancelot flinched. "What were you thinking? What are you ever thinking when you do that!"

And no answer could easily come to him. Not any answer that Lancelot thought he could give a girl, let alone one she could understand. And Galahad had never asked him, just silently judged his father. Yet, there was something in her voice that was different from the usual blatant, almost compulsive dislike. As if she genuinely wanted to know.

"I like women's smiles," he said, before he could stop himself, "particularly when they are loved by a man."

She blinked, ignoring the waitress who poured her coffee and then left, as if her customers were not having a serious discussion, like a robot. Maybe it was because she was something constructed for this singularity, or maybe she overheard odd conversations like this every day. Ritsuka had mentioned this town was supposed to be very gossipy. Mash's shock seemed to pass then. "You're egotistical," she sighed and she took a sip and then, suddenly…

"But…" she frowned, looking nervous for a moment, a look he had never seen directed towards himself. "Didn't you love Guinevere?" Lancelot's sip of coffee turned into a hard and painful gulp and it hit his stomach hard.

"I still do," he said quietly after a moment. "But, such a relationship is beyond me now. And not just because I am a heroic spirit and she is not." Even if Guinevere had been taken to the Throne of Heroes and then summoned into this world, what could there have been for them in this place? Even without the other knights, how could they just live freely? "Sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, all you can do is make them cry."

"You're terrible…" Mash said, looking somber, no doubt trying to work it out in her head. She had a deeply analytic mind, but it was hampered by how sheltered she was. Galahad often struggled with the same thing, having grown up in the Fisher King's castle. "Do you really want to just cast your love aside?"

"Of course I do," Lancelot's voice was rough, startling her. "Every day in life, I wanted to cast aside those ruinous feelings of mine. And she wished for the same. But…" People do not function like that sadly. He doesn't function like that. Lancelot is just one very selfish, weak man in the end. "I know that my… flirtations displease you. But know that it is only what is in my heart at all times." A heart that was weak to women, that had merely wanted to make the lady before him smile at the time. A heart that was ruled by passion and impulse. "Like many Servants, I want to move on and find something new in this world. Is that so wrong??"

He could see he pause for a brief moment, as if shook by his logic, but she rallied after a moment. "Just as shameless as Sir Gawain," she muttered and Lancelot desperately wanted to ask what Gawain had done to illicit such a response, but also wasn't sure if he wanted to hear it at all. Was worried by what he would hear.

"That said," he paused as the waitress set out what was far too large a stack of pancakes for one girl and would have even given a grown man no amount of trouble and watched as Mash began to pour syrup over it. "That said, Mash, I shall try and restrain myself in the future. I can see that I have made your life difficult. Besides, I feel like I have little heart for it these days." The desire was there, but it flickered out all too quickly.

"You could have fooled me," Mash said angrily around her pancakes, then paused for a moment between bites. "Is it because Sir Gawain laughed at you?" Lancelot flinched at that insight and cringed a bit. "Don't you talk to him about such things?"

"Hmmm, not to the same extent as I would with Sir Tristan." Because Tristan understood about such things innately. As a man who had pinned for a woman he couldn't have, Tristan understood that chasing after other women wasn't necessarily a denial of that love. Of course, unlike Lancelot, Tristan's other pursuits were never actually sincere. They were merely a balm for his pain. That man would love his Isolde forevermore, even if another managed to capture his heart. He wasn't as inconstant as Lancelot.

"Did Sir Gawain make you angry? You seem like you're fighting with him lately. At least he thinks so."

Lancelot blinked at the change in subject. Did she and Gawain really speak that much. "We are not."

"Hmmm…" She ate for a little bit longer and Lancelot had to say he was surprised by how much she could put away. Maybe it was effect of being a demi servant? This had been a difficult singularity for her, though he couldn't help but feel proud of her and Galahad. "Well, it's none of my business," she said and he almost felt disappointed.

"I see…" Lancelot sighed as the waitress came over with the tab. Lancelot started to fish out his wallet and for once Mash didn’t stop him from paying, though she was watching intently. Galahad would do the same thing, as did the Fisher King, and it was just as unsettling. Once the bill was paid, he went back to drinking his coffee.

"Father," Mash said after a moment, "is it because he laughed at you earlier?"

Why were they still on this topic? "No."

"Really, because that is when that irritated look crossed your face." On one hand, it almost pleases him to know that she watches him closely enough to understand his expressions. On the other, Lancelot knows that's probably just Galahad's innate talent for judging people coming through.

"…I just do not like when he does that. Especially when he flirted with that receptionist at the detective agency earlier." Lancelot also wants to ask why Mash is never so harsh with Gawain in matters like that.

"You actually lost your temper there," she said and then continued before Lancelot could interrupt, "you clenched your jaw and your voice was tight. I was surprised…"

"I…" Lancelot wasn't sure what to say when she put it like that. "Saying that I merely wanted him to focus on the job would seem like the lie it is, wouldn't it?" Seeing her nod, Lancelot rubbed the back of his neck. He also wasn't sure if he wanted to continue this conversation. There were things he needed to work through, but with Mash…?

And she seemed to realize the same thing, because she had finished her pancakes and was beginning to fidget. "Did you want Sir Gawain to get jealous when you flirted with the housewife?" And something about those words hit like a revelation, one that Lancelot wasn't sure he could handle and for a moment he was dizzy. "I-I'm not trying to imply anything!" Mash said loudly, hands suddenly flapping in front of her face. "I mean, I wish Senpai would get jealous of me too, but it's not the same thing!"

Lancelot wants to ask how it's different, because it's obvious how she looks at Ritsuka, a devotion almost no different from love…

He swallows then and shakes his head. "It is a bit like that, yes," he said aloud, stunning them both. Seeing her flush, he quickly adds the next bit. "I just want him to treat me differently. Right now he acts exactly like the old days."

"And you wish he didn't?"

"He said he forgave me and that is fine, but I want him to be cross with me more often. To vent to his heart's content." And maybe, just maybe, ask him to stop looking at women entirely, to stop betraying Guinevere. To stop betraying Gawain himself. "He has that right more than anyone."

Mash bit her lip and then sighed. "He's not going to be jealous just because you flirt with women, not when he does the same. Even though he was married."

"That's different. He never liked his wife that much," Lancelot said, not wanting to think about some woman he'd never met, only heard about due to infamy. "And you don't need to disappoint me so easily," he said, not even realizing exactly how his words came across until he saw Mash flush.

"D-dad!" The emotions on her face were indescribable. "Are you saying you like Sir Gawain?"

Hearing the words sent a shock through his body and Lancelot quickly shook his head, trying to make it all into a lie. "I only like him as a friend, nothing more!"

"But you just said-"

"-I'm do not!" And then he simmered down as the heated shock simmered into a dull realization at the truth of everything sinking in, a sort of acceptance. That just had to happen in front of the person who would be least accepting of such a thing. The person, or rather persons who hated him for being faithless and impure. And on top of that, Galahad had always respected Gawain.

And he could indeed see the storm of thoughts forming on Mash's face. "It's bad enough that you have to go chasing after every skirt, but now men! And Sir Gawain too!"

"I am not chasing after him! I just-" You just what Lancelot? Just want his attention selfishly? Even though you should be more than satisfied with what he's already given you?

As if sensing the great sadness now spreading through him, Mash seemed to deflate a bit, and sighed. "You really are pathetic." But then, "if you spoke with Sir Gawain, he's very kind and…"

"I am still the man who killed his brother and sister and betrayed our kingdom," Lancelot said, feeling that same dull sadness welling up within him, the melancholy which had always cursed him. "To ask for more than he can give me is the height of folly."

There was a bit of silence, because Mash knew he was right. And Galahad, surely he felt the same, he who was such a good judge of character and had often spent hours playing chess with Gawain. But when she finally spoke again, it was a surprise. "Then if speaking isn't an option, why not just be a knight to him?"

"A knight?" Lancelot laughed the absurdity.

"I mean protect him as one, as you do now, but…"

"As if I would protect the one I most loved," and saying those words, despite having just realized the truth of them, it felt like a release, even with the pain that came with them, because he knew how futile it would be to fulfill it. "We are both men, you know that."

"It's the modern era, Dad," she said pointedly

Lancelot chuckled at that, because truly, she had a point. He was stuck in the past in more ways than one it seemed. "You say that as if it is so easy for such things to change." And as if Gawain would accept such a thing so easily. Even if Lancelot chose to never pursue it, wouldn't such a thing be repulsive to his friend? And hadn't Guinevere herself found Lancelot's feelings to be burden?

"It doesn't it have to be at once. You expect too much from people sometimes. It's a problem." The expression that crossed his face must have been something, because Mash shook her head. "Never mind," she rose, obviously done with him. "I need to be going. I realized I spoke with you more than I should have…"

And Lancelot couldn't stop himself from smiling. "I appreciate it." And it wasn't the advice he was grateful for, so much as the fact that for once, she'd spent time with him of her own will, instead of spitting a word of disgust at him. He almost wanted to ask her why, but decided not to push it.

"Don't worry about it," and then she quickly left, as Galahad often did when he was in a huff at his father. As the waitress came and collected the tab, Lancelot thought on the conversation some more.

As a knight? It seem preposterous, but what other choice was there? He was out of his element when it came to such things involving men, having always focused on the fairer sex, sometimes to an extent that was callous. Though Gawain himself was definitely what you call fair, in both personality and features. Surely the wooing wasn't different, nor was the pining. And while they had become friends again, that tension still flared up at times. Though Gawain would hold back, more so than Lancelot liked.

He accepted such a thing though, because how could he not? Lancelot would have felt the same way if it had been his brother who had died. And unlike Bors, Gaheris and Gareth had been wonderful knights. Gareth noble, bright and pure. Gaheris, fiery, valiant and sensible. And Lancelot constantly replayed that faithful day in his head, wondered again and again how it was that he cut those two down. Agravain, he didn't regret, couldn't when the man had been the first to engage him and was the one who had started it all. But Gareth and Gaheris…

He'd cut down two good friends of his and had taken Gawain's family from him. To have earned back their friendship back was more than Lancelot deserved and he cherished every moment of laughter between them. But to have even daydreamed of having anything else from Gawain was the height of folly.

But as Lancelot finally stepped out of the restaurant, into the brisk air, he couldn't help but laugh. "You are a fool, Lancelot. A complete and contemptible fool," Because he could see Gawain waving as he walked towards him, smile on his face and he knew that it was too late for such doubts. As usual, he was a prisoner to his own feelings, however unworthy they might be. The only comfort was that as agonizing as it would be, Gawain would never give in as Guinevere had. So for once, the sin would only be his to bear.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

"Master is certainly in a bind," Gawain sighed to himself as he watched a gaggle of female servants walk by holding various cooking supplies as they headed to the kitchen. EMIYA had complained loudly about how none of the women were letting him into his domain and Gawain couldn't help but share in his jealously. Despite having come to the painful revelation that he was indeed a poor cook, the knight still liked to indulge in it from time to time. Something about the process soothed his soul. And he could even manage to make someone else share in it, despite the faces they made. Ritsuka had just recently indulged in some soup and hadn't cried through the first half of it!

But getting back on topic, Gawain was concerned for his master. To receive one woman's affections was gratifying, but too many and it became a nightmare. Gawain had been no stranger to that in back in life. Save for that short period of time that was his marriage, Gawain had often received favors from women. All the unattached knights had. Most of all, Lancelot…

He blanched a little, as the thought of Lancelot often threw him off balance these days. Ever since he'd had that revelation, matters had been, well tense. Lancelot hadn't actively avoided him, but neither had he made an effort to speak beyond what was necessary, hovering nearby instead. Which was understandable. Lancelot had never been the type to actually enjoy starting fights with others, despite often being at the center of many a squabble. And he knew that Gawain had figured out his intentions, so why put pressure on his friend?

Really, in his own way, the man as stupidly considerate despite his reputation. He could be a foolish womanizer and adulterer, but when it truly and completely it counted, he put everything he had into thinking matters through. It made Gawain feel like the villain, to be the one dithering when he should have just given Lancelot his answer. Any potential embarrassment on either end would be over and done with.

But instead, here was Gawain, finding himself irritated over the thought of Lancelot even receiving chocolates. "Absurd," Gawain sighed, only to feel a tap on his shoulders and turned only to see Saber Lily standing behind him, happy and flushed looking. "My-my king." He stuttered the greeting out of habit, trying to rebalance himself.

"Gawain!" She smiled at him and then suddenly held out a small box tied up in a cute ribbon. "For you!"

"Oh!" He smiled, mood temporarily lifted, "I thank you! Though it was hardly necessary."

"How could I not make chocolate for my knights? And especially for you, my nephew." The thought of her efforts was heartwarming. Especially considering that she had probably been putting all of her energy into making chocolates for Ritsuka. "You like horses right? I found a nice mold this year."

"I do," Gawain smiled. It was nice, seeing her do something as normal as giving obligation chocolate. "Though now I will have to make sure to give you a gift in a month's time." The Japanese celebration was the form that had caught on around Chaldea and Gawain rather liked it.

Lily shook her head, her smile only growing. "You, Sir Lancelot and Sir Bedivere need to stop with that! Even that Astolfo!" Gawain raised an eyebrow at the last name for a mere second, but decided not to question it. As she had said, she loved horses and what could be more exciting than a youth with a hippogriff? Though suddenly her eyes glanced to the side. "Speaking of other knights though," she paused, "have you spoken to Sir Lancelot recently?"

He blinked at that. "Whatever makes you ask?"

"It seemed like you were avoiding him. I was wondering if you two were fighting. Mash seemed to know what it was, but wouldn't say anything… Sir Gawain, why are you all red?"

"Oh," touched his face then, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks and then shook it off. "It is just a small matter, nothing to concern yourself with." Seeing her cheeks puff out, much like an angry squirrel, Gawain quickly waved his hands. "We are not quarreling!" Well, perhaps they were in a sense. "But," he frowned, "we have some matters we need to decide on."

"You are not reassuring me right now," she sighed, shoulders dropping a little, before brightening. "I know how you can make up though!"

"There is nothing to make up," Gawain sighed, though Lily seemed to be undeterred now.

"Give him some chocolate!"

Now Gawain had to choke, and he nearly dropped the chocolate already in his hand. "W-what? But, it is, My King, no, Artoria, that would surely give the wrong impression."

Lily tilted her head, thinking. "Just tell him it's as a friend. And besides, if he knows you're willing to do something like that, then he'll know you're sorry."

Gawain wanted to protest, that no, they were not fighting and even if they were, Gawain had nothing to be sorry about. But he also wanted to avoid having to explain things to Lily, so he decided to concede. "I… shall consider it my king," he frowned.

"Good!" She nodded affirmatively and then spun around. "Okay! Time to deliver the rest of my chocolates!" And she sped off, not realizing the extent of the damage she had just done. It seemed that regardless of the form she took, Artoria Pendragon was a dangerous woman.

"This is foolish," Gawain sighed, as he looked at the box in his hand. After much consideration, he had decided to go through with the suggestion. He hadn't made the chocolate of course, instead buying it from DaVinci, who somehow had stocked her shop in anticipation of valentines day and was making a killing. He knew that Lancelot likely wouldn't appreciate the bitter concoction Gawain would come up with on his own. And he needed to convey the right message.

But, he thought to himself, as he searched for Lancelot, it would at least convey something. Exactly what it was, Gawain didn't know. Probably wouldn't know until the deal was over with. Which was unwise of him, but when had Gawain ever been that thoughtful or considerate? He was the type to plow through problems when they seemed insurmountable. He wasn't a fool, no, but he was straightforward. And this would hopefully be straightforward enough for the foolish Lancelot, who always read too much into people's motives.

Just as he was thinking this, Gawain rounded a corner came right across the very man, barely avoiding a collision. "Sir Lancelot…" He fumbled over his words for a moment. "Good day to you."

"…you as well, Sir Gawain," Lancelot nodded. "Hmmm, I see you have been receiving many gifts as well," Lancelot's voice seemed slightly strained as he said it, staring at the box in his hand.

"Well," Gawain paused, "it is actually a gift for someone else." Lancelot's smile faded a little bit, then returned, though it was a bit tight.

"For someone? I see," he said, the forced cheer on his face obvious to anyone with half a brain. He had seen that look before, when Lancelot lost a tournament, or even when he won, but not easily. Lancelot always wore his grief for all to see, no matter how much he thought otherwise.

Almost without thinking, Gawain held it out to him. "Here, from one friend to another," Gawain said, trying to avoid sounding rushed. That seemed to unbalance Lancelot, his eyes going wide, his mouth parted with words he couldn't say. "What," Gawain felt himself redden a little, "a man can't give his good friend such a gift?"

"I… I merely didn't think to receive such from you, Sir Gawain." Lancelot said as he reached out and took it, looking it over intently. "Thank you, my lord. Though can I take this to mean you would-"

"No." Gawain said abruptly, then realizing it was too harsh, shook his head. "It means nothing in particular, other than…" How to say it without raising Lancelot's hopes? "It just means, I want you to know that whatever happens, we are still friends."

There was the slightest tense tremor on Lancelot's face that seemed like disappointment, but then it formed into a smile. "So you are saying two things: one that you forgive me for my folly and two, that you do not reject me?" The hopeful tone threw Gawain completely and he had to choke his words out.

"T-that was not my intention," he looked away for a moment, realizing that he should cut this short since they were in the hallway where anyone could come upon them. "But, merely that you needn't worry or avoid me just because I have not given you an affirmative." He felt a pressure on his wrist and looked to see Lancelot gripping him, box of chocolate secure in his other hand.

"Sir Gawain," Lancelot shifted his grip so that he was holding his hand ever so delicately, "know that you have made me more thankful than words can describe. I will cherish not just this little box, but the gift of your words and will happily bide my time." The words, until "I win you," were left unspoken, but Gawain knew it was implied. He had witnessed Lancelot speak to so many women in such a way.

He frowned as he gently extracted his hand. "There is no need for any such thing. Just take it for what it is, simple as that."

"That I shall, Sir Gawain, that I shall," Lancelot said with a strange smile on his face that Gawain suspected meant he hadn't gotten it at all.

And honestly, Gawain wasn't sure if that made him unhappy or not.

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

Days later, Lancelot cannot help but hum to himself as he walks through the hallways, buoyed by the emotional high of Valentine's Day. Not just because of the gifts he had received from the ladies, although there had been many fine pieces on that account. He had particularly appreciated the mochi Raikou had given him. But all these gifts, however high effort didn't compare to his true prize: a simple box of chocolates from Gawain.

Of course it was obvious that they were bought and not handmade. Which was a blessing, considering Gawain's record, though Lancelot would have forced himself through every misbegotten piece. But no, this was enough, this simple attempt at reconciliation that was anything but. Because it was definitely so much more, judging by the bashful look on Gawain's face, the way he had avoided Lancelot's gaze. One thing you learned about Gawain right away was that he was a bad liar. He wore his feelings on his sleeve at all times, even when he didn't realize it. Not that he couldn't withhold information, no, he was a general after all. But when it came to the personal, Gawain was unfettered. And silly as the man could be, he just wasn't the type to give another man chocolate in this situation unless he meant something by it. Gawain was too much of a gentleman for that.

Of course, others might tell Lancelot to slow his roll, as they liked to put it in this age. He was the type of man to become excited over every little thing, either reading too much into an action or too little. He was the sort who had imagined a deep connection between Guinevere and himself just because she had been the one to give him his sword. Only to find out a year later that she often gave swords to many young knights. Of course, this hadn't impeded what occurred between them ultimately.

But Lancelot was very much that kind of fool. Once he thought he had an in, no matter how tenuous, it became a source of overwhelming hope. Though this time he suspected it wasn't so misguided and Lancelot had begun to think on how to use this bridge to further their relationship, now that he knew Gawain was interested, or at least not as repulsed as he should be.

And so it was that he finally reached his destination, Chaldea's library, ducking in and noticing a few of the usual Servants here and there reading, one or two looking up at him, maybe a bit surprised to see the knight, before going back to what they were doing. Jekyll in the corner with his newspaper was the picture of composure. Blackbeard was sitting at a computer in the back, looking at something no one wanted to know of.

Ignoring everyone, Lancelot sat down at a desktop as far out of the way as possible and went through the tedious log-in procedure. Heroic spirits had varying levels of ability with such things and Lancelot's dislike of the device always made it a chore. But today he did have a purpose: to get a gift, a thoughtful one to reciprocate Gawain's.

Something to give him on White day, even though it was still a ways off. But it was important to not just respond to the gesture but to make it clear that Lancelot's feelings were still romantic. When he confessed his feelings, however subtle, it had been with the intent of allowing Gawain a way out, a way to pretend it hadn't happened, so that they might both save face. And Lancelot had allowed him space after, even though it had left him in a state of constant agitation. But Gawain's response was beyond his wildest dreams and now it was time to prove that he was worthy.

But what to get him? Something that Gawain would both like, but that also couldn't be pushed off as less than romantic? Because knowing Gawain, he would completely avoid the subject. His friend, while a straightforward sort, was also perversely avoidant at times. So it was best to just force the issue, even if it resulted in getting punched in the face. Why did Gawain have to be such a difficult man?

Lancelot started searching as he thought about it, going on the big shopping site, nile.com, known for all of one's shopping needs. He'd almost thought about asking Mash for advice on it, but he knew that just admitting the truth to her of his feelings had been too much pressure on the boundaries of their already fragile relationship. And besides, what kind of grown man needed his child to help him with a romantic gift?

But Lancelot put his mind to it. Gawain liked food, especially fruits and vegetables, but getting him a fruit basket would be trite at best. Those were what you got someone you barely knew if his osmosis of the modern era had been correct. And cookbooks, while likely needed, were going to send a more insulting message than Lancelot intended. A book of poems? Well, there was an idea. He knew that Gawain had always appreciated Romances and Epics more, but he still enjoyed a good turn of phrase.

As Lancelot started looking through books of poetry, he saw those little suggestions that the website would so helpfully pop up on the side. These were in anticipation of White Day and he could see flowers on the side. Hmmm, flowers? Lancelot had always liked flowers and found they usually made suitable gifts. In particular, he favored the Iris, a symbol of his homeland of France. It also represented hope and in his mind, expressed the wishes he had for the lady he handed them to.

Then again, wouldn't Gawain know of this tactic? He had often seen Lancelot woo ladies and even hand them such flowers, had laughed at him for it. Lancelot frowned as he remembered a particular incident where he had handed such a gift to a pretty young woman, only to have her irate lover appear and challenge him to a duel, which Gawain had mediated. Lancelot had won and Gawain had merely sighed over it, shaking his head. And God, what an idiot I was! Lancelot thought to himself, hanging his head over the keyboard.

Though it didn't have to be the Iris, did it? What were those flowers that Gawain liked? Right, Lilies. The flower symbolizing purity and chastity and Christ himself. What could be more fitting for a knight like Gawain? Granted, that wasn't exactly what Lancelot was feeling towards the Gawain, but…

"Hmmm, yes that might work!" He said aloud, causing some eyes to fall upon him, but Lancelot didn't notice, now caught up in the brilliance of his plan.

It had been about a month since Valentine's Day, but Gawain couldn't decide how he felt about it. He and Lancelot were talking again, which was pleasing enough. But now Lancelot was giving him these bright smiles. Smiles Gawain remembered seeing on his face when he'd fancied some girl as a lad. Only now it was being directed at Gawain himself.

To say it was an odd feeling would be an understatement, especially when Gawain found himself feeling heated and ill at ease. He could now understand why so many women had been so easily ensnared by the man. It was flattering, but also hard to deal with, though Lancelot hadn't moved onto any sort of full courtship, merely content with his small victory. Gawain almost wished he would say something at this point, lest he have to say it!

Whatever it was he was going to say. Truth was, rather than resolving matters, the gift had left Gawain feeling even more out of sorts. Because now he realized there was a next step, but was it his to make? No, probably not. At this point, all he was going to do was awkwardly fumble and even without the weight of their past behind them, Gawain had limited experience in courting men. Sure, as he had admitted to Lancelot, he had explored his interest here and there, particularly with Lord Bertilak, but that had been a limited and odd circ*mstance, as were many of his indulgences. Their time wasn't kind to such things and not everyone could so openly flaunt their passion as Galehaut, a man so powerful none had to nerve say a cross word to him.

And even in the more acceptable forms of romance, Gawain had to admit he was a little inexperienced. He'd had many women, as most knights did, but the wooing had come easily to him, nay had been no effort at all on his part, due to his looks and status. And as for his wife Ragnall, that had not been a love match, but one born of her own machinations. The tales purported their marriage to be a happy one, but in truth, it had been fairly miserable. Ragnell, even beautified, was still older than him by fifteen years. And she had been crass and vulgar, as different from Gawain as a hawk from a crow. And he knew she had found him just as wanting, youthful and immature and straight-laced. They had found something of an accord in their later years to the point that he had regretted her passing, but needless to say, it had left Gawain inexperienced in true romance. Which was why in this life he'd made an effort to hit on many lovely women, to recapture what he'd sacrificed. But none of those moments had ever led to anything serious and Gawain had to admit he was the one at fault.

Despite how he would brag about embracing his new life, in truth, Gawain was a man of duty, who was used to giving his all for the king and his master. To be a sword for them, with no thoughts of his own. Because the one time he had truly selfishly given in to his desires, it had resulted in the fall of the kingdom. To just seek such happiness for himself, was frightening. And now, there was a possibility for it and it came from the very man who had taken everything from him.

And Gawain had to pause in his ruminations at that moment because that was it, wasn't it? He was afraid because to even indulge in being happy with the very man who had caused not just the death of his family, but the fall of Camelot, was the height of selfishness, of disloyalty, wasn't it? Gawain felt the heat of shame wash over him at the thought.

Before he could get too lost in those thoughts he felt something bump into his shoulder. "Move, knave!" He turned and saw Vlad, the lancer, eyes intense and bloodshot and… wearing an apron stained with blood. No, best not to ask what this infamous carnivore was after, especially on this day of all days.

"Forgive me, my Lord," Gawain said with a quick vow

For a moment, something softened in the man's eyes and then he laughed. "May the Lord guide you, Sir Knight," before going on his way. It seemed the good mood of the day had affected all the men in Chaldea, Gawain thought to himself as he continued onwards towards his room, deciding it was probably a nice afternoon to stay in and read. He had already given Ritsuka a gift in thanks for the boy's Valentine's chocolate and made a fool of himself. So surely Gawain deserved to reward himself by remaining secreted away.

Once he entered his room though, he noticed something new, a small book sitting on his nightstand, wrapped in a simple white ribbon. Frowning, Gawain picked it up noting the cover and title, designating it as some collection of poems. There was a folded piece of paper sticking out of it and after a moment, Gawain opened it and noticed something pressed between the covers: a white lily and iris, pressed and flattened. Curiosity piqued, Gawain read the letter.

"To Sir Gawain, my dearest of friends,

It has been a month since Valentine's Day, and I have been thinking long and hard about how to reciprocate your gift. While I know you would say it is no important thing, as you know, I cannot help but take such matters seriously. Particularly since I left my interests vague at that time, though you figured it out, as I knew you would.

I know that my interest might seem frivolous at best, or at worst, the height of cruel selfishness. I will not lie and say that I am not either of those things. We both know that is who I am at heart. But this isn't an idle thought of mine that I am pursuing without cause. I have dwelled on it many a night. And as always I have come to one conclusion: that I must be true to my heart, whatever the consequences might be.

And I know as I write this that it is foolish to worry about my feelings when it is you who are most affected by this. Perhaps I am being overeager in writing this, but I do not believe I am mistaken in believing you are not opposed to such a development between us.

And at this point, I should admit that I do not know what to say in this letter, because even if nothing more comes of it, I am happy to have heard such words from you, to know that you wouldn't completely reject this outcome between us.

And so I hope that this gift, will make my own wishes clear, or at least will let you smile at my folly.

Signed with all my hopes,

Lancelot Du Lac"

Gawain set the letter down after reading it and looked down at the book before him and the two flowers, blatant now in what they meant. He groaned to himself, annoyed because it truly was a Lancelot type thing. Foolish Lancelot, so concerned with symbolism and reading between the lines and he'd given him silly flowers.

Didn't he know that lilies symbolized the church and death just as much as anything? And then Gawain couldn't help but chuckle to himself, despite it all. "That stupid man…" And then flushed and placed a hand to his forehead. "Oh dear, I have done it this time."

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

It's another singularity, this time in a winter wonderland that has nothing to do with Christmas. Instead, the task seems to involve a scavenger hunt and after some debate, the group divided up into pairs, Lancelot and Gawain naturally sent off on their own. White Day was only a few weeks ago and they hadn't spoken much beyond Lancelot asking him about the gift, with Gawain doing his level best to give a neutral response to his friend. Gawain suspects he failed in that respect if Lancelot's warm smiles were anything to go by. It made him uneasy, even more so than that short period before Lancelot's gift and the full confirmation of what he wanted. Because now Gawain was painfully aware of him, in a way he had never been before.

Of course, Lancelot almost seemed oblivious to Gawain's crisis as he explored the snowy outcropping of rocks they had been sent to investigate. "Under the red stone…" He muttered as he overturned a boulder. "This is the place, isn't it?"

"Hmmmm, yes, " Gawain said, checking their direction with the GPS DaVinci had made for them. "Though nothing looks particularly red around here, does it?"

"No," Lancelot cursed, his face serious and elegant in profile as he concentrated. It was charming when he was like this, the care lines on his face furrowed even deeper in concentration, almost making Lancelot look too old. "Come here Gawain and use Galatine to light the way."

"It's twilight, it will not be that effective," Gawain said as he put away the GPS and drew the holy sword anyways, allowing it to heat enough to glow red. "Does that help though?"

"A little," Lancelot said as he continued to search, cursing as he stumbled over a loose rock, ice making the bad footing even more perilous. "This better be the right place."

"Maybe it's not a literal stone," Gawain sighed.

"Then what could it be?"

"I don’t know. It isn't like any of the other riddles Master solved have been straightforward," Gawain grimaced as he remembered the last one. A sharp, cold wind suddenly blew, causing them both to shudder. "But please hurry. I want to get back to that lodge."

"Too much for you? Then again, you never did like it when it was dark out. I used to think you were a coward," Lancelot laughed and Gawain bristled.

"Some of us just like to make the most of our best qualities," Gawain grumbled, hoping he wasn't pouting, least he be made fun of. Kay had done it often enough in life.

"I know. You've always put your strongest foot forward. I used to think you were being arrogant, now I know better," Lancelot said.

"Compliments will not save you."

"No, though I hope this prize will," Lancelot said as he hefted something up: an ornate red stone attached to a golden chain.

"Is that it?" Gawain frowned, surprised that the riddle had been that literal.

"It was attached to this outcropping," Lancelot gestured for Gawain to come closer, which he managed without too much slipping.

After a moment of contemplation, Gawain looked below the pendant, at the ground that seemed unusually flat. "Perhaps it is not the stone itself, but what is underneath it," Gawain said as he adjusted his grip on the holy sword.

"Hmmm, you could be right," Lancelot said as he bent down to start digging, pawing through the dirt. After a moment, he gasped happily. "I found it!" He said as he pulled out a glowing piece of stone with a snowflake pattern on it, the event currency this time around.

"Thank goodness," Gawain said as he looked about, because other than Galatine and their prize, the area was getting far too dim. "Then let us head back to Maste-"

Gawain was interrupted by a strange chiming noise, one that had become all too familiar during this pseudo singularity. "It's those ice sprites again," Lancelot sighed as he pocketed the item they had worked so hard for.

Looking up over the outcropping, Gawain saw floating more than a few yards away a small girl, all white, hair drifting away from her, everything about her seemingly soft and diaphanous, her eyes hollow, different from her fiery cousins. "Just one," he said as he ducked down. "We should be able to take her if we work together."

Lancelot nodded and they waited, waiting for the sprite to get closer before they both leapt up and took her by surprise. The work was quick and they managed to dispatch her, though she left little in the way of useable material behind. Lancelot rubbed the back of his neck. "I would say that warmed me up but…"

"That blast of cold hit us both." Gawain sighed, looking around because now it was dark and the wind was starting to blow, as it had for the last few nights. A cold, harsh, cutting thing that chilled you to your soul. DaVinci had suspected that there was a supernatural quality to this air, one that made it draining to the body, even getting past Master's mystic code's defenses. "We should find shelter for now. Otherwise, we will just stumble into another one of those things."

"Agreed," Lancelot said. "We passed one of those abandoned homesteads a while back, didn't we? Let us find it." There was silence then as they tracked forward. The singularity was a strange one, abandoned and frozen over. Thankfully, there were relics of people's lives left behind and it wasn't long before they found a small farmhouse and gratefully stepped inside. It had some sparse furnishings, and most importantly, it had a fireplace, with plenty of dry timber.

Gawain was easily able to start it, having a natural affinity to fire, and the room started to warm up, despite the slight draft coming in. Warm light settled on the dull, gray wood that made up the building and Gawain sighed as he finally sat down on the couch, letting his armor dematerialize as he did so that he was in his bodysuit and cloak, which he let wrap over himself.

"It's been a long time since I have been out in the cold like this," Gawain laughed as he let the heat soak into his bones, watching Lancelot who was pacing around. "Master is fine. You know that, right?"

"I know," Lancelot said, pausing. "I know he and Mash are. And they have Lady Boudicca with them, along with Tamamo no Mae."

"But it's cold out…" Gawain said knowingly as he looked at Lancelot. "You worry too much."

"And you do not worry as much as you used to," Lancelot sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. "But yes, I will have to assume the same as you, that he is fine."

And then he let his armor dissolve away, revealing the tightly fitted bodysuit underneath. He flexed his hands before the fire. "How long do you think this blast will last?"

"They have been getting longer and longer." The first one had been four hours long, and each had increased. "I can't imagine this will not be the whole night." Gawain frowned. While he had assured Lancelot he wasn't that worried about Master, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of nerves, and prayed he had found shelter. At least Tamamo should be able to create some sort of safe space.

Lancelot frowned as he continued to warm his hands. "And here we are with one of the pieces of the puzzle," he said as he looked at the object sitting on the table.

"It shall work out, as all things do," Gawain said and for a while, there was silence, save for the crackle of the fire and the whistle of the wind.

"It's cold, even with this fire," Lancelot sighed, allowing his cloak to rematerialize and wrapping it around himself.

That it is Gawain thought and then, after a moment of hesitation, he patted the seat on the sofa next to him. "Sit next to me. It shall be warmer." He saw the pointed look Lancelot gave him and sighed. "Do not read too much into it."

"Hmmm," Lancelot murmured, his expression unreadable in the dim lighting of the room before he finally sat down next to him, with a breath's distance between them.

"No, you're missing the point," Gawain extending his cloak and arm, "we need to share some body heat." There was a long pause and Gawain felt his own words settling in. "You know what I mean. Do not take it unnecessarily."

"…that is easier said than done." But Lancelot acquiesced and scooted closer, letting Gawain drape his arm and cloak around him. The man did feel cold, a contrast to the heat running through Gawain's own body. For some reason, he could feel his own heart speeding up as if the chill had given him a shock.

"You should have told me it was wearing so hard on you."

"I did not wish to concern you. Especially when I know the lack of sunlight was making you wary."

"I do not fear the dark," Gawain snorted. "I just prefer the light." As one of the chief Knights of the Round Table, it was Gawain's duty to present the strongest front possible. To make Arthur's enemies believe that King's Sword was unbreakable and thus not even bother. "Besides, you were born in France and raised in the land of fairy. You never liked the cold of Britain."

"Are you making fun of me, Sir Gawain?" Lancelot scoffed, sounding surprisingly indignant. "Surely you forget the many hunts I ambled along with you all on around Christmastide. Those cold, cold hunts."

"How can I forget your first one?" Gawain laughed softly. "You took Kay's kill and acted surprised when he clouted you upside the head."

"…how was I supposed to know how it worked? Viviane never did any hunts." In Viviane's underwater realm, he had been treated like a prince, but she was still one of the fae and in some ways had less of an idea of child-rearing than Morgan did.

"You were so mad though. And then I decided to let you take the rabbit I had shot."

"Because you do not even eat meat yet you always went along on the hunts," Lancelot sighed. "Of course, no one is going to want your pity."

"I hardly considered it pity. Though Gareth complained about the same thing sometimes. There was a reason she was your squire…" And there was a silence in the room then as Gawain thought on his little sister, as he often did. Sweet yet proud and stubborn Gareth.

"Did it bother you when I granted her wish and made her my squire? I know that it was expected she'd follow in Gaheris's footsteps and serve you."

Gawain frowned at the thought and then shook his head. "I was a little disappointed when she said what she did, but also happy."

"Happy?"

"Because she would be serving under the knight I respected most in all of Camelot." He sighed softly, thinking on it all. Gareth had always been the apple of his eye, almost more like his daughter instead of his sister. "And –"

"-she was a good girl. Though I do not think she benefited from my tutelage."

Gawain shook his head then. "Nay, she did. She had so many brothers to emulate, but what she really needed was to find her own path." Because Gawain, Agravain, and Gaheris had all been excellent Knights. But they had also cast such a long shadow that it was understandable that a young girl would be lost. "You let her be a knight and not just one of Gawain's brothers."

The quiet stretched on for a bit and Gawain looked at Lancelot's face and could see the glimmer in his eyes. Hesitantly, Gawain reached out and clasped his shoulder, causing the other man to flinch. And then perhaps to the shock of them both, Gawain pulled him close so he was leaning against him.

"It's too cold to be reflecting on such things, is it not?" Of course, there were a thousand words Gawain could have said at this moment. Words of anger, grief, words that would undo everything he had ever so carefully mended between them. But instead… "At this point, when I think of her, Gaheris and Agravain, I want to think of them as they were. Shining, proud knights of the Round table."

For a moment he feared that Lancelot would cry and because of that, he couldn't bear to look at him for a moment longer. But then Lancelot broke the silence. "That they were. I hope to see them soon. Even Agravain."

Gawain chuckled at that. "Yes, even Agravain." There was a sense of warmth for a moment as they settled down. And Lancelot, to his credit, didn't ask why Gawain had pulled him close, let alone why he held on to him. Gawain himself couldn't have answered that question honestly. Though when the winds had died down and they were ready to rejoin their master, it was with the sense that something had been refreshed between them.

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

"What is with that stupid look on your face?" Jeanne Alter scowled as she looked up from the computer terminal she was sitting at.

"My Lady," Lancelot sighed, "I am not sure what you mean."

"You have a very disgusting look on your face."

"You are the one sitting next to me." It wasn't his fault that she'd just happened to sit at the computer next to his. "I do not see why your… word document cannot be opened elsewhere." She had been furiously typing for about an hour or so, completely focused, save for occasional glances his way.

Lancelot had eventually stopped noting her presence as he focused on his original errand: restaurant reservations. Which had then led to the usual concerns that had been plaguing his mind. Would it be too forward? Was he overestimating his appeal or Gawain's own feelings? Sure, the man had softened, especially after that night in the Snow queen's singularity. But wasn't there still a guardedness to Gawain?

And in some ways, that was charming too. The Gawain that had often seemed so warm and approachable in life could be surprisingly distant and cruel. His temper ran hot as the sun, but his disdain could be icy, even more so than his brother Agravain. Though by now, Lancelot had moved past the ice that much he suspected. Instead, it felt like Gawain was close to giving in.

It was something Lancelot had seen with many women he had courted. Propriety had started to wear against desire, but the pride wasn't ready to give. Not yet. Not without a little push. Not without the individual giving themselves permission to do so. And Lancelot wanted to push so badly. He was a selfish man like that.

But, go too far and Gawain might hate him again. He had ample reasons to hate Lancelot, despite all the concessions he'd made recently. Lancelot, no matter his desires, couldn't push too hard. Not with a man he respected as much as Gawain. And so it was that Lancelot had been dithering over exactly how to implement his latest course of action…

A nice dinner out, a modern idea, but a very simple one. Easy enough to be just between friends, but also with the hint of romance. Of course, how romantic was the problem. And what would Gawain prefer if they did go out? Other than no meat, the man's tastes were relatively simple. It was very charming and Lancelot had been fondly remembering many a night dining with Gawain in Camelot when the Dragon Witch had interrupted him.

"Your face is distracting." She peeked over his shoulder. "Do you even have the money for that? Chaldea isn't going to pay. I should know."

Lancelot frowned as he looked at her, both worried but now curious. "But my lady, do you not have a collection of figurines?"

She flushed a bit and then shook her head. "They're for research! Research!" Yes, he was sure that figures from some idol anime were indeed for research. "Besides, I'm not the one mooning over… whoever it is you are mooning over."

He was relieved that she hadn't said Gawain's name. It had become obvious that some people suspected at the very least. He was sure that Bedivere knew and was just not saying anything out of pure discomfort. But still, now he had to ask her…

"What is it you are writing my Lady that would require such focus?" He had been told that she was a writer of stories of a sort, romances in the modern sense of the word. And perhaps asking would distract her.

"N-none of your business!" She flushed for a moment, crossing her arms, and then hmphed. "It's very personal I'll have you know, but I plan to self-publish when I finish."

"Hmm," Lancelot say as he saw her slight fidgeting, and decided to just throw her the bone. "Is it a historical piece?"

"Sort of," she sighed. "Historical fantasy. Those seem to be the rage right now. But…" She hesitated and then looked around and satisfied at only seeing Phantom lurking in his usual reading nook, turned to Lancelot. "I'm having a hard time getting my head around one particular thing: knights."

Oh, that's why she had been staring at him. Though now he had to venture a question. "My lady, surely you already know a knight of some quality?" He of course referred to Gilles de Rais. The Saber version. Despite what he would become, the man of the past had a fine character and much skill as a knight. Surely she did need his advice.

"Ugh no not him. I don't need a French Knight! And don't suggest that Astolfo either! He's the same!" She grimaced. "I'm writing about… like British knights. Like that sort of thing. It's set in England."

Lancelot wondered if he should remind her that he was also French, but decided it was better to not embarrass her either. "I would be happy to help you with such questions then, though I think there are others who could also provide you with a useful perspective. Bedivere and Gawain, in particular, would be quite helpful." And judging by her appearance and uh, ampleness, Gawain would probably enjoy the chance to chat with such a lady.

"Hah, yeah, but you know, you the guy! The knight! Lancelot and Guinevere and all of that!" And at those words, something sunk into the pit of his stomach. Those feelings of unworthiness and wretchedness.

But he kept himself as neutral as possible and nodded. "I guess I do have the reputation. Are you writing such a story then?"

"Something like that. I guess what I need to know is…"

It was a long conversation and truth be told, what she needed to know was mostly related to how a knight courted his lady. Why they did things like keeping a lock of her hair and all of that. How trysts happened. Once she pushed past her cold and hot nature, Jeanne Alter interrogated Lancelot in a manner as if she was an ace reporter or a researcher, trying to learn from every angle. There were many times when Lancelot wanted to run as he thought once again about his affair, his undeserved reputation, all of it.

By the time they were finally done, she was cheerful and he was more somber than usual. Once again Lancelot felt inadequate and reservations were far from his mind.

And Lancelot spent the next few days brooding, agonizing over himself, doing his best to avoid speaking to anyone more than necessary, until finally, Gawain cornered him in the cafeteria breakfast, one of the few places Lancelot should have been safe from most of his closest friends. Breakfast had never been a thing in their era, though Saber Lily occasionally came by. But for Gawain to appear was a bit out of character.

Lancelot watched in apprehension as Gawain sat down across from him, a massive mound of hash browns on his plate… and nothing else. Lancelot looked at his sole cup of coffee and dinner roll, feeling intimidated. It probably didn't help that Gawain's manner was a bit fierce, too much so for him during the early hours. The man was the very definition of a morning person. He didn't even greet Lancelot, instead beginning to eat with a fierceness. He looked cross.

Not able to bring himself to eat his meal, Lancelot watched Gawain carefully. Despite it all, his friend's manner was elegant enough, as one would expect from one of the foremost knights of Camelot. Even though he was eating as rapidly as Artoria would, there was a sort of grace to it, the epitome of good breeding. It almost felt like a threat in its own right. A third of the way through, Gawain finally met his eyes and set down his fork.

"So, are you going to tell me what is on your mind that you have been sulking for these last few days?"

Lancelot felt a cold sweat break out on his brow. How was he to explain that he remembered his horrible past and felt guilty all over again? To Gawain who would probably say it served him right.

"I am surprised you noticed."

"How could I not when you have been practically by my side, like glue, as they would say."

Lancelot was about to retort when something in Gawain's words caught him, and he turned them over in his head before a realization came to him. "Are you saying you missed me, Sir Gawain?"

Gawain paused and then took another bite of his potatoes. "Perhaps I did," he admitted after a moment and Lancelot almost thought he saw the slightest flush of color on his cheeks. Though that could have been the lighting in the cafeteria. "You have been around me non-stop."

"…that I have," he chuckled and then rubbed the back of his neck. "Does that bother you?"

"A bit. But then it became nostalgic. Like it was in the olden days. When we would travel together and fight bandits on the road. All those quests that never made it into the legends."

Ah, he thought to himself, feeling a mix of emotions. Happiness that Gawain still remembered those days fondly, mixed with a little concern that perhaps that's all Gawain saw him as: an old companion. "We did have many an adventure, didn't we?"

"That we did and often, I was dragged along on those as well when you hared off to do something truly stupid."

And that brought back some bad memories. He often became enraged by certain injustices and when the King didn't act fast enough for his taste, the young Lancelot would ride off on his own, even when the matter wasn't quite that urgent. And coming after him would be the more level-headed, older sir Gawain. And to make matters worse, Gawain would often experience some sort of misfortune because of the experience, usually becoming captured or suffering some other humiliation.

"How did you never hate me for any of that?"

There was a long pause on Gawain's end and then he laughed and shook his head. "I did foolish things myself as a young man. Many, many foolish things. But, common sense developed in me and while it's a fine quality, it doesn't always make you a hero."

"…you always seemed like a hero to me."

"Haha, flattering me?" His eyes twinkled for a minute, then Gawain shook his head. "Please don't. I know the kind of person I truly am." There was something more in those words other than humility, but Lancelot wasn't sure if he should broach it. And it seemed like Gawain wasn't interested, because he continued onwards. "But, regardless, know that I never regretted your friendship in those days." In those days…

"That heartens me to hear," Lancelot sighed, even as he felt the guilt settling in.

"And I do want to continue sticking together," Gawain smiled. "But, I feel that lately, my efforts have not matched yours. And so…" And then there was a pause, and for a second, Gawain's face stiffened before he finally spoke. "I was wondering if you would join me for dinner one evening. Not here, but in the mortal world. Marie recommended a French restaurant of quality and I'd enjoy seeing what you thought of the changes in the cuisine."

Lancelot blinked for a moment and froze before he finally spoke. "I would be delighted, Sir Gawain. But," and before he could think better of saying it, "isn't this what some might call a date."

Gawain paled for a moment, then as if steadying and resolving himself, raised a bit of his food to his mouth. "I do not see why it has to be such. Though I cannot stop you from getting such notions in your head."

"Such notions…" And Lancelot really did want to interrogate him but smiled instead. "Then, Sir Gawain, I will entertain certain notions."

"…you idiot."

"Did you just insult me?"

"Yes."

"That's not like you," Lancelot said with a little laugh.

"It's not an insult when it is true."

"That it's not." But now he felt a sense of relief, mixed with a bit of curiosity. Maybe he was wrong and Gawain wasn't interested in him, but merely trying to extend the olive branch further. But at the same time, something in Lancelot's instincts said it was a bit more than that. But, he chose to restrain himself. Being giddy about it did no good and might push Gawain away. Instead, he'd be thankful for anything at all. And Gawain was correct about him being an idiot, one who regularly assumed too much. Assumed the worst. The rest of the conversation was light-hearted until Gawain was finished eating and decided to get up, but not before relaying the date and the time.

"And do not be late."

"I am always punctual Sir Gawain. Especially for you."

"You say that and yet…"

"That was one time!"

There was a silence and then Gawain shook his head. "Just do not be late this time," Gawain said before he left.

"Hmmm, well I definitely cannot miss it now. Not after he went through so much trouble." Trouble on his behalf as always. The least Lancelot could do is to put himself out a little more. Especially considering what it must have cost Gawain. And in the process, he would make sure his dear friend didn't regret it.