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sillyfanatic · 1 year

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A strange bond (5)

oh this chapter is SO!!... giggling and kicking my feet rn... please enjoy this installment ;3

CW: this chapter contains mentions of a panic attack as well as a brief description of one. if that makes you uneasy, proceed at your own risk!

read it on ao3!!

(wc; 6387)

Arthur had caught a cold.

Naturally, the castle was in shambles.

It was an annoying – albeit, harmless – common cold, and they were surely equipped to handle it. The castle easily housed some of the finest doctors in the land, and they had access to a dozen nurses, enough of them to assure that the king was never left uncared for. Additionally, their reserves were quite literally filled with herbs of all kinds, and they possessed enough modern medicine to cure an entire village!

So, truthfully, there was nothing to be worried about.

The only real inconvenience was Arthur’s absence, felt heavily throughout the empty rooms. A council had formed in his absence, one composed of advisors and highly regarded nobles – they replaced the king (if only temporarily) in order to assure the continuation of daily meetings. Naturally, this made the events drag on, the time they took seemed to have increased tenfold, and it now felt like eternities were spent trying to push through one simple meeting.

It was tiring, to say the least.

Lancelot no longer felt excitement when he participated in them, instead, he found himself rather exhausted at the mere thought of it. They were not the same without the king, and besides, Arthur’s presence had been the sole reason for his attendance in the first place.

And just like that, the time they shared together vanished. Gone, was the companionship he had so recently begun to enjoy. Lancelot almost cursed himself, he had been a fool to allow his mind and heart to get so wrapped up in the abnormal routine – it was bound to change, he had known, and yet… he still let himself fall for it.

It was inevitable. It happened too often; Lancelot would suddenly find himself near Arthur, more than what was usual. They would build their own routines around one another, and the knight would weave himself to it so tightly- But it always ended the same. Whether it be days or months, history repeated itself. Without warning, what they had so carefully built crumbled. Moments together were swept under his feet, until Lancelot found himself all alone. Again.

It was a tiring cycle, one that left him empty at every end, and yet…

And yet he couldn’t bear the thought of giving up.

There was a part of him that could not relent, a part that lived off of every warm memory, unable to die. It grew with every moment they shared together, and when they separated, it stung like a knife wound, an aching that took hold of his heart so violently, he could not ignore it.

And so, he would come back. Time and time again, Lancelot would come back.

And it hurt so terribly this time. As the visits and warm smiles faded away, so did he. That part, it had clung so desperately unto Arthur this time, that Lancelot feared the king might’ve walked away with it.

Of course, Lancelot had not always known this. These things were somewhat of a newer revelation, one that came to light in the midst of all the pain. The pain, this… sentiment, it had festered and grown in his ignorance, and now it had so suddenly blossomed, and so quickly, too.

It was all hitting him at once now, and it couldn’t have fallen at a worse moment.

Lancelot had… feelings. For Arthur.

This had come as quite a shock for the knight. It really shouldn’t have, in fact; Lancelot should have been alert, aware, like he was trained to be.

Apparently, that sort of training did not apply to personal feelings or sentiment of any kind, for Lancelot had fallen, and he had fallen hard.

To say that this was terrifying him was an understatement.

The suddenness of it all, the strength of the love he felt for another, it was all too much and too fast, and it had easily managed to overwhelm him.

Lancelot could barely stomach anything, could barely sleep anymore.

Some said love was a beautiful thing, some said love was a blessing from the gods. Lancelot just felt ill.

Those who claimed that love was pure and welcomed had obviously not fallen for someone so forbidden, so close and yet so out of reach.

How had he permitted such a thing to happen? Being friends with his sovereign was already pushing the limits greatly, and now, he’d fallen in love?

What would Arthur say? What would Arthur think? Could he even confess?

It did not matter, none of it mattered, Lancelot could not possibly be lovers with a king. Their companionship was already so secretive, and it was – or had been – purely platonic. For a king to marry bellow his status, so far bellow that it would be to an employee? It was unheard of, unthought of. He should not be the one thinking about it, for Chaos’ sake!

…would Arthur feel the same?

No, god no.

Why was he thinking like this?

Lancelot sat up, the sheets tumbling from his body onto his lap. His torso was bare, heaving rapidly in panicked breaths. It was winter, and he was half-nude, yet he found himself growing unbearably hot. It was an overwhelming feeling that pushed his heart over its limit, shortening his breaths more and more as the seconds painfully ticked away.

The knight held his head in his hands, trying to regulate himself to no avail.

He knew he was panicking; he knew it was stupid to be panicking, but he could not stop. He could never stop, not in moments like these.

Quickly, he stood, brushing the thin sheets off his warm body. His feet were bare, and the cool stone beneath them managed to ground him a bit. Lancelot shook his hands rapidly as panicked breaths tumbled from his lungs, trying to attach himself to something, to anything.

The knight brought himself to his window, still fidgeting with his arms for a reason that was beyond him. He wasn’t sure if it helped him at all, but he figured that any movement was better than none at all. The tired hedgehog brought his attention to the sights that lay beyond the thick glass, praying that the view might help him in calming down.

It was a rather empty night, the sky above him entirely void of clouds. Its inky surface was proudly interrupted by the moon, who seemed smaller than the last time he’d seen it. Her small size only slightly dampened her brightness, her shimmering light reaching out to him, like it always did.

Bellow her, snow still greedily covered the lands, its thick coat blanketing every rooftop and hugging every tree and mountain in sight.

It was quiet, it was still.

The dark hedgehog was unmoving, gazing silently at the opening before him. He allowed the stillness of the scenery wash over him, allowed the moon to continue bathing him in her shimmering light. He stayed like this for a while, stayed until he could no longer feel the overwhelming worries coursing through his veins, until his breaths settled, and until its heart had ceased its aching.

And when he felt his body return to something akin to normalcy, he did not move. Lancelot simply observed the stars, content in watching them twinkle for an eternity or two. The serenity of the land reassured him, it reasoned him, helping the stubborn knight to realize that if the sky had not fallen, neither would he.

Taking a deep breath, he spun around, eyes falling upon the small cot he’d so recently occupied. He hadn’t managed to fall asleep before, and he was surely awake now. From the position of the moon, he’d gaged it was very late in the night, perhaps a bit closer to tomorrow morning than to yesterday’s evening.

He should go to bed; he should want to.

He did not.

He could not.

The only thing that occupied his mind was Arthur. It was all he’d thought about for days, but it made the most sense now. Evenings and nights simply reminded him of the azure hedgehog, for it was a time when they shared too many memories, a time where they would be able to meet, away from prying eyes and away from any judgement.

What if…

An idea blossomed in his mind, one so spontaneous, one so unlike him, that it almost startled him.

What if he were to visit Arthur?

It was stupid, and he knew it.

And yet… love made people do stupid things, didn’t it?

Quickly, with a speed akin to Arthur’s, Lancelot dressed his chest. He did not allow himself to think twice, moving in a madness that was too unlike him. There could be unintended consequences and heavy disappointments waiting for him at the end of this ridiculous plan, but he did not give those thoughts the time of day. The knight hurriedly tossed a simple white blouse over his chest, not having the mind to properly dress himself. Swiftly, he slipped on a pair of grey gloves as well as a pair of warm socks, ones that could easily dampen the sound of his footsteps.

Lancelot told himself that he would simply be checking up on his friend, nothing more. One knock at the door would suffice, and if no answer came, then he would promptly return to his chambers and force himself to sleep.

With that foolish plan in mind, the knight headed for the door, much too aware of the excitement that bubbled in his chest.

He’d finally gone mad, and he was too stubborn to realize it.

The hallways were empty, much to Lancelot’s relief. The knight wandered the cold corridors silently, relying on his memory to guide him, as he’d only been to the king’s bedchamber once.

There were no guards outside of Arthur’s door, the knight knew that much. He’d overheard one of the maids whispering of it, about how the king had dismissed them because they ‘chatted too loudly’, and he needed rest in his time of recovery.

Lancelot doubted that was the whole truth, suspecting that it was most likely an excuse to be alone. He knew Arthur was not fond of being constantly followed or guarded, being able to defend himself well enough alone.

The large wooden doors stared at the knight as his fist hovered before them, waiting to knock. His ears were pinned forwards, attentive to any noise inside the room, but there was nothing.

With a small sigh and a fluttering heart, the dark hedgehog knocked, a light tapping that would barely wake a butterfly, should it be sleeping nearby.

Silence followed; the knight’s ears almost strained as they filtered through the quiet evening for any disturbance.

And then there it was, words spoken rather quietly, but heard, nonetheless.

“Who is it?” The voice was small and distant, and a bit raspy too. Lancelot felt himself almost dipping into a panic again, too enthralled by the knowledge of the other’s presence.

“It is Sir Lancelot, my lord.” He announced rather quietly, praying that the words were audible through the thick doors.

There was no response, and no sounds that followed either.

Oh.

Lancelot waited for a moment, and then another. He waited until his mind began to wander; Perhaps Arthur did not care for his company, or perhaps he’d gone back to bed.

The knight’s ears drooped in shameful disappointment as he prepared to turn around, faithful to his original plan. If the king did not want to be disturbed, then so it would be.

Before the knight could manage to rip himself away, however, one of the large wooden doors slowly creaked opened.

Lancelot quickly spun around, observing the head that was now poking through the previously closed doorway. There were a few torches lit in the corridor, their muted flame softly illuminating the hedgehog before him. His cheeks were rosier than normal, the tan fur of his muzzle a bit more pale than usual. His blue coat seemed to shine a bit less too, and there were bags underneath his tired eyes. And yet, despite it all, Arthur still smiled. An exhausted one, yes, but it did not lack in warmth.

“Lance?” He whispered a bit incredulously, hesitantly opening the door a little wider. His verdant eyes quickly scanned the area around them, almost as if his knight’s presence confused him. It should, really. “Whatryou doing here?” His speech was tired, the words slurring together as he spoke. From this angle, Lancelot could observe how he was dressed; clad in a long red nightgown, perhaps made of silk, with a thick matching robe overtop it. It seemed much more practical than the knight’s mismatched attire.

“I-“ Lancelot began answering, before realizing that he had not thought this far out. He had acted on a whim, and did not expect anything to come out of it, and so he stood a bit dumbfounded as he searched for an answer. “I came to check up on you.” It was sort of a lie, but not entirely. It would do.

Arthur’s eyes went a little wide at the response. “Oh!” he exclaimed, his smile growing stronger. He opened the door a bit more, and Lancelot noticed how he clung to it, as though it supported his weight. “Thanks, buddy, but ‘mfine.” The king sleepily added as his knight stood, observing.

“Oh, I see.” He replied, finding himself to be… disappointed?

Did you expect to be invited in? His mind mocked him, and he flushed red with embarrassment. He should go, he should’ve already been gone-

“I suppose I should-“ He started, but did not finish. Arthur was swaying a bit, despite his firm grip on the door besides him. “Are you sure you’re alright?” Lancelot pressed on as a spike of worry filled his gut. It was not unlike the king to deny discomfort or pain, especially when questioned.

“Mhm, oh yeah.” He spoke, but the knight was unconvinced. Lancelot stood straight, crossing his arms across his chest. Furrowing his brows, he stared at the man before him, a silent urge to ‘spit it out’. The king rolled his eyes at this, moving his arms to gesture at himself. “See, lance, ‘m totally- shit!” He shouted as the lack of the door’s support made him loose his balance.

The king started to fall backwards, but Lancelot was quick, rushing to his sovereign rapidly before a second thought. Gracefully, he caught the other in his arms, his heart racing with adrenaline and worry. Arthur’s eyes had closed firmly, his face stuck in a wince, expecting to collide with the ground soon enough.

This moment did not come however, and so, slowly, the blue hedgehog relaxed his tense body, looking up in confusion, only to be met with crimson irises.

“Fine, huh?” Lancelot teased as Arthur regained his bearings, the knight moving slowly to make the king stand. Lancelot kept a firm hold on his companion, afraid that he might topple over again if he were to stand on his own.

The king heaved a short sigh before drooping his head slightly, avoiding eye contact.

“Hmf, you caught me.” He whispered, unabashedly leaning into the other. This brought their bodies closer together, inches apart as Lancelot struggled to hold the full dead weight of his companion.

“Arthur.” He spoke softly, his voice void of disappointment. “You need to sleep, you’re sick.” The king sniffled, as if to prove the other’s point.

“Can’t sleep.” He replied, his voice filled with exhaustion.

The knight paused for a moment. As much as he yearned to spend the night chatting with Arthur, there was no logic in doing so. It stung to see the other unwell, and Lancelot would not be the reason for his condition worsening.

“Well, I’m going to force you to.” Arthur lifted his head at the words, confusion plastered on his tired face.

“Wha?” He asked, but before he could even finish the word, Lancelot moved to sweep Arthur off his feet, swiftly bringing the king into his arms, like a groom carrying his bride. (The comparison made Lancelot’s knees a bit weak, but he waved the thought away, needing his legs to stay solid as he carried his sovereign.) “Lance!” The other shouted in surprise as he was swept off the floor, his arms coming to clutch around the other’s neck.

“You need rest, Arthur.” Lancelot gently commented as he made his way to the king’s bed, careful not to jostle the hedgehog in his arms as he strode.

The aforementioned hedgehog who tiredly stuck his face in the crook of the other’s neck, heaving a tired sigh. “Mnngmgnhm.” He spoke, but it was lost in Lancelot’s neck, the sentence warm against his fur.

The knight did not respond, could not if he tried to. He simply focused on the task at hand, delicately placing Arthur on his bed once he stood at the foot of it. The king did not move once sat on it, silently observing the other.

“I can’t go to bed.” He stated again, though it did not give much to Lancelot.

“And why is that?” The knight questioned, this time.

“I dunno.” Eloquent as always. Arthur looked away for a second, a saddened look in his eye. “I haven’t been able to sleep, since I last saw you.” The hedgehog confessed, a sad smile on his lips as his gaze met back with the other’s.

Lancelot felt his heart thrash in its cage for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Arthur tended to have that sort of effect on him.

“I don’t know what it is, but I have not seen a minute of sleep since that night.” The king confessed, and the words reached out to Lancelot in such a specific way, he could not help but confess, too.

“If it eases you, I have not slept since then either.”

“Really?” Arthur perked up, his head tilting in curiosity.

“I am afraid not.”

“Why?” It was the other’s time to question, to pry.

Lancelot knew why well enough. But he could not say it, would not do so. It was too much, entirely too much. And so, he decided to answer in a different way, one that was no less truthful.

“I’ve been… worried about you, Arthur.” He sat down besides his companion, fidgeting with his hands as to avoid the gaze of the other. “I thought you’d gotten hurt, for a split second, I’d thought-“ He shook his head, swallowing a little lump in his throat. He couldn’t bear to speak the words.

Arthur did not reply, instead, he reached out, placing his right hand atop Lancelot’s, effectively stopping any nervous movement. It was a silent demand, an encouragement to keep speaking. The knight sighed softly.

“…I thought I’d lost you.” The words were almost broken, the emotion they evoked much too intense to dissect.

“I’m right here.” Arthur spoke gently, giving a reassuring squeeze to Lancelot’s hands.

Despite this fact, a chagrin still boiled inside of the knight, one he had not been aware of. It was heavy and disruptive and took a hold of him so violently.

“What if I had not heard you, that night? What if my speed had failed me? Had I been a moment behind, you could have…” Lancelot turned his head then, meeting crimson irises with emerald ones. Arthur’s features were pulled into an attentive pout, and the knight couldn’t help but find it cute.

God, what had become of him?

“We should not have been there, and I cannot help but think it was my fault. Perhaps it is even my fault you fell ill. I can hardly forgive myself for that.” The words were quiet.

“Lance.” The king replied in a leveled voice, moving his hand to gently cup Lancelot’s cheek. The knight leaned into to the affectionate gesture, cursing himself for the warmth it gave him. “It isn’t your fault. I’m the one who brought us there, goober.” The loving nickname was punctuated with a soft smile, and Lancelot thought he could have died, possibly. “If anything, it’s my fault. But it doesn’t matter, none of it does!” Arthur’s voice had only gotten raspier, perhaps out of exhaustion. To deny its charm would be criminal. “All that matters is that ‘m okay, and you’re okay too.” The king’s thumb grazed at his cheek, the feeling so subtle and yet so overwhelming it was almost magical. The doting gesture combined with the reassuring words had managed to eradicate all sense of silly thoughts in the knight’s mind.

Now, all the dark hedgehog could think about was the man before him, how striking he looked in soft candle light, and how only a few inches separated their bodies, their mouths-

Arthur’s face contorted into a loud yawn, pulling the knight from his love-crazed thoughts.

“Thank you, Arthur.” He replied to the earlier words, quickly following with; “Now, if you’re not going to sleep, I’m really going to have to force you.” The king smiled softly as this comment, knowing well enough that Lancelot would never do such a thing.

“’Mkay, but I have one request!”

“And how may I help you, my lord, oh you who is so wise?” Lancelot mocked, a smile making its way to his features. It was wide and lopsided, it was entirely unlike him, and yet it suited him well.

Arthur threw his head back in laughter, playfully pushing his companion’s shoulder as he giggled. The touch was light, and yet Lancelot felt it so strongly, as there was nothing but the light cotton of his chemise to stop the contact. And it did little of that.

“Shush.” The king urged, even though it was he who ruptured the silence with his endless giggles. Lancelot just nodded his head, waiting for the giddiness to pass through them. When the blue hedgehog had calmed down enough to speak again, he made his request known. “Would you stay with me, until I fall asleep?”

It was more of a question than a request, there was no pressure to fulfill this task. Lancelot’s eyes widened at the unusual words, but his heart sped in excitement, the mere possibility of having more time together (even if the other was asleep) brought him such joy, he could not simply see himself refusing it.

“Of course, Arthur.” He answered perhaps too quickly, but he did not care anymore. The king beamed at his response, and the exhaustion was momentarily absent from his face, replaced by something akin to relief, or joy. Maybe it was both, maybe it was something entirely new.

Arthur could not contain this emotion, moving to wrap his arms firmly around his friend. He embraced him warmly, solidly, whispering a gentle “Thank you” in the dark hedgehog’s ear.

Lancelot’s mind took a few seconds to respond to the action, his arms wrapping firmly around his beloved when the surprise had finally washed away.

They held each other tightly, so close, closer than they’d ever been before. There was no armour or heavy cloaks to separate their bodies, and they could so easily feel one another. Lancelot could sense when Arthur breathed in and out, his chest rising against his own, the king’s warm breath fanning across his exposed neck. It took everything in him not to do something, anything, because this feeling overwhelmed him so much, he felt like crying, or laughing, or even possibly dipping into another panic. Perhaps even all three at the same time, which would surely be an ugly sight.

The knight sat still as the embrace ceased, and he did not move as Arthur separated himself fully, moving to burry himself beneath the cover of his bed. “G’night, Lance.” He spoke sleepily as his eyelids drifted, his mouth resting in a content smile.

“Good night, Arthur.” Lancelot bid quietly, afraid that if he spoke any louder, emotions would betray him.

And so, the knight stayed, guarding over the king’s sleeping form. He waited until Arthur’s breaths fell in a repetitive and calm pattern, and yet he did not leave quite yet. He stayed much longer than he should have, much longer than he intended, and longer than Arthur could know.

Lancelot was content in simply guarding, in assuring the other’s safety.

He did not dare to think it, and yet knew that he was simply avoiding the return to his quarters, less than enthused about the loneliness and sorrow that awaited him in his return.

And so, he did not go, awaiting the first peaks of sunlight through thick velvet curtain. It was only when the day was about to begin that he left, knowing that if he stayed any longer, someone would have seen him treading back to his bedroom.

With one last look as the restful king, Lancelot took his leave, unsure of when he’d be seeing his beloved again.

It seems fate was rather set on upsetting Lancelot, because in the following days, the knight caught a cold too.

It started as a slight irritation in his throat, but soon morphed into a mild fever, acquiring him a prescription of rest and relaxation, as well as some medicinal herbs and a syrup that he was not too keen on tasting.

It was alright, he’d felt worse before. It was a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things, a mere pebble in the road.

So then, why did his head feel so ill?

That was perhaps unanswerable, and if it was, he couldn’t be the one to solve it.

Getting forced to stay still had allowed his mind to grow legs of its own, much to the knight’s annoyance. His head screamed and trashed about, and he could do nothing but attempt to bear it as the days lazily passed by.

In truth, he could not stop thinking about Arthur.

How had he allowed himself to stray so far from reason? He should have refused when the king asked him to drop formalities. He should have said no when he insisted on being friends, on building a kinship.

He had thought that he was only obeying his king, that he was only doing what was right by him, and yet… he’d created a situation in which there seemed to be no escape.

It only seemed to worsen as time ticked on, each second spent away from the other bringing more melancholy and ache to his strained heart.

He loved Arthur. And he feared the feeling had only just begun to grow.

And so, his days were spent this way, lamenting an existence that plagued him, trying – and failing – to find a solution to the problem that overwhelmed him.

Lancelot had attempted to return to his duties on the third day, unable to bear another second alone, wasted away in his bed. The other knights practically forced him back into his room, unconvinced that he was doing any better.

It had been a bit shameful, but necessary, nonetheless.

On the fifth day, there was a knock on his door.

“Yes?” He answered, voice tired and gravelly. He’d figured it was a nurse, given the unusually early hours of the morning. But when the door creaked opened, he was surprised to find himself facing Arthur. His heart rate skyrocketed, his cheeks blushing furiously already.

“Hi.” The king greeted as he stepped in, softly closing the door behind him. He held something behind his back, keeping it hidden there as he made his way to the other’s bedside.

Lancelot rapidly covered his mouth with his elbow as a weak cough made its way out, his ears flattening against his head. The glee he felt at seeing his friend was combatted by a heavy guilt – as much as Lancelot wished to spend time with his companion, it was highly inappropriate and would likely result in the other falling ill once more. “My king, you should not be here- you’ll get sick.” He managed to speak against his desires, attempting to push Arthur away from himself.

Arthur laughed at this, the sound joyous and light and not doing Lancelot any favours in his love-sick state. The blue hedgehog simply sat on the edge of the bed, uncaring, or rather unbothered by the other’s sickness. “Nonsense, Lance. I’m the one who rendered you ill in the first place.” He stated simply, lopsided grin punctuating his casual sentence.

“Right, but uhm- don’t you fear falling ill again?” The knight kept pushing despite himself, knowing that he would be heavily chastised if he were to transmit his cold unto the kind once more.

“Not at all.” Another simple response, and it felt even simpler coming from Arthur. It was so effortlessly casual, it almost managed to puzzle the other. How could one be so… so nonchalant? It was a skill Lancelot shamefully lacked, and in its stead a ridiculous need for overthinking had made its way into the knight’s mind.

“Alright.” He resigned, too easily. With another strained cough he spoke again; “But try not to put yourself too close to me, Arthur.” It was a warning, but a soft one, one born out of love and care.

“Of course!” The other replied, immediately ignoring the warning and shuffling closer to his friend. Lancelot’s legs were almost touching Arthur’s, the only thing between them being the light cloth of the knight’s cot. Said knight cursed the fabric for its existence.

A moment of silence passed between them, and the dark hedgehog noted that Arthur was observing him in a peculiar way. It was almost as thought the king was expecting him to speak – but on what, exactly, he was not sure.

“Well?” The blue hedgehog prompted.

“Well?..” Lancelot mirrored the word, questioning it.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what’s behind my back?” Arthur replied, insistently. It was then that Lancelot noted that the king was still hiding something behind him, something that had been forgotten in the midst of their conversation.

“Oh, yes, of course.” He replied rapidly, feeling his cheeks burning in a mixture of fever and embarrassment. “What’ve you got, blue?” He spoke quietly, a shy smile lining his tired features.

Arthur nearly choked on his tongue.

The nickname hit him like lightening; it happened quickly, unexpectedly, and left him feeling all fuzzy and flustered.

“Yes, uhm-“ The king attempted to regain a sense of composure as soon as possible, feeling his heart slipping into a frenzy of unequal beats.

Blue.

The nickname, although not technically affectionate, felt so soft and loving. Arthur had always admired Lancelot’s voice, but hearing it now, when it was so low and gravelly – god, it was enough to make him faint.

“A box?” The king heard Lancelot speak again, and it managed to knock him out of his own daze. The king looked down to realize that he was now holding the brown box he’d brought right up to Lancelot’s chest.

The dark hedgehog had knit his eyebrows together in a sort of tired confusion, trying his best to make sense of the situation. Arthur could not help himself in admiring these features, feeling the pit at the bottom of his stomach twisting and turning, seemingly expanding with every passing second.

“Take it.” He spoke hastily, wiggling the box a bit when the other did not move. After a minute or so of uncertainty, Lancelot shuffled, bringing an ungloved hand to grasp as the small brown box.

The blue hedgehog’s eyes widened at the bold display of his companion’s bare hand. It was in plain sight, the soft black fur only interrupted by one bold red stripe. Arthur had always been curious as to how the stripe on Lancelot’s arms ended – but he’d never been brave enough to ask.

Now he could see it well enough, could admire the way the red stripe extended to his middle and ring finger, coating them in the bold colour. It was simple. It shouldn’t have made him so ecstatic.

Arthur kept observing as Lancelot brought his other hand, neatly untying the white satin string that was so messily wrapped around the package. The king’s heart leapt in his chest as the bow was undone, an unfamiliar anxiety taking hold of him as he observed his closest friend opening the gift he’d made for him.

The cover was carefully lifted, and as it was discarded, Lancelot’s features shifted from a neutral scowl to a soft surprised expression. His eyes widened, his mouth relaxing in a slightly opened position – and why was Arthur trying to memorize every detail of it?

“Arthur, this-“

“It’s not great, I know.” He fiddled with his fingers nervously. “I didn’t have much time to work on them, but it gave me something to do while I was sick!” He quickly explained, a little embarrassed at the shoddy craftsmanship of his gift.

“Arthur, these are beautiful.” Lancelot spoke in a breathy voice, carefully removing the item from its resting place.

Out of the box appeared a pair of knit gloves, their colour a bright azure not unlike the hedgehog that made them. The stiches were far from perfect, and a few mistakes could easily be seen.

But none of that mattered to Lancelot, who quickly slid them on his bare fingers.

“It might not fit well, I modeled them after my own hands, since it’s not like I could go get your measurements or anything.” Arthur rambled, something he did very well.

“They’re perfect.” Lancelot whispered at he fit the gloves to his hands, and lo and behold – they fit like a glove.

Arthur’s head was most definitely a mess of emotions, complex ones he did not have the time to decipher. He could feel it so heavily though, an excitement that coursed through his veins and rendered him so light.

“Really?” He heard himself speak before he could even think.

“Really.” Lancelot replied, large smile lining his lips, allowing Arthur to get a glimpse of his fangs. The king did his best not to scream.

“I’m so glad you like them, Lance.”

The knight simply nodded, observing the gloves on his hands and revelling in their beauty. The material was so soft, and warmer than anything else he owned. Its colour was so striking, too, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t his favourite.

“They must’ve been expensive.” He whispered to himself in awe.

“It’s really nothing.” The king immediately waved away, surely used to these kinds of things. But Lancelot was not.

“Are you sure it’s not too much?” He spoke a bit worriedly, lowering his hands for a moment.

“Nothing is ever too much for you, Lance.” Arthur reassured almost immediately. “Besides, you can count it as your birthday gift! Happy early birthday, my friend.”

“Thank you, Arthur.” Lancelot replied, putting his hands up once more to observe the wonderful gift. “I’ve never had one before.”

“Wool gloves? Really?”

“No, I mean, a birthday gift.”

“Oh.” Arthur paused for a moment, his features dropping in a more serious tone. “Lance, you deserve every gift in the world.” The words were sincere, the sentence wrapping itself around Lancelot’s heart and squeezing it firmly. The knight could feel his love-sick condition worsen with every moment they spent together. “In fact, you deserve the world itself. And I’d buy it for you if I could.”

The knight could feel his blush worsen, the tips of his ears burning red hot in a mixture of embarrassment and bashfulness. He felt the need to decline immediately, unable to tell at this point if Arthur was joking or not. “I don’t really care about money.” He shrugged his shoulders, fiddling with the new gloves. “I just appreciate the time and care you poured into this.”

“It’s nothing at all.” The king reassured, always so quick to dismiss things.

“I mean it. I know how valued your time is, and to think that I mean enough to you to occupy some of it, it’s…” Lancelot pried his eyes away from the man before him, opting to stare out the window instead. He felt his throat tighten, his mind reeling in unspoken confessions. He feared his heart could no longer take it. “It’s really something.” He whispered, unable to say anything more.

There was a moment of silence, slowly broken by the quiet ruffling of bedsheets. The knight could feel his sovereign’s approach, could feel the distance between them slowly closing up as Arthur shuffled closer.

Suddenly, there was a hand on his chin, a gentle grasp that pulled him away from the sights beyond his window, softly bringing his gaze back to the man before him.

Lancelot could feel his breath hasten, his heart beating out of its cage. His eyes sought out the emerald ones before him, questioning silently. He had not felt the other’s touch in so long, it seemed, and yet here it was, burning through him once again.

Should he say something? He should be saying something.

“Arthur, I-“

But the words died in his throat as the king softly closed the gap between them, pressing his lips against the other’s.

It was chaste.

It was wrong.

But why then, did it feel so right?

Lancelot positively melted into the brief contact, savoring every fleeing second until the moment had passed by them and they were separate once again.

It was wrong, because Arthur could fall ill again.

It was wrong, because an affection like this was strictly forbidden.

And yet, it was right because it felt so. Because their hearts were racing in a love-driven madness, because their chest were rising and falling rapidly, because they both smiled at the other like they were all that mattered.

There was a knock at the door.

“Sir Lancelot, are you decent?”

And the moment had died.

“It’s the nurse.” The knight whispered.

“It’s alright, I should be gone already.” Arthur hastily confessed, rising off the bed.

A moment of silence.

“Will you visit again?” Lancelot allowed himself to whisper.

“Of course.” Arthur assured with a grin as he made his way out the room, earning a curious glance from the nurse that brought Lancelot’s breakfast.

The knight watched the other close the door, his head and heart filled with questions and whimsy.

What had they done?

<- previous part!!

following part! ->

A/N

THEY KISSED!!!! THEY R SO GAY!!!!

hbgjernjfnrn its been So Long. im aware... ive been dealing with so me sickness and mental health and whateva,,,

that being said, hope this chapter is worth the wait!!!! (at least somewhat) and please let me kn ow your every thought on this one, i nreally appreciate any feedback :3