Who: Lancelot and Arthur What: Lancelot is ready to give his King the apology he deserves. (Originally posted by Lancelot) When: Wednesday afternoon Where: Local coffee shop
There was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he walked toward the door. He stopped the moment it opened, feeling as if his knees would buckle under his weight. He'd waited years with many tears and sorrow-filled dreams to apologize to his King rightfully. The words never felt right, and when he'd attempted to write it out, every time the pages had ended up blank. In the end he had failed to make amends before Arthur died. Lancelot found himself crying like a child at the grave site without a word to speak.
He knew Arthur had every reason to judge him in the same way the rest of the world did. Lancelot had taken what had never belonged to him, even if Guinevere loved him with a passion she had never held for Arthur. For years Lancelot had upheld the power to say no, but just as his legs dragged heavily inside the shop, he had given in. A man of many sins, all of which he regretted but some of which he'd never want to change.
Lancelot said a silent prayer as he walked toward that familiar power, making the sign of the cross over his chest with his hands. Once again his words felt dead inside his throat. A lump thick against his vocal chords as if swallowing would keep his words down.
Arthur had agreed to meet Lancelot, but he wasn't sure what the man would say. Was there anything he truly could say that would take away what was done? He sipped his long espresso and waited, his heart in his throat. Though he would deny he was nervous if anyone asked.
He felt a presence approach and he lifted his head, spotting Lancelot at the door. All he could do was nod, hoping it was a friendly enough gesture that Lancelot would still approach.
It was with a heavy sigh that Lancelot approached, stopping to flag down a waitress for a drink. He didn't have the strength to stand any longer. He best take his seat by Arthur before it was obvious he was nervous. His heart was pounding so fast he didn't even hear himself speak.
"Arthur," he nodded with eyes locked. It had been a long time since he'd seen Arthur this close.
Arthur could have laughed at Lancelot simply using his name and sitting after so long apart, but nothing about this was funny. Arthur nodded again and then he decided to be honest.
"I am at a loss for words, Sir. But it is not unpleasant to see you."
He felt the urge to bow at Arthur's feet, but even that had lost it's flavor when Arthur had willingly let Guinevere be tried for treason for execution. Lancelot felt he should have held all responsibility for taking her away, but Arthur seemed to be grasping for strength when Camelot was falling at it's knees.
Lancelot gave a nod. "No, good Sir. It is not." His day was finally here and he couldn't find a complete thought in his head but the same words over and over again. Arthur had once been his greatest ally, his best friend, but all of that was dust. "You look well," he admitted finding that jumping right into being sorry would just look pathetic. Compliments were his first order.
Arthur chuckled when Lancelot complimented his looks. "I feel well," he admitted. He did not compliment Lancelot the same way. It just felt wrong.
When Arthur failed to be as generous with his compliments, Lancelot knew that the bitterness between them had not been bridged. Even after all this time. It was crushing.
He held back still, feeling out the right time to lay out his grievances. "And how have you been these years?" Had he even once felt any guilt toward the situation, or did he blame Lancelot for everything?
Arthur let out a breath and he wondered how long the pleasantries were going to go on. "Oh, fine. I have been working as a prosecuting lawyer for some time now. Making sure monsters get what they deserve. You?"