Title: "Handfast" 1/1
Author: CharlieMC camelotslash-1 at qwest.net
Fandom: "King Arthur"
Pairing: Arthur/Lancelot (as portrayed by Clive Owen & Ioan Gruffudd)
Feedback: Yes! Any and all types welcome, both good and bad.
Status: Complete
Date: September 12, 2004
Archive: Sure, contact me first, please [template must stay with fic]
Archived at: CamelotSlash.com -- http://www.camelotslash.com
Category: Slash
Disclaimer: Don't own them and mean no infringement or disrespect. No money made, it's merely for fun. Arthur and Lancelot belong to the ages -- certainly not to me! This probably never happened... (Right?)
Summary: Arthur wishes to be handfast with Lancelot...
Warnings: Slash.
Author Notes: This fic is placed approximately one year prior to the movie. Mistress Marilyn and I have been playing around with another knight -- Percival -- who would be the lover of Tristan. (MM read that originally one knight was tortured in the movie -- before they made some extreme changes. We 'invented' Percival in the role of the tortured knight. LOL. And I drew on several historical accounts to create the character as portrayed in this fic.) We tend to see Percival as looking like Orlando Bloom, by the way. (grin)
Beta: Thanks as always to Mistress Marilyn for her wonderful help.
Dedication: To the one who inspired this...

-----

The hour was late; they'd finally put out the lamp an hour before when it began to smoke from lack of oil. There was a strong smell of honeysuckle drifting heavily on the hot night breeze. Sleep would have come hard -- had they been trying to sleep.

"I'd like us to be handfast," he said, voice gruff with emotion.

"What?" Lancelot couldn't conceal his surprise. "What are you saying, Arthur? Surely you don't wish that with me?"

The room was warm -- almost bakingly so -- and they were lying naked on the bed, only half-covered by a thin, summer blanket. Lancelot shifted to stare into Arthur's face, wishing there were more light. He strained to catch the man's expression.

"I've loved you from the first day we met, Lancelot. Did you know that? It's true." Arthur's voice wasn't sugary, in spite of his words.

Lancelot felt Arthur's hand tangled tightly in his hair, tugging at his curls. "No. I didn't know. But I knew how I felt about you."

Arthur pressed his body closer; Lancelot could feel sweat-damp skin pushing against him. He put a hand around Arthur's neck and leaned his head against one muscular shoulder. The strong smell of Arthur's musky body filled his nostrils; he breathed in deeply, feeling himself growing hard.

"If you keep this up we won't get any sleep tonight," Lancelot remarked in a light, teasing tone.

"As if we'll sleep in this heat," Arthur said, groaning. "We've gone off the subject. As I said, I want us to be handfast. It's a simple enough thing."

"Actually, it's a ceremony that requires witnesses, as I recall," Lancelot replied. "So who exactly did you plan to share this with?"

Arthur wiped his sweating upper lip with the back of his free hand before answering. "The men. The knights and the squires. How not? It's not a thing I mean to hide, after all."

Lancelot pressed his lips to Arthur's skin and kissed lightly several times, stalling for time as he tried to think it through. Was this wise? It made him shiver with pleasure to think of having Arthur bound to him, of course. But was it the best thing for either of them? How would things change?

"Are you listening?" Arthur prompted, tugging his curls a second time.

"Must you pull my hair?"

"That didn't hurt and you know it. Quit putting me off, Lancelot. I want your answer."

Lancelot could hear Arthur breathing -- in, out, in, out.

"Yes." He was afraid he sounded curt, yet he couldn't think what else to say.

Lancelot could see the white of Arthur's teeth -- lit by a sliver of moonlight -- as he grinned at him. "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place, then?"

"You needn't be so sure of yourself, Arthur. Perhaps I'd prefer not to be tied to one person. Perhaps you're not the catch you think you are."

Arthur barked laughter. "Perhaps. But I think you want me as much as I want you, if your lovemaking is any indication. As usual you've left me half dead with exhaustion. It's a wonder I can stay awake long enough to discuss this."

"Then try to sleep. Rest quietly, at least. We can speak of this tomorrow."

Arthur's hand moved to cup the back of Lancelot's head, drawing his face close. Lips pressed firmly against Lancelot's mouth and they shared a long kiss -- one that left Lancelot gasping for breath when they finally parted.

"We're not putting it off," Arthur said, his tone firm. "I want to make arrangements tomorrow."

"What about others besides the knights and squires? Will you keep this a thing for our brotherhood alone?"

"I suppose time will tell. But It's enough that we who serve together know for now, I think. You act as if we'd be the first among us to share a pledge, Lancelot. That's hardly the case."

"I realize that, Arthur. But none of the others did a handfasting. They've made pledges and some have exchanged tokens, but this..."

"If you'd rather not, then we needn't do it." There was clear disappointment in Arthur's voice. "Whatever you wish. I only thought to make it special for both of us."

They were both silent. Lancelot pressed his cheek against Arthur's bare chest and lay listening to the beating of his lover's heart.

Lancelot lifted his head and glanced into Arthur's face, wishing again that he could see the man's expression -- stare into his eyes. "I didn't mean that I don't want this -- probably even more than you do, Arthur," he said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "But I'm trying to think of what happens after. Do the men feel differently toward us? Do they feel less respect? Do they perhaps feel envy that you've shown favor to me over them?

"Do you and I find ourselves unable to go into battle as readily as before -- out of fear for the safety of one another? There are many things to consider."

Arthur shrugged impatiently. "We couldn't love one another more, Lancelot, so I think we feel no different than ever -- even when our lives are risked, as they always must be. That's a given.

"But the men? How can you doubt them? Especially the knights. They're our brothers, Lancelot. Did you ever feel differently toward any of them who shared pledges with one another?"

"Of course not. But we're not talking about me, Arthur."

"Why not, then? You're always talking about women, after all -- as much as any man I know. Why shouldn't some of the knights wonder if you might think it wrong for them to love enough to pledge, one to the other?"

"I frankly never considered it, Arthur. No man here has ever thought less of another for lying with a man, that I recall. Why there's not one among us who wouldn't gladly warm your bed if you bid us there, after all. I've never heard a word to suggest otherwise in all these long years."

"Then what would make you question now? No ceremony or pledge could change the bond we all share as comrades. I'm sure of that."

Lancelot nodded in agreement. "Yes, that's true enough."

"Perhaps you are nervous. Are you unsure? These other thoughts may well be a sign of your own worries."

Lancelot laughed softly, tracing a gentle finger down Arthur's chest. "No, I'm not nervous. I used to wish we had a pledge," he said, sighing softly. "But I'd given up on it, finally. I figured you didn't want it -- that perhaps it was something to do with your god."

They were quiet as Arthur took in his words.

"Handfasting isn't something your god approves of, is it?" Lancelot asked.

"No, it's not a Christian practice." Arthur's voice reflected his mild annoyance. "But I've never heard that it's forbidden to Christians," he added firmly.

Lancelot held his breath a moment before speaking. "Would it be different if your god didn't allow it? Would you want it anyway?" Did he really want to know the answer to his own question?

"Frankly, I've never been a perfect Christian, Lancelot. I try to do what's expected. And you know I find comfort in my religion. But I'm far from a good Christian, I suspect.

"And, no, it wouldn't matter to me. But perhaps we should simply marry. I've heard that two men may be married by the Church. It would require a priest or monk... or a bishop. And as you're not a Christian, it's really not an option, I suppose. That's why I've suggested handfasting, which is almost one in the same, I think. And we don't both have to be Christians to be handfast."

Lancelot couldn't help breaking into a huge smile. "You know, to many folk handfasting is the better choice. Your Christian marriage is hardly as long-standing a tradition, Arthur.

"Truly, I'm glad to think of us sharing these rites," he added, his voice warm.

Lancelot could feel Arthur's chest swelling; he knew he'd pleased his lover with his words. "But I know nothing of rituals and ceremonies, Arthur. You Romans are the ones who like to have a ceremony in order to scratch your arse."

Arthur chuckled before responding. "I must admit I know little enough about it -- except what I've heard here or there. I think I may have heard the bards speak of it from time to time..."

"Yes, it's a local custom, Arthur. I, too, have heard tell of those who are handfast. But I believe it's a thing practiced in other lands, as well." He let his mind drift. "There may have been those back home who were handfast," he added, thinking of dim memories from his boyhood.

"Do you know how it's done?" Arthur asked.

"I know it includes the use of a sword. That's enough to tell me it's the right thing for men like us."

They shared comfortable laughter.

"True enough," Arthur said. "But who will know the actual rite?"

Lancelot considered. "Percival might, I think. His mother's a Briton, you know. She lives not far from the fort. His father was also a Samartian knight and met her while stationed here." He didn't remind Arthur that the man was lying under a sword in their graveyard. "I think Percival knew the ancient traditions before you taught him about your god." Lancelot forced himself to keep the sneer from his tone as he spoke of Arthur's religion.

"I'd forgotten. Good, I'll ask him, then."

"Tomorrow, Arthur. That's certainly soon enough. And if you're through talking about this, I'd like to go back to pleasuring one another. Perhaps then we'll finally be able to sleep."

They wrapped their arms around each other and hugged.

"I'm for that," Arthur agreed.

-----

"Percival?" Arthur walked into the gated ring -- the private practice yard of the knights -- where the men were on horseback, performing some manner of drill. He could hear Lancelot calling out directions to the other men, but wasn't able to make out the actual words.

Percival was close by, wearing light armor without a helmet. His deep brown hair curled fetchingly around his face, a dark contrast to his fair skin. He was clean shaven and had pretty, nearly-feminine features; he was considered a great beauty by both women and men alike.

Percival shifted his left hand and guided his horse to turn, his brown eyes staring down. Arthur smiled as he noticed the chewed fingernails.

"Yes, Arthur?" he asked, voice soft and calm.

"I need a word with you."

Arthur stood waiting in the dirt of the yard while Percival dismounted and tossed his reins to a ready and waiting squire. He then made a gesture to direct the knight inside. There they sat side by side at the round table, in chairs that were not their own. Another squire hurriedly brought them flagons of watered wine before departing, closing the doors behind him.

"I wanted to ask if you knew anything about handfasting, Percival."

"Yes, of course. My own parents were handfast -- as were many of my childhood friends."

"Good." Arthur's face brightened. "What does it involve, exactly?"

"Why do you ask?" Percival's tone was curious.

"I want to be handfast with Lancelot."

"Ah. I didn't realize." Percival's eyes were plainly trying not to stare into Arthur's. "I... I wouldn't think that you would wish to participate in a pagan ritual."

"Marriage isn't possible, considering Lancelot isn't a Christian," Arthur said, matter-of-factly. "But I dearly wish to be joined with him. I think to handfast is the answer."

"Well," Percival cleared his throat before continuing, "I have known two men to be handfast. And two women, as well," he added. "I suppose it's the best thing, if it's a ceremony you desire."

"As you and Tristan clearly did not."

"I guess we didn't feel the need, Arthur. We made our pledge and shared our tokens. It was enough. I certainly didn't care that there was no church ritual -- I simply wanted a bond."

"All the knights know of it, Percival. They honor your pledge."

"I know -- and I'm glad of it. But Tristan wouldn't be comfortable if much were made of it. He's..." Percival trailed off.

"He likes his privacy," Arthur finished for him.

"Yes. He's a quiet man. He doesn't always share things with other people. He's probably more comfortable with his woodland creatures, in some ways."

"It's his way. We understand that. You know, I'm very glad he has you, Percival. I think he'd be lonely, otherwise. Even with the animals. Even with his beloved hawk."

"I think he'd be driven to excesses in battle, frankly," Percival replied, his tone quietly serious. "There's a dark side to him, Arthur," he added, his voice a near-whisper.

"I know, Percival," Arthur replied. "Actually, I know Tristan pretty well, I think. We spend much time together, you know."

"Yes, of course. And he's a good scout. Devoted to serving you."

Arthur nodded. "True enough. He serves us all well."

"I didn't mean to turn the talk to us," Percival said, his face reddening. "I'll gladly arrange things for you, if you wish."

"What does it require?"

"You could have a Priestess there, if you like. She'd know the ways far better than I. But I can ask my mother or sister to tell me the words and what needs doing. For you need none to do this thing for you -- or so I've been told. You need only share this ritual together before a witness -- or witnesses. But mother can find a Priestess easily enough, if you wish for one."

"This is a binding thing?"

"I've still so much to learn about being a Christian, Arthur. Tell me, is the marriage rite a thing that lasts for life?"

Arthur smiled. "I don't really know! I think not, though. It seems to depend on circumstances. But in all honesty, I know little about marriage and marriage rites. Marriage seems to bind long for many -- but less so for others."

"Some handfast for only a year and a day, I've heard tell," Percival said, his eyes staring while he remembered. "Then they may choose to part and go their separate ways, should they wish it. Others handfast and remain together forever. But I think the words of the rite speak of remaining together 'as long as love lasts' between those who would pair by this ritual."

"Reasonable enough."

"Yet many folk marry without ever loving," Percival remarked, a shadow of questioning in his words.

"True. And I can see the need for it. Arranged marriages are often important ones."

"As can I, though I think love is surely a good thing between two who are joined, be they married or handfast. Or pledged," he added, lowering his head and again blushing with embarrassment.

"Yes, but then you're a romantic, Percival."

Percival looked up at Arthur through his lashes, grinning. "Yes, I suppose I am.

"As am I, I suppose," Arthur added to himself.

They were both quiet. Arthur seemed lost in thought.

"I should get back," Percival finally said, rising. "Lancelot will look for me if I'm gone too long. I'll speak to my sister as soon as I can."

"Today?"

"You are that anxious? Well, yes, today, if you wish. Perhaps Lancelot would allow me to depart now? We've been drilling now for hours..."

"I'll go and tell him right now," Arthur said, moving swiftly to exit the room.

-----

Within days all was ready. Percival's family had readily assisted with every detail.

In the end Arthur relented to allow for a few 'outsiders' to attend. Together all of this group had gone outside the fort and climbed a nearby hill. The night was sultry under a full moon; the squeal of bats chasing down flying insects echoed on the soft breeze.

To Lancelot it seemed as if there were candles everywhere! He glanced around at candles of every imaginable size and shape. The grass under their feet seemed to glow a bright, unnatural green from the flickering light these cast and there was a sense of otherworldliness that made the blood sing in his veins.

A large, cream-colored cloth -- a handfast shawl -- was spread out on the ground (a gift from Percival's mother). Large wooden rings had been sewn along the edges of the shawl, which made it a simple thing to stake it firmly in place. On this sat a basin of water; Lancelot could see the reflection of the moon glowing inside the bowl.

There were several small bonfires burning brightly in a circle around the shawl. Small branches were laid on the edges of the cloth and the Priestess stood nearby holding a broom in her hand.

Arthur had decided -- and Lancelot had readily agreed -- that it was best for all present to dress as they did each day, rather than be garbed in uncomfortable finery. (Though in truth all had taken the trouble to be somewhat cleaner than usual in honor of the occasion -- and Arthur and Lancelot had allowed symbols to be painted on their hands and wrists, a decorative touch that Percival had been delighted to turn his hand to.) The knights, squires and others stood near the fires, faces solemn.

Arthur took his sword and thrust it into the ground beside the shawl, just as he'd been directed to do earlier by the Priestess. Then he and Lancelot both knelt together -- each on one knee -- on the grass, placing their right hands on the sword hilt. The pummel had been covered by a ball of mistletoe that was carefully wrapped in ribbons, a sweet decoration -- but one with important symbolism; crafting this was a task that had gladly been undertaken by Percival's younger sister, Amide.

The Priestess was garbed in a long robe, hood thrown back. Her vibrant red hair streamed down her back and over the bosom of the robe. "All here present," she said, voice ringing, "both those seen -- and those unseen -- are witnesses. You shall watch and listen and remember," she continued, her words a command.

Together Lancelot and Arthur bowed their heads, awaiting the ritual cleansing. The Priestess took up a pewter goblet and used it to scoop water from the basin, which she then sprinkled above them.

"The well of life," she intoned, her words clear (if heavily accented).

Arthur almost laughed with joy as the water ran down into his eyes. He turned his face to Lancelot's and they grinned together like mischievous boys while the small rivulets of water flowed through their hair, over their faces and down their bodies.

The goblet was filled a second time and handed to Lancelot, who drank. He then passed the cup to Arthur, who also drank.

The Priestess took the cup and lifted it high above her head, staring upward. "We honor water," she cried. "May it clean and soothe these men. May they never thirst for love or comfort." She poured the remaining water back inside the bowl, setting aside the goblet.

She then turned to hand a small cloth to Lancelot, who used it to dab carefully at Arthur's face. When finished, he handed the cloth to Arthur who dried Lancelot's face with equal care. Then the Priestess took the cloth from his hands and held it while she removed a small vial hidden away in the folds of her robes. She poured the contents of the vial on the cloth before casting it on the nearest bonfire where it burned brightly as she tucked the bottle away again.

"We honor Fire," the Priestess said in a loud and dramatic voice. "We ask that this union be warmed by love and heated by the passion of their joined loins."

She made a gesture and the knights moved forward, each lifting up one of the branches which they held over the heads of Arthur and Lancelot. The Priestess, too, held a branch, which she waved back and forth in front of the faces of the pair, creating an artificial wind.

"We honor Air," she said. "May these two men share breath together. May they breathe long of one another in strong and fruitful union." She laid the branch aside and pointed toward them.

Arthur let go his hold on the sword -- as did Lancelot. Then Lancelot leaned back and waited while Arthur's face pressed to his. They did not kiss. But Lancelot opened his mouth and breathed out, while Arthur opened his lips to accept the exhaled air. They reversed this, and Lancelot was surprised to feel tears standing in his eyes. It was more moving than he'd been expecting, he realized.

This done, they straightened and again took hold of the sword.

The Priestess knelt down directly in front of them and dug her fingers into the grass. Finally she pulled free a small clod of dirt which she cradled in the palm of her hand. She leaned forward and used her free hand to press a finger inside this small ball. Then she marked each man in turn on the forehead before dropping the clod to the ground and rising.

"We honor Earth," she said, her voice softer now. "We ask that these men may forever know abundance in life. And may their love grow ever stronger through the passing seasons."

"Arthur," she asked, "is it your wish to become one with this man? Will you pledge your love through all that may come for as long as love shall last?"

"I pledge it," Arthur replied in a firm voice as he stared into Lancelot's eyes.

"Lancelot, she continued, "is it your wish to become one with this man? Will you pledge your love through all that may come for as long as love shall last?"

"Yes," Lancelot breathed, emotion choking the word. "I pledge it." Arthur was swimming beside him as tears broke his vision and finally began to slip down his cheeks.

"Dare any here say nay to this?" the Priestess called out. "Do all here willingly witness the joining of these men?"

"Aye." The sound of the cries rang loudly through the air as all present replied.

"The Wheel turns," she continued. "Few may know what secrets tomorrow brings. Birth and death are but one -- and all living things must know them both.

"Those gathered here come willingly to affirm this match. May love bud and blossom, as does this rose."

She handed the rose to Lancelot, who grasped it firmly in his hand. He felt a thorn pierce his flesh, but he ignored the pain. He was too filled with joy to care... He could see that Arthur, too, was moved to tears; traces of wetness glowed on Arthur's face.

"Beginnings and endings fill the world. It is the sharing in between which matters," she continued. "Say you all?" she asked, addressing those gathered.

"Aye!" The cries were equally loud and fervent.

The Priestess turned and lifted a robe from the ground behind her, gesturing to Lancelot. He quickly rose and moved to her side. She held up the garment as a shield while he moved behind it and disrobed. Then she helped him to don the robe, wrapping it around his now-naked body and lifting the hood until it entirely shadowed his face. She did the same with Arthur, silently gesturing to them to wait. They stood side by side, heads bowed, not daring to touch even the cloth of their garments to one another.

The Priestess turned back to the handfast shawl to lift and remove the bowl of water. She then lifted the remaining branches one by one and cast them into the bonfires. Finally she gestured the couple to her. They walked together, carefully avoiding contact, until they reached the edge of the shawl.

She gestured to Arthur to lift up his sword. He pulled it free from the ground and raised it high, waiting for her instructions. Lancelot daringly raised his own hand and covered Arthur's. It seemed the right thing to do.

"You are courageous, knight," the Priestess leaned forward and whispered to him. "You will make a good match for this future king," she added, sharing a quick grin before she drew back, taking the sword from them and laying it upon the ground where the shawl met the grass. Lancelot did not think to wonder at her words...

"A blessing on this sword before you. It is now a sacred symbol for these rites. Let you together jump this sword which speaks to us of courage and truth, as it severs your past from your future together. Feel the strength of your bodies as you leap high! Let this sword remind you to stand in protection, one to the other, for as long as love shall last. Join your hands," she ordered, standing aside.

Arthur lifted his hand and Lancelot gladly clasped it. He longed to see Arthur's face -- to see a signal from Arthur that it was time to jump. Sweat broke out on his brow as he waited.

Then he felt Arthur gently squeeze his fingers and they flew into the air together, landing neatly in the center of the shawl. Cheers rented the air. Lancelot saw the Priestess again approach them, her solemn expression replaced by a large smile.

"Well done," she whispered.

"Stand you here, side by side," she commanded, imperious. They both remained where they were, still holding one another's hands. Though they glanced toward one another, the hoods continued to make it impossible for them to see each others' faces.

The Priestess now lifted the broom and began to 'sweep' -- just above the shawl -- carefully circling around them. She used the broom to lightly dust their robed bodies -- then to sweep through the air as she circled them a second time. "We sweep away the darkness from their lives before this time that they might walk freely toward the light of this union."

Hands still clasped, Arthur and Lancelot stood frozen in place as the Priestess pushed the cloth of their robes up their arms to expose bare flesh. She then took up a ribbon of soft leather and used it to loosely -- yet completely -- bind their wrists together. Finally she lifted away the hoods of the robes to reveal their faces.

"By this knot they are bound by free will," she intoned. "This is an eternal knot which binds for as long as love shall last. Even when you are parted in the flesh, and do not journey together, this knot holds you fast, one to the other."

"These two be handfast, before all present -- both seen and unseen. May the dead rise up in spirit to cheer you. May those alive who are here present raise their voices and share in your joy. May you be blessed by Water, Fire, Air and Earth.

"The knot has been tied," she finished, now smiling.

She then moved away and nodded to their gathered friends, who stepped forward to congratulate them. The air filled with cheers and laughter as they were embraced or patted, again and again. Lancelot's smile felt wider than ever before in his life -- and he noted that Arthur's grin spread ear to ear. He had to constantly grab at his robe to keep it from falling open.

"The ale and beer will flow freely this night -- and there is much good food to compliment it," Arthur proclaimed when the hugging and thumping had finally ceased. "May you all be our guests inside the fort while we remain here," he added.

Was he blushing, Lancelot wondered. Or was it merely a reflection of the firelight on his cheeks?

"Well, have a good go, you two," Bors called.

The knights began to bandy back and forth as they departed, their usual lewd comments blurring as the others around them also began to chatter. The sounds of their combined talk grew softer and softer.

The Priestess came to them, barely suppressing her smile. "You must consummate while still bound, one to the other," she reminded them. "But do not worry if the tie comes loose -- this is often so."

Arthur nodded, grinning at her. "Many thanks, lady," he said. "I would gladly reward you."

"There is no need, my lord," she replied. "I have seen you as king, which is reward enough."

"I'm no king, Priestess," Arthur was quick to say.

"Yet you are called such by many in this land, my lord."

"I cannot change what others might say."

"No. Nor can you change your destiny. So lie here with this great knight and know his love, as he would know your love. I must see your bodies come together before I depart."

Arthur tossed off the robe and fell to the ground, the shawl under him. Lancelot did the same, pressing quickly into Arthur's open arms. The sleeves of both robes clung to their bound arms and bunched under their now naked bodies.

"Many blessings to you both," the Priestess chanted as she walked away. She seemed almost to float above the grass as they turned their heads to watch her leave.

The full moon and stars glowed brightly overhead as they once again pressed together, faces close.

"I love you well," Arthur said.

"Ah, and I, you," Lancelot replied. "I have ever loved you, Arthur."

"Come what may, we are bound. Just as our arms are bound," Arthur said, squeezing Lancelot's hand in his.

"We've always been bound, Arthur. Though I'm glad enough for others to know it."

They kissed gently. Lancelot sighed contentedly. "This is surely a dream. If so, let me never awaken."

"If this is a dream, may we both sleep forever," Arthur added.

They kissed again, but the gentleness was forgotten as their passion flamed.

"I would couple through the night," Arthur gasped, his voice hoarse with lust. "Waiting even these view days apart from you has been a torture."

"Aye, true enough," Lancelot agreed. "I even considered bedding with Tristan and his hawk!"

They laughed together, their laughter quickly dissolving into kisses and grappling.

"Let this night be long," Lancelot prayed. "Ask your god, Arthur."

"Let me simply say 'amen' and have at you," Arthur said, pushing his face into the curve of Lancelot's neck."

"Very well, then! Why is it you only speak with your god when I wish you to speak with me -- but not when I ask you to?"

"Let's discuss it another time. I'm hungry for more kisses."

"Amen," Lancelot replied.

-the end-