Pairings/Characters (this chapter): Jonathan/Martha, Clark/Bruce (Arthur/Lancelot)
Genres: AU, Romance
Rating (this chapter): NC-17
General Summary: Sir Lancelot is on a Quest to find the true King of England, and is captivated by a dazzling farmboy.
Chapter Summary: Lancelot and Arthur set out on their fateful journey.
Date Of Completion: May 3, 2010
Date Of Posting: June 24, 2010
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 897
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Notes: Written for the Historical Drabbles Exchange at worlds_finest. Pairing: Clark/Bruce. Prompt: Arthurian.
All chapters can be found here.
In the morning sun.
That the Sword holds
Lady Elsinore Gentry
"The King And His Knight"
When the day came to leave, Martha packed a substantial set of provisions and Jonathan gifted Arthur with a fine dagger. Lancelot had a sword that his companion could use, but the dagger would be a family talisman.
Lancelot felt a trifle guilty at taking Arthur away from his parents, but seeing the other man’s excited face, he knew that the decision was right.
So they set off, Lancelot on Midnight and Arthur on a dappled mare, Sunshine. Lancelot laughed. Truly a perfect name!
“Am I a Knight-in-training?” asked Arthur with a smile.
Arthur’s laugh buoyed Lancelot’s soul.
As they rode down dusty country roads, Arthur asked, “Do you miss home?”
“Dearly, but I have a greater destiny than what awaits me back in France.”
“But you will need to go back there someday.”
“Someday, but I have much to do here.”
Arthur smiled, that dazzling smile that made Lancelot tingle right down to his toes. He had been blessed to find this beautiful man.
They rode all day and camped for the night in a clearing several yards from the main road. A clear stream ran by their campsite, delighting Arthur.
“A source of good water is essential.”
Lancelot laughed. “Is that the farmer talking?”
“Mayhaps.” Arthur’s blue eyes sparkled.
Lancelot touched the side of Arthur’s face. “You are so beautiful.”
Arthur’s smile dazzled, and Lancelot leaned forward to kiss him.
The kiss quickly grew more fervent and Lancelot gently pushed his lover onto his back. He kissed and nipped, tasting sun-warmed skin, pushing the homespun shirt up above Arthur’s nipples.
Arthur moaned as Lancelot brushed his tongue against the sensitive nubs, suckling gently on each one. Delighted at the squirming body beneath him, Lancelot pressed their groins together.
He laved his tongue down Arthur’s stomach, tugging his pants down and off. Whispering in his ear, he asked, “Are you ready to be truly loved?”
Gasping, Arthur nodded. He shivered as fingers touched deep within him, and he parted his legs, opening himself. Lancelot had come prepared, the contents of a jar of cream ready to ease the way.
When Lancelot filled him, he cried out in joy. Lancelot smiled as pleasure washed over him.
As they both spilled their seed, they curled up against each other, and knew deep in their hearts, they would remain forever devoted to each other.
Excitement swelled within Lancelot as he and Arthur approached the top of the hill. A small crowd was gathered around a polished gray stone with the words, Whosoever Pulls The Sword From The Stone Is The Rightful King Of England. A jeweled golden hilt and part of the blade was visible, half of it buried in the stone.
One burly Knight came forward, grasped the hilt with two hands, and pulled. Muscles strained as the Knight kept trying, but he eventually gave up, replaced by another Knight, who tried the same but failed. A nobleman followed, but the sword remained in the stone.
The crowd took note of Lancelot and Arthur’s arrival.
“Sir Knight, will you try your hand?” called the first Knight.
“I am not the King of England. But mayhaps my Squire can try.”
“A peasant? Why would a peasant be King?” jeered the nobleman.
Arthur looked surprised. Leaning over, he whispered, “I can pull out the sword, but that is because of my strength, not because I am the true King.”
Lancelot smiled. “This sword is welded to the stone by sorcery. You could not pull it out by your strength while the sword is enchanted.”
“Are you certain?”
“Then why try?”
“Because, my sweet Arthur,” Lancelot said, touching his face, “You were brought to your parents by an old man wearing a star pendant. I have heard the tales of Merlin, sorceror in Uther Pendragon’s court. You may very well be able to lift out the sword. He may have worked his magic to give you powers as a shield, to protect you until the time you were ready to claim the crown.”
Arthur’s blue eyes widened. “No, surely not!”
“Is your Squire going to attempt pulling out the sword?” called the Knight.
Lancelot silently inquired of his Squire, and answered with a smile, “Yes!”
He and Arthur dismounted, a nervous farmboy patting his horse as he came forward. The bearded Knight grinned and gestured toward the stone, the nobleman looking dyspeptic.
Arthur looked at Lancelot, who said softly, “You will know,” as he squeezed Arthur’s hand.
Arthur squared his shoulders as Lancelot released him. He slowly approached the stone, grasped the hilt with his right hand, and Lancelot saw a look of surprised rapture on his young lover’s face. The rainbow array of jewels began to sparkle even more brightly. Exhilaration suffused his features and with one yank, the sword slipped easily out of the stone, gasps all around coming from the spectators.
Arthur lifted Excalibur high, his smile as he looked at Lancelot utterly dazzling. He seemed to glow with the light of a thousand suns.
“Hail to King Arthur, the true King of England!” declared Lancelot.
Excalibur sparkled in the sun as Camelot was born.