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“I want that. I want to be free.”
Chapter Twelve
“To rank the effort above the prize may be called love.”
—Confucius
Present Day.
Once the goal was clear before them, they pursued it with a single-minded focus.
Arthur could hardly believe how easy it had been, how serendipitous that Merlin had brought it up first.
In the weeks since he had the dream, he didn’t know how to broach the topic. Well, that wasn’t precisely true. He could have brought it up at any time; he simply didn’t want to.
It was true that he wanted to be independent from Lancelot. He wanted to be free. To be his own person for the first time in far too long. Fully in control of himself.
But more than that, he wanted to set Lancelot free. When they shared his life force, Lancelot was weaker. He was susceptible to illness and closer to death by virtue of being tied to a mortal.
Arthur didn’t know what Lancelot was. He doubted Lancelot himself knew. But the man was more than human. And whatever he was, he would always be extraordinary.
Shackled to Arthur, whether by their shared life force or by his own vow, he wasless. And no matter how selfish Arthur wanted to be, he couldn’t ignore the chance to make Lancelot whole again.
They were headed to the Lowlands of Scotland now, toward the forests of Tweeddale, where Merlin once lived with Igraine and Wolfe. According to Annie’s research, they had a good chance of finding the necklace, for the forests were relatively undisturbed by civilization. If their luck and Merlin and Wolfe’s sense of direction held, they could find the site by tomorrow afternoon.
After that…
They would return to their home in the Yukon. At least, Arthur intended to go back with the rest of his family. For, they were truly a family now. Still rough around the edges, but mending their loose threads.
Perhaps he’d decide to travel some more after a time. He’d always enjoyed learning about new places and people. And whenever and however possible, make the lives of those around him better.
He must determine what he had to offer now, besides his sword arm and brute strength. He’d been born into a position of leadership; it was simply expected of him. Now, as a common man without any specific modern skills, he had to find his own way for the first time in his life.
He had to stand on his own two feet without Lancelot always there to support him. He had to become a man worthy of the loyalty of the greatest knight that ever lived.
And when he finally did…
Perhaps he might find Lancelot again. Perhaps he could even woo the man to consider him beyond simple loyalty and brotherhood. The way he once tried to upon the hilltop where they shared their first kiss.
And even if Lancelot found a new king or leader to protect, perhaps Arthur might follow him this time. Just tobewith him. Build a life with him.
But these dreams were still too big for Arthur’s heart to hold. He needed to find himself first. And work to deserve a man like Lancelot.
Never let it be said that he aimed too low.
They decided to “rough it” in the forest this night, making a simple camp near the River Tweed. In truth, Arthur preferred the wilderness and grassy ground to closed walls and soft beds.
It was as if they’d been transported back in time to his own realm. The forests were ancient and relatively preserved from the passage of time. They hunted for their supper like they did in olden days and feasted on roasted rabbits and fresh salmon around a crackling fire.
The night was cold despite the warmth of the sun during daytime, but between three dragons and a fire witch, and the fact that Arthur naturally ran hot, they didn’t feel cold. By tacit agreement, they paired off into more private camps when it came time to rest, though they were all within shouting distance of each other.
Lancelot chose a spot on the riverbank beside a large flat rock and tall grass. Arthur simply followed.
The knight had been even more taciturn than usual since they decided to come here as their final destination for the trip. He barely touched Arthur during the journey; he didn’t crowd Arthur in the vehicle. He avoided looking at Arthur too, always gazing into the distance, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.
Wordlessly, Lancelot doffed his clothes at the edge of the river while Arthur stood by, watching. Naked, he waded into the freezing water, and when he was waist deep, he dove and disappeared entirely beneath the surface.
When he didn’t resurface after a minute, Arthur decided to wait on the flat rock. He sat with knees loosely drawn up, arms linked around them. This, too, was reminiscent of how they used to be.
