Work Text:
The chamber is warm in the glow of the tapers. Lancelot had thought he knew what he would find there, but the sight makes him catch his breath.
The king laughs. 'Come now; this isn't so new, is it? You've knelt here before.'
Not here, he would say, and cannot. Not with you, my king, stripped of all your royal trappings, and suffering me to presume to touch you, even -
Never, when he swore fealty, had he dreamed of this, though God knows he had wanted it.
'My sovereign liege...' He kneels. It is not so very different, after all.