Chapter Text
Just like the day they had met; Lancelot knew there had been a world of difference between them from the very first glance.
His very own armour, – dark flawless steel that gleamed in the moonlight – would still pale in comparison to the blue quills that seemingly glow of their own will. A blooming will so powerful that the bearer himself was unbeknownst to his effect on those who followed.
And a knight so loyal, like Lancelot himself, could be described as captivated.
He’d heard musings from the villagers as he would accompany the king on his rounds; whisperings between the children or women on the skirts of Camelot, of how King Sonic had a shadow – and that shadow was none other than himself.
Somewhere, deep down, he used to feel troubled at that comparison; though not out of harbouring ill will for the king, whom he’d give his life to protect. Rather, he couldn’t help but feel it was a strange tangle of fate that they seemed to resemble one another, and painfully so, he felt like there was something missing.
However, against all the undesirable feelings, it was also the greatest honour to be his shadow.
What had started as his declaration of unyielding devotion to King Arthur, and thus his commitment to kill in the name of honour, had grown into something far greater than he could ever fathom.
Lancelot could not remember the last time he’d fought someone with such valiant effort. It wasn’t something he’d anticipated; not when the hedgehog had so easily shown his cowardice upon their encounter, going as far as attempting to give up before they had even begun. Lancelot so easily believed that the person in front of him would be just one of the many foes he had crushed during his time as a knight.
When they drew their blades, Lancelot had drawn Arondight with the intention of defending his king’s name, though he would eventually learn that said king was nothing more than a mere illusion. But still, believing in his loyalty, he had given it everything he had into each and every swing.
With each flying spark from clash of their swords, it was evident that King Sonic hadn’t taken him as lightly as the witty quips that came from his lips suggested; and though he would not admit it, it made Lancelot’s chest swell with pride to know that he could be a formidable challenge, even if Sonic’s looks were deceiving.
Though it was soon evident that it was not enough. For it was not skill that ruled King Sonic as the victor, but sheer determination.
However, Lancelot was stubborn, – chasing down the former knave as he knew him and unwilling to give up, – not only for his king’s reputation, but the selfish speck within his heart that unchained itself to gratify his own ego as well. He simply couldn’t accept his defeat, he couldn’t afford to fail in his mission, but his fate had been sealed at last.
It was known from the very moment his king had sent Arondight flying through the raspberry bushes a second time, that it wasn’t just luck and determination that saved him in their last fight. It was something far grander that dwelled within the blue hedgehog before him.
The enemy’s face was drawn in concentration as he bore each blow from Lancelot, Caliburn being just as resilient as the one he called “knave”.
Lancelot had brought out his best into this fight, even admitting to using his inherited Chaos powers, adrenaline rushing to the very tips of his fingers under a spotless gauntlet. Each slash grew fiercer, more painstaking than the last, though the remarks never seemed to cease between them.
They had an unordinary chemistry; one Lancelot didn’t want to bother pondering over if either of them was destined to die at the other’s hands. He didn’t want to believe he had his back against the wall, not yet, not if he prided himself on being the strongest knight of the Round Table. But as the hilt of Caliburn bruised his inner arm – undoing Lancelot’s grip on Arondight, — and drew sharp between his neck and his shoulder… it was undoubtedly King Sonic that bested him.
He distinctly remembered how he fell to his knees, chest heaving from their battle. He heard the laboured breaths coming from his opponent all the same. But unlike their first, Lancelot realized how heavy his chest felt after everything had settled.
The Ultimate Knight carried the weight of his failures; bitter and absolute, for if he was to challenge him again, it’d be a dishonour to his title as a knight to do anything but accept his defeat gracefully. And so he hung his head low, letting his losses soak into the very roots of the forest floor itself, as if they could be carried in the droplets of the chilling rain.
He knew he let his guard down around King Arthur’s enemy, and he anticipated the sword to come down on him. Lancelot counted on his end, the end to his days as the Ultimate Knight.
He felt a scoff leave his aching lungs, thinking of how Gawain too would throw away his life before his honour as a knight; and although Lancelot knew better than to throw his life away, he shared in the sentiment, for he was no different – all he had was a pure and absolute devotion to the one they knew as their king.
But when the sword didn’t descend into his flesh, he had looked up to find the blue one gone without a trace. Without a single taunt, and without a final show of his wrath, almost as Lancelot himself was wordlessly forgiven – the only remnants of their fight being memories of his sheer radiance, which had already sunken itself into the very marrow of his bones.
For the first time in his life, a pit formed in his stomach as Lancelot began to question the one thing he wished to never doubt – his allegiance.
Was this truly the enemy King Arthur ordered them to kill?
Lancelot had found himself kneeling with his head hanging low once again; but this time, he could say it was with a newfound loyalty budding in his chest.
One that he would not show so easily, but he’d known since the time King Sonic had departed, that he was a hedgehog he wouldn’t soon forget. The newly crowned king’s bashfulness oozed a different kind of innocence as he’d begged the knights to rise from their kneel. The innocence was rather odd, Lancelot mused to himself, thinking back to King Sonic’s attitude and determination to take down the corrupted Arthur, and even soothing Merlina from depths of her despair. But perhaps that was simply one of the many faces of their new king…
He was brilliant in a way that Lancelot had never seen in a person before him; far beyond a mortal’s reach, and yet not immortal himself. Or perhaps… that was simply the way Lancelot felt. Perhaps it was just the lingering sensation of seeing King Sonic donning gold armour from head to toe, while bearing Excalibur with such grace and might all the same.
“The one and only King Arthur…” For the first time in a long while, Lancelot felt the air filling his lungs with every fibre of his being. He felt alive and unafraid, as if the storm that had unknowingly plagued them had come to pass at long last.
All because of this mysterious new king who had whims befitting of a child. But even despite that, he was more than deserving of their honour, loyalty, and life. Even if the kingdom should ever come to think otherwise.
Lancelot finally lifted his head, gazing up at the new king, who stood tall and dazzlingly before him; the blue of his quills could rival that of the open sky. And eyes to match the clearest emeralds. Soon enough, the king’s expression faded from nervousness to a softened smile as his eyes met Lancelot’s, and he knew then that there was undoubtedly something about its warmth that felt nostalgic.
When Lancelot had offered his hand to the king, asking for his in return, he’d anticipated a bit of surprise. After all, if both he and Merlina were telling the truth, then he wasn’t from this world. Sure enough, he could see the confusion in the ridges of his eyes as his gaze darted back and forth from Lancelot’s own to the hand before him – Eventually, Merlina leaned into the king’s ear, watching his expression change from confused to hopelessly confused. But he obliged, slipping his hand into Lancelot’s seemingly with ease, but he could tell there was just a touch of nervousness… or perhaps embarrassment?
One that boiled over tenfold as the knight touched his lips to the king’s hand.
“WOAH. Woah, woah, woah, woahwoahwoa—”
Well.
To say he was embarrassed by the ritual would be a severe understatement. The fact that he didn’t carry himself like a king was evident enough by his… reaction. Even to the degree of nearly pulling his hand away from the shock.
But the display was enough to make Lancelot bite down a grin.
“Is there something the matter, your majesty?” He asked innocently, studying the way Sonic froze at his words before their eyes finally met.
The other’s embarrassment slowly melted away into a resigned sigh, before turning into a smile; mischievous in appearance, but nothing short of putting the sun’s radiance to shame. And then Lancelot truly felt the carefree and trusting weight, the sheer warmth of the newly crowned king’s hand in his own.
And he knew more than ever that his life now belonged to him.