Work Text:
The moon shrouded itself in thin clouds as the light of the bonfire illuminated Nimue Village, its denizens indulging in feast and dance. After all, they were celebrating a great miracle: a young boy of the village, with neither wealth nor status, was able to enter the prestigious Order of Black Dragons. Some may have thought that this was to be expected, since that boy was already well known as a prodigy, but would talent alone be enough to dispel the classism of those residing in the gilded halls of the royal capital? Either it was divine intervention or something already predestined, his achievement warrants a grand celebration.
Among the crowd was the star of the show, Lancelot, gleefully enjoying a second serving of the drachentrout salad his mother made. After all, by the end of the month he will leave his childhood home behind and start a new life at the royal capital, so why not savor it while he's still able to? He'll miss everything in this village: the long nights he used to spend by reading with his father, the barn where he used to hide his mother's silverware, the scent of freshly baked cheesecake from Vane's family home. But it's time for the young fledgling to unfurl his wings and fly away from his nest, away to the grand blue sky.
For his lifelong dreams shall soon bear fruit.
He quickly finished his dinner before throwing a glance at Vane; the boy was too enthralled by the bard's performance to even notice. A wistful smile was seen on Lancelot's face, as he was reminded of his reason to join the knights: the pain of loss. He recalled clearly how inconsolable Vane was on his parents' funeral, and all of this was because the knights' protection was out of reach for rural villages like Nimue. Thus Lancelot decided that he would be the one to bring change to the knights, so no one else have to lose a loved one like Vane once did.
“Hey, Lancey?”
Vane called out to Lancelot, breaking him free from his own musings. “Yes, what is it?” he replied, rather awkwardly.
Vane paused for a moment, perhaps gathering his thoughts. Moments later, the boy looked straight to Lancelot's eyes and said, “I have decided. I will apply for the entrance exam next year.”
“Huh?” Lancelot was taken aback. “I mean, you once said that sword training is scary and painful. Why now?” He gave Vane a concerned gaze; of course he would never belittle Vane's dreams, but he can't help but to worry a bit.
“Well, you see...” Vane trailed off a bit, “Umm, how should I put it into words... ahaha, this might sound really silly, though.”
“It's okay! I'll listen.” Lancelot gave a reassuring smile. “Shoot.”
“Uh, okay then....” Vane nodded. “What I'm trying to say is... I finally understand your reason for becoming a knight. And you know what? Now I want to do the same.” A spark of determination starts to burn in his verdant eyes. “I want to become a hero who protects everyone!”
Vane's words was so full of resolve that even Lancelot was at a loss of words. But soon enough Lancelot's expression broke into a warm smile, before giving a gentle pat on Vane's shoulder. “Then I'll support you! I still have my old textbooks, and we can learn for the written exam with those. As for the physical exam... well, I guess you have no choice but actually train. Trust me, the physical exam was hell!”
“No way!” Vane yelped, tears starting to form on the corners of his eyes. “You... you must be joking, right? It's not that difficult, right...?”
“Nuh-uh! It was grueling!”
“Don't say such things, Lancey! Now I'm getting scared!”
The boy with glossy black hair let out a hearty laugh; for a moment he forgot about his worries. Vane might be a crybaby, but Lancelot was certain that Vane would become a splendid knight. After all, he has one thing a truly chivalrous knight possess: kindness. Who knows what awaits them in the future, when both of them stand tall as the knights of Feendrache...
The night goes on. Vane returned to his grandmother's side to help her with the dessert stand, and Lancelot — after helping himself with some cheesecake and flan pudding — went back to the crowd, enjoying himself. Tonight was so much fun, and he got to rest for a whole month, and what's better than enjoying the moment for now? After all, everyone was having fun as well. Vane was skillfully serving dessert and drinks to the partygoers, smiling and laughing all the way. His mother, Elaine, was chatting with Aunt Adele. And his father, Ban, was...
... wait, where is he?
Lancelot looked upon his surroundings, hoping to catch a glance of his father somewhere in the crowd, yet he was nowhere to be seen. The next moment, his legs moved on their own to a certain direction, following nothing but his own gut feelings. If Ban wasn't here, then he must be at that place, Lancelot knew it.
Away from the festivities, Ban sat alone; gazing somberly at the moonlight. His expression was heavy, but it was neither sorrow nor resentment. In fact, he had no idea what to name the uncomfortable pangs that had been tormenting him. All he knew was his son has finally achieved his lifelong dreams — a dream that he had supported, a dream that he knew would backfire on him someday.
Ban was, and always have been, an enemy of Feendrache. After all, the kingdom he (reluctantly) called home had committed a mortal sin, a senseless sacrifice in the name of 'glory'. The foundation of this land, even the village he settled at, was built atop those who were lost in history, buried alive without even a chance of a peaceful slumber. Thus it was his duty, his raison d'être, to bring this sinful kingdom to justice. Yet what he had done was the complete opposite.
He had let Lancelot join the knighthood— the very entity that oppressed the Vallants since its creation.
Lancelot has always been kind and compassionate. He decided to become a knight not to seek personal fame or glory, but out of sympathy for a dear friend who lost his parents to monster attack. That compassion was what made Ban unwilling to suffocate his son's dreams, even when he got every chances to do so. And as time passed, he learned that Lancelot could bring a spark of change, no matter how small.
Perhaps he could finally stop hiding. Perhaps he could finally tell Lancelot everything...
“Father, there you are!”
Ban's musings was interrupted by a familiar voice, accompanied by footsteps drawing closer and closer. He turned back and greeted with a smile. “Lancelot! Come here.”
Lancelot quickly approached and sat next to Ban. “I was looking for you!” he chided, “I thought you might be here, and I guess I was right, hehe.”
Ban let out a soft chuckle. “Guess I'm easy to read, huh?” He took a deep breath, in an attempt to clear his mind. “I just need a quiet moment for myself. I'm afraid I'm not quite a party person.”
“Huh, really?” Lancelot looked at Ban in disbelief. “But you seems so happy to dance with Mother earlier.”
“Indeed, but some people can be easily exhausted in social gathering even when their loved one is around.” Ban replied. “Anyways, how was tonight for you? Did you enjoy the party?”
“Yeah!” Lancelot nodded in excitement. “I got to eat my favorite cheesecake! And there's macaron and flan pudding as well... those are the best part of any village parties!” He trailed off, and his smile gradually became more wistful. “Now that things has settled down, however... there's something that I want to tell you.”
“Sure, don't hesitate. I'll lend you an ear.”
Ban's attention shifted to his son, ready to listen. On the other hand Lancelot didn't speak straight away; perhaps trying to find suitable words to speak his woes. Of course, Ban would never ask Lancelot to make haste. Even silence can feel like a huge reassurance at times like this.
“You see, Father,” Lancelot finally broke the silence, “Back when I was at the capital, there was something that greatly bothers me.”
“Mm-hm. What is it?” Ban asked.
“Well... since I was basically the only commoner there, people often ridiculed me. I mean, I usually don't mind with what they said about myself. Who cares if I'm just a 'peasant boy'? I have the same worth as anyone else!”
Lancelot let out a heavy sigh, his blue eyes now brimming with anger.
“What makes me angry, however... they also ridiculed you. They say something like 'he's all high and mighty for someone whose father is a mere teacher of peasants', 'compared to our prestigious school, those common folk education is basically worthless', and so on and so forth. And the worst part is, I had to restrain myself or else I would get expelled!”
Silence once again reigned on the father and son, as Lancelot clenched his fists; attempting to calm the raging storm within his heart. The young boy was so incensed he failed to notice the terror in Ban's eyes; horrified as a grim realization started to sink in.
Lancelot was discriminated.
He was looked down, saw as lesser than his peers. He faced pressure because he was different from everyone else. His family was mocked, his background was seen as worthless. And all of these was because of him being born as a common folk, instead of a nobleman or a son of a knight.
If Lancelot faced such prejudice because of his social status, what would become of him if everyone knew he's a descendant of the Vallants?
“Father?”
Ban's wandering thoughts was brought back into reality by Lancelot calling out at him. “Father, are you alright?” Lancelot asked, his eyes full of worry.
“Ah, um... I'm okay, don't worry.” Ban forced himself to smile, but that soon faded away. “I'm just... it pains me to hear that you went through such horrible things.”
Lancelot nodded slowly. “Yeah, it sucks. But at least there's someone who's willing to be my friend.” He beamed up as he recalled the first friend he made back at the capital. “His name is Percival, and from what I've heard he's the third in line to inherit the throne of Wales.”
“A prince hailing from Wales? Now that's something.” Ban's eyes lightened up in amazement. “I mean, people of Wales are way more inclusive than our own aristocrats, so that's to be expected... Tell me more about him.”
Gone was Lancelot's frustration, as he enthusiastically recounted his experience. “You see, despite his upbringing, Percival saw me as an equal. He even wanted to have a friendly rivalry with me, can you believe it? And then...”
Ban could only smile as Lancelot retold his fond memories, yet the pangs of remorse still lingers within the depths of his heart. In the end, he could never told Lancelot his secrets. He could never let Lancelot know about his lineage, lest he'd put his own son in great jeopardy.
That night, a butterfly flapped its wings. It's only a matter of time until the storm arrived.
(The End)