Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gawain. Percival. Lancelot. Three of the Knights of the Round Table. Figures of legendary status, wearing the faces of some of his closest rivals and friends. And now, each one of them kneels before Sonic as he stares back at them in bewilderment. “King Arthur? Who, me?” he exclaims, pointing at himself. But the knights show no sign of objecting; if the legendary sword Caliburn chose him to be the king, then who are they to speak out against it? “H-hey, will you cut that out?! I'm still just me.” The three knights do not move.

Sonic’s eyes helplessly flick to Nimue, but the Lady of the Lake simply nods back at him kindly, an amused twinkle in her eyes as she observes the scene. Sonic’s brow creases as he turns back to the knights. “Get up already, will ya? There’s no need for this.”

Finally, the three move to stand back up on both their feet. Sonic takes a moment to look at their faces. Newly found determination paints Gawain’s face. He’s relieved that he now has what he believes to be a more honourable king to follow, judging by the hint of a grin on his face. Lancelot’s face is as unreadable and reserved as that of his counterpart from Sonic’s own world. Still, his gaze, alert for whatever his king’s next order would be, is regarding Sonic with such intensity that the blue hedgehog quickly moves on to Percival.

The third knight present regards Sonic with solemn eyes, composed but with the same hope in them that Sonic sees in Gawain’s. Sonic can tell something changed between them and whatever dynamic he had with them before. There is more respect there, more awe of him and his status.

Sonic doesn’t like it one bit.

He turns to Caliburn hovering beside him. The sacred sword is back in one piece, restored after briefly transforming into the legendary Excalibur. Now the sentient sword regards his former apprentice with pride and only a twinge of smugness. 

“Hey, I’m glad you finally came around and recognized my skills, but I can’t be king – I got my own world to go back to!” Hopefully time there hasn’t progressed too far, Sonic thinks, shuddering at the possibility of having to face Amy’s wrath if he misses the date she regrettably talked him into going on with her.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” a brittle voice sounds from behind Sonic and Caliburn before the sword itself can reply. Merlina got to her feet and approaches them with unsteady steps, carefully navigating through the rubble of the partially destroyed castle lying in the grass. 

Lancelot draws his sword, quick as lightning, but before he can jump into action, Sonic waves for him to calm down. He can deal with the broken girl himself – not that he thinks she’s much of a threat anymore to begin with. 

“Forgive me, Sonic – Your Majesty,” the former Royal Wizard continues. “The spell I summoned you with... It only works one-way.” Hanging her head in shame, Merlina grips the straw chrysanthemum Sonic gave her only moments before more tightly, pressing the flower against her chest. Her unspoken admission that she only intended to use Sonic to get Excalibur’s scabbard, without any thought put into where he remained afterward, is loud and clear in the words she doesn’t speak.

“It’s still Sonic,” Sonic corrects her gently. “And don’t sweat it, Merlina,” he shrugs, not even a hint of anger in his demeanour. “I’m sure there are other ways for me to go back, right?” Sonic turns expectantly toward Nimue but to his surprise, the pink hedgehog shakes her head sadly. “I’m sorry, there is no magic known to me that would allow you to cross between worlds this distant.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Sonic exclaims. “What about some gems or relics that could do that? Some hidden spell in a forgotten book?”

Each of his suggestions is met with another shake of Nimue’s head. Percival steps forward with a bow. “Apologize my rude dissent, Your Majesty, but it would be best for the kingdom to have its king present to rule it. If you leave us, I fear it will descend into chaos.” Sonic frowns. “Can’t you and the other knights of the Round Table just rule the place together?”

 “The kingdom was almost destroyed by the orders of the King Arthur illusion; orders that we carried out, My Lord,” Percival objects respectfully, bowing her head. “The people won’t take well to receiving orders from the very knights that added to their misery. It would be most wise to present them with an honourable king such as you.”

Sonic crosses his arms, slightly uncomfortable with all the praise. “Listen, I get it. I don’t want anyone to be miserable either – but I also don’t want my friends back home to worry about me. I’m sure there’s a way to make this work. And it’s Sonic.”

“If you allow me, Sonic, I can look into my grandfather’s work,” Merlina speaks softly. “I cannot promise a solution, but perhaps there are records of a spell that might aid you.” Her voice falters and she looks away. “It’s the least I can do ... after everything.”

Sonic smiles encouragingly and gives her a thumbs-up. “Now that’s more like it!”

That seems to help Merlina get a little more of her voice back. “I shall get to work immediately and notify you as soon as I make a breakthrough,” the Royal Wizard promises with a slight bow before hurrying away. Sonic makes a mental note to check up on her soon regardless.

Lancelot’s voice slices through the silence the moment she is out of earshot. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, are you just going to let her roam around freely after she betrayed you like that?” Though Lancelot’s voice is controlled so as not to offend his king, Sonic shoots the Knight of the Lake a glare. “As opposed to doing what with her exactly? Lock her away? Kill her? Yeah, no, thanks. I'd rather give her a chance.” 

Outrage lights up Lancelot’s eyes for a second. He’s clearly unhappy with the decision but instead of letting his temper flare, he surprises Sonic by lowering his eyes in submission. Just what is this guy’s deal? For a second Sonic wishes for nothing more than for a Shadow to yell at him for how stupidly naive his decisions are, even if this one’s just a look-a-like. 

 “In the meantime,” Caliburn interjects pragmatically. “We can figure out how to rebuild the kingdom.”

⪻────ˋˏ༻❁༺ˎˊ────⪼

…

“... jesty?”

Sonic rolls onto his belly, burying his face in the impossibly expensive pillowcase with a tired groan as he returns to the world of the living.

The movement causes his arm to flop over the bed's edge, his fingers brushing against the soft, cool hairs of the rug below and serving to rip him from sleep further, not even allowing him the illusion of thinking he’s returned to his reality.

He cracks open an eye to find pale dawnlight creeping in through the windows beside the doors leading to the balcony. The sun sets the fine, silky curtains ablaze in a warm glow. The muffled voice behind the door opposite of the windowfront calls out again: “Your Majesty, are you present? The Round Table wishes to hold another meeting.”

The one time he decides to nap in the royal bedchamber – his now, to his distaste – and of course the knights decide that today is a good day to come together the second the sun peeks over the horizon.

He should've spent overnight in that grove he explored yesterday instead of going back to Camelot. Then at least it would've taken till midmorning for somebody to find and talk him into returning to the castle so he can make some decision or another, give blessing to whatever suggestion they come up with.

It's not that Sonic doesn't want to help the people get their normal lives back after they suffered so long under the fake Arthur's rule. But he much rather lends a hand by solving what problems he can in person than sit around all day signing decrees about the distribution of resources or changes to taxes. (Although Sonic would be lying to say that part of him doesn’t have fun seeing the horror-stricken look of the advisors whenever he allows for yet another village’s “outrageous” request for produce to get accepted without any conditions. Unfortunately, they never outright protest against his decisions once he makes them, however. The most he hears is perhaps one of them muttering something about “driving the kingdom to ruin” under her breath before the conversation is quickly brought to a different topic.)

Still lying belly-down in bed, Sonic turns his head sideways and eyes the balcony doors; the beams of sunlight peeking through the glowing curtains paint bright yellow stripes on the floor and beckon him outside to stretch his legs for a run.

Maybe he could escape via the balcony before–

–whoever is outside the chambers opens the heavy wooden doors. Darn it. His secret escape plan thwarted, Sonic turns his head the other way to glare at the traitor standing in the doorway: it’s one of the castle’s guards, a lower-ranked knight, fidgeting nervously under Sonic’s glare as he bows low.

“My apologies for the disturbance, My Lord,” he says in a meek voice, standing up. “But your presence is highly requested. It’s a matter of–”

“– ‘utmost importance’,” Sonic finishes for him, half-heartedly mimicking the cadence of one of the advisors. He stopped taking that phrase seriously after the third time of being told or so. “I know. Every meeting is.” He rolls his eyes, burying his face back in the pillow. Only a few days may have passed since Caliburn declared him king, but it already feels like an eternity.

Once the citizens of Camelot realized that the danger from the beasts of the Underworld passed, word about the Grand Kingdom’s new ruler spread quickly throughout the castle town and then the rest of the land. From there it didn’t take long for the castle’s staff members to return and take up a somewhat normal routine – at least as normal as is possible with so much of the castle left in rough shape. 

Despite what little time passed, they did an impressive job to fix up Camelot castle, and one or two remaining destroyed watch towers and walls aside, Sonic would have never even assumed that it ever was in a broken down state.

Besides the servants and lower ranked knights, the two surviving former advisors of the old king returned as well. They had fled when it became clear that the corrupted former king’s only remaining interest was conquest and the command of his legions of dark beasts rather than concern for his people – barring the Knights of the Round Table of course. Although, even they were little more than powerful pawns to be used to him, Sonic supposes.

“Your Majesty, Sir Lancelot is waiting to escort y-”

Sonic’s annoyed sigh into the pillow immediately shuts the guard up, the lack of resistance only further exasperating the Blue Blur. “Alright, alright, tell him I’m coming.”

As the guard hurries out of the chamber, respectfully shutting the doors behind him with a heavy thud, Sonic reluctantly drags himself up and out of the bed. Stretching and shaking out his quills, he puts on the gauntlet sitting on the vanity table, pointedly ignoring the brilliant, three-pointed gold crown placed beside it, and heads out of the chamber. When he passes the knight standing guard by the door outside, Sonic shoots him an apologetic smile to make up for his earlier behaviour. The guy’s just doing his job after all – even if Sonic despises how anyone can think standing around all day is in any way fun let alone useful.

Once out in the garishly decorated hallway with its high ceiling and large, leadlight windows, he quickly spots Lancelot a mere couple of steps away, a dark shadow among the bright light filtering through. The Ultimate Lifeform's look-a-like is alert and already turned towards Sonic. As soon as Sonic moves towards him, the knight bends a knee, much to Sonic’s chagrin. Try as he might, he hasn’t managed to get people to refrain from kneeling and bowing for him. “Get up, Lance. How many times do I gotta tell you to stop doing that?” the blue hedgehog tells him tiredly.

Doesn’t mean he'll stop trying, though.

The Knight of the Lake rises to his feet. “It’s the respect due to you, Your Grace,” he says matter-of-factly. 

The perpetual use of titles continues to leave a bitter taste in Sonic’s mouth, too.

Lancelot’s face is an emotionless mask, not just for the visor covering most of his face, but also for the expressionless line of a mouth that does little more than carve an opening into his muzzle when he speaks. Still, Sonic doesn’t miss how Lancelot notably (and thankfully) doesn’t apologize for interrupting Sonic’s sleep. 

Sonic’s pretty sure he isn’t imagining the icy aversion the knight seems to regard him with, despite his polite words – just as he’s pretty sure he sees a flash of red irises in the shadow of the knight’s visor as Lancelot's eyes flick to his decidedly crownless head. Sonic doesn’t know what exactly he did to earn this contemptible attitude. Perhaps Lancelot truly is angry with him for letting his duties that he never asked for slide. Or maybe it’s just a common trait shared amongst Shadow-look-a-likes.

What Sonic doesn't understand, though, is how even someone as headstrong as Lancelot apparently willingly submits to him. What had the previous Arthur done to the knights that they think it necessary to follow his orders at all times?

As they make their way to the Great Hall, Sonic isn't sure whether he's glad or disappointed that Lancelot leaves the lack of crown on his head uncommented.

Oh well, he can always find other ways to get something other than a reply drenched in professional stoicism out of him. And unluckily for Lancelot, Sonic will gladly distract himself from all the imposed responsibilities of a king by finding momentary reprieve in attempts at coaxing a reaction out of the knight.

He falls back to walk beside Lancelot rather than in front of him, leisurely putting his arms behind his head quills. “Not that I don’t appreciate some company, but what’s the occasion? I know the way to the Great Hall, y’know,” Sonic says conversationally, trying to pull the reticent knight into talking.

“It is but a humble courtesy,” Lancelot replies respectfully, turning his face to Sonic to show he’s attentively listening. His head is slightly angled down in submission.

“You just couldn’t wait to see me, huh?” Sonic winks in an attempt to push his buttons.

“Being graced by your presence is always an honor, Your Majesty,” comes the even reply.

Sonic has to hand it to him. He genuinely can’t tell if Lancelot means what he says or simply tries to please him whilst inwardly seething.

He lets a couple of seconds pass as they make their way through the winding hallways, the red carpet muffling their steps. “So it's your turn to babysit me today, huh? Bet’cha expected to go searching for me out in the wild again,” he goads the reserved knight with his signature shit-eating grin.

Lancelot seems undeterred by it, however. “I am here to make sure you arrive at the Great Hall unbothered.” Stone-cold and to the point.

“You mean, you are here to make sure I actually show up for this meeting,” Sonic jokes, prodding some more.

“Ensuring your safety is the highest priority of all,” Lancelot smoothly dodges the jab, prompting Sonic to groan inwardly for his quip not showing the intended effect again.

Could nothing throw the knight off his stride? Ever since Sonic told Lancelot off about Merlina, most of Lancelot’s responses are reduced to brief but polite replies like this. If he has any personal misgivings about anything, he keeps them closely guarded to his chest now, enough that not even Sonic can peer at them most of the time.

Lancelot is a mountain of granite that Sonic, so far, failed to crack. Where did the proud knight that challenged him so boldly during their first duel go?

Alright, time for a different approach.

As they round another corner of the many, many hallways of this castle, the blue hedgehog shoots the knight a side glance. “So, how’s my favourite grumpy knight doin’ today?”

“My personal affairs matter little so long as the kingdom is prospering.” With a flutter of excitement in his belly, the Blue Blur wonders if this is a veiled attempt at telling him to mind his own business. If it is, they really need to work on Lancelot's delivery; this is nowhere near close to the passive aggressiveness required for it to work.

Sonic shoots him an feigned exasperated look from half-lidded eyes. “Do you ever get bored of … this?” He gestures at Lancelot with his hands vaguely.

“Pardon me, Sire. I am unable to follow.” Nothing’s changed about Lancelot’s behaviour, his voice is still low and subservient. As if none of his opinions matter. 

It drives Sonic up the metaphorical wall.

Instead of answering immediately, Sonic skips ahead a few steps, walking backwards in front of Lancelot with his hands behind his back and leaning forward to get a glimpse underneath the knight’s visor. Sadly, it proves to be impossible with how the bright morning light filters through the large windows and creates deep shadows behind the metal. “Don’tcha just wanna get out there sometimes and do your own thing?”

“Serving you and the Grand Kingdom is one of the greatest honors ever bestowed upon me. I could not wish for more.” It comes out as calmly neutral as any of his prior responses, the only difference being the increased amount of genuine conviction Lancelot puts into his voice now.

Sonic raises a disbelieving eyebrow at him as he falls back into step next to the knight. “You seriously enjoy grovelling to others? Or is that just part of the job description?”

“The enjoyment of my duties is irrelevant,” Lancelot replies back with his usual cadence, giving no indication at all if Sonic’s comment annoyed him. However, his voice does seem to falter for a brief moment, as if the words stir something deeper in the knight.

Sonic doesn’t get to ponder on it, however, for Lancelot suddenly takes two hurried strides forward. At first, Sonic smirks smugly, thinking it means he finally put a tiny crack in the knight’s façade after all. The universe seems to begrudge him his attempt, however, because Lancelot merely put himself ahead of Sonic to push against one of the heavy wooden doors leading into the Great Hall and holding it open for him.

Lancelot gestures for Sonic to enter first and the blue hedgehog practically feels the joy drain from his expression as he hesitates for a moment before dragging his feet through the doorway.

The Great Hall rightfully earns its title by the sheer virtue of being one of the bigger rooms of the castle. With even higher ceilings than the ones in the hallways, the windows letting through the sunlight and brightly illuminating the stone walls are accordingly huge.

Some last dying embers glimmering in the enormous hearth built into one of the walls tell that a low fire burned in the fireplace not too long ago, no doubt to dispel the nightly chill that the stone loves to hold. By now, the sunwarmed glass of the windows does most of the heating, though.

In the middle of the hall stands the famous Round Table, carved from a light wood and big enough to host about half a dozen seats, though most of them are unoccupied. Not from the other knights being late, however. No, according to Percival, a lot of their fellow knights lost their position through various means, leaving only her, Gawain and Lancelot to serve under the fake Arthur.

After Caliburn mentioned it to Sonic in passing, Percival also told him that originally, Arthur and his knights came together here to discuss matters as equals, with everyone’s voice getting a chance to be heard. This changed quickly thanks to the scabbard's corruptive power messing with the fake king, and is still visible in the way the chair opposite the double doors is unmistakably dedicated to the current ruler, towering over the seats of that of the knights’, and gleaming with gold accents and other lavish adornments. Really, it’s more like another throne than anything.

Sonic hoped that by reinstating these congregations, he might get the knights to stop looking to him on what to do and say. Unfortunately, his success so far is rather modest.

Everyone in the Great Hall is already waiting for them and the second they hear the door open with its telling creak, they all turn around before quickly rising to their feet and bowing their heads to Sonic the second that they see it's him who’s entering.

The two advisors standing next to the table – a small, iridescent blue beetle and a white sheep with a permanent sour expression chiselled into her face, and whose counterpart from his world Sonic is pretty sure saw in passing before even though he doesn’t know her name – even go as far as drop into full-blown curtseys. They never sit down on the table with the knights either, preferring to stand so they could quickly pull up scrolls and letters for Sonic to review.

“‘Sup everyone,” he greets them weakly, not bothering to stifle his exasperated sigh as he tells them the same thing he told Lancelot earlier about bowing. Percival, Gawain and the advisors merely murmur respectful greetings back.

Then his eyes catch how the beetle woman furtively glances up to gauge Sonic’s mood. She flinches upon seeing his expression, beginning to tremble, and he instantly feels bad just like with the guard. These guys went through who knows what under the fake King Arthur and are terrified of any signs of Sonic expressing even so much as a hint of sullenness or anger. Taking a deep breath, Sonic relaxes his facial features, banishing his scowl and pushing his frustrations back until they’re nothing more than a simmering ember at the back of his mind – still there, but invisible.

He looks at the two knights already standing in front of their seats. Percival is to the immediate left of the throne. On the right side of it is an empty seat, reserved for Lancelot, with Gawain standing before the seat next to it.

The seating arrangement suddenly has Sonic stifle a mischievous cackle. With a few quick bounds, the blue hedgehog nonchalantly flops down onto Lancelot’s seat, slouching, and rests one hand on the worn surface of the table. “So, what didya wanna talk about?” he asks conversationally, drumming his fingers on the table while Gawain and Percival hesitantly sit down again.

The knights and advisors exchange uneasy glances given Sonic’s blatant disregard of the throne. Well, all except for Lancelot, who stops in his tracks in front of the table opposite the throne, still as a statue and face unreadable as he hovers beside it.

Sonic smiles innocently at him, faking unawareness for what the issue is. “What’re you waitin’ for, Lance? Come join us,” he invites him warmly, nodding his head at the empty chairs next to Percival and opposite of him and Gawain.

Gawain beside him poorly conceals a snort of amusement, which does actually earn the echidna an ominous ear flick of the dark hedgehog. Seems like Sonic’s earlier antics wore the knight’s patience thin after all. Sonic’s grin widens, even more so when he sees that this time, there is a noticeable sharpness to Lancelot's steps as he walks around to his new more-or-less assigned spot. His tightly-clenched fists are definitely trembling for a moment before he has himself under control again, the metal pieces of his gauntlets scraping against each other with a tiny noise. 

Lancelot sits down wordlessly beside Percival, his armor rattling as if it’s muttering under its breath to express the knight’s displeasure in his place. Lancelot's actual mouth stays a straight, closed line, however. 

The purple cat beside him gives Lancelot a long, inquiring look from the corner of her eye, looking mildly awkward and a little sympathetic, but Lancelot ignores her as he lifts his visor, his red eyes briefly glaring at Gawain with reproach before hardening and looking ahead stonily, not giving anything else away.

His ire may not have been directed at Sonic, but any stirring of emotion in the dark knight is progress in his book. Satisfied he finally made progress, Sonic leans back in Lancelot’s chair.

Before the silence can linger for too long, a smaller side door opens, led by the blue beetle who’d quietly slipped out earlier to inform the kitchen of the king’s arrival. Behind her, several servants file out, carrying carafes and trenchers with food, the latter of which they place along the occupied section of the table.

Finely decorated plates and drinking cups are put in front of each of the knights and Sonic makes sure to thank the chickadee woman setting his part of the table, giving her a sincere smile which she returns nervously. The castle staff is still not entirely used to Sonic treating them with so much respect, but he’s glad they slowly seem to warm up to him a little.

While his drinking cup is getting filled, a small, jittery clinking noise draws Sonic’s attention across the table to where Lancelot sits. A ginger mouse girl dressed in green and pink is currently filling the Knight of the Lake’s cup, but her hands tremble so much it causes the opening of the carafe she holds to tremble against it. Her blue eyes dart between her task and the knight who, all previous jabs considered, is leaning back on his chair unbent, his arms loosely crossed in front of his chest.

Still, she looks so frightened just by being in the mere presence of him, Sonic notes curiously. Sure, the knight could seem quite cold and reserved – but the girl acts like she’s one mistake away from getting stabbed.

“Enough,” Lancelot calmly tells the mouse girl after her cup is half filled. There is no aggression in his voice, but the servant lets out a fearful squeak anyway, almost dropping her carafe. With a quick apology, she bows before hurrying away along with the other servants.

What’s even weirder is how Lancelot doesn’t seem surprised by the terror the girl meets him with – more than even the other two knights receive. Lancelot simply … acts like it’s normal; a perfectly expectable behaviour. And granted – Lancelot can be fierce, as Sonic experienced first hand. But this isn’t a duel or competition, and to his knowledge, the knight did nothing that would make him more feared than Percival or Gawain. If anything, Sonic would’ve thought Gawain with his short fuse is the one to be met with reactions like these.

It fascinates Sonic, yet at the same time he wonders if he should be worried.

They eat (with Sonic futilely trying to convince the advisors to join them), and the Blue Blur tries picking up casual conversation with the other knights. 

Gawain, like so often, is the most willing to engage with him, even going as far as airily laughing along with him. Still, he always seems determined to keep an invisible boundary up, separating them into ruler and subject. Percival is even worse in this regard, her composed demeanor only further emphasizing Sonic’s higher ranking status. 

All too soon their meal ends and with a sinking feeling of dread, like a stone slowly but inevitably dragging him underwater, Sonic watches the advisors place scroll upon scroll on the table. In the beginning, he was glad when the beetle and the sheep showed up to introduce themselves as former royal advisors, asking to re-join the court, thinking that with them, he wouldn’t have all these unwanted responsibilities shoved his way.

Sonic quickly learned how that couldn’t be further from the truth. If anything, they present him with more work now, always depending on him to make the decisions. Any hope of suffering through this long enough that someone else might assert themselves dwindles with each passing day as they all, advisors and knights alike, always look to him to give the final say.

The sheep woman unfurls a scroll beside Sonic, but the hedgehog barely spares the contents a glance as he leans back, propping an elbow onto the armrest to support his head. 

“Your Majesty, it goes without saying that two of the castle’s towers are still in dire need of repair. I have found two neighboring villages willing to supply the stone needed to-” Her bossy voice fades into the background as Sonic idly tries to recall her name.

A second voice, more careful but determined, pops in. It’s the beetle. What’s her name again? Sonic rakes his brain. Jewel? “May I call to mind how a stocktaking of our supplies showed that we are running low on firewood? With the colder months at the doorstep I think we should direct our focus to ensuring everyone stays warm during the upcoming cold months.”

The sheep scoffs at the beetle as if she just made the most outlandish suggestion. “With three ramparts missing, we are left unguarded, not to mention all the openings leaving the winds free reign to blow through the hallways. Tell me, what good is a fire if it is blown out by the fierce cold winds?”

“Fortified walls are of no use to us if we all freeze to death,” Jewel points out indignantly. 

“We will freeze to death regardless if we cannot keep the fires burning,” the sheep retorts, causing Jewel to frown. She opens her mouth to protest but quickly closes it when Percival gestures at her to show she wishes to speak.

“How long would rebuilding the broken down part of the castle take, Lanolin?” she asks the sheep – so that’s her name –, unperturbed by heated back and forth between the advisors.

“I was about to speak of that, Sir Percival,” Lanolin readily provides. “Two mages from the eastern settlements agreed to aid us. With their help, it would only take about a month and a half and-”

“This would still be too much time! Winter will be upon us by then. We will be frozen solid before it gets finished,” Jewel gasps.

They continue squabbling like this, with Percival and Gawain chiming in from time to time, but Sonic’s attention drifts to the bright, glorious day mocking him beyond the giant windows between Lancelot and Percival. At some point his ears twitch when Gawain mutters under his breath about how they could really use the Royal Wizard right now, but beyond that their arguing turns to white noise for the blue hedgehog.

The loud clearing of a throat eventually snaps his attention back to the table. “Mhhm wha’?” Sonic mutters half-heartedly into his hand supporting his cheek, having almost dozed off.

“Have you come to a decision regarding this matter, Your Majesty?” Percival asks him, politely ignoring his disorientation.

Sonic stares at her blankly for a moment. No, he hasn’t. In fact, he has no idea what conclusions the Round Table came to, not in the slightest.

“Why don’t we just do both? Fix the castle and get enough firewood?” he shrugs indifferently. He thought it a perfectly sensible solution (other than, well, simply going out there and helping to gather the resources himself, obviously), but Lanolin’s look of horror makes him think he just suggested tearing the entire kingdom down.

“M-my Lord, surely you jest,” she laughs nervously. “The treasury cannot stem this many expenses at the same time, we-”

“Then find a way to finance both. You heard His Majesty,” Lancelot cuts in out of the blue, arms still crossed, eyes hard like flint. His voice is even and collected as always but the harshness in it might as well make it sound like he snaps at her. This is perhaps the first time the knight speaks on this matter as far as Sonic can tell. Most of his contributions during the couple of meetings Sonic attended before are like this: Lancelot is silent for most of it, talking only when addressed or to support Sonic’s opinion in the rare case someone else gets too bold and scrutinizes what few decisions Sonic gets forced into making. His answers are usually as terse as this one, if not outright monosyllabic.

And yet, despite the fact Lancelot always supports his decisions, something about the way the knight would jump to his defense of feels … off. Sometimes, by the way he refuses to meet Sonic’s eye and his voice gains this faint layer of coldness underneath, it gives off the vibe that Lancelot actually scorns him for his decision.

This time, however, Sonic doesn't have the impression the knight secretly disagrees with him. I wonder if he gets fed up with going around in circles like this annoys him, too…

Lanolin, meanwhile, fell silent, her mouth a thin, slightly nervous line that clearly shows her reluctance to object further, even though the scowl on her face and the spark in her eyes speaks a different language.

Percival feigns a cough. “Your Majesty, if I may propose a compromise?”

Fighting down the repeated stab of annoyance he has to deal with since waking up over getting addressed like this, Sonic gives her a nod. “Don’t wait for my go-ahead,” he encourages her, even managing a small smile. To her credit, the purple cat seems to get a little bolder each time they congregate, often quietly questioning some of Sonic’s decisions or offering advice to improve on it. If there is any chance to turn these people away from following a king in whatever short time Sonic has remaining here, he hopes he can at least get Percival to stop looking to him for his opinion all the time.

“If we close the holes provisionally and secure the hallways exposed to the weather, we can concentrate the rest of the budget on stocking up our supplies,” Percival explains.

Before the blue hedgehog can reply, Gawain frowns. “That will still leave us vulnerable to attack, though.”

They break into another discussion with Lanolin and Jewel chiming in again. Merely Lancelot doesn’t seem interested in joining, instead sitting with perfect posture and looking over at Sonic across the table with somewhat of an expectant look in his hard eyes.

If the dark hedgehog expects him to intervene, he’s mistaken. Sonic can only watch the argument going on around him in tired silence. Eyes glazing over, he lets his head fall onto the table with a loud thud.

The squabbling around him instantly dies. "Sire, are you well?” Jewel frets. “The chill morning air is likely to blame. This is why we must have the drafty halls repaired first,” Lanolin argues.

The discussion starts anew but Sonic stops listening at that point, softly slamming his head on the table again, before tilting his head up so his chin rests on the surface instead. If he could just get these guys to go out there and do something instead of talking.

Forehead throbbing a little from the impact, he looks out the window again and how the town stretches out below. His eyes catch on some of the half-collapsed houses that were hit by stray rubble from when Merlina had briefly transformed the castle.

His ears twitch when a sudden idea strikes him. He might just have found a place to start.

Chapter Text

With long, firm strides Lancelot enters the training grounds near the lower knights’ quarters at the castle. The late afternoon sun of fall shines brightly, bathing everything in a friendly light that doesn’t reflect the brooding knight’s mood.

Just as always at around this hour, Gawain is already there, working one of the straw puppets used as training dummies. The echidna looks up when he sees Lancelot approach, a jaunty grin on his face.

“Right on time, as expected” he mocks Lancelot’s punctuality with a grin, since unlike the dark hedgehog, Gawain would sometimes leave his duties a bit early to go training if he grows too bored. At least, he used to do this before the fake Arthur's corruption forced them all into stricter schedules, lest they face the consequences. 

Still, though, Lancelot would've preferred if Gawain's tendency to treat his obligations so lightly were something his time under the previous King Arthur rinsed away. Instead, he seems more than eager to return to his more lax handling of it.

“You and I have unfinished business,” Lancelot tells him without preamble, drawing Arondight in an unspoken challenge, the blade gleaming in the sunlight.

“Surely you cannot still be mad about what transpired at the meeting this morning?” Gawain asks, a hearty chuckle escaping him. He faces Lancelot, changing his stance to ready himself for an attack and gripping his twin axes, Galatine, more tightly. He simply can’t resist the call of a proper spar.

“Repaying you for basking in my humiliation is part of it,” the dark hedgehog admits. “But it is not of primary importance,” he dismisses the claim calmly. He wastes no further time, immediately charging forward and aiming for Gawain’s gauntlet to disarm him. The echidna sees him coming and parries. Steel glides against steel, the impact sending tremors up Lancelot’s arms. Gawain’s strikes are mighty – but so are his.

“What could possibly be more important to you than flaunting your inability to take a jest?” Gawain mocks him lightly, and though most of his face is hidden by his visor, it’s easy for Lancelot to imagine him raising his eyebrows in faux shock.

With a quick circular motion of his sword arm, Lancelot breaks out of their stalemate, pushing his fellow knight back a few paces with a foot. He smirks over the small upperhand he gained, but it quickly falters to grow more grave. “I want you to cease entertaining the king’s tomfoolery.”

“Ah, so you admit to it, then!” the red echidna chortles triumphantly, his amusement clear as day as he twirls the two parts of Galatine around. “But alas, you expect me to miss the entertainment? You wish!” he bellows out another laugh.

In a blur of metal and red-striped quills, Lancelot lunges forward, putting the other knight on the defense by placing several precise, measured swings in quick order. “You seem to find all this awfully humorous, Gawain,” he growls.

The echidna chortles. “Certainly. He really gets under your skin, does he not?” Gawain teases, not allowing himself to be driven back by Lancelot’s onslaught.

To his own chagrin, Lancelot has to admit his brother-in-arms is right. King Sonic does get under his skin.

His carelessness and disinterest for the kingdom’s affairs. His reluctance and sheer refusal to uphold proper etiquette and exercise his authority as their sovereign. His disregard of the honor of being chosen by a higher power like the sacred sword Caliburn. And lastly, his relentless attempts to test Lancelot’s patience - the reason for which still eludes the knight - leaving him figuratively stumbling through the dark like a drunkard.

Still, Lancelot can’t shake the feeling there is potential for a wise leader underneath all these flaws – or perhaps that is just his own desperation and foolishness speaking, considering just how unfit their king is for his role.

And yet sometimes… sometimes, there are small glimpses into the great king he could be. On the rare occasion King Sonic does make a decision (or at least voices something close to what can be considered one), Lancelot sometimes finds them… sensible. Certainly more efficient and straight to the point than the endless discussions and days, nay, weeks of decision-making some decrees take otherwise, with their endless circling around the same problems in an endless circle. It reminds Lancelot of the bravery and tenacity King Sonic displayed when facing Merlina in battle, and makes him see why the sacred sword elected him as the new King Arthur.

… and then the king would go back to dozing off at the Round Table – if he even shows up for a congregation in the first place. King Sonic’s unsteady, fleeting presence is more frustrating than instructing a knave with two left feet. He may as well try to capture the wind in his palms with how impervious Sonic is to his people asking for his leadership.

Of course, Lancelot would support the king regardless of whether he agrees with him or his way of ruling. Serving his king is the most important task as a Knight of the Round Table, that is out of the question.

The two knights exchange more blows, knowing and anticipating the other’s moves from years of training together and fighting side by side in battle. The sharp clanks of their blades meeting is laced with the underlying knowledge of the other’s strength and weaknesses so that each stroke, each slash and stab aims to disarm. It’s an intense but appreciated dance that tests their limits as much as it is a show of respect for the other’s skill as they fiercely compete for the win.

“I shan’t speak ill of His Majesty,” Lancelot replies in a clipped voice, ducking under a swing of Gawain’s right blade and knocking him back once more by shoving the blunt side of Arondight against his chestplate.

Gawain rolls his eyes, a knowing, exhilarated smile tugging at his mouth. “Oh, is that so? Afraid I might strive to become the new king’s closest knight?” he mocks, but he’s only half-jesting.

For a moment Lancelot’s heart seems to miss a beat. An all too familiar feeling of dread squeezes it once, the one that urges him to do everything in his power to step in. This time, though, it is strangely accompanied by a second, new feeling – sharp and bitter and directed at Gawain directly – that he cannot place. Either way, he pushes it away quickly, before it can show in his stance or impair his attacks, and he lets a cocky grin tease at his mouth instead. “Tch. As if you ever could.”

“Doubting my devotion and ability now, Sir Lancelot?” Gawain quips back with a smile of his own, the banter coming easy to him. “I shall give you a taste, then!”

More steel clashes against steel as the two knights become locked in their spar, neither party relenting in their assault as they slash and shove and dodge with practiced ease.

Lancelot allows himself to ponder his earlier thoughts about King Sonic’s reign. In a sense, the blue hedgehog’s to-the-point decision-making is similar to that of the fake King Arthur. But whereas the illusion of the king took away the Round Table’s power, growing uninterested in the input of his knights as he used the congregations merely to issue commands, King Sonic seems to want to pass on most of his decisional power, barely batting an eye at the problems presented to him.

Worse yet, King Sonic tends to frame his decisions under the guise of suggestions. Of course, Lancelot and the other knights are obliged to follow these decisions regardless of how King Sonic chooses to voice them, but it seems like Gawain and Percival see it as an invitation to argue against His Majesty. And such disobedience towards the king is dangerous.

No, if they want the kingdom to recover and thrive, they need King Sonic to rule them with steadfast confidence and without the risk of one of them committing treason by starting to question his decrees. The Round Table as a place where everyone's voice is of equal weight – the way it was first conceived – may have worked back then, but it proved to be fragile and fickle and time taught Lancelot that they need a steady hand to guide them.

Gawain and Lancelot circle each other, muscles coiled like two snakes. Then Lancelot's opponent lunges forward, feinting a stab before throwing his two axes in quick succession instead, their curving arcs approaching Lancelot from both sides. Lancelot anticipates this very move and boldly charges forward just as Gawain sends them flying, so instead of getting impaled, the axes closing in on nothing behind Lancelot before colliding in a shower of sparks and falling onto the trodden earth of the training grounds.

Lancelot makes quick work of the now disarmed Gawain, who, to his credit, is still a dangerous opponent, even when armed with nothing but his fists.

Still, Lancelot evades the punches with skillful grace and sweeps the echidna off his feet. The echidna falls to the side and roughly knocks against the worn ground, stirring up a small cloud of dust around him. Gawain rolls on his back, but before he can get up, Lancelot loosely hovers the tip of Arondight’s blade over Gawain’s throat as he towers over him.

“Do you yield?”

Violet flashes in the shadows of Gawain's visor as his rival glares at him. He's quiet for a few heartbeats, undoubtedly contemplating his chances of freeing himself. But one glance at Galatine lying far beyond his reach in the dust and the sacred blade at his throat is enough of a sign for even someone as thick-headed as him to understand he lost this match.

So with a grumpy huff, he finally relents. “... I do.”

Lancelot grins smugly. “Your feints are as predictable as ever, my friend,” he tells him, though not unkindly. He sheathes Arondight and extends a hand towards the echidna, which is taken with a firm clap, metal slamming against metal as their gauntleted hands connect.

The mirth over his victory fades by the time Lancelot pulls Gawain to his feet, however. 

As the echidna briefly takes off his helmet to wipe the sweat on his forehead away, Lancelot fixes him with red irises flashing behind his own visor. Then, once they both catch their breaths and Gawain is about to retrieve his twin axes, Lancelot places a hand on the echidna’s shoulder to stop him.

"I am serious about what I said, Gawain,” he begins, deciding to voice part of his previously pondered concerns. The gravity of the situation is far too great for him to play into their usual competitive banter for long.

“We should not slack on our protocol, nor encourage these whims of His Majesty's. It is our duty to uphold the king's orders and we cannot achieve this by indulging in his leisures,” he implores his fellow knight to understand.

Gawain shakes off his hand, crossing his arms in disbelief. “You speak as if you wish for the illusion of King Arthur to return.”

The other knight pushes past Lancelot while the hedgehog stares at him, unmoving and grappling for words and composure for such a preposterous assumption. “Of course I do not!” he denies, appalled, and turns in Gawain's direction as the echidna picks up Galatine. “But order must be maintained. The kingdom cannot survive without a ruler.”

Gawain was wiping the dirt off the first of his blades but upon hearing Lancelot’s words, he pauses, studying their metallic gleam in contemplation. “... what if it could, though?” he objects haltingly, eyes trained on Galatine. Only when there’s no response from Lancelot does he look up at the dark hedgehog. “Oh, do not look so shocked, Lance. Entertain the thought for me, just this once.” He takes another close look at the axe again, continuing to inspect it for more grime, but upon finding none, he turns his attention to the other axe as he continues: “Perhaps His Majesty is right about there being more to a knight than serving a king. Perhaps it is wiser to look out for the people on our own terms and not follow the word of one.”

An ice-cold shiver runs down Lancelot’s spine but he fights it down, refusing to let it affect him. Lancelot heard King Sonic talking about their knightly duties in such a way as well, but the mere thought of disobeying a direct order, to revolt against their king…

The dark hedgehog takes a step towards the red echidna. “Gawain, what you speak of is dangerously close to treason. Do you seek to test how much disobedience of yours it takes for His Majesty to snap and throw you into the dungeons?” Or worse? He doesn’t speak the last part out aloud, but judging by the uncomfortable look on Gawain’s face – a balance between defiance and unease – the echidna very much inferred it. 

“I do not think King Sonic-” he starts to object tenuously, only to be immediately cut off by Lancelot:

“Think of what might happen if you are caught between serving your king and our people,” he presses on to make absolutely sure his point comes across. “If His Majesty’s orders are in direct opposition to your so-called self-imposed duty to them, what will you do then, Gawain?”

Silence follows these words, heavy and laden – a stark contrast to the beautifully bright sky they are standing beneath.

Gawain’s lips form a thin line as he stares across the training grounds, the grip on his axes is loose as his arms hang to his sides. Lancelot clearly managed to take the wind out of his sails and he can see uncertainty gracing the echidna’s face.

“Everything will sink into chaos if we allow ourselves to be swept away by these foolish dreams of freedom. Surely you must see this?” Lancelot invokes him. He does not plead – never would he stoop so low – but Gawain needs to understand that their loyalty to the king is their prime directive.

Mentally, Lancelot prepares for more pushback from the stubborn knight, but Gawain merely exhales deeply before slowly, reluctantly nodding affirmation a couple of times.

A heartbeat passes, then Gawain raises one of his twin axes to point at him. “Best of three?” he prompts with a weak smile.

The tense air between them shifts into something less despondent and more competitive; the corners of Lancelot’s mouth twitch, ears angling forward in anticipation.

In reply, Lancelot re-draws Arondight, lifting his sacred blade in challenge.

By the end of their spar, Lancelot won two of their three matches: Gawain managed to catch him off-guard during their second fight, when Lancelot – to his own ire – let himself get distracted by thoughts of King Sonic's teasing nature again and how undeterred he is by what is considered inappropriate behaviour for royalty or the way he constantly seems to test Lancelot's loyalty. So by the time he tears his thoughts away from the blue hedgehog, Lancelot was already toppling to the ground, brought down by a sneaky sweep with the flat side of Gawan's axes to his legs.

The dark hedgehog swiftly made up for it by making quick work of their third and last fight, defeating Gawain with two well-timed backhand strikes.

Besides their spar soothing Lancelot’s frayed nerves from the jests of their king, the dark hedgehog can see that his words of caution, his insistence of putting obedience to their king above everything and not entertaining his antics, managed to reach Gawain now that he looks down at his rival, besting him in their third and final match.

The echidna doesn't necessarily share Lancelot's conviction, not entirely, but Lancelot knows the other knight would set aside his personal discontent to adhere to the advice, seeing the sense in it himself.

When the two knights head to the bathrooms of the castle, fur clumped from sweat and dust, a pleasant exhaustion warms their muscles that speaks of an afternoon’s worth of exercise. Still, Lancelot’s mood dampens when he thinks of their king. He hoped his plan would soon cause His Majesty to see the error of his ways so he’d cease to make light of his obligations.

Despite his stoic exterior, Gawain picks up on his rival’s subtle shift in mood right as they are about to go their separate ways. He turns to the dark hedgehog, the palm of his hand knocking against Lancelot’s back reassuringly. “Have faith, Lancelot. Regardless of what is going to happen, my heart tells me that the kingdom is facing a bright new dawn with King Sonic here.”

Lancelot silently gazes at him, glad his visor obstructs most of his face and makes it easier to keep a silent, aloof countenance. He gives his rival a short, hesitant nod, prompting Gawain to knock against his back a second time with a good-humored smile before departing.

If only he could share Gawain’s belief that faith in everything turning out alright is all it takes.