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A flash of steel. A cry of agony. A spray of blood. A lifeless thud. A hush of shock.
Sonic's heart pounds against his ribcage, his blood rushing in his ears with thunderous fury. His breath comes quick and strained with adrenaline, tight in the restraining fabric of his regalia. His eyes are wide, trained on the corpse flooding the marble floor of the throne room with deep crimson. A blank, glassy stare reflects back at him, the cloaked feline limply holding onto the dagger that had only moments prior been raised to strike him. Somewhere in the corner of his vision, guards are rushing in to secure the foreign delegates, escorting them back to their rooms in the guest quarters. There is noise outside of the roaring in his ears, voices rising and armor clattering, but he can't quite make it out. All he can do is stare at the body of the assassin who had made an attempt on his life, the assassin that had snuck in with the delegates with the intention of ending his reign in a single blow.
The assassin who had nearly succeeded, if she had not been stopped by a particularly ferocious knight.
Silver greaves bound by golden rings step into Sonic's line of sight, moving over the body as if it weren't even there. A voice starts to break through the din in his head, low and soothing against the chaos of the situation. Blood-drenched gauntlets come into view, reaching for him and gently resting on his hands. The touch seems to spark awareness back into his system, and Sonic takes in a sudden gasp as if he'd forgotten to breathe for a moment. The tunneled sounds start to open up, welcoming that comforting voice into his attention.
"Your Majesty."
Sonic slowly raises his eyes from the body on the throne room floor, moving them to greet the visage of Sir Lancelot looming worriedly over him. The dutiful knight, ever at his side and dedicated to his vow of fealty, had been there to save him. Wielding his blade with effortless grace, he had cut down the assassin with practiced ease, entirely unbothered by the blood that dyed his armor red. Of course he didn't flinch when he killed the assassin. This is his purpose, his job, his honor as a Knight of the Round Table and protector of the realm. Life and death were constantly in flux with his line of work, and death was often the price of preserving life. Sonic's life, in particular. After all, he is King. A knight serves and protects his King at all costs.
Lancelot tips back the visor of his helm, his crimson eyes filled with concern as his brow pinches. Always that same crease between his eyes, just as sharp as his gaze. His lips are pulled into a taut line, his voice softened to ease Sonic's distress in the moment. "Your Majesty... are you unharmed?"
Sonic blinks a few times to gather himself, trying to pull out of his shock. He swallows to reset his vocal chords, finding his voice once more. "Lance... I-I'm fine. Just a little stunned, that's all."
The knight's hands relax a bit from their grip, and he releases a quiet sigh of relief. He gives a little nod of acknowledgement before his expression hardens as he turns to the guards in the throne room.
"See to it that the delegates from the Southern Kingdom are secured in their rooms. They shall be interrogated for their involvement in this vile caper." Lancelot glares down at the body of the assassin, his muzzle wrinkling with disdain. "Summon the undertaker to collect the cadaver for examination. Should any information regarding the assassin's origins come to light, I am to be informed immediately."
The firm commands are met with a chorus of "Yes, sir!" as the guards scatter to complete their tasks, moving with purpose and communicating with one another to have security around Camelot increased. There are agreements about perimeter stations being doubled up, patrols being rotated and immediate promotion of suitable squires to temporary positions to fill in extra duties. Everything falls into place like gears in a machine, everyone knowing their duty and how to complete it, and the structure of it all eases Sonic's anxieties slightly. His attention is drawn back from the rushing guards as Lancelot turns to him once more, his expression schooled into something collected but with worry still evident in those crimson eyes.
"It is dangerous to remain here," he says, his tone firm only to provide stability. "Allow me to escort you back to your chambers, Sire. I will ensure you remain safe there."
"Uh... right." Sonic is still in shock, not fully back into himself from everything that happened. He nods shakily as he looks back to the pool of blood steadily growing deeper and darker beneath the body. "Okay... yeah."
Armored hands delicately take hold of his own as he is guided to his feet, and he is suddenly aware of how weak his legs feel as they tremble slightly. He grips onto Lancelot's tightly just to keep upright, his breath catching shakily with his body still processing the attack that could have ended his life. He is grateful that his trusted knight has such a secure hold on him, leading him safely from the throne room through the back halls and keeping him close to offer support. The scent of leather and amber fills Sonic's lungs, solid and steadfast like its source, as he's practically pressed against the knight's side. Their steps are quick as they move together, winding through side halls and dodging rushing guards and staff on their path toward the royal quarters. All the while, Sonic's mind is racing as time finally catches up to him.
An assassin. In the castle. An attempt on his life. No one has ever tried to kill him before, not in the five years since he was coronated as King of Camelot. He was used to danger from his time in his own world, high-stakes adventures and intense battles against formidable foes, but nothing like this. He was used to Eggman's grand entrances and loud proclamations of his plans, used to enemies that come in eager and proud with intent to capture or destroy. But none of them ever tried to kill him. No one has ever snuck up on him, pretended to be a casual stranger, and then charged at him with a blade aimed at his heart. The thought that he could have died today chills him to his very bones, and he feels nauseated by the prospect. He could have died, slain right on his throne in front of foreign dignitaries, had it not been for Lancelot.
Sir Lancelot du Lac, right-hand to the King and highest ranking of the Knights of the Round Table, Knight Commander of Camelot's forces, Sonic's most trusted guardian and protector. If he hadn't been there in that moment, if he hadn't struck down that assassin, then it's very possible that Sonic would not be here in this moment. It makes him grateful for every breath he draws, every step he takes, every sight before his eyes, every feeling along his body that tells him he's still alive. The gentle hush of his silk regalia, the weight of the furred mantle adorning his shoulders, the secured bindings of belts wrapped around his middle, the cool metal of gold adornments and jewelry, the firm pressure of the crown on his head... all of it is proof that he is alive and here.
Sonic doesn't really notice when they arrive at his quarters nor does he pay much mind when he is ushered inside by Lancelot's guiding hand. He doesn't fully feel the careful armored hands removing his mantle to set aside nor does he pay attention when he catches the vague sound of words being spoken to him. He isn't brought back out of his stunned thoughts until he suddenly feels arms around him, holding him close in a tight and secure embrace. The contact has him suddenly very much aware of his body again, fully present in the moment with the cool steel of armor pressed up against him. He blinks in surprise as he registers Lancelot holding him, tensed slightly with his surprise.
"Lance...?" Sonic sounds a bit wary, thrown off by the uncharacteristic behavior. The stoic knight has only ever been professional and poised over these last five years, even with the scattered moments of camaraderie and friendly interactions throughout. To be held like this, to hear the shaky sigh that leaves him, to feel that racing heart pounding even through the thick armor, has Sonic's mind reeling. Everything about today seems so strange and unfamiliar, and it really has him thrown for a loop.
"...I was frightened for you."
Sonic's eyes widen at the words, having never heard such sentiments from the knight before. Lancelot was... afraid? The powerful and formidable Knight Commander has never shown himself to be afraid of anything, let alone admit it. And to be afraid for his sake, to worry for him in such a way that feels less like a knight for his king but something more personal, seems so unlike him. Such a confession whispered so softly, coupled with the embrace so tight around him... Lancelot has never behaved like this before.
"Hey..." Sonic starts softly, shyly returning the embrace with a comforting pat on the knight's back. "I'm okay. A little freaked out, but I'm good. You saved me—"
"Had I delayed but a moment..." The knight speaks in a hushed tone, horrified by his own thought. There is a slight tremble to his hold that makes Sonic's heart ache in sympathy. "Had I taken a single misstep, had I failed to reach you in time..."
"Whoa, Lance, no need to think like that!" Sonic pulls back in the embrace enough to look at his protector, and he feels a heavy rush of sorrow at the dread on Lancelot's face. The way the black hedgehog's eyes are lined with panic, his jaw clenched and his ears pinned back, is so far removed from anything he has ever displayed before. He truly looks terrified by what could have went wrong. Sonic offers a small and comforting smile, trying to ease his distress. "You got to me in time. You took out the assassin. None of that bad stuff happened, so there's no point in worryin' about it."
Lancelot takes a breath as he clearly wars with anxious thoughts in his head, lowering his gaze as if with shame. He sighs heavily as he withdraws himself from the embrace, folding his arms over his middle and clenching his gauntlets with restraint against something unspoken. "...forgive me. You are the one in most need of comfort, not I. And yet I carry on like a pitiful wastrel. I should not behave so shamefully in Your Majesty's presence."
"Stop it."
The knight flinches a bit when Sonic's tone comes as a command, his eyes immediately snapping up to his King's face with attention. Sonic feels bad for having used such a harsh tone with Lancelot, but he knows how the knight's mind tends to spiral when it comes to his safety. He has a terrible habit of entering into self-deprecation and internalized shame, a trait he shares with another black hedgehog Sonic knows. Seems to be a common factor of his personality in every world. The blue hedgehog reaches out and grips Lancelot by his upper arms, meeting his gaze directly. There is such seriousness on Sonic's face, very unlike himself... but then, neither of them seem to be behaving regularly after this situation.
"What happened back there was stressful for everyone, no matter how well it was handled," he says firmly. He's trying to be comforting in his own way by remaining steady for his distressed knight. "You're allowed to feel scared, Lance. We both were. You're allowed to talk about your feelings, 'specially with me."
"Your Majesty... I..."
"And enough with the titles and stuff! When it's just us, you can call me by my name!" Sonic sighs and shakes his head a bit. He withdraws his hands in favor of setting them on his hips, frowning as if in a pout. "I've told you and everyone else this a thousand times already. You'd think five years would be enough time to—"
"Sonic."
The blue hedgehog stops suddenly when he hears Lancelot say his name like that. There's such softness in how it's spoken, gentle as if handled like a treasure on his tongue. The knight has been soft-spoken before, quiet and more restrained with his speech in private, but not like this. This feels different. This feels... tender somehow, and it makes Sonic's heart do unfamiliar acrobatics in his chest. It's a weird reaction to feel, an even weirder way to hear Lancelot speak, and it leaves him a bit stunned. The space between them is so still and quiet as if even a breath would be too loud and might shatter it instantly. Not that Sonic feels like he can breathe right now anyway, not with the way Lancelot is looking at him, not with everything that has happened within this whirlwind of a day. Emerald and scarlet are locked in an unwavering hold, and Sonic swears he can hear the susurration of restrained intentions.
It's always like this between them. Just like it was always like this with Shadow. Always this feeling of something more, something buried low and fighting to come to the surface. But this time, there seems to be a call and response rather than a barrier. He doesn't know what it means. He doesn't know what it is. He doesn't know why it's there. But right now, more than ever, it sinks its claws into his chest and holds him captive as he waits for the knight to speak.
The black hedgehog shifts a bit where he stands, a quiet clink from his armor with the movement, before he takes a breath. He struggles with the words, his jaw working as if chewing them into something more digestible. His arms unfold, his hands clenched at his side in a display of restraint against something unknown, and an unreadable flicker dances through those crimson eyes before it can be captured. He speaks, and again his tone is so unexpectedly soft.
"...I feared I may lose you."
Sonic blinks. He stays quiet. That... wasn't what he expected to hear. At all. Not from Lancelot. His chest feels oddly tight like the air is suddenly too heavy. This sentiment is too personal, too familiar, too intimate for the knight. Even when they're being friendly, even when they take rare moments to forget their stations, Lancelot never says anything like this. More than that, Sonic never feels this odd breathlessness, this strange buzzing beneath his skin. Not for Lancelot. Not since he was summoned here. Not since a certain unavailable hedgehog... but this isn't Shadow. This isn't home.
Is that why...?
"Lance," Sonic finally gasps, way more winded than he might have liked to be. He can feel from the slight heat to his face that he must be flushed, and he feels like a fool for having such a response. He swallows back the building dryness in his throat, relaxing his stance as his hands twitch for an urge he can't recognize. "You..."
"I could not forgive myself if I had failed to protect you. Had your death come at my negligence, I could not live with myself." The words seem to spill quickly from the knight unbidden, desperate to be heard and aching to be known. "Perhaps it is grossly ardent beyond what is appropriate, but I would sooner fall on my blade than live with the shame of my dereliction of duty."
...whoa. That's intense.
Sonic can actually feel his fur bristle with the rush of chills that crawl along his flesh, those words really sending a shock along his spine. Since when is Lancelot so passionate about his responsibilities? Does he really take his job so seriously that it's become something this deeply entrenched in his being? He's always been dedicated, yes, but this goes beyond what seems reasonable.
Sonic takes in a breath, his lungs aching slightly as if he'd forgotten air entirely, and tries to sound a bit more lighthearted despite how stunned he feels by that confession. "That's... th-that's kinda much, don't'cha think? I mean, it's such a drastic response."
"Perhaps. But it is truth." Lancelot says the words so firmly, and his expression mirrors his devotion to this conviction so profoundly. The knight takes a step forward, his piercing scarlet eyes locked on Sonic's face as he lowers himself down to his knee in prostration. The warmth of his King's hand is sapped away where his gauntlet curls around it, holding it as if cradling something fragile and precious. There is a vast difference between fealty and worship, and it would seem that Lancelot has transcended that boundary. "Forgive me my improper sentiments, but I find myself unable to withhold them any longer. You have allowed the space for candor, and I shall utilize it thus."
Sonic is sure that his face matches those eyes that refuse to look away, his heart in his throat as it throbs arrhythmic and discordant. This is too much. This is way too much. His head is spinning from it all— the assassination attempt alone was enough to disorient him, but now this complete divergence of Lancelot's character leaves him swept away in a tempest of perplexity that leaves him faint.
"Lance... what're you saying right now?" It's the only think he can think of as a response, the only words he's capable of forming.
"Allow me to be plain," the knight says, and it almost sounds like a plea. He dips his head to rest his forehead against the back of Sonic's hand, holding it there as if the contact alone brings him strength. Such a hushed tone, warm like a hearth drawing Sonic home through the storm. "I acknowledge my affections to be incongruous with propriety. However, I hold you too dear in my heart to suffer a life in your absence. Were you to fall... I would follow close behind."
Sonic's hand twitches in Lancelot's hold, tensing as if to reciprocate the contact. There's no way the knight is saying what he thinks he's saying, right? This is just the heightened feelings from Sonic almost getting killed. This is just old and forgotten feelings from a far off life daring to rear their heads after years of interment. This is egregiously exceeding Lancelot's vows to service to the Crown, a violation to the tradition and hierarchy he swore to uphold, bordering on outright scandal. This is... it's...
Oh, it's wonderful.
"...raise your head, Sir Lancelot du Lac."
He can feel the knight's grip shift ever so slightly, deciding between holding on tighter and letting go, and he knows that he's worried about the obvious breach of their standing. The use of his title and full name, reserved for public interactions and formal address, has him uncertain. Even still, he obeys as he always does, without hesitation or question. He lifts his gaze to his King, braced to be met with apology or disapproval or punishment. But instead, there is only a soft smile waiting for him, understanding and warmth in Sonic's eyes. There is only calm and gentleness... and acceptance.
"How long?"
It's a simple question, but it holds such weight that the knight seems irresolute with how to carry the answer. He hesitates, that same crease in his brow deepening.
"...I do not know."
An equally simple answer, yet offered so quietly and so timidly as if admitting some grievous sin.
"Why now?"
"I do not know."
"Why me?"
Sonic can't help but ask. How could he not, after years of yearning for the facsimile who provided him with only disdain and conflict? How could he not, after years in Camelot and relearning the familiar strangers and developing new bonds based on who they are here compared to home? How could he not, after years of devotion and loyalty from the black hedgehog knelt in vulnerability and honesty before him?
How could he not when he so obviously feels the same?
Lancelot is silent, contemplating the best way to answer. He spends so much time in his thoughts, so much time lost in his head, that sometimes he overlooks the obvious responses. It's an endearing trait, one that Sonic has often toyed with to frustrate the knight. But now it itches under his skin with impatience, and he needs an answer.
Lancelot huffs a shaky breath. "I do not know... but it must be you. It cannot be another."
The blue hedgehog nods slowly, releasing a quiet sigh, and gives the knight's hand a little tug in a silent bid to rise. As always, acquiescence comes naturally, but with it now comes alacrity. Willingness. They stand eye to eye, and neither releases the other's hand. Strange though the series of events leading to this may be— nearly dying at the hands of an assassin isn't exactly how he imagined this going— Sonic is relieved that it came to this.
His smile shifts into a cheeky smirk, his words teasing. "This is very improper, y'know."
The knight nods, giving a small smile of his own. "Aye, it is."
"You're seriously out of line, Knight Commander."
"I understand, Your Majesty."
"This could cause a big scandal if it got out. We'd both be in big trouble. We'd lose our credibility of our authority with the public, breaking our own rules."
"Indeed, it would."
"And you're okay with risking that?"
"Are you?"
Sonic's eyes widen slightly as he snorts a little laugh at that retort, grinning brightly at the way the knight teases him in kind. In this world or his own, the banter is as natural as ever. He knows there is a sincere inquiry in the words, but the delivery of playfulness eases the pressure of the response. He shrugs carelessly, looking highly unbothered. "What's a little royal scandal every now and then? Gives the people somethin' to talk about."
"Hmph. You truly are reckless. How troublesome."
"At least I'm not boring. B'sides, it's not like you mind all that much. Otherwise you wouldn't have the hots for me."
Lancelot grimaces distastefully at the colloquialism, frowning a bit. "You collogue in such a peculiar manner. It confounds me."
"Feeling's mutual, Lance." Sonic playfully squeezes the knight's hand in his own, a reminder that they still stand joined. "You say lotsa stuff I don't get most of the time."
"Hm. Then perhaps..."
There is a hesitation, a brief moment of uncertainty like teetering on the precipice of a blind leap, but then Lancelot steps in closer. Much closer. Closer than they should be. Closer than Sonic can handle. Closer than they've ever been. Brilliant scarlet maps his face in a way he's not used to, a way that makes his breath catch and his blood warm.
"It may be prudent to bypass words entirely."
There is a touch on his cheek, cool steel whispering over soft fur that sends tender flesh into sparks of sensation. It's so gentle, so careful, so hesitant. Lancelot is touching him so tenderly, just enough to be felt but light enough to be withdrawn in the face of rejection. But Sonic doesn't dare turn away from that hand, not when the feeling of it on his face is so welcome and craved. It's a question, a request for permission, and Sonic grants it by pressing into it. The knight seems to relax a bit, a release of tension and expectation giving way for relief, and the touch grows more certain and comfortable.
Sonic hums softly, though he can't help but tease even now. "Get that line out of a cheesy romance novel?"
The stolid reaction expresses the knight's annoyance with the comment clearer than words could, though he still elects to speak. "...must you?"
"I must," Sonic insists playfully with a sly grin. "Does that displease you, Sir?"
"Greatly." Ruby eyes glint with a passing intention, and the touch on his face becomes more firm. It shifts from a simple caress to a cradle, holding him in place with no chance for an escape he could care less to take. "I shall hear no more."
The knight doesn't allow a moment for him to come up with another response before distance becomes nonexistent, restraint abandoned and want indulged with a simple connection of their lips. It's warm and tender, soft and gentle, yet somehow it's insistent and eager all at once. It evaporates all coherent thought from Sonic's mind, devouring his words and robbing him of breath in an instant, and something just clicks into place. Color floods into the world with an almost agonizing vibrancy, his body hyperaware of every sensation down to the subtle shift of atoms in the air. Everything disappears around them— no more royal quarters, no more halls filled with frantic guards, no more castle on lockdown, no more Camelot, no more Great Kingdom, nothing else beyond. It's just them. It's just Lancelot. It's just this kiss.
Man, he should get almost assassinated more often.
Sonic doesn't even notice the little whine of protest that sounds in his throat when the knight pulls back, but he does notice the immediate lack of warmth so close to him. He leans forward slightly to chase after it, his free hand reaching up to grip onto the knight's bracer to keep him in place for a bit longer. He can't think of anything except the stars dancing in his vision and the lingering taste of Lancelot of his lips, his own parted slightly around soft breaths. He's hardly a novice when it comes to these sorts of things; he's had his fun in his teen years between adventures, meeting casual strangers and enjoying some make-out sessions with no strings attached. But that... that was different. That was nothing like how he's felt in the past. He's never been left dizzy and disoriented like this before, not even with the hottest lip-locking he's shared at parties. He's breathless, speechless, thoughtless, and it feels amazing.
Lancelot gives a little hum of approval, smirking slightly as his scarlet gaze flickers down to those parted lips and back up again. "Ah... so this is how to silence your incessant jesting. Duly noted."
Sonic blinks a few times as he's brought out of his reverie, and he pouts petulantly. "No fair. I wasn't ready."
"Forgive me. It would seem I was overeager." The knight's tone and expression soften in equal measure, and the space between grows increasingly limited once more. "Shall I make another attempt?"
The blue hedgehog's pout breaks under the pressure of the smile that insists on making itself known. He leans in a bit more himself, inviting the contact without restraint. "Might as well take advantage of the privacy. Doubt I'll be gettin' much for the next few days."
"Perhaps I might make arrangements to the contrary," Lancelot offers, moving in a bit closer so the cool steel of his breastplate presses against Sonic lightly. "A private escort may be necessary to ensure the utmost security."
"And you're volunteering?"
"Naturally."
"Then consider this the official royal seal of approval."
Sonic is the one to close the distance this time, now that he's actually prepared to reciprocate the contact. He grips the edges of the knight's breastplate and pulls him ever closer, ignoring the cold metal against him with its sharp edges, though he notices Lancelot being mindful of the press of their bodies to avoid injury. Lips meet in that same initial brush of contact, soft and almost shy in their reintroduction, before they grow firm and confident. The threads wound between them have at last been pulled taut to the point of fraying, and the tension of the last five years is undone. It comes not in a heated snap, not in a fierce burst of passion, but in a sensual unraveling of affections long since hidden in the braided fabric of their dynamic.
Sonic doesn't resist when the polished wood of his chamber door suddenly meets his back, pressed carefully against it as Lancelot steps closer to him. One armored hand sits pressed against the wood beside his head while the other still holds his face like he's delicate and precious. Even with the languorous pace, the oddly natural motions of their lips slotted together for the first time, Sonic's heart is racing in his chest. The heart that had nearly been run through, the heart that holds such compassion for Camelot and its people, the heart that has ached and yearned for the knight against him now. One hand reaches up to sink into silken ebony quills, always perfectly groomed into place without fail, and he cradles the back of Lancelot's head in a wordless bid to continue.
The soft hum in the knight's throat serves as the acknowledgement to the unspoken request, and he tilts his head ever so slightly in his own request to deepen the connection. Everything is so quiet and slow between them, so much unsaid yet conveyed so clearly through action alone, and it makes this feel so perfect. Some childishly romantic part of Sonic wants to believe this is a sign they were designed for each other. Why else would they fit so easily together? Why else would this kiss, this contact, this closeness, be so effortless? Why else would he fall for the same face in two different worlds, the same voice and the same eyes that haunt him in the lonely hours? It must be so.
"Sonic..."
Lancelot breathes his name into the kiss, his tone so painfully reverent that it makes the blue hedgehog's eyes burn with emotion. It's so unfair how pretty his name sounds on those lips. It's unfair how gentle every touch is, how tender and sweet every moment of this kiss feels, how his heart aches so deeply with such obvious displays of adoration and devotion. It almost hurts how soft the knight is with him.
Sonic can't help the tiny whine in the back of his throat in response, his hand tightening in those sleek quills. There is a vulnerability between them, every moment of their shared warmth and proximity furthering the bloom of this new and heartbreakingly beautiful romance. It's forbidden on so many levels— Sonic is starting to understand why Amy loved those sappy love stories she always read— but that makes this all the more impactful and significant. They can't deny themselves this furtive longing they've withheld for so long, not anymore.
They only welcome air back into their lungs when it becomes necessity, though the space between them is only just for shared breath. Soft panting heats their faces in harmony, gazes half-lidded and vaguely unfocused as they remained trained on one another. He's not sure how to respond in this moment, innumerous thoughts and actions flooding every synapse beyond comprehension. He wants to laugh like a giddy fool. He wants to throw his arms around Lancelot and hold him close. He wants to drag him back into another kiss with little regard for being caught or needing air. He wants to drag the knight to his bed and savor the rush of desires burning in his blood. He wants to weep from the purity of the tenderness exuding from the knight in every touch and every breath.
But he finds himself immobile, a statue of urges and needs locked in unyielding marble. All he can do is stay as he is, painfully close and breathless and dizzy.
Lancelot takes the silence as invitation to speak, and damn it all, if that voice isn't so smooth and adoring. "I... wish to request something of you."
"Anything," Sonic murmurs, not even hesitating with his answer. He doesn't care what it is. It doesn't matter what it is, as long as he can stay like this just a bit longer. "Name it."
The knight takes a shaky breath, tentative and anxious. Again, that damnable crease in his brow returns. So many thoughts in that head, far too obstreperous and staggering. "I understand this is highly prohibited... howbeit, my appetency must be assuaged."
"Lance," the monarch sighs, exasperated. "Enough with the fancy vocab words. Just be straightforward."
"May I remove my gauntlets?"
A beat of silence. A breath. Realization.
Holy shit.
It's the one law that Sonic has felt to be the most pointless and stupid, the one law that is so vehemently upheld by all in the Grand Kingdom at large. None shall lay their hands bare upon the King, lest they be severed in retribution. Some bullshit rule made up from monarchs long past who believed themselves untouchable and chosen by the divine to rule, one that always put a bitter taste in Sonic's mouth. He's tried to annul the law countless times, but it never changed anything. The belief is too ingrained in the public, and he's learned to get used to gauntlets and gloves and veiled hands.
But now... the violation of such a sacred rule by one who has sought to uphold it most faithfully, requested so hopefully with quiet eagerness, really brings the weight of the law onto Sonic's chest and pushes all air from his lungs. Lancelot wants to touch him. Directly. No barriers, no separation, completely exposed to one another. He's not sure why the thought sends his heart into arrhythmia; it's just his hands. It's not like it's anything inappropriate or sexual. And yet, there is something inherently sensual about those hands that leaves him feeling faint. Those hands that have held him so carefully, those hands that have struck down foes and threats for him, those hands that have served him and tended to him, those hands that have protected him and cared for him...
"You may."
He wants to feel those hands. He wants to know what it's like to be touched without the chill of steel keeping them apart. He wants to know how the knight will do it, how this most foundational law that serves as the crown of Lancelot's oath will be profaned for the sake of selfish desires.
It feels like winter has seeped into his very bones when the knight pulls away from him, and he shivers with the absence of their nearness. But he watches as Lancelot begins to work apart his gauntlets, almost awed by the display that seems oddly seductive in its own way. One buckle at a time, unbinding the vambraces and discarding them on the furs on the floor behind him, freeing the sleek black fur contained beneath. The gold rings remain in place, as always, even as he slips the leather away finger by finger. The articulated plates tap together in soft clinks that could well be mistaken for bells in the quiet of the royal chambers, and Sonic can't tear his eyes away.
Hands are revealed, slender and almost elegant in a way. The vibrant scarlet stripe lining the outer edge of his arms connects all the way down over each ring finger, dyeing even the blunted claw a shade of red. Each finger is well-manicured with the armor in mind, the claws rounded and shortened to only barely peek over the tip. Already they are beautiful hands, so graceful in their movements as the knight turns them over, but the unveiling of the digital pads is what seizes Sonic's heart in a chokehold. For someone who can be so hardened and sharp, the pads look so soft and plush, tinted a lovely shade of caramel with blotches of rose scattered like little petals.
It's almost hard to believe that these hands have shed blood for him. Not even an hour ago, no less. A flash of memory of the assassin's body dares to steal his attention, shocking him through with that nausea of fright. Those unseeing eyes staring at him, that gaping wound in her chest, that pool of dark blood expanding endlessly around her... how can one body have so much blood in it? That rattle of a last breath still lingers in his mind, and it makes his heart sink slightly. That could have been him. That could have been his blood staining those lovely hands. That could have been his body, his last breath, his end—
"Sonic."
His name, said so warmly. Those eyes, studying him worriedly. That warmth, brought so close to him.
And those hands.
Those hands.
They're so close, reaching for his face, hovering so near yet not enough. The want is there, the question in his eyes, the request for permission lingering in the space between them. He's waiting. He's waiting for Sonic to say he can. He's waiting for the chance to break the highest law of the land, all to satisfy his own need.
"You are troubled." Lancelot starts to withdraw his hands, those gracile fingers curling away. "Should I not—?"
"Please."
Sonic is gripping the knight's wrist to stop him, and he doesn't even realize he's moved until he feels the tension of halted motion. He keeps his focus on those widened scarlet eyes, on the dear one before him who shares his want, and he gives the slightly little tug of encouragement for the knight to proceed. Those hands spilled blood for him, ended a life to spare his own, displayed violence without hesitation. And yet he wants to know the tenderness beneath, to know the way Lancelot wishes to touch him, to feel how gently the knight will handle him.
"Please..." he sighs, loosening his grip on the knight's wrists to let him move on his own. There is so much in that plea, so much conveyed in the need behind it.
Please feel me. Please connect with me. Please know me.
Please touch me.
And he does.
The most feather-light brush of pads along his jaw, tentative as if even the slightest bit of pressure may shatter him, makes his breath hitch with a rush of warmth. Slowly, carefully, fondly, fingers glide up along the curve of bone, palms shifting in to cushion his jaw in the softest hold imaginable. Hands cradle his muzzle, warm and safe and loving, as thumbs lightly caress over his cheeks in languid strokes. Those hands, those wonderful hands, memorize him and adore him as if worshipping a holy relic. He's handled with such reverence that it makes his heart ache, and the meaning behind this contact is made abundantly clear.
Love.
"Lance," he gasps shakily, his loose grip gently sliding down the length of the knight's forearms. It's so intimate. It's so intense. It's so much, so damn much, and he can't take it. It's just a simple touch, just having his face held, and yet he feels like his bones may liquify and leave him melting to the floor. He feels like he can barely breathe, barely think, barely exist. "I..."
"You are warm," the knight whispers, leaning in ever so slightly closer. He seems almost entranced by the feeling of Sonic's fur against his unclad hands. "And soft."
Sonic keens quietly as he nuzzles into Lancelot's palms, suddenly agonizingly touch-starved and unbearably desperate for this moment to be unending. He's practically trembling, having not realized how much he missed even the simplest physical connection. He never realized how lonely it made him feel, how detached it made him feel, how cold he's been for so long. It's too much for him, drawing forth an overflowing well of feelings he never knew lay concealed so deeply within him. He wants to cry. He never cries, but the need is so strong that it makes his throat tighten.
Lancelot draws his face closer, such a light brush of their noses together, and it's so sweet that Sonic's head is swimming and his lips part in a ragged sigh. "How I have longed to know this moment... to feel you the way I have dreamt so many nights."
It's so romantic. It's so beautiful. It's driving him mad, and he wants to feel these hands touching him so adoringly for the rest of his life, he's certain of it. Anything to be held, anything to be caressed, anything to be close, anything to be loved. Propriety and tradition be damned, he doesn't care about hierarchies or royalty or anything more than this. It all seems so dramatic and excessive, bordering on the theatrical at this point. At any other time, Sonic might have scoffed at such exaggerated expressions, possibly even cringed at how unnecessary the display is. But he didn't understand before, the intensity of pining and burning, the ferocity of hunger, that this manner of connection could bring about.
Five years of longing, five years of wanting, five years of holding back, five years of mutual desire left unsatisfied and restrained. Perhaps even longer than that, if he counts what remained unspoken and unrequited from Shadow. He would have never known this back in his home world. Shadow would have never touched him like this, never spoken to him like this, never looked at him like this. Shadow would have never wanted him like this. He might have survived it before, put these feelings behind him and drowned them deep in the depths of his heart to never be seen.
But Lancelot isn't Shadow. He never has been, and he never will be.
Thank Chaos for that.
Sonic dives in to capture the knight's lips once more, almost whimpering at the sensation of relief flooding through him, and his arms are wrapped around the other hedgehog's shoulders to pull him close. Reciprocation is immediate and emphatic, resuming exactly where they were before with the slow and deep passion. Those hands, those perfect hands, are tracing over the details of his face, threading through his quills, caressing over the soft fur of his neck, wanting to relish in him as much as possible without passing beyond any unsaid boundaries. There is no lust in the touch, no intention beyond just wanting to feel him. It's not about arousal or craving; it's only care and devotion.
And Lancelot is so very sweet with him, so patient and careful, asking for permission with practically every motion. Light touches at the junction of his jaw asking to caress at the back of his neck, the soft trace of a tongue at the seam of his lips asking for attention, the quietest little murmurs of "please" purred so contently between their kisses, all of it seeking consent and confirmation that what the knight is doing is not only wanted but welcomed. Sonic responds with slight movements or little noises to provide that consent, though he would prefer to make it clear that Lancelot doesn't need to ask at all. There's no doubting the feelings they share.
Sonic can't bear to keep back the little moan that sounds in his throat when he feels Lancelot's tongue delicately ease past his lips, and he's more than eager to greet it with his own in a slow swipe that draws a breathy groan from the knight. Every pant and hum in synchronized between them, even their hearts seeming to beat in equal tempo. They are a graceful tangle of tongues and limbs embracing each other, passionate and deep but not messy or uncoordinated. Quite the opposite, as they seem to follow this endogenous rhythm with ease, reinforcing that romanticized axiom in his mind that they are somehow fated for this. He could easily lose himself in this bliss, in Lancelot himself, and he would never hold regret in his heart.
But alas, there is still a world waiting for them beyond this chamber.
Hurried rapping at the heavy wooden door shatters the moment, drawing them both back into the world beyond against their will. The sudden sound shocks into Sonic's system and sends his heart stuttering against his ribs, his fur bristling a bit with the startle. Reality rushes back into the forefront of his mind, reminding him of the situation that led to this. Right... the assassination attempt.
"Your Majesty!" a deeper voice calls— Sir Gawain, always showing up at the worst time to ruin a moment. It's not his fault, necessarily, but now could not be any worse. "Are you there, my liege?"
Sonic quietly groans, leaning his head forward to rest against the cool steel of Lancelot's pauldron. He has half a mind to not answer at all, but he knows the echidna would just panic and end up busting the door down. Better not to invoke his anxiety and risk a premature reveal of this nascent affair. He is just about to respond when the black hedgehog suddenly brushes past him, gently guiding him out of view before sliding open the Judas window to peer out at the worried lavender eyes on the other side. He can hear the startled gasp on the other side and shift of armor that suggests a quick salute.
"Sir Lancelot! Pray, where is—"
"In gladio servio."
Sonic perks up at the familiar code phrase, having heard it time and time again over the last five years. In normal circumstances, it would feel silly to use it just to confirm that it's really Gawain on the other end. But considering the fact that he was nearly killed earlier, the necessity for it is all the more clear. There is a scripted response for every condition, identifying the speaker and confirming whether they are alone, and the appropriate answer is necessary to determine the level of danger. The echidna knight on the other side huffs a breath before he responds.
"Mm. Per gladio morior."
By sword I serve, by sword I die.
Lancelot gives a confirming grunt, keeping his voice remarkably level despite the fact that they had been rather heated moments ago. "His Majesty rests. It has been a trying day."
"Aye, it has. Precisely why I—"
"No need," he says, firm with finality. "My vigil is enough."
Gawain gives a disapproving growl, sounding much closer to the door. "Forgive me, I do not mean to question your capabilities—"
"Then do not."
"One blade is insufficient."
"My one fares better than your two."
"A singular verdict of your own hauteur."
Lancelot huffs, allowing himself a smug and teasing smirk. "Yet held recurrently amongst our comrades following our spars."
"Be that as it may," the echidna hisses, sounding more irritated as he raises his voice. "Given the dire circumstances, the King requires—"
"The King requires a good nap," Sonic chides, stepping into view for Gawain to see his frown. He sees the faint drain of color from the echidna's face through the spyhole before he dips in an apologetic bow. "And for you two to stop bickering like a couple of kids."
The two knights shift stiffly under his scolding gaze, glancing away from each other. Gawain grumbles something under his breath that can't quite be hear through the door, but the monarch sees no need to address it. He knows that the echidna can get carried away with his anxieties when it comes to important things, though his high-octane approach can often prove beneficial at times. Given that he's just interrupted something Sonic has been eager for over the last five years, it's definitely preferred to send him on his way quickly so the two hedgehogs can be alone again.
"Lance is more than enough right here." Sonic offers a relaxed smirk, hoping his calmer demeanor might ease Gawain a bit. "I need you out there to protect the delegates. They're in as much danger as I am. If anything happens to them on our soil, it could mean war. Until we know where the threat is coming from, they need security, too."
Gawain is quiet for a long moment, visibly working his jaw as he mulls over that logic. Sonic swears he can almost hear the grinding of those gears in motion, and his tail flicks impatiently. After a moment, Gawain sighs and dips his head in acknowledgement. "I understand, Sire. I shall attend to them."
"Thanks, buddy. Knew I could count on you."
The echidna knight puffs out his chest proudly at the royal praise, seeming pleased by the approval, before he turns on his heel with a salute and marches away from the King's quarters. Sonic watches through the spyhole until he's certain Gawain is gone, groaning tiredly and sliding the panel shut. He runs a hand down his face, feeling the exhaustion of the day settle in at last. It was already draining enough to entertain foreign dignitaries, and then the assassination attempt only made it worse. Then again, that moment with Lancelot...
"My King," the black hedgehog hums softly. Though the words are an official title, spoken countless times in many circumstances, they are said with the same sense of affection as if the knight had referred to him as "my love". His unclad hands reach to take hold of the blue hedgehog's face once more, the plush warmth of those calico pads making Sonic melt a bit. The touch is so tender and gentle, carrying with it all of the feelings laid bare at last between them. His heart thrills with every little bit of contact, feeling more alive in Lancelot's hands than he ever has before. "You should rest. You are weary."
Sonic wants to protest, wants to insist that he's fine and can pick up where they left off, but he knows there's no point in arguing. Lancelot is obdurate regarding his health and care, and he'll definitely be scolded otherwise. Besides, he knows the knight is correct about how tired he is, unable to hide the sag of exhaustion weighing his body into a slight slouch. He gives a little nod, reaching up to press those hands against his muzzle for a moment longer. He loves the feeling of them, the way the other touches him like a divine treasure and holds him like a precious jewel, and he doesn't want to move away just yet. He wants this to last, wants to soak in this quiet intimacy as long as he can. But now that they've shared their truth, reciprocated in equal measure and passion, he knows they will have plenty of time for this... and hopefully, with time, much more.
"Yeah, I guess you're right. A nap does sound pretty good right about now."
Lancelot nods in agreement, forming a small smile on his face as he brushes his thumbs over his King's cheeks. "I will watch over you. You may rest soundly in my care."
"I know," Sonic hums warmly, mirroring that smile that makes his heart flutter. He turns his face into one of the knight's bare hands and nuzzles into the soft pad, and his ears prick up at the quiet sigh of contentment it draws forth from his protector. The degree of reverence that Lancelot shows him, both in his loyalty and now in his affection, is something he never thought he would know in his life from anyone. He certainly could have never expected from Shadow, always so cold and distant and sharp. He honestly doubts the Ultimate Edgelord would be capable of it, though admittedly this thought comes a bit bitterly from the years of arguing and fighting.
But there's no point in thinking of him anymore. Not when Lancelot is right here with those softened eyes and that kind smile. Not when he's being treated so lovingly and with such adoration. Not when he is being held like this, the way he wants to be held forever if he can. Five years of yearning and waiting, and all it took was one freak situation to put it into action. Now that he has it, he won't be letting go of it any time soon. He won't want for anything else.
The love of a knight for his King, transcended beyond into something deeper and more profound to share between individuals... he's eager to see where this goes. He's eager to see what they become.