Not Mine

"Lancelot!!" Arthur kneeled by his side.

"He´s still alive," Guinevere calmed him, holding the tone of her voice steady. She gave not the slightest hint that the man who was lying badly wounded on the ground mattered more to her than anyone else. "I pulled the arrow out and stilled the bleeding - for now. Is he a fighter?"

"Yes, he is strong," Arthur stated.

"Then there is a chance he can make it."

"Take care of him," Arthur pleaded.

Guinevere´s expression was unreadable, her eyes as cold as a winter´s day.

"Do it for me? He´s like a brother to me."

A slight smile touched her lips. "I will, if you say so."

He nodded and stood up to give her a kiss on the forehead.

She showed him a brave smile and watched him walk away to look after the rest of his men. Quickly, her smile faded off. She blinked and tears welled up in her eyes. She blinked again to hold them back. Gently she put a hand on Lancelot´s face and stroked it restlessly. He´s alive. Dear God, make him stay alive. I can´t bear the thought of him being dead. Slowly, she rose to her feet and ordered the men to carry Lancelot back to the quarters. She walked in front of the group and forced herself not to turn around for the foolish purpose to have a look at his face. Not once.

The Midnight hour had passed. Lancelot was still unconscious and covered by blankets he laid on his bed.

Guinevere checked his temperature by touching his forehead. He was burning up. Concerned, she inspected his arrow wound again and put a fresh bandage on it. She wiped his forehead with a cold cloth.

Caught in a fever dream, Lancelot whispered desperate words of home and family and loneliness.

The need in his voice made Guinevere´s heart hurt. She lowered her head and placed a tender kiss on his fever burnt lips. Her heart raced. She had longed for this since the night in the woods, where she had caught him spying on her.

His lips moved and pressed against hers.

Startled, she flinched back.

His eyes were still closed, his breathing still of ill nature.

She let out a sigh and relaxed. She took the place at his side and watching his face, she fell asleep eventually.

Two weeks later, Lancelot´s condition had improved a lot. Honestly - he must be feeling quite well, because he succeeded in infuriating her in every way. Guinevere was close to punch him. Once again Arthur became witness to one of their heated arguments and interfered. "Lancelot, behave yourself. She´s only trying to make you more comfortable. Be a little more grateful because it was her who nursed you back to life."

"I never asked her to," Lancelot growled.

"Arthur asked me to," Guinevere snapped. "I did it for him - not for you."

"Fine with me," Lancelot countered angrily. "I´m feeling quite well and you are excused of the unpleasant burden to take care of me. I will find a woman who will have pleasure in taking care of me in no time."

In a flaming temper, Guinevere whirled around and left both knights to themselves.

Arthur sighed. "Couldn´t you have been more civilised?"

Watching Guinevere´s slender body until she disappeared around the corner, Lancelot softened. "Sorry. I know soon she´ll be your wife."

"Yes, and I would like to see both of you to get along."

"Really?" Lancelot didn´t dare to look at him. He feared the truth could be seen in his eyes.

"Yes. Can you do that?"

"I´ll try." Lancelot closed his eyes, agonized - but not by his healing injuries. "I´m tired."

"I leave you to rest."

Lancelot heard him walk away. His tensed muscles relaxed. I lied to you, Arthur. I don´t feel very well. I feel awful and only for one reason - the woman who will be your wife. She kissed me and I kissed her back. She is yours but I want her to be mine. Lancelot groaned in despair. She´s Arthur´s. She will never be mine. I have to remember this until I have a change to go away. He snorted. Until I can run away.