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A Misunderstanding of Legendary Proportions	By : monochrome Category: M through R > Mists of Avalon Views: 2125 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own or associate with the book The Mists of Avalon or the author(s), publisher, etc. of said book, nor do I make money from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 1-A Misunderstanding of Legendary Proportions
- 2-Clearing Things Up
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- 2
A/N: Whew! This one was a doozy to write! I've had similar scenarios to this floating around in my head ever since I read “The Mists of Avalon” by Marion Zimmer-Bradley. Great book, by the way. Anyways, at one point Lancelot's infatuation with Guinevere is explained as his coping with not being able to have Arthur... So I decided to take a few liberties (like making Guinny awesome instead of annoying and making Arthur close to Morgaine (but not incestually close-- Mordred's not gonna happen in this story). There'll prolly be more than just that) to make sure that Arthur gets his knight in shining armor and Lancelot gets his king-- I still haven't quite decided whose gonna be top and bottom... I may just have them switch off.
Ahem. Anyways, more drama in the next few chapters... and maybe even a lemon or two! :D Please leave a review to feed my muse-- I sorta drained her to start this story. Enjoy!

Chapter 1:
It had been a rumor around the castle for months, whispered behind hands that quickly went silent as the king approached. But Arthur paid no heed to the idle talk concerning the amount of time Lancelot and Guinevere were spending alone together-- they were his most trusted of companions, after all. Loyal to a fault, the young king chose to believe the best of his wife and closest friend.
But he couldn't help the twinge of suspicion that was growing in his heart. Whenever Arthur saw them together, their smiles seemed so bright, their bodies so comfortable in each other's presence. And when she'd been visiting for the solstice, Morgaine had slyly hinted that she knew what was really going on behind closed doors. He asked her what she meant, and of course the beautiful priestess sidestepped the question, murmuring demurely about the events being foggy in her mind's eye.
It was moments like this when Arthur was reminded of just how infuriating older sisters could be.
Still, he put it all aside in order to concentrate on the campaigns against the Saxons. It was after one such journey that his carefully maintained ignorance was rudely ripped away from him when he walked right in on solid proof of the rumors. Or so he thought.
After all, there couldn't really be any other explanation for Lancelot laying on the bed Arthur shared with his wife, and said wife was at the foot of the bed, hastily belting her dress. Arthur stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the golden-haired beauty whose face said it all. He turned his gaze to Lancelot, who was slowly sitting up, hands raised defensively as his dark eyes met Arthur's blue ones.
“Arthur, I know how this looks, but I swear on my honor it's not what you--”
The spell holding Arthur in place broke at the brunet's words. He darted to the bed, grabbed his friend by the front of his tunic, and hauled him to his feet. “On your honor?! You dare speak of honor and attempt to lie at the same time?!” He shouted. Lancelot flinched slightly but maintained eye contact with the king. “Well, unlike you, my eyes only tell me the truth! How can I, with what I've found here in my own room, have any choice but to believe those nasty rumors of you two? My closest confidantes, betraying me while I'm away at war!”
Guinevere laid a trembling hand on Arthur's shoulder, jerking away as if she were burnt when Arthur turned his furious gaze on her. She swallowed nervously, but didn't back down. “Darling, you must believe us-- we have not now, nor have we ever, betrayed you! I know you are angry, but it is only the truth when we tell you nothing has happened between us.”
“Ah, but it would have if I had not come home at this time, would it not?!” Arthur spat back, still not relinquishing his hold on Lancelot's clothes. Looking from one face to the other, the betrayal and pain smoldering in Arthur's eyes were heartbreakingly clear. “My dearest companions... my wife and my shield-brother... How could you do this to me?”
Moving slowly lest he trigger another tirade, Lancelot gently placed his hands over Arthur's, holding them close to his heart. “My king, even if you refuse to believe, nothing would ever happen between Guinevere and I. We are more like siblings than lovers-- I simply will never see her that way, nor she, me. We are friends and nothing more.”
Each reassurance was chipping away at his fury, dropping him into a deepening despair. More than anything, the blond king wished he could believe what they were saying... but how could he? All of the signs were there, laid out for even a fool to see. And Arthur was no fool.
“If that is true, how might you explain what I saw when I walked through that door?” His voice was dull, his grip loosening even though Lancelot still held his hands in place. “How can you prove to me you aren't trying to steal her away from me?”
Only then did the dark haired knight let go of Arthur's hands and look away, his lips pressed into a firm line. “I'm... afraid my answer to that, while clearing up one problem, will only create more. And either way, you'll hate me...”
“Oh, for God's sake, Lance!” Both men jumped and stared at Guinevere. Hands in fists on her hips, she was suddenly looking less like a gilded angel and more like a harried fishwife. Clearly, something Lancelot said had gotten to her. “If he's going to hate you one way or the other, you might as well just tell the truth! What you say is not going to leave this room, so out with it already!”
As Arthur continued to stare at his wife, the knight hung his head in guilt and shifted awkwardly from one slippered foot to the other. “But... I cannot...”
“What in the name of all that is holy are you two talking about?” Arthur murmured, anger and hurt forgotten in this new confusion. Why was Guinevere angry? And more importantly, why was Lancelot acting so guilty for something that apparently had nothing to do with the situation at hand?
Guinevere let out an exasperated noise and slapped her hand to her forehead. “Fine, if he won't say it, I will.” She met her husband's eyes, a grimace twisting her rose petal lips into a rather unattractive shape. “Dearest, the reason Lancelot and I have been spending so much time together is he was having a slight crisis. You see, he's gone and fallen for someone who he most likely won't ever have, and not only that... but the object of his affection is a man. That is why an illicit affair between he and I is simply absurd. He was just helping me pick out my gown for dinner tonight!”
Arthur's brows had shot up nearly to his hairline, his mouth suddenly dry. Eyes darting from Lancelot, who was still stubbornly staring at the floor with a blush burning brightly on his cheeks, to Guinevere who was breathing heavily and tapping her foot in irritation. “A... a man?” he rasped out. The knight shrunk in on himself a bit, nodding weakly.
Nodding as well, the queen took a breath and took the confession one step further. “Yes. He's in love with a man. One who's quite attractive, actually, but not very smart. Married, but his wife has no problem with how Lancelot feels. In fact, she wouldn't really care if her husband decided to have the very affair he's accused her of having! Now, if only that man could stop being a royal fool, maybe this incident could be resolved.”
A few moments of silence. Then the meaning of her words finally penetrated Arthur's skull, and suddenly the king looked like he'd just gotten kicked by a horse.
“He loves me?!”
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A Misunderstanding of Legendary Proportions