[Oh, but he's wrong about that: anger-- not focused enough to be hatred, not at any one man-- is the only reason he still has any fight left in him after all this time and all those wounds. But he does, in earnest, let the strain in his shoulders settle down to rest, back slumping against hewn stone. Breath a wheezing rattle in his throat on the exhale, too tired to brook an argument.
And more than that, he needs Lucan comfortable enough to unlock those bars-- needs him daring to come close. Counts out the beats of his own heart like a timer; waits for the right moment, just as he always had. Just as Malory had taught him.]
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And more than that, he needs Lucan comfortable enough to unlock those bars-- needs him daring to come close. Counts out the beats of his own heart like a timer; waits for the right moment, just as he always had. Just as Malory had taught him.]