Wings

Chapter 3

Lancelot opened his eyes slowly. He was in a small stone room; a cell. He was in the dungeons. His head hurt and the ground was hard and cold beneath him. He heard footsteps and saw Elyan and Leon coming towards him. They were glaring at him.

"Leon? Elyan? What's going on?" He asked as he pushed himself up. He only made it halfway off the floor before both knights gripped his shoulders tightly, painfully, and pulled him to his feet. Before Lancelot could properly react he was being dragged out of the dungeons and outside.

The sunlight blinded him for a moment but he could still feel his two friends pulling him along. He could hear voices, but he couldn't focus on a single one of them. Until he heard Arthur.

"This man is a monster. He has been plotting against Camelot for years, and in that time managed to gain our trust, but now we know his true nature and he will be punished accordingly."

Lancelot's bit back a gasp when his eyes finally adjusted to the sunlight and he saw a pyre ahead of him. He tried to push back but the two knights forced him to keep walking toward his doom. They held him against the pyre while Percival wrapped a rope around his wrists, successfully keeping him tied to the post. Then he saw him.

"Gwaine!" Lancelot called out desperately as Arthur continued to speak. Gwaine looked up at him, but not in the way Lancelot expected. Instead of that charming, carefree, protectiveness he would usually have, Gwaine stared up with an expression of hatred and disgust. It was then that Lancelot realised he was holding a torch. He was going to light the fire.

As the other three knights left, Gwaine walked forward, ignoring Lancelot's pleading look.

"Gwaine please," Lancelot begged, tears threatening to spill.
"You really thought I admired you? How stupid are you?" He asked coldly.
"You promised," Lancelot whispered. He couldn't believe what was happening. Gwaine had told everyone. They hated him. They were going to kill him.
"Promises are made to be broken," Gwaine spat back venomously as he held the torch over the pyre, the flames engulfing the wood instantly.

The smoke filled Lancelot's lungs. The heat of the fire made him feel unbelievably weak. He coughed, struggling to breathe. It didn't matter anyway. Everyone was watching with sick grins on their faces. He looked up at the castle and saw Arthur, Gwen and Merlin standing there, staring down at him. They all had straight faces; no regret. Lancelot hung his head in defeat as the fire grew closer.

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Lancelot bolted up, eyes wide and breathing heavy. He looked around wildly, desperately trying to figure out where he was. His chambers. In his bed. It was a dream. It wasn't real. But Lancelot couldn't stop shaking, couldn't stop gulping in each breath like it would be his last, as he waited for his friends to appear again and take him back to that pyre.

He jumped as he heard a knock on his door. His chest hurt and his breathing became even more rapid as he waited for someone to come in and look at him with that same hatred he'd seen in the nightmare, but it never happened.

He heard the door open but kept staring straight ahead, feeling like each breath was stabbing him. He heard a gasp. Someone said his name. They sounded worried. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder and he tensed, ready to be dragged out again, but it didn't happen.

Lancelot looked over at the person and saw that it was Gwaine. Still shaking uncontrollably, still terrified, Lancelot pulled away and tried to scramble off the bed to escape what he was sure would happen next. He felt both of Gwaine's hands grip his shoulders and he couldn't breathe.