Over the past few months, Gwaine often rode to the clearing in the forest. Each time, he felt a small, unrealistic, glimmer of hope that Lancelot would be there waiting for him. That, if he kept going back, he'd find his knight and they could be together again. He'd imagined what would happen countless times. They'd go back to the castle, Lancelot would be welcomed back, they'd tell everyone about their relationship and they could just be happy. But that would never happen. Gwaine wasn't sure he'd ever be happy again. He'd lost people before, but Lancelot was different. He'd loved Lancelot and Lancelot had loved him just as much. He was so sure they'd be together forever. They'd told Merlin about their relationship and he'd been so happy for them. They were going to tell the others, but the dorocha had attacked just days before they planned to and Lancelot had...
There was no point telling them now. They were all still grieving, though their moods seemed to be slowly improving as time went on. Whatever had happened between Gwaine and Lancelot wouldn't matter to them. If it did, would it be such a good thing? It wouldn't bring Lancelot back, that much was obvious, but what if they didn't react well to Gwaine's confession? If they kicked him out for loving another man, Gwaine didn't know what he'd do. Before, it hadn't seemed so bad; when Lancelot was still there. Even if the others shunned them back then, they'd still have each other. Now Gwaine only had Merlin as support, but he refused to bring the boy into it. Lancelot had been Merlin's friend and Merlin had had to watch him sacrifice himself. Dragging the warlock into Gwaine's problems would only be cruel.
Gwaine stared up at the sky. It was just starting to get dark. Lancelot had told him a myth one night, exactly like the night Gwaine was experiencing at that moment; a few clouds scattered around and a pink and orange glow enveloping everything as the shadows became even longer and cooler. They'd sat by the window in Gwaine's chambers that night and Lancelot had said, "I heard that if you wish on the first star that appears at night, no matter what, your wish will come true," as he pointed to a single twinkling light in the sky.
"What's your wish then?" Gwaine had asked.
"I already have my wish," he'd replied with a smile.
"And what's that?"
"Guess," Lancelot had responded just before they shared a long kiss.
"What's your wish?" Lancelot's voice echoed in Gwaine's mind.
The knight closed his eyes and let a tear fall as he made his wish on that same light he'd seen all those months ago.
A single lonely tear, a single lonely star, a single lonely knight. He only hoped that the myth was true, though he'd never really believed it. He'd already lost his love, so what was the harm in wishing to have him back?
