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hazbinpage · 3 months

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Alastor x reader hcs

(not explicitly romantic, but not explicitly platonic, either — you're just really close and important to each other)

WC is a little over 2000 I think

A/N: This is my first time writing like this, and my first time writing for Alastor, so forgive me if it's a little OOC! It has to be, given that he would never be in a relationship in the show, but I tried to keep him as close to cannon as possible. Please enjoy and lmk what you think!

-Your relationship is that of a very slow burn.

-You might have met in the hotel, desiring to better yourself or wanting a place to stay; you might have met through a mutual connection, Mimzy, Nifty, or Husker having been someone you've grown close to and followed to Charlie's project; or he might have considered you one of "fairer means," and protected you from another demon, earning him your respect and fear and causing you to join the inhabitants of his current residence; regardless, you start out as acquaintances living in the hotel.

- Once settled there, you slowly get to know each other. You both start off with observation: Alastor noting how you interact with the others, your ticks, your strengths, your weaknesses, and your flaws; you seeing the subtle and not-so-subtle ways he reveals his power, his distant stature, his observance, his likes, his dislikes, and just how little he truly discloses. He's a mystery to you, and one you're not sure you should try to uncover.

-You mostly see one another in group dynamics in the first couple weeks or so. If you knew him before you came to the hotel, he might have greeted you ("Ah, Husker's little companion, greetings! (Y/N), was it?") Otherwise, though, he would stay mostly silent until Charlie introduced him herself, after which he'd give a short, fairly dismissive, yet exhuberant welcome. After this, you'd rarely speak, both instead watching as the other engaged with the remaining residents' antics.

- After a few weeks of barely speaking, something would change. You'd begin to show a common interest of some sort, be it music, dance, radio, dad jokes, or food. One of you would approach the other, asking for a friendly dance or striking up a conversation about dinner. You might also connect over a common dislike (modern technology/the Vs, dogs [if that's still cannon], being touched, ect.) While you don't have to have a lot in common, one or two things will spark interest in spending time together — something that is necessary for your relationship to progress.

- After a while of hanging out, you'd become friends, or at least friendly with one another — he enjoys having a companion in his interests.

-He'd probably end up initiating all of your time together, though; he's busy and prefers to be in control of his own schedule. He wouldn't mind necessarily if you tried to reach out, not at all, he'd just decline. If he wanted to hang out, he'd make it happen.

-While he considers you friends, he doesn't care about you — at least, he doesn't at first. He enjoys you in the way he might enjoy watching a character in a book, similar to how he feels about Nifty, just not familially in nature like he (seems to maybe) view her.

-Somewhere along the line, underneath his awareness, his interest in spending time with you will shift in purpose from manipulation, or the desire to engage in his hobbies unalone, to actual interest in you as a person. He doesn't notice this change for a while (sue him, he's been busy running a hotel; why would he pay attention to his feelings toward a side character?), but when he does realize what has happened, he'll be fairly confused by himself. Nothing about you is particularly interesting; you're fairly standard, with an average skillset and personal history. Why does he find himself so intrigued by you? So desiring to spend more time getting to know you? He'll admit, you've been a fun dance partner, and he enjoys when you sit with him as he broadcasts his radio show across hell. And, as much as he loves the fear in your eyes at his more gruesome displays, he always appreciates the kindness in them as you catch up over breakfast. Perhaps that was it — it was a lovely feeling to be feared and cherished at the same time — one so unoften given to him by a demon of a lower stature. He supposes little things like this could result in a friendship, however temporary. It's a similar story to how he befriended Mimzy, after all.

-He's decisive and it doesn't take him long to come to this conclusion. He'll start spending more time around you outside of your mutual interests and dragging you along to affairs outside the hotel. He'll have you meet Rosie and try to get you to eat demon meat. He'll respect it if you refuse, insisting it's your loss, but it won't be the last time he tries to "expand your taste."

-He'll be relatively comfortable with you touching him outside of dance at this point, though only briefly and informally (pats on the back, high-fives, a short hug or two if you haven't seen each other in a while, ect.).

-He'll tolerate more nosiness than before as well; he enjoys the attention from someone he knows and likes, and, depending on the question, he might actually answer you.

-He loves compliments; they feed his ego, and he doesn't mind dishing them back out when appropriate.

-That's the extent of your relationship, though: he finds you enjoyable to hang out with (now as a person more than a character, though there's still some of that sentiment), and he spends more time with you.

-The key to moving past this not-close-but-not-entirely-distant friendship stage is to do something out of character for his sake. If you're greedy, give him something he knows is important to you, no strings attached. If you're easily angered or vengeful, let go of previous wrongs to spend time with him. If you're shy, stand up to someone badmouthing him, especially if he's not there. Such intentional displays of will and care take him off-guard (as off-guard as he can be with someone he's gotten to know so well — you might not know him, but he certainly knows you) and make him feel very cared for.

-Slowly, after these displays, your friendship will progress. He'll start doing things for you, too — at first, in the form of minor deals, where he still gets something but often less than what he gives. Then there are mere trades, where you have most of the benefits with less security for him. Finally, he'll start giving you gifts and doing favors without charge, just as you have for him, on the condition you haven't tried to manipulate him in any way while he felt out the waters. He's slow to trust even someone who he views as harmless; please let him go at his own pace!

-He spends even more time with you as well, finding his preference to be in your company rather than out of it.

-Over time, slowly but surely, you grow closer and closer together. You trust him, and he…kind of trusts you. He has a lot to lose, so the partial trust is the most he's willing to give. It's also the most he's offered to someone since long before he died, perhaps the most ever, aside from his mother.

-This is especially so, given that he's already bound with a deal of his own. He gives himself permission to indulge in this close relationship with you only while knowing he would abandon or use you if it allowed him to be free. He's so desperate and scared, and he knows he’d do anything to rid himself of his burden. He tries to suppress and devalue the guilt that comes with the knowledge of his own ultimate disloyalty and succeeds only most of the time.

-There's no specific turning point either of you can locate where you became more exclusive than friends. You just know that it was before he moved an extra bed into your room so he could be with you while you slept.

-A couple years down the line, when you're more comfortable with each other, he'll sleep in your presence as well. He'll also be willing to cuddle, if you'd like, but he's going to be bad at it (stiff as a board, that one — plus, even when he gets comfortable with it, he'll almost always think of something he needs to do and leave halfway through). He doesn't necessarily enjoy it, but he loves you and is willing to do things he doesn't actively dislike for your sake.

-He'll let you touch his ears, something he hasn't let anyone do before, and finds he enjoys being stroked on the head. I hc this was something his mom did for him when he was younger as he fell to sleep, and is a major comfort to him now. You're just the only person he trusts to do it.

-Head strokes are also the only physical touch-y thing he'll actively seek out and enjoy; everything else is either for manipulation, to make a statement, something he just kind of lets happen (think Nifty crawling on him), or for your sake entirely. He will, however, not do anything or allow you to do anything he actively dislikes. He's very clear about his boundaries in that sense, and if you don't respect them, it will put a damper on your (already quite fragile due to his guilt and fear) relationship.

-In terms of smooching, he will kiss you on the back of your hand and the top of your head once you've grown closer. Closer still, and he'll kiss you on the cheek when you ask. If you've been together for years, he semi-trusts and fully loves you, and you haven't tried to pressure him to do anything he doesn't want, he might kiss you on the lips upon your request. Even after centuries together, though, this is a very rare occurrence.

-His breath stinks anyway; you should thank him for keeping his unsanitary meat grinder away from yours.

-Speaking of which, you have to hound him to brush his teeth. Almost nothing you say convinces him ("I make people uncomfortable, you say? Of course I do — I'm the Radio Demon! Nothing brings me greater pleasure.") The only point you could use that might get him to semi-regularly practice oral hygiene is that demons could look down on him for it. This is entirely dependent, though, on his mental state and general public status at the time.

- He doesn't care to define your relationship; he lets it define itself. He doesn't know what a QPR is and doesn't care to know. He does want you to be at least semi-exclusive, though.

-He also doesn't care if you view him romantically or not; so long as you respect his boundaries and care about him as much as he does you, he's content.

- While he isn't comfortable with you calling him your boyfriend ("It's far too juvenile a term for one such as myself, my dear!") or your husband ("Haha, don't call me that!"), he's more than okay with being referred to as your partner, significant other, or dearest companion; if he calls you anything but your name to others, these terms are what he uses. He views these titles as more ambiguous than explicitly romantic while still giving the context that you are

his person — the most important individual in his life — and that he will have no other.

-Pretty protective, but you might not see it often. He's fully confident in his ability to keep you out of harm's way; he's one of the most powerful demons in the pride ring, after all. Why would he have to worry? That being said, if you ever did manage to be hurt, he would be beyond pissed. He would broadcast your assailant's screams on his radio show for longer than he ever had before.

- Whether he makes it a point to tell other demons who's protection you're under entirely depends on what is revealed about his character in later seasons. He might be very very public about it, talking about you all the time on his broadcast and angering Vox with his PDA (usually just a hand on your back or something of the like to make a statement). On the other hand, he might keep your relationship very private, fearing that the few demons powerful enough to cross him would use his care for you against him. It's one or the other, in my opinion, with very little room in between.

-Speaking of Vox, he would loathe you. Your existence would both flare up his one-sided crush on Alastor and his desire to see the Radio Demon suffer — you take away any non-existent chance of his unrequited love being returned while also making Alastor happy, which he doesn't want. Vox might try to hurt you at some point, though very much away from the public eye, or to steal you away, but his attempts don't go on for very long before Alastor makes it very clear that he's to discontinue his behavior.

-While a person of any demographic could be Alastor's significant other, it will be harder and will take longer for a relationship to develop between him and someone he views as a threat (your relationship would start with him trying to use you for your power, and it would take a long time to fully stray from that nature), and/or another man (it's by no means impossible to develop a relationship with him as a man; he just seems to have more initial patience and fondness for women in general).

-You'll hear more about his life alive than almost anyone else, and he'll especially speak of his mother. He wishes you two could have met. "She'd just adore you," he'd say. It's one way to know how highly he thinks of you.

-He'd let you hold his staff. You wouldn't understand what it meant to him until it broke during his fight with Adam. If you see the fight, that is, he'd be very hesitant to let you near the battlefield. If you ever find out about his deal before he ends it, it's while treating his wound from his fight with Adam, and the information is spilled more or less by accident.

-Chances are he wouldn't come to you while injured, though, both because he doesn't want you to see him as weak and because he doesn't want his cloudy mind to spill any secrets.

-Overall, his relationship with you is a very slow-to-manifest but close and loving one that he holds very dearly in his heart. The only thing he holds closer is freedom. When the deed is done, though, and you're gone, he might realize his priorities were out of order.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor/reader #reader is a sinner #what a Guy #the radio demon #idk what tags this fandom uses #hopefully these are alr #my writing

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sillyfanatic · 1 year

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A strange bond (4)

...it’s been five months, hasn’t it?

Alright, this chapter is delectable. There is conflict for the first time !!! 0-0 I’m so excited to post this and I’m so excited for you guys to read it!! Prepare to get your emotions toyed with <3

Important CW; this chapter is different than the others. There are mentions of injury and blood, nothing too graphic, but it’s not exactly cheery either. There is more violent behaviour (again, not like,, too intense,,) but it’s the middle ages so what can I say!!! Please do not consume this content if it is not for you!!

(wc; 7054) - read it on ao3 here

Lancelot felt as though the air had shifted. The change had been discreet, slow. Though how much time it had taken, the man did not know. It was also very personal, like a small surprise reserved for him and only him – it was akin to a sweet melody filling his head, lacing every waking second with contentment and a quiet peacefulness. In a way, the world seemed to smell sweeter, the scent reminiscent of roses and new comings.

Perhaps Lancelot had let his imagination run a little too wild, but then again, perhaps not?

If he took a moment to think about it, it did not seem to make sense. It was not as if much had changed – the knight was still pinned to the castle, often performing regular menial tasks, patiently waiting for an eventual quest.

So why this sudden cheeriness, this giddiness that possessed him as though it were another’s? It certainly was not his – or rather, the sentiments had not belonged with him until now.

It was completely different from the way he’d felt before visiting Arthur.

Yes, Arthur, he’d-

Why did it all feel different now?

Lancelot considered himself rather intelligent, and yet, here he was, dumbfounded! It felt as if he was staring at the pieces of a puzzle, only to find that each piece belonged to a entirely different landscape. He could hardly see any correlation, could barely form any links between it all…

Because, truly, nothing had changed. And yet everything felt different.

The knight had not yet had the pleasure of spending time alone with the King, not since he’d been dragged to Arthur’s personal quarters. Not since they had spent the evening together, sheltered from it all, alone atop a lush mountain, and carefully hidden beneath the cover of night.

But this did not mean Lancelot had not seen him since – in fact, it was quite the contrary.

The king seemed to be released from his endless paperwork, his numerous counsellors seemingly interested in passing onto other things. Arthur now found himself in meetings; whether they be private or public, with nobles or townspeople, he seemed to be seeing everyone and anyone, almost endlessly.

To the knight, this felt like a large improvement. For one, Arthur did not find himself in a constant cycle of paperwork. As often as these gatherings occurred, they remained in the light, not daring to push past the sun’s setting. This meant that their sovereign found himself with much more flexibility, much more time, time that could be spent however the king desired.

And, well, the second reasoning was rather selfish. These meetings, no matter how boring they may be, allowed Lancelot to spend time with his beloved friend. The knight now found himself in Arthur’s company far more often, stationed besides his throne, observant, protecting. It had now become his duty to be by the other’s side. The other, who always seemed to lean towards him. The other, who’s shoulder brushed against the dark hedgehog’s forearm. The touch hid beneath armour and beneath heavy fabric, and yet it burnt them, starved them, and excited them beyond belief.

As dull as these things could be, Lancelot did not dare to miss an opportunity to assist in guarding his sovereign. And Arthur, who tended to dread these monotonous events, found himself excited to be there, invigorated by the mere presence of his friend.

And so, the two hedgehogs now found themselves together often, more than they had been in a long time.

And it was intoxicating.

Lancelot could not get enough of this fleeting feeling, this warmness underneath his skin, the one that occurred whenever Arthur stood nearby. The knight found himself more eager to do mundane tasks than ever before, catching himself to be almost excited at the prospect of standing for hours, to have no other purpose beyond observing.

Apart from the feathery touches, there were glances, lingering, furtive, and yet not lessened in their intensity. They set the knight’s heart ablaze, the sensation blending with the warmness of his skin.

There were smiles, too. Occasionally, Arthur would bless Lancelot with a grin, the gesture a contrast of warmth as they stood between cold walls. These smiles resided in the in-betweens, in the spaces where no one spoke, in the moments where one meeting transitioned to another.

And this was to speak of the times where Lancelot’s presence did not truly matter. But when the events revolved around the knights of the round table, the militia, or even the castle’s staff? When Lancelot found himself involved in the meetings? Chaos, it was another thing entirely.

When Arthur’s questions fell upon him, when the blue hedgehog’s attention was solely his, it made the rest of the world fade away. It filled his heart with an unknown longing, reddened his cheeks as though he were a child, and threatened his lips to form into an uncharacteristic large grin. In those moments, Lancelot thanked the heavens for the helmet he bore, grateful that it so easily hid his features.

Once, Arthur had winked at him. Fucking winked.

Lancelot nearly died.

It was clear to the knight that he was growing to be more of than a friend to the king. No, they were undeniably closer than that. A confidant, perhaps, Lancelot mused. A partner of some sort, a companion that went beyond the normal bounds of friendship. There was no label to be given, none that could be logically assigned, but it did not matter to them. It was this unspoken thing, a fondness of each other’s company, a longing they both understood.

Lancelot was glad to have found a friend in the man he admired most, and he found himself more ecstatic to know that Arthur shared these feelings as well.

Time was a funny thing, Lancelot pondered as little white snowflakes descended from a greyed sky. They did not cling to him, the warmth of his armour unable to grant them a residence. Instead, they chose the ground, landing delicately on the yellowed grass, undoubtedly tired with their journey from the heavens. Lancelot wondered if they could stay, if by the end of his shift, the castle might find itself cloaked underneath a thin white coat.

The first snowfall of the season.

Autumn had come and gone, charming as she was, but she was never meant to stay. With the arrival of December, she’d gone, leaving space instead for winter’s cold caress. The knight had enjoyed these last few months, finding familiar comfort in the ever-dropping temperatures – but it was now that he felt truly at ease, eagerly welcoming winter’s chill, impatiently awaiting the heavier snowfalls to come.

Who knew what treasures this new season hid? What tasks he may be given, what adventures would come to swoop him away, far from the mundane, far from reality? Only time would tell, and she was as secretive as they came.

Lancelot held his helmet in his left hand, the metal a cooling material upon his bare palms. In his right hand, the knight held a small cloth, maneuvering it around the helmet’s shiny surface, slowly scrubbing away any sign of dirt and grime.

The knight was sat in his bed, relishing in the solitude of his quarters. The room was not large, but that did not bother the man who owned it. It was round, fit snuggly into one of the many towers that were scattered throughout the castle.

Inside it stood a simple cot, adorned in light coloured sheets and a feathery pillow. Besides it, a small desk, one upon which resided few personal artifacts. At the opposite end of this room there sat a wardrobe, much smaller and simpler than the one in Arthur’s bedchambers. Like the other furniture, it was made of dark wood, its surface faded and scratched with time and past occupants.

But Lancelot’s favourite feature did not reside in the furniture, no, in fact, it was much different than that. The knight rejoiced in the simplest architectural choice; the small window carved carefully into the cold stone walls. It was rectangular, its glass almost perfectly smooth and marvellously transparent. The opening faced towards the front of the castle, and from it you could see its long drawbridge and its gate, as well as the village that sat beyond it. There were trees and mountains peppering the horizon, the whole sight like a painting that would be hung in the most extravagant of rooms.

Lancelot could not deny his adoration for this view, neither could he deny the hopeful feeling that came with it. He’d always thought himself blessed to be allowed such a beautiful scenery. It brought a great deal of peace with it – often, in moments of melancholy or unease, in nights where his thoughts seemed to be his greatest enemy, Lancelot could find his composure by simply looking out the window. Whether it be day or night, the hedgehog could not explain the strong feeling of relief that accompanied the action.

And so, Lancelot found himself staring outside his window as he polished his armour, quietly observing the snowfall before him. He sat on his moderately comfortable mattress as he polished, the repetitive movements allowing his mind to wander off.

It had been a long day, but not an unpleasant one. The morning had started early, and Lancelot had made his way towards breakfast, which was often served in the hall. Said hall was quickly cleaned afterwards, the castle’s staff swiftly re-arranging the seating to make place for the day’s first meeting. Lancelot lent a hand to those who needed it, and once the work was done, gladly took his place besides the throne.

This meeting was short lived, dealing with a few minor issues within the castle, things that could barely bother the king. Still, they went over the necessary topics, prompting Arthur for an answer whenever seemed necessary. When all was said and done, Lancelot bowed, bidding farewell to his king, who’s smile drooped a bit as he wished well upon his favourite knight.

It was then that Lancelot spent most of his day aiding in various tasks, overseeing the youth’s sparring lessons, helping the stable’s staff with a few maintenance issues, and even getting the opportunity to take a trip to the marketplace in the village, where the knight was able to buy a few late season products for the castle’s kitchen staff.

The hedgehog had quite enjoyed the tasks thrust upon him today, finding a warm contentment in the company of others. The youth – or soon-to-be knights – were pleasant to observe, and Lancelot found satisfaction in helping with their techniques, even going as far as to pick up a wooden sword for himself, properly demonstrating how to block a sideways sword-based attack, for those who did not know how.

The castle’s stable staff had always been courteous, and the village people treated Lancelot with kindness and respect, something the humble knight did not find himself worthy of.

One would not think Lancelot to be so excited by friendly company. The hedgehog was generally quiet, preferring not to speak much around others – but this did not mean that he did not enjoy their company, in fact, he found such a simple delight in the community around him. These feelings were rarely put to words, but the knight knew well enough that those around him did not need to hear it, that they simply appreciated his occasional presence, just as he did theirs.

The knight had finished his lengthy day with a bit of guard-work, a simple and short shift spent quietly observing around the castle’s halls, assuring everything to be in order.

Now, retired for the evening, he patiently gazed through his small window, awaiting the sun’s rosy descent.

A soft knock sounded on the door, pulling the knight away from his reflections. Furrowing his eyebrows, the man stood. Softly, he placed his helmet upon his desk, draping the small cloth he’d been working with over its newly shined surface. Lancelot moved towards the simple wooden door, almost wondering if he’d imagined the sound as he approached.

Upon opening it, he found someone he did not expect. There, stood before him, was Arthur. It took Lancelot a moment to register the man in front of him, for he looked… different. And that’s when he noticed it – the king was missing his crown. In fact, Arthur was void of all luxurious garments, simply clad in a plain green cloak. His hand was gloved in a modest fabric, a rare sight to see. It was raised in mid air in the shape of a fist, undoubtedly prepared to knock again, but seeing that the door was now open, the king lowered it, beaming a tired smile at the man before him.

The sight was very odd, and it caught Lancelot off guard – Arthur had never been near his quarters before, in fact, Lancelot was not sure how the king had even known this chamber was his. This probably went against several rules, and if it did not, it was certainly against some sort of custom. The knight was used to being fetched by employees, not by the king himself.

“Arthur?” He spoke softly, not wanting to alert anyone that might be lingering about. “Wh-“ he started, observing the man before him, as if he barely believed the image his eyes presented to him “What are you doing here?” He could not stop himself from asking – it was a question he would’ve once considered too rude to utter, but he knew Arthur did not mind. In fact, the man before him seemed overwhelmingly joyful, swinging back in forth from one foot to the other, as if unable to contain the glee that possessed him.

“Good evening to you too, Lance!” He spoke not so quietly, his tone heart wrenching-ly sweet. It made Lancelot’s cheeks warm, something he hoped the dim lighting would not reveal. Arthur ignored the question that had just been spoken, instead asking one of his own; “May I come in?” He spoke, head tilting in question. Ruby eyes widened suddenly; the oddness of the scene was not lost on Lancelot. The king, wanting to enter one of the staff’s bedchambers? It was positively unheard of.

“Yes, of course.” Lancelot spoke after a moment of silence, stepping out of the way in order to let the other in. The other, who smiled brighter and entered excitedly, as if this wasn’t anything to be thought of twice. Lancelot quickly shut the door behind him, turning to observe his friend.

The azure hedgehog was quiet, taking in his surroundings. There wasn’t much to see, really, but Arthur seemed fascinated. Walking over to the desk, he calmly observed the artifacts lining its surface, humming lowly in what Lancelot assumed was… admiration?

“Arthur?” Lancelot questioned again as the other made his way towards the window, observing the view that sat before him.

“Hm?” He answered, shooting a quick glance to Lancelot before returning to the horizon, seemingly mesmerized by the sight of it all.

“I do not mean to be rude, forgive me if I am.” The knight apologized, but he could not contain his curiosity. “Why are you here?” The question was rather blunt and to-the-point, and yet his tone of voice was soft and caring, a low rumble in the quietness of the evening.

Arthur turned to him then, a sparkle of excitement glowing in his bright green irises. “Great question, my dear Lance!” He practically jumped towards him, excitedly grabbing the other’s shoulders. “I had an idea.” He emphasized the last word, mischievous grin plastering itself onto his features.

“An idea?” Lancelot echoed, questioning. Arthur was only serving to further his curiosity, always knowing what to say and what to do to make the knight’s heart feel warm and fuzzy. Lancelot was sure it would land him in trouble some day, but he could not bother himself to care.

“Yep!” He simply replied, nodding his head.

“And may I inquire as to what this idea might be?” It was Lancelot’s turn to tilt his head, curiosity nipping at his mind at the king’s sudden visit and enthusiastic behaviour. Arthur’s touch still lingered on his shoulders, the grip solid and warm, even when felt through his armour.

“Aha!” Exclaimed Arthur, surely waking those that already slept. “That is for me to know, and for you to find out, my dear Lance.” The nickname sent a warm shiver down the knight’s spine, and he felt the tips of his ears darken alongside his cheeks.

The man before him took a step backwards, his touch now vanished from Lancelot’s body. Arthur’s attention seemed solely focused on what lay inside his cloak as he ruffled the fabric, seemingly searching for something. His movements stopped, suddenly, and the king lifted his head. Verdant eyes bore into ruby ones as he spoke; “do you trust me, Lancelot?”

The dark hedgehog knit his eyebrows together thoughtfully. The answer was an assured and resounding yes, and they both knew it. So then, why was Arthur asking such a question? One could easily wonder; What sort of game was he playing?

“Well?” He pressed on impatiently, grip tightening around the still hidden object. Lancelot blinked once, and then another time. He was a smart man, and he knew well enough that there was no escaping now. He felt the unnatural beating of his heart, felt the burning of his cheeks, and found himself delighted at the prospect of a surprise.

“Yes, of course I trust in you, Arthur.” The answer was not shocking, but it pleased the hedgehog before him, who’s smile seemed to somehow grow even more.

“Oh, perfect!” He spoke, finally moving his arm to unveil the object that was hidden beneath his cape. Tightly held in his fist was some sort of fabric, a plain black strip of cotton that seemed ripped, perhaps taken from another garment.

The evening was getting more and more intriguing as time passed by. The knight eyed the king curiously, but when Arthur did not answer, he took it upon himself to ask. “What is this?” He pointed to the material, intrigued.

“That, my dear friend, is a blindfold.” Arthur responded as though it were obvious, moving around the small quarters to stand besides his knight.

“A blindfold?”

“Mhm.”

“And what do you suppose you’ll be doing with that blindfold of yours?”

“Blindfolding you, obviously.” Spoken like it was common knowledge, such was Arthur’s odd way of communication. The knight feared he may never know what were to fall out of his mouth next, although, it thrilled him too. With Arthur, there was no carefully polished script, no specific sayings or manners that were painstakingly perfected. With Arthur, conversations were a game, and Lancelot always felt like the winner.

The dark hedgehog narrowed his eyes as he shot a glance to the man besides him, only to find a predictably enthusiastic Arthur staring right back at him. The knight tore his gaze away quickly, uttering a small sigh. “Fine.” He gave in, allowing the other to do as he pleased.

“Yay!” Arthur cheered, already beginning to wrap the cloth around Lancelot’s head. “You are not going to regret this!”

The air nipped at his cheeks, a cold bite serving as a bitter reminder that he’d left his helmet at the castle. He was not at fault for this, however; Lancelot rarely forgot things, but the knight had been swept away too quickly, distracted by the other’s touch, too distracted to remember an essential part of his armour. Moping was of no use to him, what was done, was done, and what was forgotten would remain so. It was not the worst inconvenience, its absence would merely chill his head, and would also leave him unable to hide his emotions. But in moments like these, moments with Arthur, Lancelot found himself unwilling to hide behind metallic plating. Perhaps this lapse in memory had been a blessing, if one wanted to look at it optimistically.

Still, Lancelot found himself scrunching his muzzle in slight discomfort, the air a bit too frosty for the indoors. Were they outside? Had they left the castle’s security, so late at night? Such a thing was forbidden, but the knight knew well enough that the man besides him did not listen to such rules.

“Almost there!” The other whispered gently in his ear as they took another turn. Lancelot’s inner monologue quieted as he listened, patiently awaiting an auditory clue as to where they might be. He noted the sharp sound of their steps, guessing they were on some sort of stone surface. Perhaps still somewhere in the castle, then. It was the only sound that surrounded them, and so the knight was left rather clueless as he let his sovereign navigate him through unknown surroundings.

Their walk came to a sharp stop as Arthur’s guiding touch vanished, and in its stead, a sort of creaking could be heard. A wind softly brushed at Lancelot’s fur as they advanced further, the echoes of their footsteps taking the sound of a quiet little crunch. They were certainly outdoors now.

The guidance swiftly resumed, and the two found themselves pleasantly silent once again. In their absence of noise, nature spoke to them, humming and buzzing that turned to clues in Lancelot’s ear. There was the gentle whisper of the wind, the wise cracking of old oak trees, and the chattering of a creature nearby. The knight felt his mind twist with every new sound, trying to pinpoint their exact location, and trying to figure out why he’d been brought here.

“Few more steps.” Arthur gently ruptured the silence, slowing their pace. “annnd- Stop!” The directions were clear, and the knight did not disobey them. They stopped in their tracks, and Arthur shuffled around, moving in front of his companion to carefully remove the cloth that blinded him. “Hi.” He greeted softly when ruby irises focused on him. The king shoved the makeshift blindfold back into the pocket it came from, excitedly clasping his hands together once he finished.

“Hello.” Lancelot responded, his breath a small cloud in the frosty night. He blinked a few times, adjusting himself to the light and the colours that existed before him. “Where are we?” He pondered, tearing his gaze away from the man before him, trying to glimpse behind him, to get a sense of where he’d been taken.

“Not far.” Was all the king offered as a response. Without waiting another second, Arthur stepped aside, allowing Lancelot to properly assess where they stood.

The dark hedgehog let out a soft gasp as he finally took in their surroundings, eyes growing wide with wonder. Arthur had brought them along some kind of path, one that was delicately lined with massive old trees, their branches reaching high above them to form a sort of canopy. With the absence of leaves, the moon’s glow was able to pierce through weaving branches, its beam almost blinding. It beautifully highlighted the thick blanket of snow that softly covered the world around them – but this snow was different, it was completely untouched, brightly glimmering like the stars above it. The scene was so breathtaking, so pure in its simple beauty, but most importantly, it was quiet. Everything felt so muffled, Lancelot could hear himself breathing so clearly, for Chaos’ sake! It was beyond comforting, and the knight simply felt at home here.

Lancelot was in awe.

He had always been so fond of the winter, finding comfort in its peacefulness whilst others thought of the season as a nuisance, among other things. This feeling it gave him, it could hardly be described, but the knight knew he felt it now, in this moment, perhaps even more than ever before.

“It’s so…” He was barely able to string words together, unashamed to admit that he was distracted.

“I know.” The other replied, a sort of breathlessness in his voice, a feeling akin to Lancelot’s.

“How did you…” Lancelot’s eyes shimmered as he calmly observed everything. His gaze carefully combed every detail of the path before them, committing the scene to memory. By now, he’d completely forgotten about the air that froze his cheeks, too awestruck to care anymore. “How did you know I would like this?” He spoke so quietly, tearing his gaze away from the mesmerizing sights before him, turning to observe the man that stood besides him.

The king laughed softly, the kind of laugh where the corners of your eyes crinkle in a child-like joy. His gaze was solely focused on his knight as he spoke; “Well, you’re not very discreet you know.” Arthur teased, smile lining his lips. His cheeks were darkened with the cold, the tips of his ears, too. Lancelot found the sight charming. “You always sneak a glance or two out the window whenever it snows, I’ve noticed.”

Lancelot smiled sheepishly, barely able to contain the glee that spread through him.

“Care to join me?” Arthur questioned, extending a gloved hand out to the other.

“Of course.” Lancelot answered. Why would I ever want to do anything else?

He took the king’s hand in his, appreciating the warmth of Arthur’s gloves within his bare hands. It was yet another thing he’d forgotten to bring in the excitement of the king’s visit, and he hadn’t realized how cold his fingers had gotten until they were held by another’s.

In silence, they began to walk. Their footsteps left traces in the fresh-fallen snow, the first mark of life against the still horizon. They strolled past trees and thickets, empty hedges and wilted flowers, but it was all undeniably, and simply, beautiful.

Lancelot was content in the absence of words, of any sound altogether. He felt so at home here, so safe in Arthur’s presence, so, so…

He could not describe it.

“Why?” Lancelot spoke after a long pause, glancing to the man besides him.

“Why not?” Arthur retorted, quick as ever.

“Why did you bring me here?” His voice was quiet again. Perhaps he was afraid that if he spoke any louder, emotions might betray any semblance of calm he’d tried to maintain.

The king paused, stopping their stride. Lancelot walked a pace or two forward, separating their hands. The knight turned to face him, already missing the feeling of the other’s touch. They stood for a few seconds, only a foot or two of space separating them. They observed each other quietly, every exhale forming a little white cloud that disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

Arthur looked so regal here, carefully bathed in a bright glow. This was no revelation to Lancelot, in fact, this was just something he’d come to know, as they often found each other underneath the moon’s gaze. Evenings and nights belonged to them, and only them.

“Uhm, well.” The azure hedgehog started, smiling sheepishly. The words cut through Lancelot’s thoughts, nipping at his curiosity.

“What is it?” He inquired calmly. “I’m sure I will not mind the explanation.” He added quietly when the other did not respond.

“Yeah, it’s uhhh.” The king’s eyes darted away, seeking to observe something else. He fiddled with his hands a bit, too, and had his cheeks reddened a bit more since he’d started speaking? Was Arthur feeling flustered? If Lancelot were feeling brave, perhaps he’d dare to ask the question.

“Arthur.” He stated calmly, sensing the nerves emanating from the other. It was odd to see him like this, his character was usually so assured, never veering into hesitance, no matter the situation. “Please.” A silent pleading was enough to tug Arthur outside of his unusual silence, to gently push him into speaking.

“Well, I know it’s a special time of the year for you, and I was made aware that your birthday is very soon, so I wanted to take you here, just as a thank you.” He cleared his throat, lightly shrugging his shoulders, as if this were nothing. “You know, for everything you’ve done for me and all that.” His smile was timid, and the knight would be lying to himself if he did not admit that it was a charming look. Lancelot was so enthralled, enamoured by the other’s words.

He allowed himself to smile again, before answering. “Arthur, it is my greatest pleasure to serve you.” He paused, taking a deep breath. The fluttering in his chest had been present all night, but it was overwhelming, now, threatening to lift him away entirely. “But it is an honour to be your friend.”

“Lance, you don’t know how much that means to me, I-“ Arthur bit his lip nervously. “If I must be honest, there is another reason I brought you here.” The king looked plain nervous now; it was truly an odd look on him. “Chaos, I-“ He took a deep breath, eyes peering into Lancelot’s. “I think I’m-“

snap.

The sudden snapping of a branch resounded throughout the forest, tearing the two away from the moment they shared.

crack.

Another, a louder sound, a closer one.

Lancelot approached Arthur now, rapidly closing the distance between them. The knight’s eyes were frantic, searching for the origin of the noise. It was most likely an animal of some kind, and with any luck, a small one.

Still, the dark hedgehog could not ignore the feeling that crept up his spine.

Something was wrong.

“Lance-“ Arthur spoke behind him. Quickly, the knight spun on his feet, moving to clamp the other’s mouth shut. The king’s eyes went wide, verdant irises staring into him, unable to ask the questions that filled them. Lancelot kept his grip firm, moving to place his mouth besides Arthur’s ear.

“Quiet.” He ordered hastily, uncaring of whether it seemed rude or not. “We are not alone.”

Slowly, he tore his hands away, Arthur assuring him with a quick nod that he was not to speak again. The knight pivoted, observing the innocent path. It was unmoving, as it had been all night, but something felt undeniably wrong. Lancelot was starting to doubt that they were in an animal’s presence, for surely, it would have made itself known by now.

“You really shouldn’t be here, you know.” A voice, deep, arrogant in tone. And following it, a figure, pacing calmly from behind a tree’s cover, stood only a few feet from them.

“Who are you?” Lancelot spoke harshly, unimpressed by the other. If this was someone’s idea of a jest, it had fallen to the wrong audience.

“That’s not of your concern, I’m afraid.” The other spoke, stepping closer. They were cloaked in a dark, mud-brown cape, their hood concealing their features. The cloth opened slightly, and beneath it, a dull silver pommel could be observed.

The knight spun, observing the man behind him. Arthur did not look nervous, or even afraid. In fact, the king seemed rather annoyed, his features contorted in a bit of a scowl as he followed the situation unfolding before them.

“You have no business here.” The king shouted, unamused by the presence of another.

“Oh, really?” The stranger spoke, the tone mocking. “And who are you, to tell me, what I can and cannot do?”

“It’s of no concern to you.” Arthur spat the words, mimicking what the stranger had spoken before. The stranger who was now taking a step closer, approaching them. Lancelot’s heart was beginning to race again, and this time, for different reasons entirely.

Unphased, they spoke again; “Bold attitude, bright blue quills, say, aren’t you a little familiar?” The sentence was followed by a sharp laugh, and Lancelot could not help the bitterness that settled on his tongue. They had to leave, and they had to do so quickly, before whatever this was escalated any further.

“It would be wise for you to be gone.” Lancelot spoke calmly, despite the annoyance that continued to grow within him. He did not wish to instigate violence, but he would not cower from a fight.

“Yes, I’m terribly afraid of you and your little boyfriend, please, don’t hurt me!” The stranger retorted, his tone dripping with mockery. Where does this imbecile think he is? Who does he think he’s speaking to? Lancelot was not one for entitlement, rather, he thought it bold that a mere stranger would dare to speak to the king like so. “Enough, for Chaos’ sake. We are aware of who you are, and that’s all you need to know.” They spoke again, seemingly bored of this interaction.

We?

Lancelot only had time to furrow his brows before two other figures joined the ‘conversation’, these two appearing out of nowhere, much closer than the other. They bore similar cloaks, though theirs were coloured a dark grey.

The knight shot a glance to the man besides him, whose sword was already drawn. There was a smirk on his face and a challenge in his eye, a pure look of thrill that was so Arthur, it almost hurt. And Lancelot knew that he should not be letting the king participate in combat like this – such was knight’s duty, after all. His mere presence meant that Arthur needn’t fight, that he would always be protected.

None of that mattered, Lancelot feared, for he knew Arthur well enough to know that there was no stopping him.

And besides, where was the fun in fighting alone?

The knight drew his sword from its sheath, thankful that his fondness of its weight on his belt never let him forget it. He exchanged another glance with Arthur. “Ready?” He questioned, already knowing the answer.

“I was born ready.”

The unnatural clang of metal against metal pierced through the forest, tainting the innocent atmosphere nature had so carefully curated.

Sharpened swords cut through the frosty air, swung with precision and skill.

Their opponents were far from excellent, but where they lacked in practice, they were bountiful in persistence. They played defence more than was favorable, preferring to avoid attacks rather than returning them. This was such a grating technique – if it could even be called that – and it was enough to keep the duel in motion for longer than necessary.

Arthur was a skilled swordsman, managing to fend off the two grunts in grey as Lancelot occupied himself with the other.

The other, the creature in the brown cloak, the stranger without a face and without reason. The knight could not help himself from feeling curious, from wondering who this adversary might be, and what kind of grudge they held against the king.

The words they’d exchanged had been vague, hazy, but Lancelot had caught on quickly that they did not meet simply by mistake or coincidence. These mercenaries were seeking something, and the dark hedgehog did not wish to see it come to fruition.

“You know your way around a sword.” The other spoke as Lancelot swung his weapon again, aiming for their arm. The stranger took a step to their left, swiftly avoiding the blow. They were a bit bold, too bold for someone that did not bear armour. Perhaps they did not care about being struck, or perhaps that fact was not even a possibility in their heads.

The knight did not respond, attention focused solely on disarming his target. The target, who seemed to be happy in avoiding hits, rather than blocking them. Lancelot huffed in annoyance, recognizing the arrogance that was written all over them. The way they spoke, the way they fought, it was entirely pretentious – indicative, even, of a lack of skill.

The knight upped his pace, dragging his sword left and right, angling it just so, and forcing the other to push more effort into their duel. This did not seem to please the stranger, who tried to up their pace as well, failing to do so as eloquently as their opponent.

Lancelot swung again, placing as much strength as possible in the movement, assuring a harsh clash of metal against metal as his opponent barely blocked the hit. The knight pressed forward, pushing the other’s sword closer to their chest, waiting.

His opponent’s blade started to shake with exertion, and that’s when the knight took the opportunity to swiftly disarm his target, assuring that the sword fell somewhere far away.

Lancelot’s boot met with the other’s chest, and the stranger was pushed roughly against a tree, a blade pressed firmly against their neck.

“Congratulations.” They spoke lowly. The dark hedgehog’s features were set in a scowl, his chest moving rapidly as he regained his breath. He was not used to having his expressions so exposed, his face bare for anyone to see.

“Who are you?” He questioned, like he’d done so earlier.

“No one. A name for hire, that’s all.”

“So this was not your idea, was it?”

“No.” They replied dryly, moving uncomfortably against the bark of the tree. The blade dug into their fur as they brought a gloved hand up, peeling away at the hood that covered their features.

It was a fox. A fox with a pointed muzzle and bright yellow eyes, a fox whose fur was no longer bright orange, but rather a dull brown that matched their cape. Their face was lined with scars, some healed and some not. They smiled as Lancelot observed them, their teeth sharp and yellowed.

“And who might be responsible for your hire, then?”

The stranger opened their mouth, certainly on the verge of speaking, when a shout distracted the conversation.

“Lance!” It was a sharp cry that appeared somewhere behind him, spoken in a familiar voice. The knight felt his heart drop, his stomach tying itself in a knot as he rapidly spun around, eyes frantically searching the horizon.

It took a moment to make sense of the scene, but it was clear soon enough. One of the other mercenaries had cornered Arthur, whose weapon was nowhere to be found. The third one lay on the forest floor a few feet from them, droplets of blood decorating the freshly fallen snow around them.

It was as if the knight’s memory had been completely erased, for Lancelot could not remember what he had just been doing. The only thing that mattered now was to protect the king, to honour the vow he so strictly lived by.

Lancelot ran, boots thudding harshly against the ground, and yet no sound reached his ears. It was as if his ears had stopped working, ringing sharply with a boost of adrenaline that was brought forth by fear. Fear, an emotion he so rarely felt, was now so present in him. It clawed at his heart, tightened his stomach, and left no place for rationality in his mind.

Ruby irises focused on the objective before them, rapidly approaching with a strange determination, the only emotion that manage to pierce through the fear, to join it.

Lancelot prided himself for his speed, but this was something else entirely. The stranger in the grey cape barely had time to look back upon their shoulder – certainly hearing the rapid footfalls approaching them – before it was too late. Lancelot was onto them in a matter of seconds, sword tearing away at skin beneath cloth, merciless.

It was not long before his opponent fell, too injured to withstand the weight of their own body. The knight’s task was now accomplished. He turned quickly towards Arthur, rushing by his sovereign’s side. Gently, Lancelot touched him, observed him, assuring that no harm had come to his beloved.

“Are you hurt?” He whispered hurriedly as he took Arthur’s hands in his, inspecting them, affirming that they were not harmed.

“No, no, I’m fine, are you?” Arthur rapidly returned the question as the knight finished his impromptu check-up, still holding the other tightly by his shoulders, almost as if he was afraid to let go.

“Yes, I’m alright.” He answered, pausing. “Where’s your sword?”

“It’s not far, I’m sure.” The blue hedgehog replied, waving it off as if it were nothing.

“Arthur, you have to be careful, you could’ve-“

“I know.”

“They wanted to-“

“Lance.” The king spoke firmly, taking the other’s face within his own hands. The knight’s cheeks had grown so cold, and Arthur’s hold was so blessedly warm, it almost hurt. “It’s alright, I’m alright.” He reassured, smiling softly. “You’re alright, too.”

Lancelot returned the smile, his hold on Arthur’s shoulders tightening in an affectionate manner. “Yes, of course.” He replied, feeling his heart start to calm itself down. They observed each other calmly, revelling in the other’s presence, in each other’s safety. Lancelot’s gaze fell upon Arthur’s lips for a few seconds, until they parted, and the king spoke; “Right, now let’s get out of here, for Chaos’ sake.” The sentence was followed by a lopsided smile, and it was enough to snap the knight back into reality.

“Yes, of course.” Lancelot replied, taking a hold of Arthur’s hand, holding it tightly as they spun around. The grey forms of their opponents lied quietly in the snow, unmoving. The other, the fox in the brown cloak, was nowhere to be found.

Quickly, they sought out Arthur’s sword, its dirtied surface lying in the snow not far from them. The approached it, the knight leaning down to grasp it, his hold upon Arthur’s hand never ceasing. Lancelot handed the sword to his king, who took it gratefully, swiftly slotting it in its rightful place.

And with that, they were gone, leaving it all behind them. They re-traced their steps quickly, the old oak trees watching them pass by with urgency. The chilling breeze blew behind them, as if encouraging them to run, to go home.

In between the heavy footfalls and the rapid breaths they shared, there was a moment of peace. A feeling, not unlike the ones they had been surrounded by all evening. Lancelot had tried to give it a name, perhaps to understand its existence, to categorize it into something. And yet, no matter how hard he had tried, he could not label it. It was foreign, yet welcoming and comforting. It was found evenings with Arthur, it was the joy in seeing him smile. It was a shared laughter, a moment alone, yet together. It was warmth, a feeling of bliss in finding each other safe.

It was love.

<- previous part!!

following part!! ->

A/N

>hfjhfiuheihr ok first, an apology. i am SO sorry this goofy little thing is posted 5 months from the other one,, thats uhm, my bad. In my defense!!!! I was in a different country for four of those months. so. n e ways,,

>i hope you guys enjoyed this one! it (obviously) took me a long while to write it, and i’m actually very proud of the results :,) i’m not usually awesome at writing conflict, so i hope this didn’t seem too random. Let me know your thoughts! positive criticism is always super appreciated.

> also, if you liked it, don’t be afraid to comment and / or reblog!! It is v appreciated >:3

#myr writes #my writing #a strange bond #sonadow #lansoni #arthurlot #shadnic #shadow the hedgehog #shadow #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #king arthur #Sir Lancelot #gay hedgehogs #alr hopefully the next installment isnt like. 5 months from now #eeeee im so happy with this #pls tell me our any and every thought omg.

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