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05 February 2011 @ 01:59 pm
Hard to believe that it has been over four years since sasha_b and I began writing Fields of Innocence! We are still going strong and as a reminder to those of you who still follow this community: you can catch up with us on the forum HERE. We have three role plays at present: Fields of Innocence [KA movie verse] Tarnished Metal [Legends verse] Unforetold Destiny [KA movie verse] We are joined by fellow writers cd_ward and kushiels_lady in the two additional RPs. Hope to see you on the forum! And thank you for your long time support of our efforts.
 
 
07 December 2008 @ 04:25 pm


To all our readers, we have decided to continue this RP in a different format. So please join us on our new forum created just for the telling of this story and hopefully will now be much easier for readers to follow. Also, we have given an area for comments and feedback. Please head over to Fields of Innocence, the forum to read the continuation of the story in THIS thread. And if you would like to leave feedback, please register on the forum in order to post comments. Thank you for your ongoing support and readership. This journal will remain here as it contains our history, but we will transfer the most recent entries into an archive section on the forum as well. Also, we will no longer post new entries here. See you at our new home!
 
 
Current Location: Camboglanna
Current Mood: accomplishedaccomplished
 
 
02 October 2008 @ 09:18 pm
Having stopped - wisely - to pick up a thicker jacket, Lancelot smirked to himself as he and Arthur walked through the courtyard and toward the stables. Not a morning person, Lancelot found himself able to traverse the short distance from the main quarters building through the crisp morning air - he breathed deeply and was rewarded with the tang of still burning torches and a bit of Arthur - and not mind too much. He shook his head and began to plan things for that evening. Arthur would not know what hit him. The other man thought himself to be charming by mentioning the promise Lancelot had made? So be it. The Sarmatian would do more than charm Arthur after the sun had fallen that night.

His full lips curved in a wide, but secretive smile, and he glanced at the man walking to his right. A conundrum, to be sure. They were complete opposites - in looks, in movements, in behavior, in beliefs, and yet -

Lancelot raised a hand and felt at his lion pendant. Strong, fierce, loyal to the death, his tribe would look at him in wonder and then perhaps leave him to his fate - alone - should they have known what one of their sons was doing - with a Roman man.

The man part didn't matter so much; Lancelot liked sex - he was a sensual person and found beauty wherever he could, no matter the source. He had a feeling that his family and the rest of them would say the same. However...Roman.

Gods. A Roman! He allowed a Roman to fuck him! To claim his body as well as what passed for his soul! They'd already taken Lancelot physically from his home; here he was, giving himself over even more.

He bit his lip, and swung his arms, the heavy jacket not stopping all of the chill from invading his flesh. He turned his head to rub his eye - sleepy still, despite all the 'activity' this early in the day - and caught sight of Arthur, who seemed to be mediating on something as they walked.

The other man was silent but seemed happy and content - words that definitely did not come to mind when thinking on Arthur most of the time. The young commander must have known he was being watched, though, for his green eyes suddenly turned to Lancelot's face, and -

forever, I am yours as long as you'll have me

something passed between them, the air becoming still, the cacauphony of bird song seeming to cease, the noise of the garrison in the morning fading to nothingness as Lancelot faltered while he walked. Redness rose in his face and on the back of his neck.

He opened his mouth to say something silly and cutting; for once, nothing came. He found he didn't want it to. He wanted this.

A shout and the sound of men running as some idiot legionary dropped the end of the trebuchet he had been carrying and broke the mood. Lancelot stepped a bit closer to Arthur in the melee - and smiled, a tiny, serene thing that slipped away from his face just as the moon does the moment the brilliant sun outshines it each morning.

"Come, Arthur," he said, just to say the other man's name. "Horses."

~

And they were there, and so was Tristan, that early rising bird-lover. Lancelot scowled but increased his step as they approached the four new geldings whose coats shone in the light of the new day. "Tristan, you shit," he called. "You'd best not have touched even one of those fine creatures. I am the second in command, and I get to pick first."

His step increasing, he vaulted over the fence that ran around the exercise yard, and stood next to the scout. "What do you think?" he said, his voice quiet so he wouldn't startle the animals - although they seemed to be of good, stable stock. There was one he was immediately struck by - it was dark brown, an almost chesnut color, and had a strange white mark on its chest, above where its heart must lay.

"Good animals," Tristan replied. "Arthur," he added.

"No, they don't have names ye- oh, yes. Arthur," he confirmed as the commander arrived at the fence. "He wanted to see them too. I promised him a good new warhorse - his current mount, although lovely, is getting a bit long in the tooth. What do you think, commander?" he asked, his smile infectious as he nodded to the stock.

Give me this. Give me horses, solid earth to ride them on, and this kind and constant man at my side - and I can go oh, so far.

Please, gods of my ancestors. Hear me this once.
 
 
03 August 2008 @ 04:21 pm
 
Early the next morning just before sunrise [and our return from hiatus]
 
~      ~      ~      ~      ~ 
 
The Roman slept well in what few hours had remained in the night; still and dreamless for the most part until….
 
….soft rolling hills of green and an uncommon blue sky overhead had Arthur unusually distracted from his labor in the warmth of the afternoon. He had ordered a short break for the men and had found a moment to himself underneath the broad canopy of the single tree standing proud along the great wall of stone. Making repairs along the Wall were typical occurrences among their duties at the outpost, yet definitely not a favored task by the men. However, their Commander thought it a good deviation and strength builder from the usual patrols and the skirmishes the cavalrymen seemed to prefer.
 
As Arthur propped his back up against the base of the tree and crossed his arms over his broad chest, his eyelids slipped shut and he easily fell into a light slumber while listening to the gentle sounds of the leaves swishing overhead in the mild afternoon breeze….and thus he had not picked up on their presence as they grew closer. One particularly curious little one quietly approached the sleeping man and blinked its gentle eyes while lifting its head to sniff at the man’s potent scent.
 
Arthur did not stir and thus the little one lowered its nose to tentatively nudge at the man’s arm where it rested over his abdomen. Arthur’s hand slowly lifted to touch…fingers finding the soft silky curls that covered the little one’s head and thinking only of Lancelot’s springy black hair….a smile readily formed on Arthur’s lips as he adoringly caressed those curls….until the animal made a small sound finally revealing its true identity….green eyes snapped open and Arthur found himself face to face with a plump little black-faced sheep that promptly baah-ed at him.
 
“You are most certainly NOT who I expected,” Arthur said quietly with a small snort of amusement. A flock of sheep tended by a local farmer had been lazily grazing several yards away while Arthur and the men had been laboring on much needed repairs to the Wall all throughout the morning hours. And apparently had wondered into their work area while the Commander and the men had drifted off to sleep.
 
Arthur’s fingers continued to flex in the thick curls of the sheep’s head until the Roman began to stir from his slumber….only to discover that he’d been dreaming about the sheep and the warm summer’s day. The curly hair his fingers were nestled in belonged to Lancelot and not a plump little sheep, and they were not in a warm green meadow….but in Arthur’s still dark chambers; the chill of winter having nearly consumed the spent embers in the hearth from last nights fire. Arthur slowly blinked open his eyes and turned his head towards the window….morning had not fully broken over the horizon, but it was close as the dim light of the pre-dawn was visible through the window.
 
Lancelot was still pressed to Arthur’s side exactly as he had been when they had fallen asleep late last night; one leg slung over the Roman’s and his breath blowing steady and warm over Arthur’s bare chest. A small smile tugged at the corner of the Roman’s mouth as he brought his free hand up to scrub over his stubbled jaw.
 
“What have you done to me, Lancelot ap Ban, that has me dreaming of sweetly green meadows and pleasantly plump livestock, hm?” Arthur half whispered with a voice rough from misuse. He then slid his hand beneath the furs covering them until his fingers located and splayed out over Lancelot’s hip. Certainly this man was no ‘sheep’. Arthur’s grin widened.
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Current Location: In Arthur's Quarters
 
 
20 June 2008 @ 07:59 pm
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Fields of Innocence will return at the end of July. Thank you so much for your continued readership and support! We'll see y'all soon.
 
 
 
18 March 2008 @ 04:28 pm
 
<Two Weeks Later>
 
As the Commander strode along a cobblestone path towards the fortress chapel, Arthur deeply inhaled the scent of fresh herbs as he passed by one of the small gardens within the walls of Camboglanna. The Roman smiled to himself as he realized how much pleasure he derived from certain scents since Lancelot had begun sharing his bed a month ago. If he closed his eyes, Arthur could easily imagine the feel of his lover’s warm skin beneath his as the scent of lavender enveloped them both during their intense couplings.
 
But as Arthur came ‘round the final corner, his hobnailed boots clicking on the stone pathway until he reached the side door to the chapel, his pleasurable expression melted away into something darker. God, forgive my sins.  Arthur quietly murmured as he entered the tiny house of worship. He approached the front of the chapel and prostrated himself nearly face down before the altar and prayed for forgiveness and understanding…and for Lancelot’s soul. Arthur remained bent before the altar of his God until his back fully protested from his arched position on the floor. He rose at last and humbly sat down on the small bench facing the large wooden cross before him….and continued to think while having this small time alone.
 
The handful of days following the medicus’ recommendations on Lancelot’s wounded side had been troublesome for Arthur. He had successfully enlisted Dagonet’s aid in keeping Lancelot from riding (or so far as Arthur knew), but refraining from acting on his urges at night had been nearly impossible. Yet Arthur had succeeded…much to Lancelot’s grumbling dismay. And when the two men had finally decided that Lancelot was well on the mend….their coupling had been almost comical as Arthur attempted to be as gentle as possible….and most likely looked the fool as he coddled Lancelot to the point of angering the other man. And Arthur would never be able to use his shaving unguent again without thinking on how Lancelot had made use of it recently. He raked a hand through his hair and then sighed at catching a whiff of it now…..Lancelot would certainly be the death of the Roman, one way or another. Arthur had finally allowed Lancelot to return to the patrols roster this week; expecting his lieutenant back before dusk this day. And he prayed to God for the Sarmatian’s safe return…uninjured. The dispatches had arrived mid morning still with no reply from Arthur’s superiors on the matter of Falco’s idle threats over supply wagons. However, thus far all supplies arriving at Camboglanna had been at full capacity. Thus Arthur hoped that Lancelot had misunderstood what he’d overheard at Aquae Sulis. Yet the lack of response from his superior was somewhat worrisome…
 
 
Current Location: Fortress Chapel
Current Mood: calmcalm
Current Music: silent prayers
 
 
19 February 2008 @ 04:46 pm
 
"I have a dagger hidden within my clothing. Try it - I'm interested to see how many new scars I can give you. Then I can care for you - alone. In your quarters, holed up with no distractions or interruptions."
 
Arthur genuinely laughed at Lancelot’s so called ‘threat’; the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement at their lighthearted bantering.
 
“I shall remember to relieve you of any hidden  weapons before bed in the future then,” He teased while lightly pinching at Lancelot’s uninjured side. Arthur then yawned as the other man settled again. And as Lancelot spoke of his love for Arthur in his native tongue, the Roman reciprocated the sentiment softly in its Latin counterpart.
 
And within moments, both men were once again asleep. Arthur drifting off to the feel of Lancelot’s warm breath on his shoulder and the steady rhythm of Lancelot’s pulse beneath his touch.

*    *    *    *    *    *
 
A smoke-filled sky above…the air foul with the smell of death….a prayer for the rains to come and cleanse the land…so much blood….so much loss…..Excalibur: sword of my father’s….metal made of this Earth…..burn me and cast my ashes to a strong East wind…cold and broken…..
 
Arthur’s eyes flew open as he suddenly awoke with a brief fit of coughing to regain his breath. Lancelot was still half on top of his chest and began to stir as Arthur had to pull out from beneath the other man’s sleeping form.
 
“Jesu…..” Arthur croaked as he sat up and scrubbed at his face with both hands. Through the open window, barely a hint of light shown as morning slowly approached. The rain had stopped during the night, yet the cold remained.
 
Arthur released a groan while rubbing a hand over the back of his neck and then turned his attention to the fire in the hearth had all but died out in the night. That certainly explained the chill in the air as goose bumps quickly decorated Arthur’s exposed skin.
 
It had been nothing more than a terrible dream.  Arthur thought to himself as he looked down on Lancelot’s sleepy expression; the other man quite obviously still alive at his side. His hand immediately went to touch at the springy curls decorating Lancelot’s brow.
 
I cannot lose him now.
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Current Location: Camboglanna
Current Mood: crankycranky
 
 
11 January 2008 @ 06:31 pm
Morning, morning, morning again. Or at least Lancelot assumed it was morning, as it was still black outside, and the rain was blowing hard against the side of the cave.

He shivered and rolled back to face Arthur; somehow he'd ended up on his stomach, the other man hogging all the covers. Lancelot made a sour face and snuggled back in to the warmth of the larger man.

"Arthur," he crooned softly, his tone wheedling and soft. "Be a good lad and build up the fire? Please?" He laughed at himself, and pressed his cold nose into the crook of the Roman's neck.

He shivered again and cursed under his breath when the thunder cracked. "Fucking morning, they call it. Me, I call it a nightmare. We have to ride in this piss!" He sighed and shut his eyes, not ready to face the day.

Not ready to remember the words of Falco - words that Arthur had in effect blown off - but Lancelot wasn't so quick to dismiss them. Just how would it affect their lives? How would Arthur actually react when it came time for him to give the orders for them to leave, if it came to that?

How would Lancelot survive in the world of the Empire without him?

He heard Ras neighing from outside, and grumbled, and sat up. "I'll see to them if you get the fire going," he said as he scrubbed a hand over his face, and then winced when he shifted on his ass.

Going to be a long day. I must be fucking crazy to have done - but it was worth it. So, so much so.

He glanced over at the Roman, and a small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. At least Arthur would be with him in this crappy weather. They'd both get drenched.

That made Lancelot's smile broaden.
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07 November 2007 @ 07:28 pm
Lancelot had seen Arthur's uncomfortable shifting; had noticed him surreptitiously squeezing at his own hardness before the Roman had dropped off. Lancelot had merely filed that information away for later, his eyes glittering with mirth at the thought that he had caused that reaction in the other man.

Well - considering Arthur's glance or touch or breath had Lancelot wanting as well - the man deserved nothing less.

Morning arrived quickly, and Lancelot stood quietly after speaking Arthur's name. He knew the commander would wake. He shivered and slipped his mail shirt back on over his leathers, and slid his blades home. Rolling up his blanket, his eyes ticked to a crunching noise to his left, his hand hesitating over the dagger in his boot.

"'m off," Tristan said softly. "Smoke is from the village," he pointed toward it, "and I've seen a few men out hunting their breakfast. Other than that, no movement from Woads."

Lancelot nodded. "We'll be off shortly. I'm going to wake their lordships now," he added, his tone only slightly bitter when he referred to their guests. Tristan clapped him on the shoulder briefly, and disappeared through the trees.

Lancelot sat on the rocks and found a crust of bread in his bag, beginning to eat it as he waited for Arthur to fully wake.

Thank the gods that this mission would be over by the afternoon. And, if Lancelot had his druthers, they'd take some time to eat something in the town that wasn't garrison fare. Even if he did love Vanora, it would be fantastically lovely to have something different.

Then they could be on their way back, and Lancelot could enjoy a night of just himself and Arthur, the stars overhead, and hopefully not too much sleep.

He smirked.

"Arthur," he said again. "Morning."
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Current Location: on the road
Current Mood: awakeawake
 
 
28 October 2007 @ 10:44 pm
 
Lancelot hadn’t appeared to be sharing the same pleasant memories from their last outing together….obvious by the sour expression on the lieutenant’s face as they rode on. Should I be insulted? And since Arthur could not risk a verbal reminder of exactly why he had smiled over at his lieutenant….lover ….the Commander slightly shook his head and let it go. He did regret not learning more of Lancelot’s native tongue though…communicating in Sarmatian during this escort would have been quite helpful. Especially should Lancelot not keep his promise to behave.
 
Arthur had no objection when Lancelot picked up their pace; only momentarily glancing back over his shoulder to be sure Falco and his companions were able to keep up.
 
*    *    *    *
 
Just as the sun was dipping down in the horizon, the small party arrived at the caves Lancelot had suggested. Arthur immediately spotted Tristan and brought his stallion to a halt in front of the scout. Without a backward glance at the three Romans he escorted, Arthur greeted Tristan with a nod, keen to hear whatever the man had to report.
 
"No activity, but be careful. I've seen a few fresh tracks - I'm going to check the next village to make sure that's where they came from."
 
“Keep me informed,” Arthur instructed his scout, although both men knew the words to be unnecessary. Tristan had perhaps the best instincts among Arthur’s men (although he’d never share that opinion with Lancelot) and thus the Commander rarely had the need to dispense orders at Tristan. However, with Falco’s scrutinizing eye close at hand, Arthur thought it best to do things the proper military way.
 
Once Tristan had departed, Arthur dismounted and momentarily stretched his back. Lancelot had already disappeared….which brought a frown to Arthur’s expression…. apparently relieving himself was more important than securing camp for the night, and the Sarmatian’s quick reappearance confirmed Arthur’s thoughts….he opened his mouth to give the order for Falco and his men to situate themselves within the cave when Lancelot beat Arthur to it…..
 
"It's not the garrison, or even a village, but this will be our camp for the night. I've stayed here before. The caves are perfectly safe and warm. You men go ahead inside. I need to speak with our Commander, here."
 
Arthur gestured towards the entrance to the caves in confirmation of his lieutenant’s suggestion. Falco’s expression gave away nothing if he thought Lancelot’s ‘orders’ were out of line.
 
"Commander, shall I expect you and your lieutenant to see about food?"
 
“Of course,” Arthur replied with a rather dry tone while offering a strained courteous smile at the Roman official.
 
The moment Falco and his men entered the cave; Arthur puffed out his cheeks and expelled a sigh of relief. Yet his bladder was quick to remind the Commander that perhaps he too should see to his own needs before finding the evening meal. But then he noted Lancelot’s small stumble and obvious discomfort as the other man touched his side. Guilt at agreeing to Falco’s arrangement threatened to rise up again and Arthur had to roughly swallow the worry back down.
 
 
"So they've reduced us to guards and cooks. Arthur……What did he mean - 'no more discussion' about the results of the reports?"
 
“It will be no trouble to share our meal with Falco and his companions,” Arthur started while closing the small distance between the two men and purposely ignoring the latter half of Lancelot’s statement.
 
“Dazzle them with your skills as a hunter by trapping a hare while I start a fire, hm?” Arthur was playing on Lancelot’s pride in order to convince the other man to do a task he knew his lieutenant truly did not want to do.
 
“And I believe I already explained about Falco…” Arthur half whispered, finally willing to answer (somewhat) Lancelot’s question while beginning to walk away towards a clump of trees.
 
Once he’d emptied his bladder, Arthur saw to it that the horses were properly tethered and then stepped into the entrance of the cave to look in on his charges. Tucked under one arm, the Commander carried enough tinder to start a small fire.
 
“Comfortable gentlemen?” He started in a tone overly pleasant while kneeling to form up a small fire pit. “My lieutenant will return presently with our meal,” Arthur informed while retrieving his flint from the saddlebag he’d brought with him into the cave. Within moments, Arthur had a steady flame dancing up from the small pile of wood and dried leaves.
 
 
Current Location: at the caves for the night
Current Mood: tiredtired
Current Music: crickets, night sounds