#today i realized i have zero control over my non-dominant hand

[tsukishiroism]

old art meme but i did it anyways

[tenjouu]

revolvere (3/?)

facetious plot summary: Lancelot loses his magic upon traveling back in time to the day of Alice the Second’s arrival. How will he save the world equipped with only his winning looks and charisma? Read on to find out!

Featured in this chapter: an unusual matchup—Lancelot vs Fenrir! 

1  |  2  |  3 : fenrir goodpace

Harr confronts him, but more importantly—before that, Alice comes as the giver of good news.

“King Lancelot!” she exclaims. She saw him before he even saw her, and comes hurrying down the hallway. She’s doing a fantastic job of making this look like a one-sided Beauty and the Beast spinoff, but Lancelot can’t fault her for it; he’s quite content to see her too.

“Don’t run in the hallways,” Lancelot chastises. “It’s dangerous.”

“Yes, my king,” she obliges (sounding put-out) as she skids to a halt, and then she perks up. “Oh, King Lancelot, you shouldn’t have.”

Alice reaches out to take the tray of madeleines and eclairs from him, but Lancelot raises them out of reach. She lowers her arms, looking confused.

“I can do this much. Why not open the door instead?” he says. People always treat kings like they can’t do anything for themselves. And besides, if he lets her take the tray now, he won’t be able to eat a single one.

Alice holds open the door, and Lancelot enters first with a hum of gratitude. When she closes the door behind her, he doesn’t even have time to turn around before she takes off.

“Sirius is so happy,” she gushes. “And I think Ray’s glad that the two armies won’t actually be going to war. They’re the only two who know right now, but when will it be okay to bring more people into the fold?”

“Hello to you too, Alice,” Lancelot says wryly, taking a seat at his desk, folding his hands under his chin. He gives her a pointed look. “I’m doing fine. I missed you as well.”

Her cheeks flush red. “I get it, I get it,” she says, sidling over. “Sorry, King Lancelot. Are you well?”

He smiles. “Good,” he says, and if she dared to, she probably would’ve rolled her eyes. “Now, your message from Sirius and Blackwell?”

“Sirius said that he told Harr Silver what was going on,” she reports. “And Ray says that he wants to meet at the Civic Center as a show of confidence, and to touch base with you. And he says that it’s not a good idea to keep secrets from one’s officers, and that he’s going to tell them eventually.”

“I plan to do the same. Things are coming along nicely,” he muses. “Amon will try to contact me likely tomorrow or the day after about pacing his plans. I’ll let everyone know how to proceed after then.”

Alice hums around a mouthful of pastry when Lancelot finally sweeps his gaze back over to her. She pauses in chewing when they make direct eye contact.

“Would you like some tea with that?” he asks.

She swallows guiltily, mistaking his sincerity for reproach. “Sorry—the desserts here are really good... Please continue, King Lancelot.”

“No, I was being serious,” he says. “I’m not angry—I realized that I forgot the tea.” He pauses. “And I thought of this just now, but did you not come with a guard today?”

“Oh, Fenrir came with me again today,” she explains, “but I think he’s with Zero right now.”

He knows that Zero is meticulous and disciplined. Lancelot has complete faith in him. But that’s such a stark contrast from the first time Alice came over, where he stayed sentinel by Lancelot’s office’s door until it was time for her to leave. He points this out curiously.

Alice shifts a little under his scrutiny. “I may have...given them the...impression that you’ve been nothing but a respectful gentleman to me. Fenrir has his doubts, but he respects that I trust you.”

“Alice,” Lancelot sighs.

“It’s true!” she protests. “You’re very nice to me, King Lancelot.”

Who in their right mind would be mean? Lancelot doesn’t say. He places his hand in his chin and contemplates her. “You’re very chipper and enthusiastic about this whole thing. Though I appreciate and trust your easy cooperation, I’m curious why.”

Alice leans close and whispers conspiratorially, “I know lives are at stake, but it’s kind of exciting. And I’m just glad to help. I want to do anything I can.”

Lancelot doesn’t want to be Alice’s reason for developing a danger-loving streak. Edgar from his world would have come close to treason if he found out Lancelot had. So Lancelot simply accepts her reason for what it is and hopes to dear god that Harr will keep her away from all of the fighting, when Harr finally decides to come out of hiding.

A knock sounds at the door.

“Come in,” Lancelot calls. Just as well, he’ll ask the person to send for tea.

It’s Edgar, speak of the devil. Lancelot thinks that the universe never aligns stars in his favor. Edgar smiles as he enters.

“My king, just to confirm,” Edgar says. “Did your majesty invite the Black Ace to spar with our own?”

They’re what? How did Zero end up indulging Godspeed?

“No,” Lancelot says. He cannot be arsed to deal with it. He’s spending time with Alice right now, damn it! The Black Army gets to have her damn near 24/7; he’ll be damned if goddamn Fenrir Godspeed cuts his meager allotment in half.

Then he pauses, looking between Alice and Edgar. Alice stares back inquisitively. Edgar’s smile is impenetrable. Well, the best plans are flexible, after all. He trusts Alice to hold her own against Edgar.

“Edgar, accompany our guest on a tour around headquarters,” Lancelot declares. “I will go handle this myself.”

“My lord?” Edgar asks, still smiling. This is his version of bafflement.

“She’s easily bribed with sweets,” Lancelot supplies helpfully as he passes Edgar on his way to the door, and whooshes out the room with his cape.

/

It seems that Godspeed wasn’t actually the only one who instigated this, because Zero is tending to an unconscious man as the Ace of Spades holds his own against other soldiers.

The brawling style of Sirius never fails to impress. It’s clear he’s taught his men well. But Godspeed fights with a technique that is unmistakably his own. Wild, swift punches that shatter an enemy’s guard rather than get around, nimble sidesteps that keep him on the enemy’s non-dominant side. Lancelot gets the feeling that the man’s ambidextrous, because he watches him face off two of his soldiers and come out victorious.

“Why are you fighting my men?” Lancelot intones, finally stepping forward.

Godspeed turns to him, fists up and ready.

“Jealous?” Godspeed prompts cockily. “I’ll fight you too, Red King.”

“Interesting,” Lancelot replies. “But I must decline. I’m here to cut this short. I’m to be spending time with Alice right now, after all.”

“Then why aren’t you with her?” the man retorts. He relaxes his lean, muscled form. “If you’re afraid to bite...”

“Did you defeat Zero?” Lancelot asks.

Godspeed shrugs. “Your men have bad defense because your army relies on crystals,” he shoots back. “At least your Ace put up a good fight, but I’ve been fighting with these hands before I even picked up a sword.”

“You fight with guns. You don’t even use a sword.”

“Before I even picked up a gun,” Godspeed amends. “Anyway, it came close to a tie. You’ve got good men.” He shrugs. “But it seems like the Black Army just might be stronger in an honest fight, fist-to-fist.” He opens an eye and arches a brow at Lancelot. “Since we don’t rely on magic.”

Lancelot may be at the point in his life where he’d let a few things go because he’s got a limited supply of fucks to give, but he still has his pride as a king and warrior. Godspeed is an amateur at trash talk; instead, he brings genuinely good criticism, but one thing he’s got wrong is the magic. Lancelot doesn’t mind teaching him a lesson. If he loses to this upstart, he’ll abdicate the throne and retire straight to the graveyard, effectively immediately.

“You seem strong,” Lancelot says, shedding his cape, and then coat.

Godspeed’s amber eyes light up impossibly bright, almost feral as he grins. “No magic, Red King. No unfair advantages.”

“No magic,” Lancelot agrees.

Fenrir Godspeed puts up his fists and charges in.

Lancelot, even though he’s taller and less fluid in his movements, makes up for agility with unyielding defense. Godspeed keeps his battle calm, refusing to let frustration get the best of him. Some hits land where they would hurt, but Lancelot has fought Sirius a few times, and these blows are like taps in comparison.

“You’re not bad,” Godspeed grunts. “Rusty, but solid.”

Lancelot doesn’t answer. The man is the type to talk during a fight, it seems. He breaks past Lancelot’s guard with a well-aimed jab and lands a blow across his jaw—before Lancelot can even blink, he pivots back, like an acrobat. He raises his leg and sends Lancelot back with a sharp kick to the chest. Lancelot emits a sound of pain.

“Seems like I’ve got you beat in agility, old man,” Godspeed crows on his follow-through with another uppercut, thinking he’s sure to win with this last move.

“You might,” Lancelot agrees, letting gravity pull him down. He folds into himself, ducking from the swing, catching himself on his hands.

He lifts his lower half and uses his legs to sweep Godspeed’s feet from under him. A loud squawk follows as his back hits the grass. Lancelot keeps his legs constricted around his own. Godspeed’s tiny frame can’t win against Lancelot’s brute strength.

“But I’m not stiff,” Lancelot says, twisting his body up, and presses his arm against Godspeed’s neck. “Your loss.”

Godspeed’s furious glare tempers itself to a good-natured resentment. The fight fades from his eyes, and he sighs, letting his head fall against the ground. His eyes close, and the wind ruffles their hair as their breathing comes under control.

The battle was over in five minutes, but Godspeed had been fighting before Lancelot joined the fray, after all. He doubts that a fresh Ace of Spades would lose so quickly.

And he’s still young, after all. He’ll take this loss gamely and get over it. He’s a century too early trying to pick a fight with a king.

Speaking of age—

When Lancelot unentangles their limbs and pulls Godspeed up, he arches an authoritative brow.

“Old man?” he repeats.

To his surprise, Godspeed looks abashed. “Oh...did I say that? Sorry,” he says awkwardly, face scrunched up. “It slipped out. Whenever Sir—the queen—agrees to spar...uh, he’s—um—easy to rile up...” He grimaces. “I realize that was out of line, King of Hearts.”

Lancelot snorts. Godspeed gives him an incredulous double take.

“I’m younger than Sirius is, so I’m quite secure in my vigor,” Lancelot replies. “This ‘old man’ just beat you, after all.”

Godspeed makes a sour face but ducks his head, accepting his loss.

“Infirmary, I think. For my men, and for me,” says Lancelot. “I don’t particularly care for bruising on my face.”

Something must have changed between before the fight and after, because Godspeed grumbles, “Sorry,” under his breath as Lancelot turns to Zero.

“Don’t be,” Lancelot says simply. “Don’t do things that you don’t mean.”