Legends

                “I just realized,” he said, turning towards me, “that I am like Lancelot.”
                 The scoff stuck in my throat. I felt ill. It was like a sword wound in my gut to have to listen to him.
                “If you’re Lancelot,” I murmured bitterly, “then that makes me Arthur.”
                 He put a pair of puzzled, dark eyes on me. “How do you figure?”
                 “Two of my friends betrayed me behind my back, without telling me. And now I have lost them both, and am left with nothing.”
                    He shut and open his mouth very quickly. But his eyes did not change. They never did. There was always this laughing light in them, an arrogance, a selfishness. Never the sorrow or the guilt that I longed for.
                   Feeling sicker than ever, I pressed my cool hands against my eyes, wondering how much more of the pain I could take. I wished to God I really was a King and that I could banish them away, forever, while I died gratefully alone in a bloody war…