The Camelot Thruple

(Note: Song is "The Trial of Lancelot" by Heather Dale. I do not claim any rights to the song or its lyrics.

Author's note: This may just be the first in a long line of stories that should begin: "Problems that might have been solved by polyamory!")

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The Camelot Thruple

"King Arthur's knights, they filled the Table Round,

Save for one who stood before them,

For once without a weapon;

For once he stood in shame.

The trial's charge was treason

And betrayal of an oath,

And should his guilt be proven

Death would fall on traitors both!

The knights would counsel Arthur's hard decision.

And Lancelot, his head held high, said,

'I'm tried for love of Guinevere...

My crime was love.'"

——-

But it wasn't shame, though it ought to have been. Perhaps, if only, I thought. If only he looked ashamed. He did not look aggrieved nor did he show pride. He spoke it as simple truth. He met each pair of eyes directly, hid nothing. He dares them to call him false! I cannot help but think.

I sat beside Arthur, my eyes imploring him to see reason. His unhappiness covered him like a cloak. Would that he might speak to me but for a moment! It was not so much that he was betrayed by secrets, rather it was that he was betrayed by social convention.

———

"The first to speak was Kay with sharpest tongue,

'He is a man like any other

The word of kings command him;

His heart does not obey.

For all his strength and boldness,

This knight's spirit is too weak.

His crime knows no excuses,

And no favours may he seek!

The laws of kings don't bend and can't be broken.'

And Lancelot, his head held high, said,

'I stand for love of Guinevere...

For pride in love.'"

———

I fight not to roll my eyes. My husband's foster brother, Kay, was about as hard-lined as they came. While raised in the grace of the Lord, myself, I began to see a fatal flaw in His laws. While I had never before seen eye to eye with the wild Pagan ways of Merlin , Nimue and Morgan, I now saw certain aspects that lead me to question this dogmatic control of my heart. And Arthur was raised by Merlin! Morgan was his sister! Why did he let the laws of a church he scarcely acknowledged subvert his own kingly judgement? For justice, he had said sadly the night before, as he cupped my face in his hands, his gentle eyes staring into mine. So that he could say we were tried and found faultless, or had never truly transgressed. And if the latter was deemed false, we must atone.

——-

"'I know this knight right well,' spoke bold Gawaine,

'And he has ever stood beside me.

With steel he's answered insults,

Defended chivalry.

And oft this man contended

For the honour of your wife.

His actions were not proper,

But should not cost him his life!

His service past should earn of you some mercy.'

And Lancelot, his head held high, said,

'I fought for love of Guinevere...

I'll fight for love.'"

———

A chill passed over me and I blinked at Arthur. His life? Were we truly entertaining this, husband? I would have liked to demand, but I stayed silent.

And I see awareness in Lancelot's clear, steady blue eyes. These mock trails may not be a mockery at all. But he held my gaze and his was unwavering.

He had held my gaze from the first moment he took me. He lay me beneath him, cradled my face in the palm of his hand and kissed me sweetly while I trembled in his strong arms. Hands that could end a man's heart beat were instead caressing my body. Arms that could subdue me in an instant were instead cradling me and holding me as though I was the most precious creature he had ever held. His eyes never leaving mine as he entered me. As he brought me, over and over.

—-

"Sir Tristan spoke, 'I love my uncle's wife.

For her I gladly suffer;

She is my heart's delight:

Iseult, the one who tempts me

And she for whom I'm pure...

My love for her confounds me,

And is all of which I'm sure.

I understand my brother's contradictions...'

And Lancelot, his head held high, said,

'I cry my love for Guinevere...

I've cried for love.'"

———-

Tristan... dear, sweet Tristan and his Irish lass, Iseult. But he, like Arthur, were tied to this dogmatic approach to love. Well, his uncle certainly subscribed to them... I dare say he would kill Tristan if he thought his nephew had betrayed him with his wife.

He nodded to me, his visage full of sad understanding. Perhaps a little envy. I think he suspected what had happened, more so than most, and I think it made him respect Arthur more than the others upon hearing the truth.

And as I saw who was next to stand before my husband to offer his sage advice on my actions, I had to keep from visibly cringing. Here was someone who would *never* understand or forgive us...

——

"Spoke Galahad, the purest of them all,

'Have no fear of predilection,

For though he is my father,

He is my source of shame.

He joined in sinful union

With my unbeguiling mother,

And for all his claim at virtue

He has gone and bed another!

The laws of God declare this act damnation.'

And Lancelot, his head held high, said,

'I lie in love with Guinevere...

I've lied for love.'"

———

I think if it had been anyone else, Lancelot would never have admitted to any wrong-doing. He would have continued to rail against them all. But it could not be unsaid... he was not without his own past and family that was affected by our love. Arthur had the benefit of knowledge; Galahad's mother did not, and for that... there was amends to be made.

I know Arthur wasn't disappointed in me. He had never lost me in his bed. He had never wanted for my time or affection. But I needed... I needed something that only Lancelot understood. There was something there that my King and I did not share. I loved Arthur no less but knew

he felt I am better than this... to let my love harm another, even if it was not him.

And he was correct. He had come to terms with my love for his dear friend... it ceased to harm him once we assured him we loved him no less. He belonged to us, too.

Lancelot's brother in arms... the companion of my heart, always. He had not lost a knight... he had gained a night guard for his Lady! He had not lost a wife... he had gained an extra body to tease and love her with.

But Galahad would never accept that, so pious was he. And grailfinder or not, he just could never understand; he never having sampled the heat of flesh and passion.

——-

"As Arthur wept, he called the wrath of Heaven

On the lovers who'd betrayed him:

On the knight he had called brother,

Thought worthy of his trust;

On the queen who'd hid deception,

Yet could say she loved him still;

For lost innocence and beauty,

And in justice for their guilt,

King Arthur knew the only price for treason...

And Lancelot, his head held high, said,

'I'll die in love with Guinevere...

I'd die for love.'"

————

"Die?" Arthur looked genuinely startled and his glower raised, letting gold flecks lighten his umber gaze. "No, I just meant you need to sort your relationship at home, mate," he said with a shake of his light brown hair. "We agreed, no dishonesty with our partners!"

"So, death by angry ex?" Lancelot gave a wincing, but lopsided grin.

"Um... Sire?" Galahad said to Arthur, his eyes clouded with confusion. "His punishment is... telling my mother that he made love to your wife? Does that not seem... inadequate?"

"I have no grievance." Arthur said calmly. "But your mum might."

"But... Queen Guinevere is *your* wife."

"Yes," Arthur agreed. "Law of the land says she is mine and belongs to me. Does that law also state that a King may not share with his closest friend that which is his ALONE to share?"

I *could* have laughed at the look on Galahad's proud, loveless face. No, he would never understand passions of the flesh, our Galahad. And appealing to his sense of law might not sway him, but it did make Kay look as if he'd finally understood something.

"Wait, let me understand this..." Sir Kay said, quirking his head to the right as he regarded the man he'd grown up with. "Wart, you loved Lancelot with such trust as a brother, that you gave him leave to bed the queen?"

"Precisely," Arthur said. "But since we're still working on that heir, Lance will be certain not to linger too long in Our Lady's womb... at least until we have that child!" He gave me a wink and I blushed down to my toes. I don't think I would have cared more or less regardless of the father; I would be pleased to gift them both with a child that they could love and raise beside me, who could learn diplomacy and affairs of state from one and the art of war from the other. But Britain needed some assurances, so this was our compromise.

Kay still looked a little flabbergasted but winked at Lancelot. "Good on you, brother!" He dared a lascivious wink in my direction but I roll my eyes as Lancelot immediately bristled a bit.

"You will still look on my Lady with respect," Lancelot growled very softly, his eyes like glacier pools as they leveled on his fellow knight.

Kay wisely bowed deeply before me and offered my hand a chaste kiss. "Forgive this jealous fool, my Queen!" He said, almost sincerely. "I only lament I am not so beloved as my brother! To know the touch of my Lady Guinevere would be a truly precious gift indeed!"

"Smooth," Tristan said with a twist of his lips to Kay, as he came forward to embrace Arthur and Lancelot. "That you are a strong enough king to love your Lady so selflessly, your Majesty, is..." he paused, looking almost heartbroken but hopeful in the same breath as he regarded his king. "Inspiring. That others would see the purity in your love for our Queen as a holy sacrament to love itself would be too much too hope!

That they might also then emulate it, a dream I do not dare let myself dream as yet."

"I love Arthur," I said very clearly, firmly. "I will always love him. From the moment he came into my life, my place was always beside him. But... can I deny my heart when it is large enough to love another so completely?"

"To deny love is to deny God," Tristan said firmly, his eyes imploring Galahad to understand and accept this truth.

"And many may say it is blasphemy," Galahad said, walking to the door of the chamber that held the massive round table of legend.

"And they may," Merlin said, entering just as the pious knight reached the door. "But they would do well to remember that Arthur isn't a Christian king. He was raised to think beyond their narrow field... and as such he is the King this land chose when it crowned him by virtue of magic and legend." He met the eyes of the angry young knight. "He is your king and you have given him your oath of loyalty. If this is his will, you are honor-bound to accept it."

The fury faded from Galahad's face and he sighed. "Yes. Yes, you are correct, Merlin, my thanks."

"Now, my King," Merlin said moving to Arthur. "I need to discuss the Mordred issue."

"Speaking of death by exes," Arthur sighed, depositing a kiss on my lips. "No need to stay, wife," he said, caressing my face and looking down at me lovingly. "Merlin and I will deal with Morgan and work out how we will deal with my covetous offspring as a unit, as we are stronger together. Lance, do take my Queen up to our bedchamber and ensure to her comfort and safety, will you?"

"Of course, your Majesty!" Lancelot said, a grin spreading over his handsome face and laughter dancing in his eyes as he swept me up in his arms and carried me out of the room and toward my bedchamber.

"Well, that could have gone worse," Lancelot said, depositing me on my feet before him as we endured the east wing of the castle. "For a moment there I wasn't sure we could get Galahad to accept."

"And perhaps he never shall," I said softly, laying a hand on the soft leather bracer over his wrist in comfort. "But he is your son, and for that alone I would forgive almost any insult."

Raising my hand to his lips, Lancelot kissed by knuckles and met my eyes, his full of heat and mischief. His tongue caressed the delicate hollow between my first and second fingers, a sensual mimicry of how it had often teased between the hollow of my thighs, in the tender folds of my womanhood. My heart skipped a beat, and my breathing caught for a moment. I could feel the wetness of my body rise in answer to the sensation.

"No more hiding," he whispered softly.

"No more deception," I answered, smiling, and leaned into his embrace. "Never again." I raised up as high as my petite form would allow, pressing my body along the length of his boldly, uncaring of who might wander into the corridor at the moment. The freedom to touch him was thrilling. "Take me to bed," I whispered to him.

"As my lady commands," he said, his voice a low bass growl that set me on fire.

When we tumbled into the king's bed, a massive feather mattress piled high with down pillows, blankets and furs, I was already on the edge of my patience to have him inside me. He tempered my demanding hands and mouth with slow kisses and caresses, removing each stay from my gown with deliberate slowness, worshipping the newly exposed flesh with gentle caresses and kisses.

"I burn for you," I gasped, tugging at his tunic and breeches, needing to be flesh to flesh with him.

"And I you," He said, looking down into my eyes, his own like molten sapphires, full of lust and love. "But, my beloved, for once... we have no rush, no fear, no one to answer to save our King, who bade me to love you well."

"Then take me at your leisure, Sir," I said, smiling, saucily stretching beneath him, allowing him complete access to my body, clad only now in my simple cotton shift. "However you wish."

"I think my Queen speaks before she considers." The door opened and in walked Arthur, who's expression changed from consternation to amusement upon seeing my unclad state in his bed. In his hands he held leather shackles. "And she is not at all known for her patience nor her obedience," he added to Lancelot, as though he were informing him of something new. "Might I suggest insuring her compliance with these?"

"My King is a brilliant strategist , as always!" Lance said, and grinned almost evilly as he rose from my prone body and accepted one of the restraints from my husband. I wiggled away from them both but they laughed, catching me and pulling my arms wide, encasing each wrist in thick, tough manacles. Each bore a lead that strapped well around each leg of the bed along the headboard.

I was too busy struggling to free my arms to notice that Arthur had not merely had a pair of these, but two, and he was securing my ankles before I knew to pull my legs away. They likewise secured the tethers to the foot of the bed and I lay there, unable to move but a little.

"Brilliant tactical mind," Arthur observed with a frown, looking at my body through the thin cotton undergarment. "Not always the best at patience myself. Lance, we have left her clothed."

"Easily remedied." Lancelot rose from beside me and walked to the writing desk by the window and drew Arthur's jewel hilted dagger from the sword belt that hung across the back of the chair. He came to me, and I felt a flash of irrational fear. The blade was so sharp, so cold, so dangerous to behold. When he grabbed the hem of my chemise and cut it at my calf, I watched with a mixture of fascination and natural caution for the weapon in his hand. The material parted easily, and I could feel the chill blade as he carefully cut away the white underdress from my body, exposing me to their focused gazes. When my breasts were released, it wasn't a moment before the dagger was set on the bedside table and the two admired their handiwork.

"Is she not a vision, Lance?" Arthur asked, running his fingertips from my shoulder, down my arm, across my hip and over my mons, petting the dark fur that hid my most intimate places, now spread wide for their pleasure, already casting a siren's call in liquid desire as my body ached for them silently.

"Indeed, brother," Lancelot agreed, making small circles with his fingertips around my aching nipples. "Such an English flower was never as beautiful as our lady. So, warm; so fair and sweet. Does she taste as sweet as the aroma of her flesh suggests?"

"Let us see!" Arthur declared, as if both did not know the answer to this question. Ever the only intrepid explorer, Arthur knelt between my spread legs, stretched wide due to the large size of the bed, which easily accommodated us all. He lowered his hands to my core as his fingertips spread my lower lips, gaping wide the moist caverns of my quim to their eyes, displaying the dripping evidence of my desire. "So beautiful," Arthur said, caressing me with only one finger, catching my essence on its tip and bringing it to his lips. "Fragrant and moist as summer fruit...". Without further ado, he lowered his mouth to me, his whiskers teasing me before his tongue laved a path from my bottom to that tiny pearl far in the front. Upon discovering this hidden gem of my body, he lashed it with his tongue before proclaiming: "And she is indeed as sweet!"

"Mayhap His Majesty would allow me to partake of this fruit?" Lancelot asked as he continued to stroke and tease my bosom, occasionally finding their tips and giving the hardened peaks a pinch and twist before returning to caressing me with the full of his hand. "And while I see to it, you may then disrobe and use her lovely mouth to show you her devotion!"

"And this is why you are my strong right hand, Lancelot," the king said as he rose, his short dark beard glistening with my essence. "A better mind and trusted friend I could not ask for." They traded positions and before I could protest to their cavalier demeanor at my state, Lance asked of my husband: " Shall I be cruel or kind, Your Majesty?"

Arthur looked into my eyes, and his darkened noticeably. Almost with anger, but not quite. "One must be cruel to be kind," he said almost dismissively. "And for what we endured today, to ensure her continual pleasure?" His mouth was a pitiless line as he regarded me, and though I would have covered my nakedness to see that darkness in his gaze, nearly ashamed at what he had endured on my behalf, I could not and was forced to feel the lick of flame that caresses my skin where his eyes lingered upon me. "Cruel, Lance. And I, too shall be so. Guinevere," he said, there being no question in his tone he expected my complete attention and compliance. "You will not reach completion. Should you before I allow it, I will be most displeased with you and I will not hesitate to punish you, my queen or no." He looked back to Lancelot. "Be very cruel. I think I'd like to see that pale flesh glow beneath my hand."

"As my King commands!"

And he was cruel! So very cruel! He left not one inch of me free from his tongue. When it seemed I had managed to endure the repeated onslaughts of his tongue sharply flicking my clitoris, and being plunged into the ever spasming cleft of me, he shifted and sank two fingers knuckle deep into me, pressing and caressing my inner sanctum with a familiar "come hither" motion.

I might have screamed but for the forceful hands wrapping my long auburn tresses into a tether and turning my head just a touch that Arthur could slide his thick member down my throat, cutting off my moans over and over as he thrust past my lips and over my tongue with mild aggression. His face was a mask of determination — determined to seek pleasure but not to yield to it too quickly, lest he not be able to take me fully afterwards.

When Lancelot's fingers then invaded that other, darker cavern inside my body — his favorite, if truth be told, and one Arthur genuinely avoided, so intent was he to get me with child. No, this tight, forbidden place belonged to Lance and his cock as much as my womb belonged to Arthur. While he could not get me with child, he loved to lose himself inside me there, lost in the blissful memory of the day I told him it was "his" place... and only his. No other would pillage my defenses to the point of completion in his place. No other would fill me with their essence and bring me in such a way that my will seemed to flee my body, as I was helplessly impaled upon his shaft.