Interesting this version was situated by a lake.
Locking onto that lake, he resumed walking.The fog grew colder, sharper, like icy claws dragging along what little of his skin was bared.The perfect, eerie quiet raked across his nerves.Even the deepest parts of the ocean were never trulyquiet, not really.
Then he heard it.
Soft laughter, barely there at all, almost could believe it was all in his mind.
Whispers, sibilant and mean, like he'd heard from people when he'd first journeyed into the world of humans.Curiosity had driven him to explore the world he had technically been part of once, for a matter of days, according to his mother.But he'd been thrown away, not even loved enough to be killed respectfully, just dropped into the water to drown, scared and alone.
His mother had found him, saved him, imbued him with all her essence, removing anything human about him, save his appearance, though it would always be secondary to his true form, scales and kelp in his hair and all.
When he'd first traveled amongst humans, he'd been terrible at holding his human form, and too often whispers and more chased him from town to town.Until he'd met a beautiful boy who could make people do what he pleased with only a smile and a touch, but rarely ever used that ability.Who knew magic like Lancelot knew water, who was as wild and untamable as a storm.
Not so long after, they'd met Arthur, righteous and arrogant, willing to fight an entire city for the sake of one small girl.They'd won that fight, the three of them, and been inseparable ever since.Only a few years later, Arthur had become king, still so young, and Lancelot known as his greatest knight.He hadn't heard mean-edged whispers in a long time
That didn't mean he'd forgotten how they sounded.Though he tried to ignore them, they grew in quantity and clarity.
Always stealing the attention.Arthur's voice.
Thinks he's so much better than all of us, lets that 'greatest' go to his head.Merlin's voice.
Everyone knows about him and Guinevere, and both of them married, for shame.Voices of the court, names long forgotten.
Has the wife and the lover and the giant begging for any scraps.Greatest greedy hussy, maybe.More court voices.
No one had ever been so cruel, though.He knew that.His friends didn't think of him like that.Elaine had loved Guinevere, and Galehaut had never begrudged his marriage, not when he'd known the circumstances.
The whispers continued, calling him names, reminding him how everyone thought him a monster, how hewasa monster, enormous and terrible, able to control the oldest and most powerful of the elements.Something even the great King Arthur, in all his sunlit magnificence, could not do.
"I can't be with someone who embodies my greatest weakness.What if you get angry with me one day and flood my chambers?Or throw me into the moat?How can I trust you?"
"Stop!"Lancelot screamed, attempting to cover his ears but failing because of his sword and buckler, which he was too well-trained to forsake lightly.
The whispers, predictably, didn't stop, only turned to full on speaking.Magic.It was only magic.Merlin had warned this was one of the ways the fog could behave.He knew it was magic.The words were false.Designed to hurt.They hurt all the same, digging into long-buried fears and throwing them on the ground for all to see.That he was a monster.A philanderer.Dishonorable.Seeking to steal Arthur's place.Saw himself as better than all of them because he wasn't human.
Tears streaming down his face, he kept his head down and pushed onward, continuing to focus as best he could on the water.The lake that awaited him, cold and dark and deep, a soothing respite from all the careless noise of land.All he had to do was reach water.One foot in front of the other, until he reached the lake.
Unfortunately, the mist wasn't finished.
Now the voices came with figures, appearing in the fog like slices of malice given form.His friends sitting around the table talking about how much better everything was without him.Merlin calling someone he couldn't see a better friend, his true best friend, and he'd been a fool to ever call Lancelot such.
His mother wishing she had just let him drown.Galehaut wishing he could have his family and land back, acknowledging he'd been a fool to throw away everything that really mattered for a pretty face.
Happy without him.Everyone was so happy without him.Why had he ever thought—
He tripped, catching himself poorly on his left hand, sending searing pain up his arm as it torqued his elbow and wrist.
Something touched him, an arm across his shoulder, and he jerked upright with a cry, rolling away from it and pushing to his feet, sword ready.
Nothing.
Something touched him from behind, and he snapped around to face it.
Nothing again.
The touches came and came and came, always coming to nothing, as more whispers and words and images appeared, reminding him that no matter how hard he tried, he was never really wanted.
Biting back a sob, he resumed his hopeless journey for the only thing that could bring him solace now: the water.
