rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Default)
[personal profile] rhian_crockett
Been reading poetry and prose-poetry today, and I've felt like writing for a few days, so I sat down to do something. Especially since I've had so little time to pay attention to this blog, and it needs content! It's about Lancelot and Elaine...

(Also, look! I made myself an icon out of the draft artwork.)

The Traitor's Heart

She laid her cheek against the shield -- yes, she held it naked against her skin; the cover she'd fashioned for it lay empty. In a room lower in the tower, she thought, Lancelot slept, breathing to the same rhythm. She'd laid one hand on his heart with the other on her own, and she knew that their hearts kept time.

In that low room, Lancelot lay a-fevered. Slivers of moonlight sliced across his face, where every scar had written the name, while his every breath sighed it out and his heart kept the rhythm -- Guinevere, Guinevere. Betrayal, and not Elaine.

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The Traitor's Heart by Rhian Crockett is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

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Date: 2011-06-01 07:17 am (UTC)
From: [personal profile] miss_haitch
Ooh, the image of the heartbeat gives me the chills. Thank you for sharing!


rhian_crockett: A painting of a castle; there is a red flag flying. (Default)
Rhian Crockett

August 2013


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