[ WP ] The slow descent of a decent person with good , consistent morals who was pushed too far and forced into doing something he/she would never have dreamed of doing .


 Lancelot 
 
... 
 
 He was a knight. 
 
 It was in his blood. For generations his family had defended the fiefdom. For generations his forbears had worked for the success of this nation. It was a good calling for him. He was talented at handling both sword and horse. He was decisive and strategic in battle. 
 
 He thought he might be happy like this, living a life of chivalry. 
 
 He did n't pay too much attention when the new king ascended. The young prince was inexperienced, but he would learn with time as new rulers always did. The regular functions of the land should continue with the clear, unhindered succession of the King. 
 
 He paid a little more attention when he was called up for war. But that was not terribly unusual either. Raiders and barbarians often came down to pillage villages and he had experienced his fair share of bloody work defending the Kingdom by then. 
 
 It was his pride to die for what he held dear after all. 
 
 These wars were a little unusual though. They were not defending, but attacking neighbouring kingdoms. He felt a little unsure then- surely it was not right to disrupt the innocent lives of the peasants... but the King informed him that this was for their own good, because he had seen how inefficiently other kingdoms were run. 
 
 There would be temporary pain, just like the pain of training. There would be great fruits of such labours in the future. 
 
 He accepted this. He won several significant battles and was granted a seat within the highest ranks of the Knights. 
 
 He came to know the Queen. 
 
 She was a petit, pretty thing with a sharp, bold tongue. He'd never met a woman like her before, so confident of her views and not at all subservient to the whims of men. He'd never met loneliness like hers' before, wandering through the shadowed arches of the castle, abandoned by her very busy king. 
 
 He could n't help talking to her, trying just to understand who she was and why she was. 
 
 It was a slight feeling at first, a warmth that grew every time she smiled at him. She made him laugh. He loved making her smile. Sometimes, he almost forgot she was married. 
 
 Sometimes, she seemed to forget too. 
 
 It was innocent. He never touched her, or brought up any desire to. It was enough that she was close to him, that she came to greet him by the gate every time he returned from a quest. 
 
 He wanted her, badly actually, but he knew it was impossible. All he could do was give her his friendship and his support so that she would smile more often. 
 
 The battles grew more frequent in the meantime. He found that he was starting to become numbed to the scent of blood and that he could no longer find it in himself to care about the injured or the weak even though he knew that he ought to. 
 
 He had gained quite a fearful reputation since. A butcher, they called him, the black knight. It did n't bother him- the King affirmed that his reputation would bring strength to the Kingdom and he had been taught that that was what mattered. 
 
 It did n't seem to matter so much when she cast her gaze on him, filled with a sadness he could n't quite identify. The Queen no longer spoke with the King, he knew, except on rare occasions when her presence was formally required. 
 
 The King did not even seem to care, too busy with his wars and his soldiers. 
 
 He was impulsive at some point. He'd drunk too much after a victory feast and he found her in the gardens of the castle, lingering alone in the moonlight. She did not protest his sinful suggestions, even bringing him up to her chambers with haste. 
 
 He was horrified when he woke up the next morning. He hid his reaction since she seemed terribly happy, for once. The Queen helped him away in secret. She promised that they would meet once more. 
 
 The King sent him out for another mission and he tried his best to forget his betrayal. His pride was the kingdom after all and he needed to concentrate on his battles. 
 
 He could n't look at his own coat of arms without flinching. 
 
 He grew more vicious in battle, bloodthirsty as he punished transgressors of the Kingdom with a brutality he could not be allowed to inflict on himself- as if blood could wash away his secret sins. 
 
 It was inevitable they would be discovered, no matter how careful they were. The Queen had many attendants and beyond that there was that foppish magus advisor and the witchly queen the King strove against. It was only natural that their betrayal was brought to light- as a mere tool of war to unsettle the King on the eve of a great battle, as if it had no significance otherwise. 
 
 It was always about the King and the Kingdom. 
 
 The Queen was to be executed for her sins. He was to be executed- after his usefulness had expired in war, he was sure. There was nothing left but dishonour and disgrace for a sin he was too weak to prevent. 
 
 He could not understand how it had all come to this. 
 
 All he could do was what he had been taught to do under the King's instructions. He had done many unholy things- poisoning village wells, burning crops, murdering the young in the name of the Kingdom. 
 
 So he cast his dignity aside at last. It did n't seem to weigh very much after all that had happened. He put poison on his blade. He released the prisoners of the castle, including the Queen. He sought refuge with the King's enemies. 
 
 He faced the King with a poisoned, defiled blade. 
 
 The King was skilled and strong. He had many blessings beyond mere talent with weaponry from both the land and his pet magus. He was younger too, his body fit and unravaged by war. 
 
 But his experience helped him hold his own. He was more desperate too, uncaring of the wounds he received. It was atonement, perhaps. To the King. To the Queen. To the innocent peasants. 
 
 He did n't feel at all surprised when his sword found purchase. He was even less surprise to find that he had lost. He was familiar with the sensation of cold steel even as it slid against his neck. 
 
 He smiled in relief as he died. 
 
 It was all over, at last. 
 
 
 
 
 

