Disclaimer: Anything recognisable belongs to their respective owners, be it myths or whatever else. Everything here is the fictional work of the author herself and, unless otherwise stated, it is all in the author's mind.
Spoilers: Spoilers. Takes place towards the end of the movie.
A/N: Written for the Jealousy Challenge on the LJ community knights500
Lancelot knows and fully admits that he had always been a jealous man – an insanely jealous man. But this was the first time he had ever been jealous of a dead man.
His problems, he mused, in fact stem from his jealousy. He was riding away, heart clenching, because of it. He was riding away from Arthur because Arthur chose Guinevere instead of him; he who had stood next to Arthur all these years, he who used to be Arthur's everything. Used to be. He felt bitterness wash over him just thinking of those words. Used to be. Now, it was Guinevere who stood beside Arthur, who was Arthur's everything.
He watched as Bors rode up closer to Arthur, crying out their battle cry and, hearing Arthur's reply, his heart shattered again, torn between carrying on going and riding back to stand by Arthur's side. He wanted to be next to Arthur, to face heaven and hell beside the man that has become his life, and yet the sweet smell of freedom beckoned him and the cruel hands of jealousy pulled him away, when his devotion tried to draw him back to his place.
And he was jealous of a dead man. He was jealous of Dagonet.
Dagonet didn't have to make this choice. Dagonet didn't have to choose between freedom and Arthur. Dagonet was already free.
Guilt warred for dominance in Lancelot's mind as he recognised that Dagonet had died loyal unto Arthur. And he was, not only jealous of someone who had died, but jealous because that man did not need to ride away from the man that had half-raised them.
But neither, he realised, did he.
The horses reared, reacting to the sound of battle drums and Lancelot's mind was made up.
As he rode back, taking his place where he had lived most of his life – and where he would, one day, die – by Arthur's side, Arthur smiled at him. It was a relieved smile, and a loving smile – and a regretful and sorrowful smile all at once. And Lancelot realised that he had been wrong. That his place by Arthur's side could never be filled by another – it was his and his alone. But Arthur had wanted the best for him, wanted him to enjoy the freedom he deserved – because he was Arthur's everything.
And he felt jealous of Dagonet again. Because Dagonet had never doubted Arthur. And Dagonet had never walked away.
He was jealous of the dead man's loyalty.