|Pwyll and Rhiannon, Slasher-Style
Author: Guede Mazaka
Guin: So once upon a time a knight went out riding. It was a pleasant day, but his heart was heavy with the injustices of the world. For example, he hadn’t finished all of his breakfast and somewhere, someone had gone hungry while he'd thrown away food.
[Lancelot muffles laughter in sofa pillow]
Guin: He rode along, stopping to help poor cute forest animals in trouble, and eventually he wandered into a broad, open field. There he paused to ponder the many, many flaws in his personality that were keeping him from helping more people.
[Lancelot’s muffled laughter shakes sofa and he nearly rolls off]
Guin: Suddenly he saw a dot in the distance. As he watched, it turned into another horseman. The newcomer was quite handsome, with thick black curls the color of a raven’s wing and dark grey eyes like wet slate, and he was possessed of a lean, nicely-muscled physique.
[Lancelot stops laughing and preens. Tristan’s mouth begins to twitch.]
Guin: Too bad he also had the hauteur of a camel and was obviously the kind of man that would lock himself in his room if he couldn’t go out with perfect hair. His horse was nice, but tackily overdecorated, and his smile was as fake as a billboard model’s.
[Lancelot throws pillow. Tristan deflects it from Guin back into Lancelot's face. Lancelot falls off couch.]
Guin: The first knight, struck by such a vision of beauty, experienced a moment of weakness. His much-abused and long-buried commonsense teamed up with his sadly starved lust, and together they laid a beatdown on the knight's guilt complex, then dragged it off and dumped it in some river.
[Lancelot: I wish it were that easy.]
Guin: He started off after the other knight, determined to wangle an introduction. Because, yes, he was that polite and he wanted to make sure he screamed out the right name. Not that he’d been doing much screaming lately, due to his stupid Catholic guilt.
[Tristan has to bury his face in Guin’s belly to keep from ruining his trademarked deadpan. Guin starts making little braids in his hair.]
Guin: But no matter how far he rode, he couldn’t seem to overtake the other knight. He rode faster and faster, but the man stayed the same distance ahead of him, though the other knight's horse didn't seem to be making an effort at it. Like its owner, it was all about the show.
[Lancelot glares from the floor. Guin and Tristan flop down and stretch out over couch before Lancelot can reclaim it.]
Guin: The first knight’s horse grew more and more tired and eventually, when it was all lathered with sweat and staggering and basically, “Shoot me, you goddamn bastard,” the knight finally gave up. He called out: “Please stop! My horse can’t take it any more.” Notice how he makes it the horse’s problem, and ignores the fact that his legs and crotch had gotten so sore that now he was doubting his ability to do anything even if they stopped.
[Lancelot goes back to laughing. Guin contemplates little bows in Tristan’s hair, but he lifts his head and death-glares her.]
Guin: To his surprise, the man instantly stopped. Then he turned around and gave the first knight a sweet, totally irritating smile. “You needed only to ask. Perhaps you should have done so earlier to spare your horse, though you do look pretty good all sweaty and panting like that,” said the second knight.
[Lancelot makes some protest about being more suave than that. Guin and Tristan exchange eye-rolling looks.]
Guin: The first knight, unbeknownst to most, actually did have quite a temper in there. It’s just that his sense of guilt was so goddamned overwhelming that usually the temper was misdirected at himself for constantly failing to reach some overwrought idea of perfection. But due to the guilt complex’s absence, he was now free to react like a normal person. He got down, walked over and yanked the second knight from the saddle. Then he said, “What kind of man leads on another person like that? You could’ve called back, or made some gesture, or—”
[Lancelot starts to look pouty.]
Guin: And then the first knight noticed that, contrary to being frightened or offended or regretful or anything like that, the second knight was rather busy twining himself around the first knight. “Nice leather pants,” the second knight said, proceeding to get rid of them. This somehow offended the first knight—he felt used or something, despite the fact that usually he whored himself out to the higher principle so much that it had his name written under ‘Most Eager Slut’—and he wrestled the second knight to the ground. Surprisingly enough, this did not have the effect of making the groping stop.
[Lancelot smirks. Behind him, a half-amused, half-piqued Arthur silently walks in. Guin almost startles, but being Tristan’s girlfriend means she gets to learn all his tricks of nonreaction.]
Guin: So he grabbed the other knight’s hands and pried them off, pinning them to the ground. Then he straddled the man in an effort to keep him still. Which did work. The second knight made this ‘eep’ sound and went bug-eyed. The first knight suddenly realized what that bulge beneath his ass was.
Lancelot: Wait, wait, wait. Arthur did not tell you this kind of bedtime story.
Guin: I never said it was a bedtime story. You asked what kind of stories did he tell me—well, that was the story of your first date, with appropriate trimmings.
Lancelot: Trimmings? What fucking trim—
[Arthur leans down, grabs Lancelot around the waist from behind, and drags him off.]
Tristan: Someday, I’ll have to ask you for your version of Gawain and Galahad meeting.