Galahad is still. Inside his field, the fish move with every breath in and out in a steady stream, and he lets himself be borne along by their current. This is another new sin to try, another way to offend God, a ripe fruit to taste and share the story of tasting with his beloved serpent.

Claudius is so proud of him for choosing what he wants. It's a strange thing, after having all his choices made for him, to have a lover who cares less about what he chooses than that it's his decision -- to know that Claudius would be equally delighted to find him in almost any state. He believes Claudius will like the heraldry because it's theirs, but he's equally sure that he could return home with anything inscribed on his skin and Claudius would smile at him, indulgent and pleased, and ask for the story behind it-- and if Galahad said there were no story, and he just wanted to be beautiful, Claudius would tell him that he was. He's always beautiful to Claudius' eye.

He breathes in and breathes out. Wheat and fish. Soon it will be finished.