Chapter 5

Chapter Five

ARTHUR

I sat tall in the saddle, my heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves as I looked out at the sea of faces in front of me. The castle gates loomed ahead, and beyond them, the cheering crowd stretched as far as the eye could see. Their voices blended into a wild mix of good wishes and hopeful shouts, filling the air with a buzz.

Next to me, the five fae knights were on their horses, their black riding clothes replacing their armor. Gawain shot me a cheeky grin, his dark locks tied behind his head. Percival looked serious and cold, his pale skin and night-black hair shrouded under a hooded cloak.

Galahad’s amber eyes were filled with excitement and humor as he waved to the crowd, chest puffed up, while Tristan’s gaze was far away, like he was lost in a different moment in time. And there was Lancelot, his long dark golden hair waving in the gentle breeze while his golden eyes searched the crowd. He was always on alert, with his hand hovering just over the hilt of his sword.

I took a deep breath, taking in the scent of leather and horse mixed with the sweet smell of wildflowers on the hillside. My horse, a stunning chestnut mare, was pawing at the ground, itching to get going. I ran my hand along her neck, feeling her strength just beneath that shiny coat.

A woman emerged from the crowd, her long golden hair flowing behind her like a river of molten sunshine. She moved with a purposeful stride, her emerald green dress hugging her curves before cascading to the ground in a waterfall of shimmering fabric.

The crowd parted for her, whispers rising like a gentle breeze as she approached Lancelot's horse. He stiffened in his saddle, his hand tightening on the reins. I watched, curiosity piqued, as they locked eyes, a silent conversation passing between them.

The woman's face was a mask of emotions—sorrow, longing, and something else I couldn't quite place. Tears glistened in her eyes, catching the light like tiny diamonds. She reached out a delicate hand, as if to touch Lancelot, but pulled back at the last moment, her fingers curling into a fist.

Lancelot leaned down from his saddle, his voice low and urgent. I strained to hear, but their words were lost in the murmur of the crowd. The woman shook her head, her hair dancing around her shoulders. She cast a glance in my direction, wariness etched into the lines of her face, before turning away, her skirts swirling around her legs as she disappeared back into the sea of people.

I turned to Lancelot, a thousand questions burning on my tongue. But the look on his face stopped me cold. His jaw was clenched, his eyes stormy with a maelstrom of emotions I couldn't even begin to untangle.

I tore my gaze away from Lancelot, pushing the mysterious woman to the back of my mind as the castle gates creaked open. It was time. With a deep breath, I urged my mare forward. The knights fell into formation behind me as we rode into the courtyard. King Uther stood at the top of the steps, his silver hair glinting in the sun. His face was lined with age, but his eyes sparkled with power as he looked down at me.

"Arthur," he said, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "Today, you ride out to claim your destiny. May the gods watch over you and guide your path."

I inclined my head, gritting my teeth against the urge to shout something back at him that might earn me some chains on my wrists. Then I remembered my own position, and how the wind had changed in my favor. I wasn’t just a girl anymore. I was the rightful heir to the throne of Camelot. The thought made me grin back at Uther.

With a final bow, I turned my horse towards the gates. The crowds pressed in on either side, their voices rising in a cacophony of cheers and shouts.

"Long live Queen Arthur!" they cried, tossing flowers at my mount's feet. The sweet scent of roses and lilies filled the air, mingling with the sweat and dust of the city.

But not all of them cheered. Some of them sent curses my way, some spat on the cobblestone as we trotted by. I sensed their glares boring into my back, their hatred and resentment seeping into my skin like poison. I tried to ignore them, to focus on the adoring faces and the shouts of support, but it was like trying to ignore a dagger pressed against my spine.

As we rode through the winding streets, I caught snippets of whispered conversations, hissed accusations that made my blood run cold.

"She's not fit to be queen," one woman spat, her face twisted with disgust. "A peasant girl, raised in an orphanage? What does she know of ruling a kingdom?"

"Uther has lost his mind," a man muttered, shaking his head. "Naming a girl as his heir? It's madness."

I clenched my jaw, my fingers tightening on the reins until my knuckles turned white. I wanted to whirl around, to shout at them that I was more than just a peasant girl, that the sword had chosen me, not the other way around. But I knew it would be useless. They had already made up their minds about me.

Galahad must have sensed my unease, because he urged his horse forward until he was riding alongside me. "Ignore the rabble," he said, waving them off. “They just like to have someone new to hate."

I held my tongue, but gave him a thankful smile.

As we left the city behind, the noise of the crowds faded away, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the chirping of birds. The sun filtered through the canopy of trees, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. I inhaled deeply, savoring the earthy scent of moss and damp soil.

We ventured deeper into the woods and the trees grew taller, more ancient. Their trunks were gnarled and twisted with age. The air hummed with a strange energy, a prickling sensation that danced across my skin like invisible fingers.

I shivered, pulling my cloak tighter around my shoulders. There was magic here, old and powerful. I felt it in my bones. This side of the Kingswood was neutral lands, and was generally seen as safe for humans. But once we crossed the boundary into the wilds, we’d be vulnerable to all the ancient creatures who dwelt there.

Suddenly, a shadow passed overhead, blocking out the sun for a moment. I looked up, my hand instinctively reaching for my sword until I saw him. Merlin, perched atop a magnificent creature with the body of a lion and the wings and head of an eagle. A griffin.

The creature's feathers gleamed like bronze in the dappled sunlight, its eyes a piercing amber that twinkled back at me. It landed gracefully in front of our procession, and I heard the slide of steel as all five of my knights drew their weapons.

My heart gave a lurch as Merlin lowered his hooded cloak, revealing his shoulder length dark hair and familiar blue eyes. He smirked at me, and my body flushed, suddenly remembering the way those lips had felt between my thighs only hours ago.

I raised my hand, signaling for the knights to stand down. “Put away your damn weapons," I commanded, slicing through the tense silence. "This is Merlin—my friend. I trust him."

The knights hesitated for a moment, their eyes darting between me and the cloaked figure atop the griffin. Then, slowly, they lowered their swords, sliding them back into their scabbards with a soft hiss of metal on leather.

I nudged my horse forward, closing the distance between myself and Merlin. As I drew closer, I could see the mischief dancing in his eyes, the way his lips twitched as if he were holding back a laugh.

"Your Highness," he said, inclining his head in a bow that managed to be both respectful and playful at the same time. "I trust your journey has been uneventful thus far?"

"As uneventful as a ride through the city streets with a mob of angry peasants can be," I replied dryly, raising an eyebrow at him. "But I suspect you already knew that."

Merlin leaned forward, resting his arms on the griffin's feathered neck. "I may have heard a few particularly scathing jabs from the skies, but I have faith in your ability to win them over.”

Percival urged his horse forward, his dark eyes narrowing as he looked up at Merlin. "You’re a sorcerer… Only those trained in the druid arts can command a griffin."

The forest around us suddenly grew darker and colder, as if all the sunlight and warmth were being sucked away. I watched Percival, realizing that darkness swirled around him while light fled.

I knew the fae possessed magic. They were the only ones who were allowed to wield it aside from King Uther’s personal sorcerer, Gaius.

Merlin's playful expression sobered, and he met Percival's gaze steadily. "I’ve been trained in the ways of magic since I was a boy."

"And who, pray tell, trained you?" Percival pressed as his hand fisted around what looked like a ball of pure darkness. "Sorcery is forbidden in Camelot, punishable by death."

Merlin nodded, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “I’m well aware of the laws, Sir Percival," he said, his eyes glinting as Percival’s shoulders stiffened at the familiar use of his name. "Gaius himself trained me. He recognized my gift from a young age and took me under his wing."

A tense silence stretched between us, broken only by the rustle of leaves in the breeze and the occasional snort from the horses. Percival's ball of darkness pulsed and swirled in his hand, casting eerie shadows across his face.

"Gaius might have trained you, illegally , I might add, but that doesn't change the fact that sorcery is a crime in Camelot. How do we know you won't turn your magic against us? Against the queen?"

The queen.

I was the queen….

Hearing it out loud sent a wave of dizziness through me, and I was glad I was sitting.

Merlin's eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, I thought I saw a hint of gold in their blue depths. "I would never betray Arthur. I promised to protect and serve her until my last fucking breath."

I held up my hand, silencing the knights before an argument could erupt. "Merlin’s right. He’s been by my side since we were children, scraping by in that orphanage together. I trust him with my life." I looked at each of the knights in turn, holding their gazes. "You’ve sworn an oath to protect me, and I’m grateful for that, but Merlin has made that same vow, even if it wasn’t in front of a court or king. Merlin's magic has saved my life more times than I can count."

I took a deep breath and looked at each of the knights in turn. "You five share a bond of brotherhood, built over years of serving Camelot together. You trust each other completely and would lay down your lives for one another without a second thought. Merlin and I share that same bond. We might not have been knighted together, but we've faced challenges that could break lesser men."

I thought back to our childhood in the orphanage, remembering those long nights when we huddled together for warmth and the days we spent scavenging for scraps of food. "When the other children shunned him for his strange dreams and visions, I was there for him. I fought them off and was punished for it every time."

A smile crept onto my face at the memory. "And when I was sick with the sweating sickness, it was Merlin who stayed by my side day and night, feeding me broth and slowly healing me with what little magic he knew."

Lancelot's eyes searched mine, his brow furrowed as he wrestled with his thoughts. The sunlight glinted off his golden hair, casting a halo around his head. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, his broad shoulders sagging slightly. "We’ll trust your judgment then, but know that I will be watching the sorcerer closely. If he makes one wrong move, if he even hints at betraying you, I will not hesitate to strike him down."

Merlin inclined his head, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. "I would expect nothing less from the queen's most loyal knight.”

Lancelot's jaw clenched, but he simply nodded stiffly before turning his horse back towards the path. The other knights followed suit, falling into formation around me once more.

A gust of wind rustled through the trees, carrying with it a cold whisper that chilled me to my bones. I glanced over my shoulder, peering into the shadowy depths of the forest, half-expecting to see glowing eyes or glistening fangs peering back at me. But there was nothing. Just the gentle sway of branches and the distant call of a raven.

Merlin flew ahead, his griffin's wings beating a steady rhythm against the sky. Every so often, he would swoop down low, his eyes scanning the forest floor for any signs of danger. I found myself watching him, admiring the way his body moved in perfect sync with the creature beneath him.

As if sensing my gaze, Merlin glanced back over his shoulder, his blue eyes locking with mine. A slow, wicked smile spread across his face, and I felt heat bloom in my cheeks. Memories of last night flooded my mind—the brush of his fingers on my skin. I shivered, my thighs clenching involuntarily around the saddle.

I tore my gaze away from Merlin, trying to focus on the path ahead. But my mind kept wandering, replaying every heated glance, every brush of skin on skin. It was maddening, the way he could unravel me with just a look. This change in dynamic between us was all so new. We’d had years to cross that threshold. Why had we waited until the day my life changed forever?

Galahad rode up beside me, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "You seem distracted, my lady," he said, his voice light and teasing.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, fighting a smile. "I was just...lost in thought."

Galahad raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. "Of course. I’m sure your thoughts were purely innocent and not at all related to a certain dark-haired sorcerer who can’t seem to stop staring at you like he wants to eat you."

"Careful," I warned playfully. "Or I might just have to challenge you to a duel to defend my own honor."

Galahad let out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing through the trees. "I would be honored to face you in combat,” he said, giving me an exaggerated bow from atop his horse. "But I’m afraid I wouldn’t stand a chance against your legendary sword." His eyes bounced to Excalibur at my hip.

I couldn’t ignore the damn thing if I tried. Even sheathed, the blade called to me. It felt like a gentle hum of magic brushing against my thigh every so often, as if the sword wanted to remind me it was there.

“Maybe it would help if I knew how to use it,” I muttered, almost to myself, but he heard. I knew how to fight when I needed to, but my training was nowhere near what I needed if I was going to be crowned queen once this quest was completed.

“From what I hear, you handled your own before pulling the sword free.” Galahad looked me over deliberately slow. “Rumors have been swirling about you all night in Camelot, I’m afraid. The tiny woman who nearly killed two mercenaries.” I scrunched up my nose at the memory of trying to scramble away from those awful men. Galahad laughed, and the deep rumble of it warmed me a little. “Maybe we can carve out some time between camps to teach you a thing or two about swordplay, hm?”

I felt a flush of excitement at Galahad's offer. The prospect of learning how to wield Excalibur properly from the fae knights themselves was thrilling. "I'd like that very much. Thank you, Galahad."

He grinned, the sun catching on his fiery hair. "It would be my pleasure. We can't have our queen going into battle unprepared now, can we?"

Battle. Was this my life now?

As we rode on, the air grew cooler, mist curling between the ancient trees. The back of my neck prickled, and I glanced around warily. These woods were different than the ones surrounding the city of Camelot—wilder, more untamed. I could feel the ancient magic thrumming in the earth, taste it on my tongue with each breath.

We came to a small clearing, and Lancelot held up a hand, signaling for us to halt. He swung down from his saddle in one smooth motion, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he scanned the tree line. "We'll make camp here for the night.”

I looked around in confusion, watching as Merlin and his griffin circled above. “Why so soon? We still have daylight hours left.”

“The wilds are a dangerous place. Before we go any further, we’ll need to ward you,” Lancelot said, and then nodded at Galahad. “Maybe you can use the few hours we have before the sun sets to begin her training. The gods know she needs it.”

I scowled, but I had nothing to say to that, because unfortunately, he was right. As the knights set about unpacking bedrolls and kindling for a fire, Merlin landed his griffin at the edge of a tiny clearing. He slid from its back and murmured something in its ear before it took off again, disappearing into the darkening sky.

Merlin strode over to me, his cloak billowing behind him. He stopped inches away, close enough that the heat radiating off his body caressed me. "Before we go any further, there's something I need to do."

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. "What is it?"

He reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek with a gentleness that made me shiver. "I need to place a protection ward on you.” Lancelot’s head turned and he narrowed his eyes on Merlin, but said nothing. “The magic in these woods is ancient and unpredictable. I won't let anything happen to you."

I leaned into his touch, my skin tingling where his fingers met my flesh. "Do it," I breathed. “But we still need to finish our conversation. I’m still irritated with you, so don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

Merlin's lips thinned, and he nodded. Then eyes flashed gold, and he began to chant in a language I didn't understand. The words were guttural and harsh, yet somehow beautiful. I sensed the power building around us crackling in the air like lightning.

He placed his hand over my heart, and I gasped as a surge of energy raced through me. It was like liquid fire in my veins, burning and freezing all at once. I squeezed my eyes shut, riding out the sensation until it gradually faded to a gentle hum just beneath my skin.

When I opened my eyes again, Merlin was watching me intently, his brow furrowed with concern. "Are you alright?" he asked, his hand still resting over my heart.

I nodded, feeling a little dazed. "I think so. That was...intense."

"Protection spells usually are. But it will keep you safer than if we sent you into these woods with nothing. If anything with magic threatens you, it should repel it back at them."

He let his hand fall away, and I immediately missed his touch. It was ridiculous, really. We'd spent our entire lives together, but suddenly every casual contact felt charged with something new and exhilarating.

I cleared my throat, trying to regain my composure. "Thank you, Merlin. For always looking out for me."

His eyes softened, and he reached out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "Until the bitter end. You know that."

“Until the bitter end,” I echoed.

There were so many things left unspoken between us, but I think we both knew it wasn’t the time for it. Merlin had a lot to answer for.

Galahad's booming voice broke the moment. "If you two are quite finished making eyes at each other, perhaps we could begin Her Majesty's training?"

I felt my cheeks flush, and I stepped away from Merlin, shooting Galahad a withering glare. He simply grinned, unabashed, and tossed me a wooden practice sword.

I caught it deftly, the weight of it familiar in my hand. I may not have had formal training, but I knew how to handle myself in a fight. Growing up in the orphanage, I'd learned to scrap and brawl with the best of them. But swordplay was a different beast entirely. I gripped the wooden hilt tightly, squaring off against Galahad as he twirled his own practice blade with casual ease.

"First lesson," he said, circling me slowly. "Don't grip the sword so tightly. It needs to be an extension of your arm, not a separate entity." I forced my fingers to relax slightly, adjusting my stance to mirror his. Galahad nodded in approval. "Good. Now, come at me."

I lunged forward, swinging the wooden sword in a wide arc. Galahad parried easily, the clack of wood on wood ringing through the clearing. He danced back, his movements fluid and graceful.

"Don't give away your strikes. Keep your opponent guessing."

We went back and forth, both Gawain and Tristan occasionally calling out tips and corrections as we sparred. Sweat beaded on my brow and my muscles burned, but I relished the challenge. There was something invigorating about the dance of combat, the adrenaline singing through my veins.

As the sun dipped below the tree line, painting the sky in shades of orange and red, Galahad called a halt to our session. "You're a quick study," he said, clapping me on the shoulder.

Warmth spread through me. It helped that I already knew the basics, having had no choice but to fight my way out of some sticky situations in the past. But it felt good to have this warrior notice.

“Does seeing into the future help you in a fight?” I asked, my eyes meeting Tristan’s silver ones over my shoulder. He leaned against a tree, watching us.

"It has its advantages," he said with a shrug. "But the future is always in motion. It’s always changing with each decision we make, so there’s no real guarantee. That, and I have no control over what I see and when I see it."

I nodded, considering. The idea of seeing so many potentially horrible futures and being unable to do anything to change them was terrifying. I didn’t envy him in the slightest.

"Did you see me coming?" I asked breathlessly. I was winded, and my legs felt like jelly. "Did you know I would be the one to pull the sword from the stone?"

Tristan's gaze turned distant, but he shook his head. "I saw many possible outcomes. Many paths that could have led to the Grail. But you actually caught me by surprise."

“What, because I’m a woman?” I asked flatly.

"No, not because you’re a woman. Actually, Avalon is a matriarchal realm, the crown passing from mother to daughter, so none of us are strangers to taking orders from a female.”

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. It hadn't occurred to me before, but it made sense. The fae world was divided into two courts, each with a queen that ruled for hundreds of years. I always assumed that the crown was passed down through the next of kin the way it did with humans.

“So what you’re saying is, Lancelot was just being an arse?”

Tristan laughed, and Lancelot cast us both a glare. "Lancelot’s always an arse, I’m afraid. I believe the ladies like to call it ‘brooding.’”

I sighed, tossing a rock into the fire idly. “The quest business sounds like a lot of riddles and prophecy nonsense. It would help if you could just see into my future and tell me which way to go.”

“I wish it was that simple,” he said. “The visions can be annoyingly vague. I do know one thing though—your path and ours are now suddenly entwined, and I can’t say I’m all that disappointed."

I returned his knowing smile.

Percival strode into the clearing, his dark cloak swirling around him. "The wards are set. We should be safe for the night, but I'll take the first watch just in case."

Lancelot nodded, already beginning to lay out bedrolls near the crackling fire. "We'll sleep in shifts. No one wanders off alone, understood?"

Everyone nodded their agreement, and I shook off the feeling of unease, sinking down onto a fallen log. The heat felt good against my aching muscles and I let out a small sigh, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension.

Galahad plopped down next to me, offering a water-skin. "Drink up, my lady. We can't have you getting dehydrated on your first day as royalty."

I accepted it gratefully, taking a long pull of the cool, clean water. It soothed my parched throat, and I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand before passing it back. "Just Arthur is fine, you know. We're going to be spending a lot of time together. Might as well drop the formalities."

Galahad grinned, his amber eyes dancing in the firelight. "As you wish, Just Arthur."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips. Galahad had an easy charm about him, a lightness that was almost infectious.

Gawain settled on my other side, reaching out to snag a chunk of bread from the provisions pack. He tore it in half, offering me a portion. "You'll need to keep your strength up. The wilds have a way of sapping your energy if you're not used to the magic here."

I accepted the bread, my stomach growling at the sight of food. I hadn't realized how famished I was until now. "Is it always like this? The heaviness in the air and the feeling of being watched?"

Gawain nodded. "It actually gets a lot worse from here.”

I groaned, taking a bite of the bread. It was dense and nutty, studded with dried berries that burst tart sweetness on my tongue. "Fantastic. I just love that."

Galahad chuckled, bumping his shoulder against mine. "Chin up. You've got five strapping fae knights to protect you. What could possibly go wrong?"

"Don't tempt fate," Gawain warned, though his gray eyes glimmered with amusement. "Though he’s right about one thing. We wouldn’t let anything happen to you."

I smiled gratefully. “Let’s hope we don’t have to put that to the test too soon.”

As the last rays of sunlight faded, giving way to the inky blackness of night, I found myself drawn to the warmth and light of the campfire. The dancing flames cast a soft, flickering glow across the faces of my companions as we settled in. The crackling of the burning wood became a soothing backdrop to the chirping of crickets and the distant hoots of an owl.

Galahad lounged next to me, his long legs stretched out towards the fire. The golden light played across his features, highlighting the angles of his cheekbones and the mischievous glint in his eyes.

He smiled at me, a playful quirk of his lips. "So, Just Arthur, tell us something about yourself. We've heard the rumors, of course, but I want to hear it from your pretty lips."

“Gal…” Lancelot warned, giving Galahad a look that said more than words ever could.

I laughed, shaking my head. "I'm afraid the rumors are probably more interesting than the reality. We grew up in an orphanage in Otterford after a fire destroyed our village.” I glanced over to where Merlin was deep in conversation with Tristan, their heads bent close together. “It’s where I met Merlin. I was too young to have any real memory of the village, but Merlin does, and it makes me feel closer to my parents.”

My parents … An aching sadness settled into my bones as Merlin glanced over at me, smiling softly. My stomach flipped, and my skin heated as flashes of last night came back to me.

Gawain leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "And how did you end up in so much trouble last night? Either you’re exceptionally lucky, or the fates have been leading you here for a long time.”

I chuckled, poking at the fire with a stick, sending sparks dancing into the night sky. "Exceptionally lucky? More like exceptionally foolish, with a dash of fate thrown in for good measure." I glanced over at Merlin again, catching his eye.

He grinned, clearly remembering the same story I was about to tell. He beat me to it, and I leaned back happily and listened as he said, "It all started with too much ale and not enough coin?—"

Gawain chuckled, shaking his head. "A tale as old as time.”

We wound down for the night, and my eyes grew heavy. I listened to the forest around us, so much louder now that we were so far away from a village. I heard animals scurrying around and the trees rustling in the wind.

Lancelot caught my gaze, and he nodded to my hip. “Keep Excalibur next to you at all times, even while you’re sleeping. Gal showed you the basics, but the magic should do the rest if you’re attacked."

I couldn't stop the prickle of paranoia as I looked out into the darkening woods. The wards shimmered faintly at the edge of the clearing, a gossamer veil of magic that separated us from whatever lurked in the shadows. Despite the protection spell Merlin had placed on me, I felt vulnerable, exposed. Like a rabbit trembling in its warren, knowing the fox prowled just outside.

Galahad stretched lazily, the muscles beneath his tunic shifting as he did. "All this talk about swordplay has me itching for a real challenge," he said, his amber eyes sparkling mischievously in the firelight. He turned to Gawain with a playful grin. "What do you say, brother? Want to show our queen how it’s really done?"

Gawain's steel-gray eyes lit up at the idea, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "I thought you'd never ask." He stood up smoothly, his hand already resting on the pommel of his sword. "But why settle for those flimsy wooden sticks? Let’s give her a proper show, shall we?"

I leaned in, intrigued. "You mean a duel with real swords? Isn’t that dangerous?"

The two knights exchanged a look of pure delight, like kids up to absolutely no good.

Gawain strode from the fire, clapping Galahad on the shoulder. "I assure you, the only thing in danger here is Galahad's pride."

Galahad snorted and drew his sword with a flourish. The blade glinted in the firelight, its edge wickedly sharp. "Bold words from a man who once lost a fight to a particularly aggressive goose."

Gawain narrowed his eyes. "That goose was clearly enchanted.” The two knights circled each other, their movements fluid and graceful. “Probably by you whispering into its little goose ear.”

Gawain lunged forward, his sword a silver blur in the firelight. Galahad parried the blow with a resounding clang, sparks flying as steel met steel. I’d never seen anything like it.

"Is that the best you can do?" Galahad taunted, his fiery hair wild as he spun away from Gawain's blade. "I've seen drunken tavern wenches with better footwork!"

Gawain laughed. “Yes, as they try desperately to get away from your smelly arse!”

I watched, mesmerized, as they fought. Their movements were so fast, so precise, it was like watching lightning dance across the sky. The firelight caught on their blades, casting strange, flickering shadows across their faces.

Galahad ducked under Gawain's swing, popping up behind him with a cheeky grin. "Too slow, old man! Perhaps it's time to hang up that sword and take up knitting instead?" He leapt backwards, the tip of Gawain's blade missing him by a hair's breadth as Gawain rounded on him. "Ooh, close one! Did you feel that breeze, Gawain? Or was that just your ego deflating?"

Gawain's response was a wordless roar as he charged forward, his blade a silver blur in the night. Galahad met him head-on, their swords locking at the hilt. For a moment, they stood there, straining against each other, neither willing to give an inch.

Then, with a twist of his wrist, Galahad disengaged and spun away, leaving Gawain off-balance. He stumbled forward, nearly face-planting into the dirt before catching himself at the last second. He never let go of his sword, but just barely.

"Oh ho!" Galahad cackled, his amber eyes dancing with mirth. "It seems the mighty Gawain has forgotten which end of the sword to hold! Shall I draw you a diagram, brother?"

Lancelot sighed heavily, shaking his head as he watched Gawain and Galahad's antics. "And here I thought we might actually have a peaceful evening for once," he muttered, his voice a mix of exasperation and fondness. "But no, these two idiots always have to turn everything into a spectacle."

"Are they always like this?" I asked, turning to Lancelot with a grin.

It was Tristan who answered as he prepared tea over the fire. He looked up, laughter dancing in his silver eyes. “Only for the last seven hundred years.”

The sound of laughter interrupted Tristan’s words, followed by a loud thud. We all turned to see Gawain and Galahad laying on the ground, both panting heavily but playfully throwing incredibly half-hearted punches and kicks at each other. I couldn't resist shaking my head; those two were going to be trouble, I could already tell.

"I suppose," Gawain panted, "we could call this one a draw."

Galahad nodded, still chuckling. "Agreed. Though I maintain that I would have bested you if not for that conveniently placed tree root."

"Sure, Gal. That’s what happened. A draw it is then," Gawain said, extending a hand to help Galahad up. "We all know I had the upper hand before that treacherous root intervened."

Galahad grasped Gawain's forearm, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. "Keep telling yourself that, brother. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

The two knights made their way back to the fire, their heavy breathing gradually slowing as they settled onto logs on either side of me. The scent of pine and sweat mingled with the smoke from the fire, creating an oddly comforting aroma that settled me.

Galahad ran a hand through his tousled red hair, his amber eyes twinkling as he turned to me. "So," he said, a mischievous grin playing at his lips. "Be honest. Who looked the handsomest out there?"