The Lady Gwenyvere was preparing for the ball this evening. Any other lady would have murded the king to get to be able to wear her dress for just one night, but Gwen didn't much care for it. It was floor-length, although not so long that you were constantly having to pull it up for fear of tripping over it, and it was a midnight blue that was so vibrant that it looked like the seemstress had gone out at night to cut a piece of the sky just to make a dress. The skirt had a layer of something see through that sparkled and glittered like stars on top of the midnight blue. It was matched with a pair of silver heels and elbow length midnight blue gloves that matched the dress. As her curly hair was being piled on top of her head, she looked at herself with disdain. She looked like a foreign noble who had people to impress. Gwen knew that she didn't need to impress anyone because of her position as the Crown Prince's betrothed, but apparently apperances needed to be maintained.

A knock sounded at the door. The seamstress, who was busily making last-minute changes to the dress, said somewhat angrily to her assistant, "Go make that lost servant go away. I need peace and quiet to work."

The servant went to the door, opened it, and went out. In a few minutes she was back. "Madame that was no lost servant. In fact he was a servant who knew exactly where he was going. He carried a message from the steward. The Lady Gwenyvere is to meet the steward outside of Prince Arthur's chambers in five minutes."


Arthur was also preparing for the ball, although he didn't pay as much attention to what he was wearing because he was at mental war with himself. He was trying so hard not to think about tonight, but Arthur soon learned that when you try very hard not to think about something, it always seemed to creep up and encroach upon your thoughts when you let your guard down. Arthur was trying so hard not to think about tonight because of Gwen. That vain and stuck-up girl who he was going to have to marry in five years. He could, of course, plan the marriage for any date before then, but why would he want to? He didn't much like her, and she didn't much like him, although Arthur couldn't see why. He tried to think of other things, but his mind kept coming back to the three or four hours he would have to spend with Gwen, and they had to chat and laugh as though they actually could stand one another's presence. He would probably consume a glass too many of whatever wine or mead was offered after an hour or two, but Gwen did not have the luxury of getting drunk because she was a lady. She would then half-drag, half-carry Arthur back to his chambers. This was just to keep the servants' thinking that they liked each other a lot, because Gwen had discovered a secret passageway that was hidden underneath a loose floorboard. This passageway lead to a hallway very close to her chambers, where her trusted servants would be waiting to escort her back to her own chambers.

His train of thought was interrupted by a knock at the door. He shooed his servant away and went to get the door himself. He opened the door and was shocked to see Gwen standing next to the steward, Edgar Wolfe.

Edgar Wolfe was a childhood friend of Arthur's father and current reigning king, King Uther. He always walked around in full armor with his sword and several daggers, even when there was no reason to do so. He kept his greying beard neatly trimmed, along with what little hair was left on his head. Perhaps he had been handsome once, but old age had not been favorable to his features.

When Igraine, Arthur's mother, died in childbirth giving birth to Arthur, Uther was given no choice but to appoint a steward. It was the steward's duty to take over as king if King Uther were to be physically or mentally incapacitaed, or if the king were to die when Arthur was still too young to take his place as ruler of Camelot. Uther had lost his mental health over ten years ago, when Arthur was only six. The steward had taken over then and ruled Camelot as fairly and as justly as Uther had, but Arthur always got a bad vibe from the steward.

"May I speak with you for a moment with the Lady Gwenyvere?" he asked.

"Sure," Arthur said as he stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind him. "What seems to be the matter?"

"Yes," Gwen said, "why have you called us here?"

"It's the two of you who are the matter."

Arthur and Gwen looked bewildered. "What could we possibly have been doing?" Gwen questioned.

"It's what you haven't been doing that's worrying me and the rest of the council, not to mention the rest of Camelot." Both Arthur and Gwen looked down at the ground as if they were school children caught for misbeahaving behind the teacher's back, and the steward stared them down as if he were the teacher scolding them. "When your father," he said looking at Gwen, "saved Uther's life on the battlefield, Uther said that he could have any one thing that he wanted. Your father could have said wealth, or power, or simply a horse to plow his field, but he asked for something completely unselfish. He said that it was his wish for his only daughter to become a lady and live in the palace. He wanted you to grow up and marry the Crown Prince of Camelot, not just some random uneducated farmer who lived down the street.

"And you, Arthur!" Arthur continued to stare at the one little spot on his boot that his servant had forgotten to polish. "You could at least try to win the heart of the lady whom you must marry; if not to be chivalrous and make it less awkward for her, at least do it for yourself! She is the woman who will reign by your side and bear you children!" Both Gwen and Arthur cringed at that comment.

"Anyway, the point of this little meeting was for me to tell you of the people's unrest. Right now anyone who simply shoots two well aimed arrows might as well be given the keys to the kingdom. I could not stand in the way of anyone wanting to claim the throne because I am appointed by Uther. The point is, many people want to see the line to the throne more secure. As in they want, you, Arthur, to show at least some interest in the woman you are to soon marry! So at this ball, no more getting drunk or pretending to do so and going off to each other's chambers, when everyone knows you just end up returning to your own. Don't look at me with such shock. The servants gossip."

The steward stared them both down with more animosity than before. "I want you two to show some genuine interest in each other tonight, or put on a very good performance. I need not remind you that betrothal in this kingdom carries the same weight as marriage, so don't go dancing around with every person of the opposite gender. That will be all." The steward straightened his back, and his eyes glittered with arrogence. He turned his back and strode away as if he were the most important man within fifty miles.

"That slack-jawed moron."

Gwenyvere laughed. "I couldn't agree with you more, sire."

"At least we agree on one thing."


The balls of Camelot were widely known to have the best music, the best decorations, the best food, and, well, the best of everything. When one was invited to a ball in Camelot, one could not refuse. This ball did certainly not live down its expectations. It was the middle of winter, so the dance had fittingly been named the Snow Ball. Camelot's ballroom had been decorated from the ceiling to the floor in white and blue. On the first third of the ballroom as one came in the door were tables. The tablecloths alternated between white and blue every other table, as did the chairs. Each of the centerpeices was a little ice sculpture of a tiny waterfall. The torches were burning on some foreign oil and wood, and the result was blue and white flickering flames, instead of the normal orange and yellow. The entire room was breathtaking.

The last two-thirds of the ballroom was what really caught everyone's attention. The dance floor was made from a highly polished dark wood, but no one slipped as they swayed gracefully to the music, which came from the group of minstrels seated on the side of the room farthest from the door.

As Gwen soaked all of this in, a familiar voice floated from behind her. "I guess we have to do this, so let's just get it over with." Arthur offered his arm. Gwen looped her arm through his, and Arthur led her out onto the dance floor.

They both tried to smile and make conversation because of the open ears and eyes around them, but nothing came up that could have sparked a love interest like the steward had demanded they do.

It was about two and a half hours into the ball, and Gwen and Arthur were sharing yet another dance when a young man tapped Arthur on the shoulder. "May I cut in?" he asked. The mysterious man was certainly not as well dressed as Arthur, but Gwen thought he was just as handsome, perhaps even more so. Gwen could tell that he was as muscular as any knight in Camelot's court.

"Certainly," Arthur replied as anyone would and walked off the dance floor.

Her mysterious rescuer took her by the hand and said, "It looked like you needed a break. You've been dancing with that guy for almost the whole night."

"You mean you don't know who I am? Or who he is?"

"No. I came with King Odin from the North. Between me and you, he's a bit of an ass," the man said with a smile. "Forgive me. My name is Lancelot."

Gwen smiled. "Lancelot, my name is Gwenyvere."

Something happened during that dance that Gwen thought would never happen to her. There was a click. A click so obvious that Gwen was suprised that everyone around her didn't turn toward them as they twirled around the floor to find the source of the noise. A sort of click that only happened to two people who were destined to be together for much longer than a dance. Over Lancelot's muscular shoulder she saw Arthur dancing with a beautiful girl with long, dark, curly hair, and she was wearing a dark green velvet dress that matched her eyes. Gwen thought she saw was that there was a similar click between the Crown Prince Arthur and his lady.

"So Lady Morgan, where do you come from?"

"I was born here in Camelot, but I was kidnapped by gypsies when I was a when I was very young. Several years later, King Pellinore's men saw me trying to escape and rescued me. I have lived as a lady in his court for the last ten years."

"So you really have no idea who I am?"

"No, I don't. Should I?"

"Oh, no. A lady of your beauty has a right to know or not know anyone she likes."

The stewart saw the exchanges between the two couples and was curious. Of course he saw the man Gwenyvere was currently dancing with ask Arthur for the dance, and it would be incredibly rude for Arthur to refuse. He wouldn't blame Arthur for deserting his betrothed, but he wanted to make sure there was nothing signifigant happening between the couples. He saw a lady with strawberry blond hair and the most interesting pair of purple eyes that he knew and strode toward her to ask her to dance. "Lady Morgause, may I have this dance?"

"Certainly," she responded.

The song ended sooner than would have liked for Arthur, Gwen, and their partners, but both of the couples eventually split up. Arthur found himself standing next to Gwen again. "Do you know a Lady Morgan from King Pellinore's court?"

"No I don't. Was that the lady in the green dress who I saw you dancing with?"

"Yes, in a matter of fact it was. Who was the man who danced with you?"

"His name was Lancelot. He said he came with King Odin. You don't know him?"

"No."

There were a few moments of silence, and then Gwenyvere laid the facts out on the table for both of them to see.

"Look, I know that you would prefer Lady Morgan over me. Don't look like that; I saw you two dancing and the way you acted around her. I would also prefer Lancelot over you. So I will make you a deal. Both Lady Morgan and Lancelot will only be here for another week, so I suggest that we make the most of our time. You will see Lady Morgan, and I will see Lancelot for the remainder of the time that they spend here."

Arthur looked a little bit wary at first, but then Gwen said, "Unless you want to spend the next week like any other week; pretending to like me with no one to look forward to seeing."

"But we are betrothed. If anyone were to ever find out, Camelot would be looked upon with shame, and you would probably be exiled from the city."

"At least we wouldn't have to marry."

From the way his eyebrows drew together and the way his eyes focused intently on a portion of a nearby table, Gwen could tell that Arthur was thinking through every possible outcome to see if this risk was worth taking, just like any military leader would. The end of the dance was approaching, and couples were gradually making their way to the door, some even walking out.

Arthur smiled. "You've got yourself a deal, but we still have to keep up appearances."

"How are we going to do that without them finding out? Lance doesn't know that we're betrothed, and I'm assuming that Lady Morgan doesn't know either."

"She doesn't. Let's just say that a distant relative has come in for the ball and wants to see us married, but our parents don't. We are just spending so much time with one another until your Uncle Pelles leaves."

"Uncle Pelles? That's the best you could come up with?"

Arthur was about to come back with a witty retort, but a deep bell resonded througout the castle. This bell signalled the end of the dance, and everyone was saying their last goodbyes as they walked out the door.

A frantic look quickly came over Gwen's face. "Arthur, where's the steward?"

Arthur quickly found him. The steward had a young redhead on one arm who was laughing at something he said. He smiled and led the girl out of the ballroom and toward the Royal Wing, which included chambers for the king, the king's servants, and the steward's own chambers.

Arthur turned to Gwen and said, "I think he's going to be pretty well distracted for a while. We'll probably be free for the rest of the night."

"Great. See you later!" she exclaimed quietly in a way that sounded almost grateful as she walked off to where Lancelot was talking with some knights from Camelot. Arthur was thinking the same thing as he himself walked toward the Lady Morgan, who was looking out of the window at the rain that had just started to fall gently.

The steward led the laughing Lady Morgause into the Royal Wing. "He'll never suspect," she said as she recovered from the steward's comment.

"Well, it can't hurt to be too careful," the steward commented.

"There is such a thing as being paranoid."

The couple came to a tall dark set of wooden double doors, which had two Camelot guards in full armor standing on either side.

"You're a bit late tonight, sire," the guard on the right said as he opened the door on his side.

"Well, you know, the ball and everything," the steward said with an evil looking grin as he led Lady Morgause into the king's chambers. The guard on the left thought that perhaps standing at attention in front of the king's chamber doors for the last eight hours had made him a little bit delusional, but he swore that he heard Lady Morgause laugh evilly as the door to the king's chambers slammed shut to hide whatever the two of them were doing every full moon in the king's chambers for the last ten years.