"Keep pacing like that and you'll make a trench in the floor."
Queen Guinevere stood, leaning her shoulder against the wall as she watched Sir Lancelot du Lac, Ultimate Knight of the Round Table, pace back and forth like a madman. Yet, despite her taunt, the knight didn't cease his movements; rather, he appeared to double in speed as he made his way back and forth, back and forth, back and forth across the entry hall. The knight didn't speak a word, his visor hiding his face from view, but still the queen could tell that he was deeply troubled. His posture was rigid, his aura tense, and from the bottom of his helmet she could see his jaw moving as he ground his teeth together. With a sigh, the bat pushed herself away from the wall, considering stepping in front of him and forcing him to stop, but decided against it; Lancelot was unpleasant at best when he was in a state such as this.
Instead, she spoke out to him. "You know, I'm sure Yseult isn't worried."
"Well perhaps she should be!" Lancelot snapped back, his first words in a long while, and Guinevere wondered if that counted as a personal victory or not. "They've been gone an hour longer than expected!"
"Something might have come up," Guinevere reasoned, but it did nothing to calm Lancelot down. "They shall both explain when they return. Honestly, Lance, give them some credit. Arthur's plenty capable of handling civil issues on his own, and he's got Sir Tristan with him. They will be back in no time at all."
"But they're not back!" Lancelot's hands balled into fists, opening and closing in a futile attempt to calm himself down. "It would take Arthur all but a few minutes to dash back and update us on the situation, yet we've seen neither hide nor hair of either of them! And this is hardly the night to take things slowly on civil issues, or have you forgotten that we have guests arriving tomorrow?"
"One guest, technically," Guinevere corrected him, twirling a lock of hair around her finger before catching herself. Damn, he had gotten so worked up over this that she was starting to display her own nervous habits, too! "Though you do have a point. At this rate, Arthur won't be in good shape when King Ban arrives."
"Precisely!" Lancelot resumed pacing, his anxiety appearing to reach a new peak. "Which is why I should go out there and find him!"
"No," Guinevere dismissed, smirking at the infuriated look Lancelot was certainly shooting her from behind his visor. "That's an order, Sir Lancelot."
"I swear you're doing this just to irritate me."
The queen let out a dainty laugh. "Perhaps," she admitted, and if she were a crueller being, she might have laughed again at the start Lancelot gave. "Easy now, Lance. As I've said, I'm sure they're on their way back right now. To send you out would only complicate matters."
The knight growled under his breath, the epitome of tension and worry as they continued to wait. Guinevere, taking pity on him, rested a hand on his shoulder to keep him out of his mind and drowning in thoughts which were, doubtlessly, imagining every worst-case scenario in existence.
"Your desire to protect him is admirable," she murmured. "But you must trust him."
"I do!" Lancelot crossed his arms, gripping at his bicep. "I do, but… for him to be gone for much longer than expected… and if anything ever happened to him…"
"I assure you, in just a moment he'll come right through that door and you may press him against the wall and yell at him all night."
And as if the gods themselves had heard her, the door swung open the very next second, to the surprise and relief of both queen and knight. First through the doorway and into the threshold was Sir Tristan, her blue-accented silver armor reflecting the torchlight, her visor pushed up and revealing her tired, exasperated face. Coming up right behind her was King Arthur, red cape billowing as the door behind him closed, golden crown sitting on his head, and his upbeat expression morphing into a sheepish one as he shrunk under Lancelot's hidden glare.
"Um… Hello?"
He was slammed against the wall the very next second by an incredibly angry knight.
"What were you thinking?!" Lancelot demanded, gripping him by the shoulders while Arthur continued to smile his embarrassed little smile. "You're well past when you were expected back! Did you not think to run back here to let us know something had come up?"
"Easy, Lance! The meeting took a little longer than I thought, and then…"
"And then what?" Lancelot's voice held an edge to it, one that promised wrath if a poor answer was given.
Tristan was the one to answer. "We were invited to dinner and got caught up in it for longer than expected."
Guinevere laughed at that. "Sounds about right. Arthur's gone and let his stomach make his decisions for him."
"Hey! I'll have you know I skipped lunch today! I needed it!" the king retorted after sparing an apologetic grin to Lancelot. "Besides… I never get to spend time with the people anymore…"
"Ah yes, the people's king," Guinevere said, sagely nodding her head. "That clears it all up. Don't you see, Lancelot? Everything was, and still is, fine."
Arthur turned his gaze back to Lancelot, a more mischievous smile gracing his lips. "Were you worried about me?" he crooned, leaning forward until his nose brushed against his knight's visor.
"Don't give me that!" Lancelot snapped. "Damn it, Arthur, you know that I… How I…"
Even from her place several feet away, Guinevere could see Lancelot's hands begin to tremble, and any teasing remarks she had in her thoughts extinguished themselves as remorse replaced them all. It was always so easy to poke fun at her friend for his deep love for the king 一 especially when he reacted so strongly! 一 but then forget that his concern lay deeper, enhanced by dark memories and fears that the knight still struggled with. As much as she regretted making light of his worry, especially now, seeing how deep it had cut, she knew that it wasn't the right time for her to be apologizing; right now, it was Arthur's job to soothe Lancelot's worries.
The king seemed to know it was his turn as his hands raised, pushing up the knight's visor and lifting his chin to look at him. "I'm sorry, Lance," he murmured, his smile softer and more reassuring, and Guinevere saw Lancelot's hands cease shaking. "I'm sorry for making you wonder if I'm okay, but I am okay. Do you see it?"
Lancelot swallowed. "I see it… You're okay."
Arthur's hands lowered, arms wrapping around the dark knight's waist. "I swear to you, Lance, that I'm not going anywhere or staying away for too long." Then, bringing his face closer, he added, almost too quietly for Guinevere to pick up on, "Not when I have you to come back to."
The bat looked away, knowing that to eavesdrop any longer would be in bad taste. She glanced over at the still yet-to-be-dismissed Sir Tristan, who was standing dutifully by, wondering how to leave unnoticed, but the chipmunk raised a hand to her mouth, unable to hold back a loud yawn, and the noise caused Sir Lancelot to jump away from King Arthur, once again as tense as could be, interrupting the tender moment between the two.
"My apologies," Tristan said, exhaustion permeating her tone. "It has been a long day."
"It has indeed," Guinevere agreed. "You should get some rest." Then, looking over at the men, she added, "In fact, we all should, seeing as we have that important guest coming tomorrow."
"Shit, you're right," Arthur groaned, raising a hand to massage at his head. "I'd forgotten about that…"
"Typical you," Guinevere taunted, walking over to him and holding out a hand. "In that case, since you've been running around all night, how about I take Caliburn back to Smithy's for you?"
Arthur perked up at that. "You would?" he asked, to which Guinevere winked.
"Don't say I never did anything for you."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Arthur replied, handing over his sword, who looked just as tired as he did. "You spoil me, Guin."
"She does," Caliburn piped up from her grasp. "Perhaps too much. You really ought to let him face the consequences sometimes."
"Oh Caliburn, we both know he'll learn nothing from being overworked even more," she retorted. Then, looking up at the other three in the entry hall, she waved her hand. "Go on, shoo. Get some sleep and be ready for tomorrow."
"You needn't tell me twice," Arthur returned, one arm slipping around Lancelot's waist again as the knight's face reddened at the public display of affection. "I'll sleep like a log tonight."
"As shall I," Tristan agreed, already starting to walk away. "Until morning, Your Majesties, Sir Lancelot."
"Good night, Sir Tristan," the queen bid her farewell. "Say hello to your wife for me."
"She's not my wife," Tristan mumbled in reply, more out of habit than a genuine complaint. It hardly mattered, anyhow; the situation between her and Yseult was clear as day.
As the Spirit Knight walked down one hall, Guinevere turned back to her husband and friend. "Good night to you two as well."
"Good night, Guin," Arthur replied with a one-handed salute. "Thank you again for holding down the fort here."
"You can thank me by being ready to go when His Majesty arrives," she replied, passing them both by and squeezing Lancelot's shoulder in parting. "Heavens knows I need some sleep as well."
"Don't worry about the king," Arthur assured her as she walked off toward the forge. "I'll handle this one."
Guinevere smiled to herself as she readjusted her grip on Caliburn's hilt. "You had better," she sing-songed back as she sped away, leaving the two alone to retire for the night together.
The sun rose far too early for Guinevere's liking. Grumbling under her breath as the morning rays hit her face, she sat up and stretched her arms and wings, one after the other. For a moment, she let herself just sit there, eyelids drooping as she lamented her lack of sleep, but she knew that their guest would only be around for a brief time that day before continuing his travels. She could turn in early tonight. With that thought to comfort her, she slid out of bed and sat at the dresser, taking out a brush and carefully combing it through her hair, getting rid of the knots that had appeared overnight.
She would need to look and behave her best for King Ban's visit.
Her brushing slowed as she blearily recalled what she knew about him. As the sovereign of the mysterious Benwick Kingdom, there was stunningly little intel about him or his people, but Guinevere had gathered that his land bordered G.U.N. to the east, in a land similar to Saxony that was rich with magic users. Supposedly he held considerable magical competence, which had helped him ascend the throne when the previous king died with no heir. His appearance was said to be 'unsettling', and as unhelpful as that description was, at the very least it told Guinevere to curb the impulse to stare before she even saw him.
However, the most important fact that she knew was his reason for visiting: apparently, the king had important information on the current political and military plans of the Saxons and their dreadful emperor. Information so critical that it needed to be delivered in person.
Guinevere set down her brush with a sigh, toying with a lock of hair. Emperor Ælle, as he was now known, had been making bigger and bolder moves on the other kingdoms, and though none had fallen yet, the losses were considerable. She stared into space, glaring at nothing, as she remembered all the disturbing reports.
Explosions at Soleanna… A full siege on Spiral… Despite a lack of report, it could be reasonably assumed that he made a move on Benwick as well… He obviously had morale and manpower to spare. Avalon, for the most part, was safe, given the emperor's continued 一 and false 一 impression that Arthur was an immortal being, but that didn't make him any less dangerous to everyone around him.
Something had to be done about him, that was for certain.
A firm, if hesitant, knock at her door interrupted her thoughts, and she looked toward the noise in confusion. Few people dared bother her in the morning, and those that did rarely woke up at dawn as she did. It was unlikely that Arthur would be up for breakfast, let alone Lancelot, who never left before the king did, so perhaps it was a servant with urgent news?
The knock repeated, more insistent this time, and Guinevere's eyes widened and a grin spread across her face as another possibility came to her. She dashed to the door, suddenly wide awake, and flung it open.
There stood Gawain, arm raised to knock again, and the bat's smile grew tenfold.
"Ah… um… Hello," the echidna started, but Guinevere grabbed his outstretched hand and started pulling him through the door. "Hey! Hold on a moment! I shouldn't go in, or people will talk!"
The queen rolled her eyes. "Only if they catch you coming back out," she returned, doubling her efforts to bring him inside. "Come on, it's the crack of dawn. No one will see you."
"You should think more about your reputation," Gawain kept protesting in a hiss, though his feet shuffled forward. "And mine as well!"
"Everybody knows, Gawain," Guinevere whispered impatiently, giving one more tug to his arm. "Now come inside before I kick you in."
The red knight huffed, striding past her into the room. "You truly have no shame," he growled as she shrugged and shut the door, yet the instant he heard it close, his demeanour changed entirely. Away from any possible prying eyes, from any new rumors of misbehaving and improper relationships with a married sovereign, Gawain relaxed, his spines settling down as he removed his helmet and set it on her desk. Guinevere smirked; Gawain could argue and protest joining her alone until the sun went down, but she knew him better now than before. She knew he did it out of respect. She knew he had grown accustomed her forwardness.
It wasn't as though he wasn't ever forward himself, either, for the very next moment, Guinevere found herself swept up in a hug with Gawain's face buried into her shoulder. She smiled, much softer this time, returning the gesture and lightly rubbing at the back of his head with her thumb, to which she was rewarded with the sound of a contented exhale.
"Welcome back, love," she whispered, and he hummed in reply.
They stayed like that for a while before Gawain lifted his head, taking a step back, though he didn't break their embrace. His hands stayed on her arms, and Guinevere became very aware all of a sudden that she was still in her nightgown, hardly looking her best, yet he looked no less happy to see her. She led him to the bed, sitting him down beside her, and though he blushed, he kept his composure.
"So… Shall I tell you about my travels?"
"Later," Guinevere decided, wrapping her arms around him again. "I haven't seen you in a week and a half." Her lips pressed to his cheek, which burned at the contact. "Let me just…" She kissed his face, from the cheek to the temple, up to the forehead while Gawain's eyes closed and he relaxed even more, leaning in to her touch. She continued to pepper him with light kisses, trailing back down to his muzzle, avoiding going too far and teasing his sensitive neck.
Instead, when her mouth was close, Gawain was bold enough to bring his lips to hers, and Guinevere smiled into the kiss, happy to know that he had come to reunite with her before anyone else. She knew, logically, it made the most sense; Gawain knew she was an early riser, frequently hounded with matters to attend to the instant she stepped into the main area of the castle, save for the days when Arthur took over matters, and that his siblings and friends would all be ready to meet with him at any hour of the day while her own schedule tended to be much less predictable.
All the same… she loved to know that he cared.
They broke apart, both breathing heavily from the extended kiss, and Guinevere patted his shoulder. "There we go. Now you can tell me all about it."
"It's always pleasure before business with you," Gawain returned, taking his arms away to root through his satchel.
"We cannot all be allergic to fun," Guinevere retorted, earning herself an unamused stare that contrasted so oddly with his flushed face that she couldn't hold back a loud snort. "You see? My point exactly."
Gawain grumbled under his breath, but aside from that made no retort as he pulled out two verdant shards. "The mission was a success," he explained, handing them over to her so she could marvel at them. "Though now I'm certain that the last pieces are to the south, from the desert and beyond."
Guinevere paused in her delighted inspection of the shards of the gemstone, lowering both to her lap. "Instinct?" she asked, and Gawain nodded in response.
"The more of these I collect, the stronger my certainties become," he explained. "What were once feelings seem more like knowledge, as though this emerald is trying to speak to me."
Guinevere pondered over his words, knowing better than to poke fun at him for their oddity. From the first time he had accompanied her on an expedition to find them, it had been clear that he had a natural pull to this treasure, the ancient relic of his village's history. "How many do you think are left?" she asked.
His response was immediate and certain. "Three."
"Three," she echoed, turning the two shards around in her hands before reluctantly giving them back. "But you won't leave to find them right away, will you? Your siblings often talk about you, as do your friends… Your absence is always greatly felt."
"I wouldn't dream of leaving again so soon," he replied, supporting himself with his arms so he could lean back. "As much as I've found peace in solitude… I'm happy to be back home."
The admission warmed Guinevere's heart. She kissed his cheek again, before resting her head on his shoulder. Her eyes roamed back to his satchel, and the replacement sword he had next to it. "Not to mention, you could stand to find another blade," she remarked, noticing how dull the edge had gotten. "I swear, you go through those like no one else."
"Hey! I'm used to fighting with both hands!" he defended, and it brought back the thought of a pair of blades, hidden in a trunk in the same room they were in.
The memory made Guinevere frown, and she shifted her head until she could see the small scar on her beloved's neck. "Are you certain you do not want Galatine for the final leg of your journey?"
"I'm certain," he replied immediately, and the queen sighed. "I won't touch it again until I've finished my quest and proven to myself that I am ready to hold it again."
"I know." The bat's eyes closed as she felt Gawain shift his weight so he could put an arm around her. "It just seems such a shame for such a fantastic treasure to be locked away, unused."
Gawain was silent for a while before replying. "Since you seemed so intent on holding it when we first met, why don't you try wielding it yourself?" he asked, and Guinevere's smile returned in an instant.
"Do my ears deceive me?" she asked with a mock gasp, lifting her head back up from his shoulder. "Was that a joke I just heard?"
"Silence, you!" Gawain shot back, though there was no true anger in his tone.
"Oh, but it's such a momentous occasion!" she continued, falling dramatically onto his lap. "My dearest Gawain, discovering a sense of humor!"
"I've always had a sense of humor! You've just always been deaf to it!" he retorted, poking her side, prompting a screech of laughter from the bat.
Damn him! He knew she was ticklish there!
"You scoundrel!" she snapped in playful false anger. "I shall have your hand cut off for this!"
"Not with this sword, I hope," he said, gesturing to the one at his hip, and Guinevere's grin grew wider.
"Two jokes? By Gaia, you must be in a good mood today!"
Gawain's mouth opened, presumably for another snappy retort, but as he looked down at her, something in his violet gaze softened. "Yes. I suppose I am."
Now it seemed it was Guinevere's turn to blush. She sat up again, face still warm, pressing one more kiss to the red knight's cheek. "It's good to see you again, love." She let out a sigh, resting her forehead to his temple. "But unfortunately, I must see you out soon. King Ban is to be arriving sometime today and I must finish preparations."
Gawain shifted in surprise, but was careful not to accidentally push her off. "A king is coming today?"
"Yes indeed. I must say, your timing is impeccable… but as I've said before, I need to prepare both myself and this castle for his arrival." She stood up, and he was beside her again in an instant, lingering for a moment before taking his helmet and placing it back on his head. "Hurry downstairs and you might surprise your siblings in the dining hall."
Gawain nodded at the dismissal, heading back towards the door, but paused before opening it. "I… hope to see you again, after everything is done today."
"Do not fret," she responded, stepping towards him again and placing a hand on his back. "I shall be here, and take comfort in knowing you, too, will stay a while." Her eyes dropped to his satchel, and a glimmer of pride welled up inside her. "You've been working very hard for very long, doing more than I once thought was possible in only a year. Soon your quest will be complete, and the treasure restored."
Then, after a short pause, she pulled on his shoulder, turning him to face her. "I'm proud of you. I hope you know that."
He started, his body jerking and telling her what his face, hidden by his visor, couldn't. Yet the next moment, it was pushed up, and Guinevere saw him, with redness coloring his cheeks and warmth in his eyes. His lips pressed against her cheek, one last time. "Thank you, Guin," he murmured, and the nickname coming from his mouth was enough to send another wave of heat to her face.
"Right, right, now off with you," she ordered, biting back a stammer. "I've got a big day ahead of me, and I don't need you complaining that someone saw you leaving my chambers!"
"Right." Instantly, Gawain's tone became more professional, and though Guinevere hated to hear it, she knew it helped him retain a sense of normalcy about their situation, one that Gawain still struggled to come to terms with.
"By your leave, Sir Gawain," she softly bid him farewell as he opened the door.
"Until next time, Your Majesty," he replied, and soon after, the queen was left alone again in her room.
The bat sighed again, the brief joy she had felt at reuniting with Gawain feeling bittersweet as she considered the day ahead of her once more. As she made her way to her wardrobe to get dressed, she thought again about the rising threat against her home, and felt a fierce, burning determination in her soul to ensure that this visit went on without a problem. With King Ban's insight and her own relationship with G.U.N., Emperor Ælle would fall, and soon enough, Gawain's mission would be complete, her emerald would be restored, and they would all have less worry to weigh on their shoulders.
Everything would be fine. She just needed to get through today.
Hey all, and welcome to the greatest storm! Thank you for your patience with the bonus works, but here's Return to Avalon! It's more ambitious than my last piece, and depending on how it goes, it might affect how I write the third story. Either way, I can feel this is going to be the one that's either everyone's favorite or least-favorite... let's hope it's an enjoyable read regardless!