Arthur had faced death before.
So it wasn't the grotesque, winged monkey he was startled by.
It was the sudden slamming of somebody else into him.
A distinctly female somebody else.
"Guinevere…"
Even through his armour, he could feel the contours of her body pressed up against him and he noted, with wide eyes: he could see straight down the front of her dress.
Now she was apologising?
He couldn't help but smirk.
"Oh no," he assured her. "My pleasure."
The fleeting disapproval on her face told him that had not been the right thing to say.