chapter thirteen!
013. lancelot du lac

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    DESPITE all of Morgana's fearful mutterings about all that was expected of her, there are times where Odette truly believed there would be no queen better than her. Her kindness, her morality for justice and fair play, and her courage to always speak her mind▬qualities so mature and admired in a woman her young age; and it was in times like this that Odette is reminded of her beliefs again and again. She watched her mistress crouch down before the child, tender and loving as she pressed finger fingers towards the bruise on her cheek, whispering small notions of: "It'll be okay ...", "... you're all right...", and: "... What's your mother's name...?" That held such sincerity that all fear and terror the girl had within her melted away, replacing all that with a breath of peace that Morgana blessed her with.

    She was amazing at those sorts of things; children, especially. Most importantly in times such as these when Odette was reassuring the same girl's mother that her daughter was fine and that she needed to have the gash on her forehead properly dressed. It wasn't often that they had villagers flee their homes in search for safety within the citadel in such large numbers. Usually times of war and sieges caused for such matters, but this fearful blight came about from the talons of a winged monster. It had destroyed the ancestral town of Greensward; one of the first distributed lands of Camelot, leaving it to nothing except flaming ruins that would take an entire month's resource of wood, stone and cobble to rebuild.

    They were frenzied within the town's square▬flocked amongst guards, knights and Gaius amongst all of them that it didn't even take one breath of persuasion for Morgana, Odette and Guinevere to offer up their help.

    "She's all right," Odette reassured the frantic mother, calming her down with long, deep breaths and squeezing her hands that clutched her own so tight they hurt her fingers. "Look, she's perfectly fine. She has a few bruises, the Lady Morgana is applying a salve for her small burn▬she is in perfectly good hands, I assure you."

    "She's burned?!" the mother instead gasped. Her short breaths and bleeding forehead weren't helping her light-headed, distressed mind. "What do you mean▬?! Where is she?! Where is she?!"

    "She's to the right," Odette gently showed the mother, doing her best to try and move this along before she lost even more blood. "With the lady with the long raven hair▬see? She's smiling." And she was. The young girl chuckled at whatever Morgana had told her, distracted from any pain she might feel, and the sight of it calmed the frenzied mother in Odette's arms enough for her to reach a hand up to rub her shoulder.

    "She needs you to be strong," she told her truthfully. "You can be strong, I believe in you." The mother slowly nodded and Odette did her best to smile, finally able to clean the wound present on her temple.

    It wasn't long after she was calm before she could be passed onto Gaius to be stabilised, and Odette could stand up, wiping the blood from her fingers onto the wet rag. She grabbed her bucket and started to the well to grab more.

    She passed Guinevere who handed out fresh clean rags to anyone helping. Some citizens of the lower city had travelled to the square with their food and their aid, humble and far kinder than almost any lord or lady Odette has met in the castle or upper housings.

    Reaching the outside of the frenzied group, Odette found Ronyn stepping out with his horse tethered at his side. The gelding was a little startled at the small chaos, throwing his head to which Ronyn was quick to hush him with a hand on his neck.

    "You're heading out to Greensward with the Prince and the King?" Odette questioned, taken aback by the request if he was.

    The Lord Vecentia fixed his doublet and cloak, donning his name's colours of rich green that made him look far older than he actually was▬but in a good way. He could suit the colour well, but that didn't mean he felt comfortable in it yet. "As of the King's orders," he muttered, shuffling with the same nerves of his horse. "Most trusted noble advisor in the court ... more so I believe he's trying to condition me."

    Odette frowned at that. The bucket hung loosely by her dirty skirts. "Why would you say that?"

    "He and Father were close," Ronyn grumbled. "I mentioned such in an attempt to prove Gwen's innocence in court▬I don't know whether that has reminded him of such or it's some sort of punishment for speaking out of term."

    "Punishment?"

    Ronyn threw his head back and sighed, "He lectures me," he eyed her dramatically down her chin. "Holds some misguided duty of care▬I don't know but either way I do not like it."

    "At least you'll have Arthur, right?" Odette continued to walk towards the well to try and make it seem like she wasn't conversing casually with someone above her station. Ronyn followed her at a subtle distance. "How long is the journey? A day, at least?"

    He hummed, "Something like that. I just wonder what beast could cause such panic." He shrugged. "Suppose we won't know until we see the village for ourselves."

    "Well, be careful," Odette set her bucket down underneath the metal hose. She gripped the lever and tugged; the water gushed through and down. "If these people are any clue to what you're dealing with, this beast is dangerous."

    Ronyn hoisted himself up on his saddle. He might not like it, but he looked regally handsome in that green cloak. "And most likely magical," he stated before setting his horse off with a click of his tongue. "Keep an eye on Adelynn for me, will you?" he asked as he did.

    Odette nodded and she watched him go, weighed heavy at the very thought of what awaited them.

    She didn't hear Gwen walk up to her until she asked, "Where's he off to?"

    Odette bounced her brows, "Responsibility."

    "Never thought Ronyn and responsibility could be said in the same sentence," joked Guinevere and Odette bit back an amused chuckle.

    "He is responsible," said Odette, meeting her friends gaze knowingly. "Underneath it all. He's just also ..."

    "Not?"

    She chose not to answer, not exactly sure how to explain Ronyn's reasons to Guinevere▬or even if she should. Turning to the blacksmith's daughter, whose relentless dislike of the Lord has only intensified since their discussion within the dungeons (and afterwards for reasons Odette doesn't even know), she said: "Come on, I believe Adelynn is helping Sir Leon, they might need some fresh water."

    As the day grew older, it was silent within the chambers of the Lady Morgana le Fay. She sat at the edge of her bed, still haven't yet changed from the clothes she had donned this morning. She picked at the edge of the fabric where blood had stained.

    Her servants were no better in their lament, frowning down to the square where the people of Greensward were still gathering. Gwen stood at Odette's side, leant against her arm as they peered through the window. The young Miss Adelynn (who had joined them for a morning tea they had not touched as of Ronyn's request) pursed her lips, playing with her long dark hair.

    "It's horrible," murmured Morgana softly, quite still. "To think a creature could be so evil ..."

    "Is it a magical creature?" pondered Adelynn, stopping her braid to then undo it again. It kept her mind busy. "I heard all magical creatures are evil."

    "For all I know it could be a rather nasty bull," grumbled Morgana sarcastically. "Arthur did not say, let alone Uther."

    "Probably because they do not know. My brother went with them to Greensward. When they return, I'm sure we shall have our answer."

    Odette thought on Ronyn's words. She shared a glance with Gwen. She didn't not repeat his worries and instead turned to her mistress and asked, "Would you like to change, My Lady?"

    Morgana pondered on her dirty blood-stained skirt. She looked paler than usual, as if the mere thought of someone else being hurt in such a way brought her immense pain. "Might I ask you to head down to Gaius? I cannot think without knowledge on how those people of Greensward are fairing▬and perhaps either he or Merlin might know a bit more on this beast. Gwen can change me, and then we shall have a proper morning tea, will we Adelynn?"

    Odette nodded. That was her role every now and then▬or quite a lot of the time: to find out what Morgana isn't told, stuck in these chambers for most of her day. She glanced yet again at Guinevere before passing Morgana▬her mistress stopped her briefly to give her a kind squeeze to her hand. For no other reason than simply to wish her goodbye until she returned, and it made Odette smile.

    She looked up to Morgana, she really did. Admired a lady of such intelligence, beauty and just morals▬one's she wasn't afraid to not keep to herself. The King's Ward was the sight of everything Odette wished she could be.

    The young second handmaiden left Morgana's chambers; sweeping down the winding staircase and making her way to the Physician's rooms, quite glad to have an excuse to see Gaius and Merlin.

    Reaching the doors quicker than expected (well, because she rushed her way over at an excited run▬who would not?), Odette knocked and opened the door like many times before. Skirts of a new red tunic over white swept around her ankles as she turned to close the door behind her, braided blonde hair lifting away from her shoulder to dangle down her back.

    "Merlin!" she greeted, knowing he'd most likely be here as he did not accompany Arthur to Greensward. "Merlin▬I have some time, we must do something▬oh!"

    Odette's back leant against the wood of the door as her words completely lost her. Her lips breathed a surprised hitch, eyes growing wide as she noticed the stranger sitting at the table.

    My, she's never seen a stranger anything like!

    It was rude to stare▬but she quite forgot what was rude and what was not in meeting his warm brown gaze. Odette might've gaped, she did not recall, quite transfixed. Dark brown hair hung over olive cheeks; shaping the face of a man who's jawline seemed sculpted by a true blacksmith's touch; rugged, and yet gentle, with soft lips and a soft brow▬drawing Odette with the warmth of a bronze summer glow.

    It was silent for a few moments. The stranger shifted, brows lifted as he gazed upon her, too. He did not move, stiff and unsure (for was he dreaming when he saw the sight of a girl so stunning? With golden hair, eyes bright amber and a face so sweet he thought he was in the presence of a real princess).

    Eventually, Odette managed a shy, "Hello."

    Without a second thought, the stranger was on his feet and rushed into a bow, "My Lady▬" he forced out, growing bright at the cheeks to think he had been staring. He struggled slightly, a stiff pain up his leg where a bandage was wrapped tight.

    The young girl's eyes widened even more, quite taken aback. She glanced around, wondering that perhaps someone else has followed her into the physician's chamber. She soon realised he meant her! Odette went even brighter at the cheeks. "Oh▬oh! I'm not a lady! I am▬I am far from a lady, believe me. I mean, not▬not that it isn't kind of you to think▬" she stammered as he stood up, trying very hard not to focus on how well his build was behind his shirt. He must be nearing the age of twenty, surely, or if not a little below it. The stranger watched her, startled (but if not amused by the way she flushed), "▬but really, I am not▬I would never▬I▬I mean▬"

    A saviour arrived down the steps from his separate chamber and Odette exclaimed a relieved: "Merlin!" to which was so loud, even she winced. The young girl blushed even more, desperate to not brush the gaze of the stranger at all after such an outburst. "I▬I mean, Merlin, how▬how are you?"

    Merlin slowed to a stop by the table to which the stranger stood. He glanced at him and then at her, then back at him, before finally landing again onto her, "Odette ... what are you doing here?"

    A simple answer, really▬she was here because Morgana asked her to head down to question the likes of the creature, and Odette would like to take advantage of such to spend time with her friend. But all those words became lost to her, and she just stared. "I▬" Her tongue felt swollen. "I▬who▬who is your friend, Merlin?"

    (Why did she ask that? Who is your friend? Honestly▬!).

    Merlin raised a suspicious brow. He glanced at his friend who had not looked away from her, either. The warlock realised, and he bit back something that was a mixture of mirthful delight, and yet a touch of jealously. "Uh ... yes! Um▬uh▬Odette, meet Lancelot. Lancelot▬" he gestured his hand towards her, "▬meet the Lady Morgana's second handmaiden, Odette."

    The stranger▬Lancelot▬nodded his head, "It's ... it's a pleasure to meet you, Odette."

    He sounded so delightfully noble▬seemed so humble and kind; Odette couldn't tear her eyes away. She found herself fighting the urge to smile.

    Merlin nudged his new friend, "Lancelot here saved my life just this morning."

    Odette's brows lifted, "He▬he did?"

    Lancelot gushed softly, shaking his head and looking down at his feet. Humble▬he was humble in such a sweet and kind way. And he must be brave, to have saved Merlin's life. He looked brave▬a man of such beauty was bound to be courageous. A warmth grew within Odette's chest, swelling to such a size she had to sigh it out, softly and gently.

    "You ..." she was soft-spoken, purely because Odette somehow forgot what it was like to speak. Lancelot glanced up at the sound; she was struck yet again. There was a long silence▬one that made Merlin turn his nose up and furrow his brows, quite incredulous. Then, finally, Odette snapped herself out of it. "I▬it's nice to meet you, Lancelot," she said and scurried out of the room, not even leaving with what she had come for.

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   CAMELOT IN the mornings was always something special. The moment one looked out a castle window and down into the bustling city below, seeing the smoke rise from house fires, hear the sound of dwellers chatting in the streets and the laughter from children playing in the square, was something inspiring to behold. Merlin remembered the night he first arrived, gazing out that window Lancelot was now and having never been so struck with amazement to see a place so lively.

    He had thought he was going to die in the forest yesterday when that beast had flown itself upon him. It made him scared in the moment, and yet bitter now, to think that in all the threats he faced: execution every day, it would be a creature of magic just as himself that could have ended his life. But it hadn't, thanks to the young man peering out his window right now▬youthful and naive towards the city below the tower. His fever had passed, his leg on its way to being fully healed, and he looked better this morning as well▬he had a radiant glow about him, grinning as he noticed a few knights walk down by through the square towards the drawbridge.

    There was something that was suddenly so familiar about Lancelot, and it only took Merlin a moment to realise: he looked just the same as Odette whenever she gazed at Camelot in the early mornings with such love. And Merlin always thought he knew no one else who loved Camelot as much as she did. (Except Arthur, of course).

    Lancelot glanced back at him, noticing the way Merlin tilted his head from where he sat on his bed. The warlock clutched his pillow to his chest, still trying to shake the sleep from his eyes. With Arthur returning today, he still had time to himself before his day would be taken up by everything here and there▬Merlin wanted to enjoy it.

    His new friend pursed his lips and chuckled, a little sheepish by how childish he must seem▬with all the hopes and dreams in the world. So, Lancelot quickly explained himself: "Ever since I was a child, I've dreamed of coming here."

    He quickly set his gaze back onto the city that stretched out to the winding castle walls. They followed those same two knights as they travelled. Lancelot eyed the dragon emblem stitched to the scarlet fabric of their cloaks. Merlin continued to watch him, rather curious. "It is my life's ambition to join the Knights of Camelot."

    Merlin's eyes widened▬then, slowly, a grin formed on his face. Not knowing Lancelot albeit more than a day, he could tell there was something special about him. Not once has he met a man so selfless, noble and chivalrous. So good. It was just sewn into his being: such kindness and honour. Lancelot du Lac was the perfect choice for a knight.

    Lancelot misread his expression as something rather dubious. He flushed, "I know what you're thinking," he quickly added, stepping away from the window and back onto the stone ground. "I▬I expect too much."

    Merlin tried to speak, but his new friend shook his head, sighing out a sad: "After all ... who am I?" Lancelot fiddled with the leather cuffs around his wrists, much like the one Merlin had around his own, made by Odette for his name day. "They have their pick of the best and bravest in the land. I could never▬"

    "Lancelot," the Prince's manservant cut him off, and he turned back, listening.

    "Yes?"

    Merlin leaned forward, the grin growing on his face until it became a beam. Lancelot frowned at it. "They're going to love you!"

    His breath hitched. Lancelot took a step forward, suddenly very hopeful▬bright-eyed and bright-hearted, "They are?"

    "I've seen you in action!" said Merlin, setting his pillow aside to gesture to his new found friend. "Lancelot▬my, you could shame the great Arthur himself." (And how Merlin would love to see that).

    At that, Lancelot chuckled, shaking his head. He ducked his eyes behind his falling hair▬not quite sure how to take the compliment. He shuffled on his feet, "I hardly think so."

    "In fact," Merlin checked the way the sunlight dawned down through his window. It seemed to have risen to the time he assumed Arthur, the King and Ronyn would return, "you know what I'm going to do?" He swung his feet off his bed and rushed to tug on his boots. He ignored the hole chewed on the sole by some pesky mouse he had to find later in the day. "I'm going to go talk to him right now."

    Lancelot's eyes widened. His face went slack. "You know Arthur?"

    Merlin fixed his final boot and grinned, "Oh, yes." He stopped by his door, frowning back at Lancelot who had not moved an inch, too busy staring at him in shock. "Aren't you coming?"

    Lancelot jumped and rushed to get ready; Merlin chuckled. Yes, he truly did believe that Lancelot may just make a fine knight yet.

    Together, the two fresh friends walked through the hallways surrounding the citadel square. Merlin watched, amused as Lancelot peered up at every turret and every spire, a smile blossoming on his face. He wondered whether he had looked that ecstatic to see Camelot▬and in no way did Merlin blame Lancelot for being so taken.

    This man had saved his life, and if he wanted to be a Knight of Camelot, Merlin was going to do everything in his power to make that happen. It was the best way he could repay the debt he owed to Lancelot.

    They walked in silence for a few moments, just letting Lancelot see as much of the square as he could as they made their way to the drawbridge towards the training grounds. Then, he spoke up with a question that took Merlin off guard: "She seemed lovely..."

    The warlock frowned, confused, "Who?" he glanced around, wondering who had walked past▬maybe some beautiful servant, perhaps the Lady Morgana (she was always a sight to behold).

    "Odette," quickly added Lancelot and Merlin's brows rose in realisation.

    "Ah..." he said softly, nodding as he remembered. Lancelot watched him intently▬as if waiting for some reaction. "Yeah▬yes▬she is lovely, I suppose. Annoying, more-so, once you get to know her. We were once serving Arthur and the Lady Morgana for a short luncheon they decided to have together▬she will say it was by accident, but she purposefully bumped me so I'd spill my jug of water over Arthur's sausages. He was not happy..."

    Lancelot continued to watch him. His brows furrowed and he peered at him in a way that made Merlin want to grow flustered▬he knew the look, and he knew why he held that look. And Merlin wasn't particularly sure what to say to him. There was a time the warlock had feelings for the Lady Morgana's second handmaiden▬not that long ago, and maybe he still did. Her kiss had sent his limbs alive when he had been just moments ago only seconds from death▬but they decided to be friends, despite all of that. Odette had stepped away, hidden herself back in her shell, as if scared that if she actually fought for something for herself, she'd lose everything else.

    And so, here they were▬nothing had happened, and they were still friends. Merlin believed she liked it better that way, he had a feeling he was still trying to figure out what he preferred. Not that it mattered, and it Lancelot had eyes for her▬Odette deserved someone far more like him: a possible future knight over him, a servant and a warlock, who couldn't provide for anyone else let alone himself. (Seriously, it was a miracle he had survived to this day!).

    Slowly, Lancelot asked: "Are you two ..." he chuckled, a little shy as he shrugged, gesturing to Merlin knowingly, "... you know...?"

    Those were the reasons why Merlin said, "Oh, no ... no. Just friends."

    Lancelot said nothing else about her; he nodded to himself, and Merlin caught the breath of a small smile▬but there was little else. Instead, the two of them chatted about anything else, and the young warlock was starting to really enjoy his time with Lancelot.

    They reached the training grounds in time for the event of the day. Despite his trip to the outlining village of Greensward, Prince Arthur was ready to go▬in his armour and chainmail (he wasn't completely hopeless after all, apparently) to test one of the few recruits for knighthood he had been receiving recently. None of which had turned out good. Amongst Merlin and Lancelot who situated themselves on the edge of the grounds to watch, other knights and guards had also gathered to witness the fight▬everyone a little eager to see who might join the ranks of the prestigious Knights of Camelot.

    Even above at the top of the battlements, cheekily looking down below at the training grounds was the Lady Morgana, her two maids and Miss Adelynn Vecentia▬who had joined them yet again his morning, happy to find some excitement to her mundane days.

    "He looks like he could be knight material," whispered Adelynn to Odette as they peered over the edge, eyeing the man in pale purple with his paired swords.

    Morgana hummed, eyeing him▬but in a completely different way, "Yes, the son of the Lord of Wessex is definitely handsome enough." At their chuckles, she stared at each of them, dubious with her own scoff, "What? It's merely my observation."

    Guinevere shook her head, smiling with amusement, "It matters not what he looks like, all that matters is if he can fight. I want to see someone make it through this round instead of fall like all the others recently."

    Morgana rolled her eyes at this, "Maybe if Arthur wasn't so hard on the recruits, perhaps he'd find more knights. What say you, Odette?"

    When she didn't get a reply, the Lady Morgana glanced at her young maidservant only to find she wasn't listening. Instead, Odette's attention was focused purely on the grounds below▬but not on Arthur and the recruit, but instead, on one of the onlookers by the side. He hadn't left her mind, not once, through the night and onto the morning. She couldn't get his warm gaze or his voice▬sweet like honey▬when he called her my lady to shake from her, making her heart race and her lips tug into a smile each time he graced her thoughts.

    Lancelot, it was like the name of some poetic hero in some long ago mythical tale. Lancelot, she could speak it again and again and never get tired of it. Lancelot. With his brown hair and his brown eyes; with his perfectly handsome looks and his humble breath▬he was a walking and breathing sculpted artwork from a heavenly touch.

    And she couldn't take her eyes off him from where he stood beside Merlin. She wouldn't even if she had the ability to.

    "Odette?" said Morgana again, curious. She followed her gaze▬as did the others▬and soon, they were all gazing at Lancelot. Her mistress grinned, sly, "My, now I understand..."

    "What?" Odette mumbled, still not listening.

    "He's beautiful," whispered Adelynn, eyes wide. She leaned slightly over the edge.

    "I don't think I've seen him before," frowned Guinevere, all of them looking over Odette's shoulder▬not that she barely even noticed.

    "I think you'd remember a face like that," joked Morgana and Gwen scoffed a chuckle, though she did not disagree.

    "I think I'll always remember such a face like that," said Odette finally, whimsical and distant▬her words made Morgana gasp, delighted to see her young, dear friend so taken by somebody else. "Do you think he's one of those mythical heroes▬born half god and half man? He sure looks like he could be."

    "My, Odette!" exclaimed Morgana, stifling her laughter. "A fool would say you've already fallen in love with this stranger!"

    "What?" Odette finally blinked, startled out of her trance. She stared at her friends who watched her, all of them fighting back grins, smiles and laughter. Her cheeks burned a scarlet red. "No! No▬I▬I didn't mean▬I wasn't▬I▬" she covered her face in her hands and Morgana did laugh this time. But she soon hugged the young girl to her side to tell her it was all good faith.

    She was glad when Arthur spoke for the conversation came to a close and their attention slipped away from Lancelot and onto the fight finally starting on the grounds. Odette took a deep breath, refreshing herself from her thoughts and setting her gaze upon the Prince and his recruit▬and yet, she couldn't stop her eyes from straying every now and then onto the young man beside Merlin, watching with such attentiveness and eagerness he looked as bright as a young, little boy.

    "All right, you jumped-up, dung beetle, this is it!" the Prince secured his leather gloves and approached the recruit preparing himself across the grass. Odette made a face at the way he swung his blades dangerously▬trying to impress? Perhaps, but all she felt was the anxiety of the off chance he'd slip his grip and let go. "Your final test. Pass this and you're a Knight of Camelot. Fail and you're no one. You face the most feared of all foes▬the ultimate killing machine. You face me."

    Morgana scoffed under her breath, "How dramatic and annoying can he get?" she grumbled.

    "Your challenge is to last one minute in free combat. Grimond, second son of Wessex..." Arthur nodded to the servant waiting by the side▬next to the wall of ribbons, each colour there for each noble house's crest▬and he turned over the hourglass. The Prince drew his sword. "Your time starts now."

    There were cheers as the second son of Wessex charged. Odette watched with bated breath, her eyes fixed on Arthur as she waited for his move. While Adelynn winced and peered through her fingers, the young handmaiden kept her gaze still. Not that she'd ever admit it (to anyone, really), but she always enjoyed watching Arthur fight. While he said it in the most arrogant and rather annoying way, he was true▬he was the best warrior this kingdom had. And as he eyed Grimond, second son of Wessex with a keen glower, she knew this battle would be over before his recruit would even hold a chance.

    In a flash moment, Arthur dodged Wessex's swinging blades▬he stumbled, off balance and it didn't take much longer for him to hit the ground; struck by an awful blow to his nose.

    Odette sighed to herself amongst the scattered applause for their Prince.

    Morgana pursed her lips, matching the disappointment each of them felt. "It would seem no man these days has what it takes to become a knight..."

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    THE REST OF THE day was rather uneventful, as most were. Guinevere got most of everything she needed to have done before late afternoon, and Morgana dismissed her with a kind smile and excitement to see what her handmaiden would start to show her in the morning from the fabrics she had been given. Most ladies of the court sought dresses made by the finest seamstresses in the kingdom, but Morgana only sought the talent that was her first handmaiden's. Most of the dresses the King's Ward wore were made by Guinevere's own hand▬each time someone asked her who made them, Morgana loved to create a tale more extravagant than the last: "A sea merchant brought me these after a vast exploration in which he fought a sea monster," or: "I won these in a bet against the Queen of Germany," or, Guinevere's favourite: "I found these in a river."

    (To which caused Prince Arthur to question Morgana's sanity each time).

    Leaving Odette to tend to Morgana's needs for the rest of the afternoon that was sure to be quiet, Guinevere left the citadel for the forge▬excited to see her father before night would fall. After almost losing him to the illness just a month prior, Gwen found herself hugging him more, smiling and laughing at his ridiculous jokes, telling him that she loved him and appreciated everything he has done for her▬being a father to two children without their mother with a forge running and demanding customers had been hard, Gwen knew that, but she didn't realise how much she never showed how grateful she was until she was facing his death before the next sunrise.

    And then, he survived, and Guinevere knew she never wanted to face that realisation again. She remembered when her mother died. She had been old enough to understand the looks on her father's and Gaius's faces when they discussed her condition▬she had hugged Elyan and told him she would be all right, even though Guinevere had known it would be the exact opposite. She had died that night, and the child she was bearing died with her.

    She never wanted to experience such loss again.

    Guinevere was very protective of her family, she knew that. She was protective of her father, she had always been protective of her brother, no matter where he was or what he got himself into. She had basically raised him▬learnt to cook over the fire and how to keep him warm in the winter while her father worked to keep them in the same house. She was protective of Odette, who was like a younger sister to her; made sure she had food, and winter clothes, and a place to stay if there was nowhere else. Guinevere looked after everyone else before she even thought of her own needs, and so the moment she saw the Lord Vecentia discussing things with her father within the forge, immediately she was livid.

    She often found him here recently, and each time it made her more angry than the last. He had no reason to be here, at a peasant's forge when he had one in the Upper Town. Guinevere didn't trust him▬she didn't trust him before he came down into those dungeons to speak with her and she most certainly didn't trust him now afterwards. There was no reason for him to be here other than to be taking advantage of her father's kindness for something in regards to no one else but his own selfish needs.

    Gwen watched him take a sword her father passed, testing the balance with a rare smile upon his face▬carefree and bright, nodding at something the blacksmith said. No matter how much she hated to think it, she could not deny that Ronyn Vecentia was very handsome. He stood out, and not just because he was a nobleman within the Lower Town. Dark hair and sharp, chiselled features, like a Greek stone bust. Though she knew his manners did not match how delightful he may be to look at.

    She thought to leave▬to slip past to the house and work on Morgana's new dress. Even if there was much she wished to say; to wish to tell him to leave and to never come back, she knew she could not. She held no power over a Lord, no matter how much she disagreed with him.

    But before she was granted the chance, her father caught sight of her across the dusty streets and he lit up with a beam, "Gwen!" he called and she stopped her attempt to run away. Closing her eyes, she briefly sighed to herself before turning around. Her father left the Lord Vecentia to beckon her over, "Guinevere, come here."

    She could feel Ronyn's eyes on her, burning into her skin as she approached, plastering a kind smile upon her lips. Guinevere stepped around the workbench and inside her father's shop, instantly feeling the heat of the furnace through her dress. "Father," she greeted, ignoring Ronyn to place a kiss on her father's cheek.

    "You're back from the castle early," said Tom Smith, though he was happy about it. Guinevere clutched her basket of fabric closer to her chest, careful not to dirty it amongst the ash and dust.

    "Yes," she said, "I finished everything needed of me rather quickly."

    Her father smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. He showed her to Lord Ronyn and Guinevere's smile faltered. "My Lord Vecentia, might I introduce you to my daughter. She works in the castle▬the Lady Morgana's handmaiden." He said this with all the pride in the world, though he did not notice the way either glance of the servant and the Lord pierced the other's. One with great dislike, and the other with an intensity that Guinevere couldn't describe.

    Ronyn looked casual, here in the blacksmith's shop. His tunic was loose, his doublet untied▬but right now, he looked much like he always did, rigid and stiff, as if he wanted nothing more than to run away. But he stood his ground and nodded his head, managing a polite smile, "Yes, Guinevere▬it is a pleasure to meet you▬well, without the hustle and bustle of the castle, I'm sure."

    Gwen swallowed her want to scowl that smile off his face and curtsied, bowing her head, "My Lord."

    "Your father is quite the sword-smith," Ronyn then said, holding up the blade that was still in need of work. But he seemed pleased of it so far. "Perfect balance, Tom▬you are amazing, truly."

    She rolled her eyes to herself. She found his forced courteous words infuriating. She knew it was the same words he spoke to any noble he did not know, or not even like, but had to be polite▬moving onto another only to gossip about the one he had just spoke to. There was no genuine kindness about Ronyn▬he said one thing, but meant the other.

    While her father chuckled and accepted the way Ronyn clamped his shoulder, the Lord noticed her soft scoff. He frowned, watching Guinevere try to hide it▬she thought she was subtle, but he could feel her judgement every time he passed her in the hallways or saw her in the courtroom at Morgana's side.

    He was sick of it. So, he set the blade back down on the bench and stepped towards her, "You do not agree?" she clamped her jaw shut. "Surely you do not think your father could make a bad weapon?"

    He could not hide the satisfaction he felt when she couldn't keep her vexation in and snapped at him in that polite way that kept every title, every professionalism and every ounce of social expectancy. "Of course, not, My Lord. But you must forgive me to find your surety on your blade's balance now when there is still weight to be added and taken off▬if it is balanced now, then it would sure to be too light once it is finished."

    Her father heard none of her stern tone, instead smiling and squeezing her shoulder, "She knows more about this job than me sometimes!"

    "If you want to be sure you have the right fit the least you can be is honest," she added. Ronyn stared back at her▬she hated that stare. It made her feel like she was standing on a stage before him.

    Then, Ronyn breathed a chuckle. Guinevere was surprised. So surprised she was stunned away of her scowl, blinking. "I▬Forgive me, My Lord, have I said something funny?"

    He continued to chuckle, "Yes, I believe you have."

    "In what way?"

    "Guinevere," her father said softly to her, giving her a look that said to be polite. He finally noticed her dislike, and while he was confused, would not have her get herself into trouble defying a Lord.

    She bit at her tongue, not sure how Ronyn could make her so angry▬bringing out a side of her she knew better than to express. She was polite and she was quiet, she knew when it was okay to speak and when it was not. She was the perfect servant. If she wasn't careful, he would make her find herself back in that cell yet again.

    Gwen took a deep breath, forcing herself to look away. She fiddled with the cloth in her basket, finding the smooth feel of the silk rather soothing. "You must excuse me▬I should start this dress for the Lady Morgana. I'll see you tonight, Father," she quickly curtsied and turned away, not sure how much longer she could have handled being there; it had started to become suffocating.

    Though the suffocating feeling followed her▬like an annoying flying bug, rushing after her, "Miss Guinevere. Miss Guinevere! Gwen."

    Gwen huffed, frustrated when Ronyn matched her pace very quickly▬not after giving her father a nod, muttered his gratitude and almost slip on the mud outside the blacksmith cobblestone pavements.

    She glanced at him as she walked, feeling rather small at the sudden stares he caused, rushing after her as such. "My Lord?" she asked curtly.

    "You must allow me to accompany you home."

    "I believe I do not need accompanying to my own house, sir."

    "It is only polite of me."

    Guinevere clenched her grip of the basket handle. "I do not require your politeness," she stated harshly before surging forward, hastening her walk.

    Ronyn clenched his eyes shut for a second, taking a breath to keep his own frustration down. Despite what she said, and his better judgement to leave this be, he matched his own pace to keep up. He winced at each time his boots sunk into the mud of the streets and he had to tug to pull them out. He wondered how she could walk so easily with her long skirts, but Guinevere just stepped here and there▬knowing these streets so well she missed each squelch of mud without even a glance.

    He should just leave it be, but he knew he there was no chance he could. Not when he had willingly stepped into that blacksmith's shop and asked a sword to be made. Not when he had gone down to those dungeons and felt this immense guilt ever since. Ever since he could not think well whenever she was around, knowing the way she had looked at him behind those bars. He had to make amends▬he had to figure out a way to put peace between them.

    Though she was making it frustratingly hard. "Gwen," Ronyn said again, all manners and titles gone. "Gwen▬I would like to have a word with you."

    Guinevere didn't even glance back at him, "I think you've said quite enough, My Lord."

    "I don't think I've said anything," Ronyn marched after her▬how can she walk so fast with legs shorter than his own? "Gwen. Gwen, if you would please stop for a moment▬Guinevere!"

    He reached out and grasped her elbow, tugging her back around to look at him. It was such a quick moment, neither of them realised until they were standing toe-to-toe, staring at each other with hitched breaths. Ronyn could feel his heart pacing, at loss of what he had originally wanted to say. There was something so mature about Guinevere▬her eyes, they held such age and wisdom on a face so youthful.

    And then, he noticed fear. Guinevere set her jaw, trying to hide it, but he saw it. "P▬people are staring, My Lord," she whispered.

    Like he had been burned, Ronyn let her go, taking a wide step away from her. He glanced around them, stiff and suffocated. He nodded at a passing stone mason, clearing his throat and trying to make it seem he hadn't been so close to the Lady Morgana's handmaiden.

    "I wish to speak to you," Ronyn said again, voice tight, "if you would listen."

    Guinevere shook her head, "And I do not wish to listen, sir▬" she said in a quiet voice. "If you'd please understand."

    He clenched his jaw so tight there was a tic in his neck, "Guinevere, I'm sorry if I have offended you in some way▬"

    "Offended me?" she cut him off, astounded. She watched him grow miffed at her defiance. She did not care▬for once, Guinevere did not care. Not when it came to him. She did not respect him. "My Lord, I cannot accept your apology."

    He stared at her. Ronyn scoffed, unable to believe her. "You cannot accept my apology?" he repeated, a little breathless in his disbelief.

    "If you do not know how you have offended me than how can I find your apology sincere?" said Gwen. "For all I know your words are just as meaningless as the honour you think you have coming to my father's forge."

    Ronyn was speechless. The silence that followed was tense. Gwen was breathing heavily through her nose. She knew she was speaking out of term▬she had spoken out of term long before that.

    Then, the Lord Vecentia whispered, "You truly think you know me?"

    "You wish to know what I truly think?" Guinevere countered, so vicious for such a gentle girl. When Ronyn nodded, she took the chance. "I think you hold an opinion far too highly of yourself. You hold no respect, nor any regard for those beneath you and you truly do not understand how inconsiderate you were to ask of me to do something for yourself when I believed I was to be executed in the morning for a crime I did not commit!"

    "I wasn't thinking of myself," argued Ronyn, stepping closer to her yet again. "I was thinking of my sister. Don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same? If you had siblings, I'm sure you would understand."

    Gwen swallowed hard. She wanted to shout at him, but she kept herself still. She clenched her hands around the basket handle so tight, her knuckles grew pale. "How well you are at offending others, it would seem, My Lord Ronyn. While your opinion of me would seem entirely untrue, my opinion of you still stands as correct. Good day, My Lord."

    She stormed away, and this time, Ronyn did not follow her.

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    a/n: it's gwen's destiny to savagely humble ronyn

    odette seeing lancelot: hOw is he sO fUKIn hOt?!?!? AND RESPECTFUL?!?!?

    merlin seeing odette and lancelot give each other love eyes: ... wtaf?

    (arthur watch out u have competition. come get ur queen before lancelot bows down before her to beg for her golden, sweet and amazing heart--)

    also just want to point out that ronyn runs away all the time ... but this time, he decided to rush after gwen? *intense thinking* *tries to link evidence together* somethin' sus. 

    and pls excuse my attempt at knowing what a blacksmith does. I do not know what a blacksmith does, so lets pretend I do and I didn't just completely make something up when gwen sassed ronyn.

     anyway stan guinevere and if you cannot stand her? then kneel instead. 

    also stan adelynn. just because. 

    I publish this chapter two days from the previous one with no regrets.