The King's Hound

Browser lacks capabilities required to play.

Upgrade or switch to another browser.

Loading…

The King's Hound

by Kal Dawn

/*<<if visited("siblings") is 1>><<link 'Siblings Profiles'>> <<popup 'siblings profiles' 'Siblings Profile'>> <</link>><</if>>*/

<<if $name is "Type your own">> <<set $name to "Guinevere">><</if>> Truly a beautiful name. Does it get shortened sometimes? * [[Yes|nickname][$nick = true]] * [[No|pronouns][$nick = false]]

Lovely. What are your preferred pronouns? *[[he|gender][$MC = "M"]] *[[she|gender][$MC = "F"]] *[[they|gender][$MC = "NB"]]

<<nobr>><<if $MC == "M">> <<set $they = "he">> <<set $them = "him">> <<set $their = "his">> <<set $theirs = "his">> <<set $themselves = "himself">> <<set $plur = false>> <<set $They = "He">> <<set $Them = "Him">> <<set $Their = "His">> <<set $Theirs = "His">> <<elseif $MC == "F">> <<set $they = "she">> <<set $them = "her">> <<set $their = "her">> <<set $theirs = "hers">> <<set $themselves = "herself">> <<set $plur = false>> <<set $They = "She">> <<set $Them = "Her">> <<set $Their = "Her">> <<set $Theirs = "Hers">> <<elseif $MC == "NB">> <<set $they = "they">> <<set $them = "them">> <<set $their = "their">> <<set $theirs = "theirs">> <<set $themselves = "themselves">> <<set $plur = true>> <<set $They = "They">> <<set $Them = "Them">> <<set $Their = "Their">> <<set $Theirs = "Theirs">><</if>><</nobr>> *[[You were born female and identify as such.|looks][$gender = "F", $person = "woman", $Liege = "Lady", $child = "child", $sibling = "sister", $trans = false]] *[[You were born female but identify as a male.|looks][$gender = "FtM", $person = "man", $Liege = "Lord", $child = "child", $sibling = "brother", $trans = true]] *[[You were born female but identify outside of the gender binary.|looks][$gender = "FtNB", $person = "person", $Liege = "Liege", $child = "child", $sibling = "sibling", $trans = true]] *[[You were born male and identify as such.|looks][$gender = "M", $person = "man", $Liege = "Lord", $child = "child", $sibling = "brother", $trans = false]] *[[You were born male but identify as a female.|looks][$gender = "MtF", $person = "woman", $Liege = "Lady", $child = "child", $sibling = "sister", $trans = true]] *[[You were born male but identify outside of the gender binary.|looks][$gender = "MtNB", $person = "person", $Liege = "Liege", $child = "child", $sibling = "sibling", $trans = true]] *[[You identify outside of the gender binary.|looks][$gender = "NB", $person = "person", $Liege = "Liege", $child = "child", $sibling = "sibling", $trans = true]]

<<set _optioneyes to ["pearl", "amber", "garnet", "hazel", "blue", "green", "brown", "grey", "obsidian", "rosequartz", "amethyst", "ruby"]>> Your eyes are a beautiful shade of <<cycle "$eyes">><<optionsfrom _optioneyes>><</cycle>> You have <<cycle "$hair" autoselect>> <<option "white" "white">> <<option "platinum blonde" "platinum">> <<option "honey blonde" "blonde">> <<option "red" "red">> <<option "auburn" "auburn">> <<option "light brown" "light brown">> <<option "dark brown" "dark brown">> <<option "black" "black">> <<option "ash grey" "ash grey">><</cycle>> <<cycle "$hairtexture" autoselect>> <<option "silky" "silky">> <<option "wavy" "wavy">> <<option "loosely curled" "loosely curled">> <<option "tightly curled" "tightly curled">> <<option "coily" "coily">><</cycle>> hair, that you keep <<cycle "$hairlength" autoselect>> <<option "long to reach your knees" "very long">> <<option "long to your hips" "long">> <<option "past your shoulders" "shoulder-length">> <<option "barely touching your shoulders" "shoulder-length">> <<option "short, brushing your ears" "short">> <<option "very short" "very short">> <<option "shaved" "shaved">><</cycle>>. You have <<cycle "$skin1" autoselect>><<option "freckled" "freckled">><<option "smooth" "smooth">><</cycle>> <<cycle "$skin" autoselect>> <<option "ivory" "ivory">> <<option "rosy" "rosy">> <<option "beige" "beige">> <<option "olive" "olive">> <<option "tan" "tan">> <<option "ochre" "ochre">> <<option "bronze" "bronze">> <<option "umber" "umber">> <<option "ebony" "ebony">><</cycle>> skin you inherited from your parents. <<cycle "$tatstat">> <<option "Your body also has tattoos inked onto it." "yes">> <<option "Your body doesn't have any tattoos on it." "no">> <</cycle>> <<button [[Next|looks2]]>><</button>>

Your body type is <<cycle "$bodytype" autoselect>><<option "petite" "petite">><<option "slender" "slender">><<option "lean" "lean">><<option "toned" "toned">><<option "muscular" "muscular">><<option "soft" "soft">><<option "well built" "well built">><</cycle>> and you are around <<cycle "$height" autoselect>> <<option "4’10” – 5’2” (147 - 157 cm)" "very short">> <<option "5’3” – 5’7” (160 – 170 cm)" "short">> <<option "5’8” – 6’ (173 – 183 cm)" "average">> <<option "6’1” – 6’5” (185 – 195 cm)" "tall">> <<option "6’6” – 6’8” (197 – 203 cm)" "very tall">><</cycle>>. Do you have facial hair? <<cycle "$facialhair">> <<option "No" "no">> <<option "Yes but you are clean shaven" "clean shaven">> <<option "You have a stubble" "stubble">> <<option "You have a full well groomed beard" "fullbeard">> <<option "You have a long braided beard" "longbraided">><</cycle>>. <<cycle "$bodyhair">> <<option "You keep your entire body shaven" "shaven">> <<option "You have fluffy light body hair" "fluffy">> <<option "You have a visible happy trail" "happytrail">> <<option "You are quite visibly hairy" "hairy">><</cycle>>. Where is your most notable scar? <<cycle "$initialscar">> <<option "Across your eyebrow" "eyebrow">> <<option "Along your cheek" "cheek">> <<option "Across your lips" "lips">> <<option "On your neck" "neck">> <<option "On your chest" "chest">> <<option "Through your abdomen" "abdomen">> <<option "On your back" "back">> <<option "Across your knee" "knee">><</cycle>>. <<nobr>><<if $tatstat is "yes">> <<cycle "$tattoos">> <<option "Your body is almost covered by tattoos" "1">> <<option "The left side of your body is almost completely tattooed" "2">> <<option "The right side of your body is almost completely tattooed" "3">> <<option "You have one big tattoo" "4">><</cycle>>.<</if>> <</nobr>> <b>Do you have piercings on your body?</b> <label><<checkbox "$piercedears" false true autocheck>> Your ears are pierced. </label> <label><<checkbox "$piercednose" false true autocheck>> Your nose is pierced. </label> <label><<checkbox "$piercedlips" false true autocheck>> Your lips are pierced. </label> <label><<checkbox "$piercedcollarbone" false true autocheck>> Your collarbone is pierced. </label> <label><<checkbox "$piercednape" false true autocheck>> Your nape is pierced. </label> <b>Do you wear any jewelry?</b> <label><<checkbox "$circlet" false true autocheck>> A circlet </label> <label><<checkbox "$earring" false true autocheck>> A single earring </label> <label><<checkbox "$earrings" false true autocheck>> Several earrings </label> <label><<checkbox "$celticnecklace" false true autocheck>> A pendant celtic knot necklace </label> <label><<checkbox "$locket" false true autocheck>> A locket </label> <label><<checkbox "$necklaces" false true autocheck>> Several necklaces </label> <label><<checkbox "$woodenrings" false true autocheck>> Wooden rings </label> <label><<checkbox "$knucklerings" false true autocheck>> Knuckle rings </label> <label><<checkbox "$armlet" false true autocheck>> An armlet </label> <label><<checkbox "$ringbracelet" false true autocheck>> A ring bracelet </label> <label><<checkbox "$ropebracelet" false true autocheck>> A rope bracelet </label> <label><<checkbox "$anklets" false true autocheck>> Several anklets </label> <<button [[Next|recap]]>><</button>>

<<nobr>><<if $circlet is true>><<set $jewel =+1>><</if>><<if $earring is true>><<set $jewel =+1>><</if>><<if $earrings is true>><<set $jewel =+1>><</if>><<if $celticnecklace is true>><<set $jewel =+1>><</if>><<if $locket is true>><<set $jewel =+1>><</if>><<if $necklaces is true>><<set $jewel =+1>><</if>><<if $woodenrings is true>><<set $jewel =+1>><</if>><<if $knucklerings is true>><<set $jewel =+1>><</if>><<if $armlet is true>><<set $jewel =+1>><</if>><<if $ringbracelet is true>><<set $jewel =+1>><</if>><<if $ropebracelet is true>><<set $jewel =+1>><</if>><<if $anklets is true>><<set $jewel =+1>><</if>><</nobr>> <<nobr>> <<if $piercedears is true>><<set $pierced =+1>><</if>> <<if $piercednose is true>><<set $pierced =+1>><</if>> <<if $piercedlips is true>><<set $pierced =+1>><</if>> <<if $piercedcollarbone is true>><<set $pierced =+1>><</if>> <<if $piercednape is true>><<set $pierced =+1>><</if>> <</nobr>> When you look at yourself in a mirror you see a $bodytype, $height $person, $their <<if $tatstat is "yes">>tattooed, <</if>><<if $skin1 is "freckled">>freckled <</if>>$skin skin complementing $their deep $eyes eyes. You prefer to keep your $hairtexture $hair hair $hairlength. You have a very notable scar <<if $initialscar is "eyebrow">>across your eyebrow<<elseif $initialscar is "cheek">>along your cheek<<elseif $initialscar is "lips">>across your lips<<elseif $initialscar is "neck">>on your neck<<elseif $initialscar is "chest">>on your chest<<elseif $initialscar is "abdomen">>through your abdomen<<elseif $initialscar is "back">>on your back<<else>>across your knee<</if>>. Were you born mute? *[[yes|ROsgender][$mute = true]] *[[no|ROsgender][$mute = false]]

All the romanceable characters are gender selectable with the exception of King Arthur. Please select their gender: *[[Set all to male.|beginning][$E = "M", $Y = "M", $M = "M", $G = "M"]] *[[Set all to female.|beginning][$E = "F", $Y = "F", $M = "F", $G = "F"]] *[[Set all to non-binary.|beginning][$E = "NB", $Y = "NB", $M = "NB", $G = "NB"]] Otherwise, set Evaine to <<cycle "$E" autoselect>><<option "non-binary" "NB">><<option "female" "F">><<option "male" "M">><</cycle>>, Yniol to <<cycle "$Y" autoselect>><<option "non-binary" "NB">><<option "female" "F">><<option "male" "M">><</cycle>>, Morien to <<cycle "$M" autoselect>><<option "non-binary" "NB">><<option "female" "F">><<option "male" "M">><</cycle>> and Gwyar to <<cycle "$G" autoselect>><<option "non-binary" "NB">><<option "female" "F">><<option "male" "M">><</cycle>>. <<button [[Next|beginning]]>><</button>>

<<nobr>><<if $E == "M">> <<set $Ethey = "he">> <<set $Ethem = "him">> <<set $Etheir = "his">> <<set $Etheirs = "his">> <<set $Ethemselves = "himself">> <<set $Eplur = false>> <<set $EThey = "He">> <<set $EThem = "Him">> <<set $ETheir = "His">> <<set $ETheirs = "His">> <<elseif $E == "F">> <<set $Ethey = "she">> <<set $Ethem = "her">> <<set $Etheir = "her">> <<set $Etheirs = "hers">> <<set $Ethemselves = "herself">> <<set $Eplur = false>> <<set $EThey = "She">> <<set $EThem = "Her">> <<set $ETheir = "Her">> <<set $ETheirs = "Hers">> <<elseif $E == "NB">> <<set $Ethey = "they">> <<set $Ethem = "them">> <<set $Etheir = "their">> <<set $Etheirs = "theirs">> <<set $Ethemselves = "themselves">> <<set $Eplur = true>> <<set $EThey = "They">> <<set $EThem = "Them">> <<set $ETheir = "Their">> <<set $ETheirs = "Theirs">> <</if>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<if $Y == "M">> <<set $Ythey = "he">> <<set $Ythem = "him">> <<set $Ytheir = "his">> <<set $Ytheirs = "his">> <<set $Ythemselves = "himself">> <<set $Yplur = false>> <<set $YThey = "He">> <<set $YThem = "Him">> <<set $YTheir = "His">> <<set $YTheirs = "His">> <<elseif $Y == "F">> <<set $Ythey = "she">> <<set $Ythem = "her">> <<set $Ytheir = "her">> <<set $Ytheirs = "hers">> <<set $Ythemselves = "herself">> <<set $Yplur = false>> <<set $YThey = "She">> <<set $YThem = "Her">> <<set $YTheir = "Her">> <<set $YTheirs = "Hers">> <<elseif $Y == "NB">> <<set $Ythey = "they">> <<set $Ythem = "them">> <<set $Ytheir = "their">> <<set $Ytheirs = "theirs">> <<set $Ythemselves = "themselves">> <<set $Yplur = true>> <<set $YThey = "They">> <<set $YThem = "Them">> <<set $YTheir = "Their">> <<set $YTheirs = "Theirs">> <</if>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<if $G == "M">> <<set $Gthey = "he">> <<set $Gthem = "him">> <<set $Gtheir = "his">> <<set $Gtheirs = "his">> <<set $Gthemselves = "himself">> <<set $Gplur = false>> <<set $GThey = "He">> <<set $GThem = "Him">> <<set $GTheir = "His">> <<set $GTheirs = "His">> <<elseif $G == "F">> <<set $Gthey = "she">> <<set $Gthem = "her">> <<set $Gtheir = "her">> <<set $Gtheirs = "hers">> <<set $Gthemselves = "herself">> <<set $Gplur = false>> <<set $GThey = "She">> <<set $GThem = "Her">> <<set $GTheir = "Her">> <<set $GTheirs = "Hers">> <<elseif $G == "NB">> <<set $Gthey = "they">> <<set $Gthem = "them">> <<set $Gtheir = "their">> <<set $Gtheirs = "theirs">> <<set $Gthemselves = "themselves">> <<set $Gplur = true>> <<set $GThey = "They">> <<set $GThem = "Them">> <<set $GTheir = "Their">> <<set $GTheirs = "Theirs">> <</if>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<if $M == "M">> <<set $Mthey = "he">> <<set $Mthem = "him">> <<set $Mtheir = "his">> <<set $Mtheirs = "his">> <<set $Mthemselves = "himself">> <<set $Mplur = false>> <<set $MThey = "He">> <<set $MThem = "Him">> <<set $MTheir = "His">> <<set $MTheirs = "His">> <<elseif $M == "F">> <<set $Mthey = "she">> <<set $Mthem = "her">> <<set $Mtheir = "her">> <<set $Mtheirs = "hers">> <<set $Mthemselves = "herself">> <<set $Mplur = false>> <<set $MThey = "She">> <<set $MThem = "Her">> <<set $MTheir = "Her">> <<set $MTheirs = "Hers">> <<elseif $M == "NB">> <<set $Mthey = "they">> <<set $Mthem = "them">> <<set $Mtheir = "their">> <<set $Mtheirs = "theirs">> <<set $Mthemselves = "themselves">> <<set $Mplur = true>> <<set $MThey = "They">> <<set $MThem = "Them">> <<set $MTheir = "Their">> <<set $MTheirs = "Theirs">> <</if>><</nobr>> You are the King’s spouse; his right and left hand, the unstoppable executor of his will. Your name is whispered by enemies and allies with fear and respect alike. Some say it’s your arm that bears the weight of the entire kingdom. They call you the King’s hound. It started as a way to taunt you but it’s not that far away from the truth. Your loyalty is blind, your devotion absolute. The King’s vision is your vision. //Your name will forever mark history alongside theirs.// But for now, you are alone and powerless on your way to Camelot. You’re not home but, even if you don’t know it now, soon you will be. //This is where it all begins//, the moment that will change your life forever and that will forge your legend for the centuries to come. <<button "“Are you ready, Hound?”" "chapter one">><</button>>

<nobr><<set $chapter to "chapter one">></nobr><span class="subtitle"><h4> 34th day of Summer. Year 209 of the current calendar. //Western battlefield//</h4></span> The air is thick and heavy as it flows into your dry mouth and your burning lungs. A quick half-breath that tastes like blood and dirt is all you allow yourself before you lunge at your enemy again. The knight manages to parry the blow, but the strength of it makes them reel backwards. You redirect your magic to your shoulders and forearms – you can feel it as it fills your muscles, stretching them and giving you a strength far superior to that of your opponent – then you hit them again and //again//. They don’t hold much after that, your laboured breathing mixing with their strangled pants. You finish them with a cut through their abdomen, not a clean one like the ones you practiced in training – it’s rushed, lacking precision in favour of the mindless will to //end this//. They fall as you remove your blade from their intestines. Blood rushes to your ears, the frantic beating of your heart deafening. For a long moment you can’t hear anything else, you can only taste the metallic aftertaste of blood in your mouth and //gag.// You can’t stop thinking about how ugly killing is. You clench your teeth, breathing through your nose and tightening the grip on your sword. As you take a handful of seconds to regain control of your breathing and to manage your magic reserve a bit more efficiently, your eyes dazedly sweep over the battlefield. You take in the mass of lifeless, bloodied corpses, the cries of the injured and the advancing line of King's forces. <<button [[This battle, and with it this province, is lost.|sister1]]>><</button>>

You can’t refuse. It is this or your family's life. You try to tell yourself you were destined for marriage the day you were born, just like your siblings before you. //Still, you will be married to the same King your family violently rebelled against.// You bring your hands together and clench your fingers against each other until your knuckles become white. No one can see the gesture since you're keeping your hands on your lap, under the table, but everyone's eyes are locked on you now and you have to remind yourself to breathe. <<if $mute>>“//If this is the what the King desires,//” you sign with a lack of emotion that - fortunately for you - does not betray your overwhelming thoughts, “//then I will oblige.//”<<else>>“If this is what the King desires,” you say with the lack of inflection you practiced over the years and yet, despite all, you struggle to completely hide your overwhelming emotions, “then I will comply.”<</if>> <<button[[Continue|arthur1]]>><</button>>

<span class="subtitle"><h4>21st day of Fall. Year 209 of the current calendar. Camelot.</h4></span> The throne room, as Arthur is accustomed to by now, is slightly colder than the rest of the castle; just enough to feel the difference with the adjacent rooms. He speculates it’s been made this way to keep any regents from relaxing too much, a reminder of one’s duty towards the Kingdom to be performed without luxuries - for a King’s burden is not to be carried lightly. //If only Uther had remembered that when he held the throne...// but no. That’s not where his thoughts are going now. Nor later, for all that matters. On some level, Arthur can agree with that line of thought. On another one, this room becomes way too cold in the fall and winter and he, like every other respectable human being, very much prefers being comfortable to forcibly being exposed to the cold if he can avoid it. In the still bright light of an early afternoon, the King’s gaze is set on the rich tapestry that covers the walls on the western side. Once this room was full of glorious portraits of King Uther, but Arthur took them all down soon after his father’s death. As he absentmindedly lets his eyes wander on the ample windows, giving him a comforting view on the lower town, the new King leisurely paces on the marble floor. His thoughts unsurprisingly land on the Venegard’s descendant who is going to become his spouse in the next few days. As usual when this particular subject comes to mind, Arthur feels a mixture of worry and apprehension forcing its way through his stomach until he can taste bile on his tongue. <<button[[The treaty had been, for lack of better words, a complicated affair.|arthur2]]>><</button>>

Messy, rushed, //sloppy// even, if he must say so. The marriage was, for the Venegard, a way to placate him in the face of their inevitable, crushing defeat. Nothing other than a forced agreement to avoid public execution, a rather poorly liked solution, but the only one Arthur had been able to offer them in order to avoid any more bloodshed. While he is very much aware of the court intricacies that are the foundation of politics, and even enjoys them at times, this particular matter just leaves him unsettled. When Arthur was faced with the realisation he'd have to execute Venegard's entire House for treason - with his armour still stained with blood and deep-coloured bruises still in the process of healing - his first and purely visceral instinct was to take a step back from it all. However, he had learned a very long time ago that a leader can’t be ruled only by their emotions. So he brushed past his instinctual unease to evaluate the situation more objectively. Unfortunately, while they had certainly tried to look for other options, the marriage was unavoidable. An offer that manages to twist their stomach in knots even now, a child offered in sacrifice for the rest of the family. <<button[[Still, too much blood had already been shed and Arthur just wants it to end.|arthur3]]>><</button>>

The youngest heir, Arthur thinks, was most certainly destined for an arranged marriage, as almost all $their older siblings had been before $them. If it wasn’t Arthur, it would have been someone else. A noble, maybe, or a member of another powerful House. Still, Arthur acknowledges that being offered to the King as a token of submission, especially given the reason that Arthur thinks brought the Venegard House to rebel, is another thing entirely. Essentially, Arthur is left with the sick feeling that he must appear as the rightful son of his father, after ending the rebellion in blood and then offering, perhaps in a misguided act of mercy, to take the youngest Venegard in marriage as little more than a hostage - just as his father did with his mother. Arthur suspects, and how could he not, that the Venegard last born was brought into the negotiation without much of $their consent. He has always had little doubt that his marriage, if there ever was one, would be arranged, but the little details of this situation are making him all kinds of uncomfortable. It feels like being cornered, but he doesn’t know if he’s the one closing in on someone or if it’s the other way around. He just doesn’t want to be the cause of his betrothed's discomfort, although he probably will end up as such, considering the situation. A slightly painful sense of apprehension washes over the King every time he thinks about $them. He had the opportunity to see the youngest heir only once, during a meeting with their whole defeated House, but they hadn’t exchanged more than a few words. $They stood rigidly at $their parents’ side – practically behind them – both of them seated opposite to Arthur at the negotiation table. <<nobr>><<if $MC is "M">><<set $theywere = "he was">><<elseif $MC is "F">><<set $theywere = "she was">><<else>><<set $theywere = "they were">><</if>><</nobr>> <<button "$They tried $their hardest not to stand out from the background, only softly answering $their parents the few times $theywere addressed. Arthur's heart almost broke for $them when he noticed the lost look $they couldn't always managed to hide." "arthur4">><<set $unassuming ++>><</button>> <<button "$They had made sure to leave interaction with both $their parents and the Camelot’s delegacy to a minimum, otherwise $they just limited $themselves to watching them, especially him. Arthur honestly felt a sense of painful sympathy at the cold emptiness in $their gaze." "arthur4">><<set $intimidating to $intimidating +1>><</button>>

It was very hard for Arthur not to give in to his instinct of assuring $them that everything would be alright, because obviously it wouldn’t be, perhaps for both of them. //So what if Arthur is uncomfortable as well?// Their marriage //has// to work. The King takes a long, deep breath to calm themself. It won’t do if they project their own anxiety to the court, especially after so strongly pushing for the treaty in question. He will do all that is in his power to minimize their betrothed's discomfort, though it remains to see if they can manage even that. They start pacing slowly again, finding a peaceful kind of relaxation in the warm light shining through the windows. Their thoughts, however, are interrupted by the light sound of steps coming from the hall’s archway leading into the throne room. <<button[[As soon as the King spots the newcomer, they smile softly in their direction.|arthur5]]>><</button>>

“Evaine,” he calls, a warm inflection to his naturally soothing voice, “please come in, dear.” “I didn’t want to disturb you.” “Oh, don’t you worry. You are definitely not.” $ETheir sight is like a cool balm; it gently breezes through Arthur’s worries bringing sparkling freshness in its stead. Evaine, a member of Arthur’s Round Table, strides through the throne room without an ounce of the usual reticence one would experience in such a place. $ETheir steps are surprisingly light considering the armour $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> currently wearing and, although Arthur is well accustomed to it by now, the sight of $Etheir elegant movements never ceases to amaze him. $ETheir slender, smaller frame has a magnetism that commands attention, and Arthur readily provides it to $Ethem with another affectionate smile. There are certain... distasteful speculations about their bond, he knows that. In truth, Arthur simply wishes to offer $Ethem the company so many people in Camelot seem willing to deprive his Knight of. He brought Evaine here after all, so far away from all $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>were<<else>>was<</if>> familiar with. It would be rather cruel to leave $Ethem completely on $Etheir own... so, although Arthur sincerely enjoys $Etheir company, it's guilt, in part, that makes him keep Evaine so close. “Was there something you needed?” “I’ve come with the training report for this month.” Evaine, having crossed the room on the deep red carpet that covers its middle, hands him a parchment rolled up and tied by a simple twine. $EThey <<if $Eplur>>know<<else>>knows<</if>> King Arthur finds it way more practical. He likes having the option to read them later and, more importantly, to compare them to previous reports to monitor the knights' progress. “Thank you, darling.” Evaine nods, $Etheir dark blue eyes wandering over the desert room. “It’s not going to be this calm for some time.” The Royal Consort is going to arrive to Camelot in a week’s time; the castle is frantic in preparation because the marriage is going to be celebrated soon after. Arthur hums in agreement, watching with rapt attention as his knight busies $Ethemselves by distractedly touching the chairs and tapestry around the room as $Ethey report briefly. “Gwyar already finished preparing $their quarters, now I just have to organize the guards’ rounds and we should be done. Ser Yniol will take care of the safety of your betrothed during the last part of $their journey.” “Good, I trust $Ythem to do just that.” Evaine brings a slender hand to $Etheir dark brown hair, cringing at the feeling of their loosening hairstyle after the morning's practice. $ETheir brows furrow and $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>direct<<else>>directs<</if>> towards Arthur a questioning but somehow tentative look, “would you mind…?” After only a quick moment, the King realizes the nature of the demand and smiles sightly, his eyes shimmering with sincere warmth, over the stress. “Not at all, dear. Come here.” He directs $Ethem to one of the seats near the throne, far enough for the backseat not to be higher than the shoulder level. While Evaine sits down, Arthur places himself behind $Ethem and sets to firstly free $Etheir braids from the low hairstyle Evaine had tied them into, in order to keep $Etheir stunning long tight braids away from $Etheir face during training. “I know you’ve been anxious lately,” Evaine states. “I just worry. About the Kingdom and... about the marriage.” “I mean, to be fair, it’s hard not to. The situation is horrible and the treaty hasn’t even been in place for two months.” Arthur gently starts to gather the braids together. His voice is hushed, soft but with a sad undertone, “it’s been hard fighting again, hasn’t it?” His knight just nods with a very small movement. $EThey <<if $Eplur>>stay<<else>>stays<</if>> quiet for another few minutes, until $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>take<<else>>takes<</if>> a deep breath. “... for you more than for everyone else, I imagine." Arthur doesn't answer - because they can't. What would they say? //Yes, it has been harder than everything I had to do as King.// Yes, every time I looked at my own armor my body would lock itself in place- Perhaps sensing $Etheir ruler's discomfort, Evaine doesn't speak more, letting the softly spoken sentence suspended in the quiet Throne Room. <<button [[Continue|arthur6]]>><</button>>

"... the marriage will work out," eventually manages to say Ser Evaine. Arthur hums, exhaustion taking place in his voice together with weariness. Their fingers are a bit uncoordinated as they finish the hairstyle, tight so it will stay in place at least the rest of the day. "It was the only thing I could think of. The only thing that would work." His Knight agrees with a very delicate nod, so not to disrupt the King's work. $ETheir voice harbors delicate sympathy, “I know, my King. They attacked us first.” After some moments of silence, Evaine turns a bit to the side, directing $Etheir gaze to the empty throne. Abruptly changing the topic of discussion, as if needing to stray the both of them away from the heaviness of it, $Ethey lightly <<if $Eplur is false>>asks<<else>>ask<</if>> $Etheir king, “how can you sit on that thing for hours at a time? It looks uncomfortable from here and I haven’t even touched it.” As he moves to end the ponytail, Arthur reaches ahead for Evaine to place in his palm the green ribbon $Ethey chose to go with the outfit. A bit of levity returns in their voice as they huff out a gentle laugh, “I assure you it’s quite the contrary. You should try it.” As soon as the king is finished, Evaine fully turns around with surprise clear in $Etheir face, “really?” Arthur nods, a gentle smile on his lips, “yes, do go on.” And that’s all it takes for Evaine to sit sprawled on the throne of Camelot after only a brief moment of hesitation. Arthur seems unperturbed, even quite amused at the sight. In fact, he takes the time to enjoy watching Evaine while $Ethey <<if $Eplur is false>>stretches<<else>>stretch<</if>> with the languid movements of a cat enjoying a luxurious spot in the sun. “You were right,” the knight says at last, “it’s comfortable.” “Ah, because I added some padding. The experience is a lot better now than it was for the previous kings.” At that, Evaine blinks a few times, stunned, and then lets out a loud laugh that reverberates in the empty room, “//of course// you did!” $EThey then <<if $Eplur>>tilt<<else>>tilts<</if>> $Etheir head slightly,“didn’t you have some decrees to sign?” “Ah, yes. I better get going.” Both of them head over to the hall from which Evaine had come. The knight carefully fixes $Etheir armoured gloves while $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>walk<<else>>walks<</if>>. “I hope all goes relatively well with $name.” <<button [[“Me too,” Arthur softly replies.|gwyar1]]>><</button>>

<span class="subtitle"><h4>24th day of Fall. Year 209 of the current calendar. Camelot.</h4></span> Gwyar’s steps are light, meant to not make any sound on the marble floor of the castle’s halls. $GTheir movements are precise, refined by habit and practice, as $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>approach<<else>>approaches<</if>> $Gtheir destination and softly <<if $Gplur>>knock<<else>>knocks<</if>> twice to the wooden entrance of the infirmary. A rough voice, if a bit muffled by the closed door, shouts from the inside. “Come in!” Only then does the servant step into the main chamber of the castle’s infirmary, closing the door behind $Gthem. Gwyar takes just a step inside before $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>stop<<else>>stops<</if>>, standing with $Gtheir back straightened and $Gtheir hands clasped behind $Gthem. The same voice as before, now nearer and thus way more clear, accompanies the sound of scraping wood and tinkling glass. “I’ll be there in a moment!” Gwyar evenly replies, “don’t worry, it’s not urgent at all. Please take your time!” While $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>wait<<else>>waits<</if>> with unperturbed patience, $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>let<<else>>lets<</if>> $Gtheir gaze wander over the parchments and medical supplies that litter the shelves alongside the walls unoccupied by the ample window as well as the couple of tables. $GThey greatly <<if $Gplur>>admire<<else>>admires<</if>> the physician’s work, but $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> to restrain the urge that makes $Gtheir hands tingle of personally tidying everything in a more organized chaos. Usually Morien is a very precise person, though, so Gwyar’s guess is that the agitated unrest that has taken over the castle since the last few weeks is affecting even $Mthem. There is a rustle of paper and the sound of some heavy steps before the head physician emerges from the adjacent room, interrupting $Gtheir thoughts. “It’s good to see you,” Morien greets $Gthem, adjusting $Mtheir overcoat, “you’re the only sane person in this side of the castle.” Gwyar’s lips curve upwards in a shy smile, recognizing the sincerity in the otherwise rare compliments coming from the physician. $GThey soon <<if $Gplur>>regain<<else>>regains<</if>> $Gtheir pose, “I’m here because Ser Iwan has been limping and favouring their left side since last week. I gave him three days, trusting that he would have it checked, but it’s only gotten worse despite his efforts to hide it. I figured you should know.” Morien exhales a slow, painful sigh, pinching $Mtheir nose with $Mtheir fingers and tightening the grip on $Mtheir cane with the other hand. “I swear, as soon as I have him here I’m going to smack him in the head. Hopefully he’ll gain some sense.” “Don’t be too hard on him. He’s been newly appointed castle guard, he probably didn’t want to trouble you.” Morien loses very little of the untamed glint in $Mtheir forest green irises. “I won’t hit him //too// hard,” $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>concede<<else>>concedes<</if>> at last. Gwyar can’t contain a snicker and $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> to bring a hand to cover $Gtheir mouth as $Gthey quietly <<if $Gplur>>laugh<<else>>laughs<</if>>. Morien lets out another exasperated sigh, “it’s as if they don’t know my job is literally to care for them. What a stubborn bunch.” “Try working for the nobles and you’ll come to rethink what you just said,” Gwyar quickly rebuts, earning $Gthemselves a disgusted grunt from the physician. <<button [[“No, thanks.”|gwyar2]]>><</button>>

Instead of leaving, Gwyar regards $Gtheir surroundings with another inspecting look. “Do you need help with…” $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>make<<else>>makes<</if>> a vague gesture to indicate the entirety of the room. Morien sighs again for the third time, but then $Mthey briefly <<if $Mplur>>turn<<else>>turns<</if>> to scrutinize the chaos currently reigning and uncertainty begins to settle on $Mtheir scarred face. $MThey wouldn’t normally take the help, but this time it’s offered and… it’s been a rough week. Gwyar can see the moment $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>relent<<else>>relents<</if>>, though with an unmovable firmness underneath, “only to make this place look presentable. I don’t want to keep you here too long, though. God knows how much work you’ve been doing these days.” The fact that Gwyar doesn’t deny $Mtheir statement is enough of confirmation for the physician that $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> really been under a lot of pressure, for Gwyar is the most selfless and hard-working person Morien has ever had the pleasure to meet. Instead, the servant just faintly smiles and helps $Mthem tackle one of the tables. “Just be sure not to push yourself too hard,” Morien tells $Gthem as they free together the left side of the surface from a frankly impressive pile of parchments, “if you’re tired or stressed I can give you something to help. Alternatively, say the word and I’ll get the King to give you some time off.” Gwyar finds it cute that the King offered $Gthem at least half a day of rest just yesterday. $GThey <<if $Gplur>>smile<<else>>smiles<</if>> politely, “maybe later. There's still so much I have to prepare for before the future Consort arrives.” $GThey <<if $Gplur>>start<<else>>starts<</if>> to separate the parchments by patient, efficiently piling them back on the table, “then there’s going to be the wedding. I’m not personally involved since I’m mostly assigned to $Liege $name, but I’ve been supervising some of it.” “As if the war wasn’t enough, now we have a wedding to forget all the bloodshed.” Gwyar lifts $Gtheir gaze in the physician’s direction, $Gtheir long black hair styled back in small braids so as not to get in the way. Morien huffs as $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>move<<else>>moves<</if>> a heavy box of tools towards the storage room. $MTheir tone is softer when $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>elaborate<<else>>elaborates<</if>>. “Well, it's kind of hard not to be bitter about it, considering the mess of the peace treaty. The whole situation, from the rebellion to this, is so tiring.” Morien makes $Mtheir cane bang on the floor to somehow placate $Mthemselves, “I feel older by the day, damn it.” The servant gives $Mthem an amused look, “you're 27.” Morien’s green eyes are full of playful affection as $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>limp<<else>>limps<</if>> towards $Gthem and gently <<if $Mplur>>pat<<else>>pats<</if>> Gwyar on the back, “I’m still a whole half-decade older than you. Not sure on the wiser part, though.” “You are,” Gwyar declares, and the direct sincerity in $Gtheir words makes Morien feel almost too soft. <<button [[“Let’s hope you’re right, then.”|gwyar3]]>><</button>>

It takes the both of them a whole hour and a half to tidy up the room and, while they’re at it, to also make plans for the restocking. Gwyar further sets on making a thorough list of the supplies in the storage room and Morien can only be grateful for the help as $Mthey finally <<if $Mplur>>start<<else>>starts<</if>> to make some sense of $Mtheir infirmary again. “I think that’s all.” “Yeah,” the physician agrees with a tired but satisfied sigh, “thank you for the help.” And //oh//, Morien’s gratitude is so rare but so tender when it is freely expressed that Gwyar can feel $Gtheir tension melting a bit. The effect comes with such intensity probably due to the past draining weeks, an exhausting succession of hectic preparations that now only feels hazy and unfocused. The smile $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>answer<<else>>answers<</if>> with wavers for a moment before $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>regain<<else>>regains<</if>> control on the emotions that were threatening to spill over. “No need.” Before Gwyar can exit the infirmary, Morien walks to a nearby shelf, heavily supporting $Mtheir weight on $Mtheir cane as $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>do<<else>>does<</if>>, to retrieve a small vial with a dark liquid inside. $MThey <<if $Mplur>>approach<<else>>approaches<</if>> the servant and <<if $Mplur>>hand<<else>>hands<</if>> it to $Gthem, “take this before going to sleep, it'll help with the exhaustion. And my offer still stands.” Gently taking the vial with slender fingers, Gwyar only nods, “thank you.” $GThey <<if $Gplur>>don't<<else>>doesn't<</if>> say that, as exhausted as $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>>, $Gthey would never allow the physician to intercede for $Gthem. Gwyar has come to Camelot to work, and work $Gthey shall. <<button "Morien’s gaze is unusually soft as it follows $Gthem to the infirmary’s door." "gwyar4">><</button>>

Back in the hallway, Gwyar makes a quick mental check to $Gtheir schedule for the day. $GThey <<if $Gplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> a bit behind, but since $Gthey usually <<if $Gplur>>like<<else>>likes<</if>> to get $Gthemselves ahead of things $Gthey won’t worry too much for now. What’s left to do mainly concerns $Liege $name’s bedroom, so that’s where $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> next headed. To be more precise, $their accommodation consists of a bedroom, a private bathroom and an adjacent room. Gwyar has kept it mostly empty, save for a wooden desk, some chairs, an empty shelf and a fireplace. $GThey <<if $Gplur>>want<<else>>wants<</if>> to give $name the choice on how to use it, hopefully helping $them to feel more at ease in an unknown environment. On $Gtheir way to the eastern wing, Gwyar greets other busy servants and they reply with warm smiles and familiar greetings. $GThey <<if $Gplur>>stop<<else>>stops<</if>> for a few minutes to help a young messenger find their way through the castle. By the time $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>reach<<else>>reaches<</if>> the Royal Consort’s chambers, it’s almost midday. Gwyar makes $Gtheir entry in the by now familiar space of the bare room that leads to the bedroom. $GThey <<if $Gplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> chosen the overall colour and style pattern for the chambers based on Evaine’s observations at the meeting with the future Royal Consort, since $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>were<<else>>was<</if>> not present $Gthemselves. $GThey tried asking Yniol but, truly, for all $Ytheir qualities the knight wasn’t very helpful for these kind of things. Evaine, on the other hand, had an almost unbelievable sharp eye for details and a very accurate ability to report them. <<if $eyes is "amber">>That is the reason why the bedroom’s tones are bright; relaxing shades of beige and yellow warm up the space, with dark coloured furniture and golden curtains for the ample windows.<<elseif $eyes is "garnet">>That is the reason why the bedroom’s tones are lively; rich shades of orange and auburn brighten the space, with light coloured furniture and red curtains for the ample windows.<<elseif $eyes is "brown" or "ruby">>That is the reason why the bedroom’s tones are warm; luxurious shades of mahogany and auburn brighten the space, with dark coloured furniture and cream curtains for the ample windows.<<elseif $eyes is "pearl" or "black">> That is the reason why the bedroom’s tones are calming; dark shades of ash grey and black engulf the space, with cream coloured furniture and champagne curtains for the ample windows.<<elseif $eyes is "rosequartz" or "amethyst">>That is the reason why the bedroom’s tones are lush; cosy shades of purple and cream light up the space, with dark-wooden furniture and pale pink curtains for the ample windows.<<elseif $eyes is "blue" or "grey">>That is the reason why the bedroom’s tones are fresh; lively shades of cyan and cerulean brighten the space, with dark coloured furniture and celeste curtains for the ample windows.<<elseif $eyes is "green" or "green">>That is the reason why the bedroom’s tones are lush; lively shades of emerald and forest green brighten the space, with light coloured furniture and cream curtains for the ample windows.<</if>> The colours have been chosen to compliment $name’s $eyes eyes and Gwyar is particularly happy with the result. $GThey also relied on Evaine’s well-developed aesthetic sense to get a general feeling of the Venegard’s seventh-born style preference. Unsurprisingly, Evaine was more than helpful. <<button "As a result, their apartments were as sombre and practical as $name's appearance had been." "gwyar5">><</button>> <<button "The style Gwyar went for was elegant but formal, in line with $name's seeming preference." "gwyar5">><</button>> <<button "$GThey went for an elaborate style, not ostentatious but refined and elegant." "gwyar5">><</button>>

Gwyar made sure not to overdo it since $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>know<<else>>knows<</if>> how much opulence and self-glorifying is looked down by the Houses. $GThey also made sure that there was the possibility for change should the Venegard Envoy not like it. Truth be told, apart from these small details, Gwyar knows very little of the Consort-to-be. It’s something that puts $Gthem on edge, mainly because this way $Gthey can’t know how to best accommodate $their arrival. $Their comfort is Gwyar's absolute priority, not only because $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> been chosen as $name's personal servant, but because $Gthey sincerely <<if $Gplur>>care<<else>>cares<</if>>, as $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>do<<else>>does<</if>> for $Gtheir work, for $Gtheir King and for many other people in the castle. $GThey <<if $Gplur>>bury<<else>>buries<</if>> $Gtheir nervousness deep down and <<if $Gplur>>set<<else>>sets<</if>> to prepare the sheets and cushions. //In a few days the King’s future spouse will arrive.// Gwyar won’t set expectations of any kind, especially not this early, all $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>hope<<else>>hopes<</if>> for is someone understanding. In any case, $Gthey will serve $name in any way $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> able to. <<button "This much $Gthey can do." "ship1">><</button>>

<span class="subtitle"><h4>25th day of Fall. Year 209 of the current calendar. //Southern sea//</h4></span> You wake up with the scent of sea salt and wet wood in your nostrils, something both familiar and uncomfortably //unfamiliar//. You’ve spent some time close to the sea, but never on a traveling ship and surely not for this long. You get out of bed and while the sensation of the night vest’s fabric on your clammy skin is uncomfortable at best, you can’t really take a bath. Fortunately, you manage to wash most of it away with a rough cloth and the cool water provided by the basin near your bed. You take a few steady breaths to build up your usual composure, then you let your fingers slide over the soft material of the robe you chose for today. You’ll reach Camelot in a few hours at the earliest, but since the wedding will take place a few days after your arrival, you will not be required to wear the ceremonial vest until then. You’re not short on clothing since your luggage has been traveling with you, so you decided to go for something nearer to your personal taste, maybe just to be comforted by the familiarity of it. <<button [[A loosely fitting white tunic, soft and fastened at the waist with a red ribbon, paired with tight-fitting trousers.|ship2]]>><<set $dress to 1>><</button>> <<button [[A long black dress, tight-fitting but with an outer layer that drapes softly over your left shoulder, embellished with golden embroidery on its border.|ship2]]>><<set $dress to 2>><</button>> <<button [[A dark-coloured layered robe that reaches your ankles, embroidered with silver traditionally decorative symbols.|ship2]]>><<set $dress to 3>><</button>>

You dress yourself with practiced ease, the precise movements helping you ground yourself and regain a sense of control. You close your cabin door behind you and the sound of sloshing water accompanies you as you go up the wooden stairs and to the deck. You meet a couple of people from the ship’s crew, but you exchange only a courteous nod since they’re all quite busy. The smell of seawater hits your nostrils together with the sound of crushing waves and creaking wood as soon as you get on the deck. You let your $eyes eyes wander over the crew, the masts that hold huge sails and the deep blue sea behind the ship’s bow. There is a primal beauty in the view that sets off something already strangely set in your chest. You divert your gaze and walk to your usual lone spot on the deck. No one seeks you out, not even your own guards, who prefer to keep watch over you from a relative distance. Regardless of your preference about company, today you feel relieved for the space you are offered – your thoughts are agitated as it is and they’re predictably all focused... <<button [[...on the disgraced status of your family.|family]]>><</button>> <<button [[...on your imminent marriage.|marriage]]>><</button>>

Worry makes your mouth taste like acid, bile coming from your stomach to remind you why you are about to be wed. The sick knowledge that you will probably hardly have any contact with your family after the marriage is added to the uncertainty about the fate of your other siblings, the ones married all over the land of Camelot. You might have spared your parents the execution, but was the King's offer to marry a Venegard a mercy or a ploy to take hold of what's left of your House? <<button [[Still, whatever the King has in store for you, you'll hold still in your loyalty to the family you grew into .|ship3]]>><</button>> <<button [[Some part of you hopes it was a genuine attempt at putting a stop to the bloodshed.|ship3]]>><</button>>

The marriage you’ve, frankly, awaited your whole life. But not, //never//, like this. You imagined perhaps a content marriage like Saraah's, or a peaceful cohexistence with your spouse like Ghaven's, not... ... not to be kept so close in order to be controlled, to be kept as token of your parents' compliance. You might have spared your parents the execution, but was the King's offer to marry a Venegard a mercy or a ploy to take hold of what's left of your House? <<button [[Still, whatever the King has in store for you, you'll hold still in your loyalty to the family you grew into .|ship3]]>><</button>> <<button [[Some part of you hopes it was a genuine attempt at putting a stop to the bloodshed.|ship3]]>><</button>>

Having no clue on what the King really wants from you, you have no way to prepare yourself ahead of time, something that upsets and unsettles you. Still. Your House bred the most powerful people in existence, that you know, that the King knew as well. It is of no surprise that, despite losing to him at the end, a single House managed to face the whole force of Camelot. You will have to remind yourself of that if you want to survive in the place you are travelling to. You strengthen your grip on the taffrail, the deck’s handrail, when a particularly violent wave hits the ship. Its loud crushing sound is able to ward away the uneasy memory of your brother’s last greeting and you’re very glad for that. You inhale deeply, the smell of salt water filling your nostrils until it’s all you can feel. You ground yourself by focusing on the sensation of wet wood under your fingers’ firm grip, on the creak of the thick ropes that keep the sails anchored to the masts and on the cold breeze against your skin. As you watch the sea waves crash against the ship’s hull, freezing droplets of seawater splash against your skin at a rhythm that you could even find comforting. You turn around to fix your gaze on your guards, the ones assigned to you by the Houses to escort you to Wales until Arthur’s own knights will take over. You bring your fingers to your right hand, where a silver ring bears your House’s insignia to remind you of your roots after you’ll become the King’s spouse. Most of all, it will be the visible sign, as you'll be wed to the very son of the bloodthirsty mage-hunter King Uther, that a mage is now Royal Consort. <<button [[Not that King Arthur is aware of that.|ship4]]>><</button>>

What he is aware of is that the Venegard House is amongst the few left with blood of mages still alive, not exterminated in the old purge or hunted and perished under his father's bloody hands. For obvious reasons, your parents always maintained a deep secrecy around who of their children had inherited their magic. Your oldest sister Adrei is known to be one, the only one in fact, after she put her combat magic to use in the frontlines during the war. But you were kept in the rear, put to use enough to be of help to your soldiers, but also never in any visible position. And now you know why. Still, this only means that King Arthur doesn't know about you. //But how much time until he will? Until you'll slip up and crush glass and stone in your hands, until you'll revert instinctively to what you were bred to do: fight and kill?// Regardless of your feelings on the matter, it’s difficult for your thoughts not to get horribly repetitive and twisted the more you think about it. It’s also almost impossible to interrupt them once it starts. It’s with great relief, then, that your attention gets grabbed by a young person, likely one of the ship’s low workers, trying to lift a particularly heavy crate. You can only see their profile from where you stand but they must not be older than fifteen years. Their hands whiten as they grip its bottom and their back tenses up while they lift it up a few inches from the ship’s deck, visibly struggling. You give a quick look around, but no one seems to pay attention to them. If you don’t intervene now, they’ll get seriously hurt. You realize that it’s possible there’ll be skin contact involved, though. <<button [[You don’t have a problem with that, truthfully.|ship4.5]]>><<set $touchaversion to "no">><</button>> <<button [[You usually prefer to avoid direct contact with strangers, but here the close proximity will be initiated on your part and you’re mostly fine with that.|ship4.5]]>><<set $touchaversion to "mild">><</button>> <<button [[You are severely touch-averse and the prospect of accidental contact with their naked skin is almost nauseating. Fortunately, you have your gloves on for this reason, but even that doesn’t stop you from feeling discomfort.|ship4.5]]>><<set $touchaversion to "yes">><</button>>

<<if $touchaversion is "no">>You walk at a brisk pace until you’re at their side and when they lift up their gaze to meet yours you carefully place your hands alongside theirs, so not to spook them at the sudden contact, and you take the crate’s weight off of them. Their dark eyes linger on you as you lift up the crate, half surprised and half scared.<<elseif $touchaversion is "mild">>Upon reaching them, you make eye contact and you carefully place your hand under the crate to shift its weight off of them. Then you take a step back, crate secured carefully in your hands. As you move, their dark eyes linger on you, half surprised and half scared.<<elseif $touchaversion is "yes">>Without wasting time, you walk until you’re facing them and then you kneel down, positioning your arms under the crate as they let go of it. After all the weight has been shifted off of them, you get up, crate in hand. Their dark eyes linger on you as you move, half surprised and half scared.<</if>> <<if $mute>> You’d like to ask them if they’re all right but you strongly doubt they know sign-language. Before more than a minute passes, one of your guards reaches your side. You put the crate down. “//Can you ask them where they have to bring this?//” you sign. She looks appalled for a moment before reporting the question to the kid.<<else>>“Are you all right?” you keep your tone of voice even, hoping to convey a sense of calmness with it. As they nod, one of your guards reaches your side but you spare her only a nod of acknowledgement before asking the kid, “where do you have to bring this?”<</if>> <<button [[After a lot of reticence on their part and a bit of reassurance from yours, you manage to get them to escort you all the way down to the lower deck. Your guard insists on following you and you decide not to fight her on that.|ship6]]>><</button>>

Fortunately, the sea today is calm so there’s not much rolling to unbalance you as you walk down the stairs and through tight passages between cabins. Despite the crate’s weight, your arms don’t lose their strength under the strain, nor do you feel the need to stop to catch your breath. Instead, you maintain a solid grip on it. It’s second nature for you to fuel your magic through your limbs to enhance your physical endurance, your strength and your reflexes. <<if $mute is true>>While the majority of mages require a verbal spell, for you that was never an option. It took you a lot of practice to be able to perform every incantation, even the ones that normally would require a spell. You found that mouthing the words on your lips works just fine - but you’re still always limited by your magic’s inherent affinity, with yours being the combat type.<<else>>You don’t have to utter a spell for this, you’ve trained long enough to have control over it by now. Other more complicated uses of your magic require words to specify the purpose, you can pronounce them or mouth them on your lips – either works just fine – but you’re still always limited by your magic’s inherent affinity, yours being the combat type. <</if>> Upon reaching your destination, you place the crate down only with a slight stiffness in your shoulders and forearms. You turn around to face the kid, moving your fingers to stimulate their proper circulation and diffuse a bit of discomfort after the prolonged grip on the crate’s handles. “Thank you,” they tell you, their hesitance around you not totally gone but much more subdued now. They most likely did not expect someone to offer them help but you can see the gratitude in their dark brown eyes. <<if $mute>> <<if $touchaversion is "no">> <<button [[You reach out to gently pat their head in a gesture that you hope conveys something close to a “you’re welcome.”|ship7]]>><<set $kid to "A">><</button>> <<else>> <<button [[You reach out but stop yourself at the last second, retreating your hand and offering them a soft smile instead.|ship7]]>><<set $kid to "A">><</button>> <<button [[You reach out, faltering at the last second. You push through your instinctive discomfort to gently pat their head.|ship7]]>><<set $kid to "A">><</button>> <</if>><<button [[You offer them a curt but heartfelt nod.|ship7]]>><<set $kid to "B">><</button>> <<else>> <<if $touchaversion is "no">> <<button [[You reach out to gently pat their head in a comforting gesture.|ship7]]>><<set $kid to "A">><</button>> <<else>> <<button [[You reach out but stop yourself at the last second, retreating your hand and offering them a soft smile instead.|ship7]]>><<set $kid to "C">><</button>> <<button [[You reach out, faltering at the last second. You push through your instinctive discomfort to gently pat their head.|ship7]]>><<set $kid to "A">><</button>> <</if>> <<button [[You offer them a curt but heartfelt nod “you're welcome.”|ship7]]>><<set $kid to "C">><</button>> <</if>>

<<if $kid is "A">>You feel them freeze, immobile for only half a second before they relax under your touch, seemingly very appreciative of the affectionate gesture. //What a cute kid.//<<elseif $kid is "B">>They hesitate but when a particularly strong wave makes them sway, you make sure <<if $touchaversion is "yes">>to halt their fall with your magic<<else>>to catch them before they fall<</if>>, earning yourself another thanks. Even though you don’t really know how to deal with kids, you always find yourself quite protective of them.<<else>>They smile shyly, seemingly a bit flustered, moving to tuck a loose lock of hair behind their ear while they shift on their feet. //What a cute kid.//<</if>> Just then you get a sudden craving for something to drink, so you head off with your guard to the higher levels, signalling her you want to go to the residential area. On your way to the canteen you meet another one of your guards, a rather reserved man whom you’ve interacted with very little. You know quite a lot about him, though, as you do about all the other protectors you’re travelling with. Familiar ties, weaknesses, strengths, origins and known loyalties. //Know the people you keep close and make sure they don’t know you back.// That’s how it’s always been for you since you were little, a teaching you’ve absorbed with time along with many others. You’ve spent quite a few nights of your preparations, in fact, memorizing details about the guards you were assigned by the Council for your journey. <<button [[You let your eyes linger on him for a long moment, completely expressionless, before you start walking again.|ship8]]>><<set $cold to $cold +1>><</button>> <<button [[You smile warmly, inclining your head in a sincere greeting.|ship8]]>><<set $caring to $caring +1>><</button>> <<if $mute is false>><<button [[You smile warmly “nice to see you, Daija.”|ship8]]>><<set $caring to $caring +1>><</button>><</if>>

He follows you dutifully and together with your escort you reach the cabin that functions as a tavern of sorts, offering food and drinks to the passengers – from the layout of the ship you know there’s another one for the crew alone – and some wooden tables to sit by. At this time of the day it’s not very crowded, with only half a dozen other patrons in the room. The space is also comfortably heated and lighted, although pervaded with a variety of smells from sweat to home-cooked food. You’ve never been one to complain, though, you couldn’t be picky even if you tried with the harsh conditions you’ve been trained to get accustomed to by your own parents. But there’s something you’ve never lost and that is the craving for warmth and comfort. Whether you’ve grown to live without those things is another matter entirely. You walk to the keeper, a very tall person standing behind the counter, and you ask for warm tea, a little indulgence on your part in this dry, slightly cold weather. “I’ll be right back.” Once you receive your drink, you make a quick scan of the room and you choose to go for the empty table in the corner, easily the best spot since it’ll give you privacy and a nice view of both entrances. Your guards do not sit with you, one of them takes a table behind you while the other simply settle on standing near the canteen's entrance. You divert your gaze from them to set it on the small round table in front of you. You place both your palms on the cup, letting the warmth of the liquid inside spread to your fingers until it almost starts to become uncomfortable. As you sip your drink, you let your thoughts wander on your future spouse and, specifically, on their quite famed //Round Table//. Is there really a table? - you ask yourself. One where the knights sit around together with their King? If so, will you be asked to attend too? You’ve only recently been turned from enemy to ally, though, so you wouldn’t really be surprised if that was not the case. You know that if you were in his place you would absolutely not trust yourself, keeping an unknown spouse at arm’s length at best. <<button [[That does not concern you. You’ll perform your duty nonetheless, but you’ll keep your distance if people are going to feel uncomfortable around you.|ship9]]>><</button>> <<button [[Even if you’d understand, you hold the maybe irrational hope that things will be different this time around. You have hardly ever been included in your own life decisions.|ship9]]>><</button>>

Even if you know that it’s something outside of your influence, you can’t stop overthinking about things you have little to no control over. Again and again and again until every thought consumes itself in a dark pit of dread. It has been like this for quite some time, the marriage announcement has only worsened it. You take another sip of your tea, letting the now perfectly warm liquid soothe your mind. //You have to keep your thoughts under control, uneasiness will only cloud your judgement.// <<button [[The only thing you can do right now is lock your worries away and wait.|yniol1]]>><</button>>

<span class="subtitle"><h4>St Davis -Wales</h4></span> Yniol stands tall, $Ytheir armoured body shines in the afternoon sun and renders it only slightly uncomfortable for $Ythem to keep $Ytheir gaze focused on the empty dock ahead. A cool, marine breeze dishevels $Ytheir very long brown locks and while $Ytheir dominant hand keeps a steady grip on $Ytheir spear, the other one holds $Ytheir stallion’s reigns. $YThey <<if $Yplur>>filter<<else>>filters<</if>> out the almost indistinct voices behind $Ythem – the people of Camelot are quite excited by the Royal Consort's arrival – to focus on the ones of $Ytheir fellow knights. “How much more do we have to wait?” asks Gawain, petting his horse. “I’m getting sore.” “Until $Their Highness arrives.” There is no bite in Yniol’s reply, only even truth. Yniol can feel on $Ytheir back the half-curious, half-intimidated eyes of the majority of the town’s population, gathered behind the line of $Ytheir knights. Even though the stares make $Ythem feel slightly uncomfortable, Yniol doesn’t divert $Ytheir attention from the docks, nor does $Ytheir rigid posture betray any uneasiness. “Did the King give you any particular task to see through other than $Their Highness’s safety?” Kai asks, wiping the thin layer of sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand and moving some of her golden brown short hair out of the way with the gesture. “We only have to make sure the city settles down properly.” Kai grimaces. At her side, Gawain pats his horse’s neck, his back suddenly tense. “Fair.” All three of them remember last year’s incident with the town of Elygain after King Arthur’s visit. Things got heated just after His Majesty left and the riot that followed was all sorts of ugly. One of the knights even got permanently blinded in one eye by a badly aimed sword hit. Yniol, noticing their uneasiness, lets $Ytheir gaze rest on $Ytheir fellow Round Table Knights, “the city guard is on the lookout and so are we. It’s very unlikely something will happen.” “Ah, always comforting, young one,” Kai replies, now with a crooked smile on her lips. Gawain lets out a chuckle. “You don’t have to baby us, we are more than a decade older than you.” Yniol awkwardly shifts $Ytheir weight on the stallion. $YTheir slightly flustered state only increases Kai and Gawain’s amusement, up until the oldest knight takes pity on $Ythem and changes the conversation topic altogether. “It seems like we’ll have company soon.” All three of them look towards the horizon, where a traveling ship slowly approaches the docks. <<button [[The Royal Consort is almost here.|yniol2]]>><</button>>

Yniol dismounts when the ship comes fully into view. It takes them quite a small amount of time to dock, considering the size of it. The first to come down from the deck are a couple of personal guards, dressed in white robes and a light armour Yniol recognizes as being traditional Venegard soldiers attire. After that comes the Venegard heir, <<switch $height>><<case "very tall">>a towering<<case "tall">>an imposing<<case "average">>an ordinary<<case "short">>a modest<<case "very short">>a small<</switch>> figure, dressed in <<if $dress is 1>>a light coloured tunic<<elseif $dress is 2>>a black long dress<<else>>dark coloured robes<</if>> that shows flashes of $skin<<if $tatstat is "yes">> tattooed<</if>><<if $skin1 is "freckled">>, freckled<</if>> skin as they move. $Their eyes fall on $Ythem and Yniol is at once pulled into the vivid $eyes of $their irises. The future Consort steps carefully down the ladder and Yniol can feel $Ythemselves paying very close attention to $their measured movements. Probably recognizing King Arthur’s knights by the insignia they bear on their armour and cape, the Venegard Envoy approaches them until $they <<if $plur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> only a few meters away, then $they <<if $plur>>come<<else>>comes<</if>> to a stop. <<nobr>><<if $MC is "M">><<set $theykeep = "he keeps">><<elseif $MC is "F">><<set $theykeep = "she keeps">><<else>><<set $theykeep = "they keep">><</if>><</nobr>> <<button [[$Their + " entire person, from " + $their + " straight posture to " + $their + " steely gaze, commands attention and deference. The heir’s own guards avoid close contact and lower their eyes when dismissed."|yniol3]]>><<set $intimidating to $intimidating +1>><<set $trait2 to "intimidating">><</button>> <<button [[$Their + " subdued stance leaves " + $them + " to be almost inconspicuous between " + $their + " guards. " + $Their + " eyes trace " + $their + " surroundings slowly as " + $theykeep + " " + $their + " hands to " + $themselves + " in a reserved, careful motion."|yniol3]]>><<set $unassuming to $unassuming +1>><<set $trait2 to "unassuming">><</button>>

Taking a step forward, Yniol kneels on the ground, bowing $Ytheir head. $YTheir voice is solemn but embedded in earnest sincerity, “welcome, my $Liege.” Yniol gets up, standing at $Ytheir two meters height, and $Ythey <<if $Yplur>>fix<<else>>fixes<</if>> $Ytheir gaze onto the future Royal Consort’s one. <<if $height is "very short">>$YThey <<if $Yplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> to take a step back so that neither of them is too uncomfortable in bending their necks considering their distinctive height difference.<<elseif $height is "short">>$YThey <<if $Yplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> to take a step back so that neither of them is too uncomfortable in bending their necks considering their significant height difference.<<elseif $height is "average">>$YThey <<if $Yplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> to take a step back so that neither of them is too uncomfortable in bending their necks considering their distinctive height difference.<<elseif $height is "tall">>$YThey <<if $Yplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> to bend $Ytheir neck a little bit but since the height difference isn’t uncomfortable $Ythey are able to adjust easily.<<else>>Unlike what $Ythey usually <<if $Yplur>>do<<else>>does<</if>>, Yniol doesn’t have to bend down. In fact, the heir manages to comfortably stand at eye-level in front of them.<</if>><<if $height is "very tall">> It makes something inside Yniol shift in a way that isn't at all unpleasant. To find someone $Ythey can look at without having to bend down is... <</if>> “I am Yniol, Knight of the Round Table. Ser Kai, on my right, and Ser Gawain, on my left, are Round Table Knights as well.” $YThey <<if $Yplur>>keep<<else>>keeps<</if>> $Ytheir tone formal but not unkind, “I hope the journey went well. We have been tasked by King Arthur to escort you to Camelot.” “A carriage will follow us with your luggage, but we thought it'd be best to go the rest of the way on horseback, we’ll be faster that way,” explains Gawain. By his side, Kai supplies, “it’ll only be a couple of days. Three at most, but the weather should hold so we expect the trip to be nice and quick.” <<if $mute>>The Envoy hesitates before slowly signing, “//I am alright with it.//” Yniol feels best to elaborate, “I know the basics of sign language, enough to understand you if you’d be so kind to forgive any mistake on my part.” “I do too,” Kai interjects, “but only some words.” The Envoy seems slightly taken aback by this, but $they <<if $plur>>hide<<else>>hides<</if>> $their surprise very quickly. $They fluidly <<if $plur>>bring<<else>>brings<</if>> $their left hand to $their chest and $they slightly <<if $plur>>bow<<else>>bows<</if>>, a specific set of movements that is a sign of respectful gratitude. “//I am very grateful//,” $they sign.<<else>>The Envoy fluidly bows once more, slightly bending $their lower back and rigidly shifting $their weight forward. That specific set of movements is a sign, Yniol recognises, of composed agreement. “I am alright with it.”<</if>> Gawain claps his hands together, an enthusiastic smile on his lips, “well then, Your Highness, shall we proceed?” Yniol gives a quick assessing look around. The crowd is starting to thicken. <<button [["“Please, follow me, my " + $Liege +".”"|yniol4]]>><</button>>

They depart from St Davis shortly after. The Round Table Knights leave the youngest Venegard the time to say $their gooodbyes to the irish guards and settle on $their horse. Then they leave the town, making sure to disperse the crowd as they do. Yniol keeps $Ytheir attention firmly on the task at hand, but when $Ythey <<if $Yplur>>let<<else>>lets<</if>> $Ytheir gaze fall on the future Royal Consort, $Ythey can’t trace any sign of uneasiness in the carefully blank expression $they <<if $plur>>wear<<else>>wears<</if>>. Yniol has to keep $Ythemselves from checking on $them too much; $Ythey <<if $Yplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> often been defined as //“overbearing”// so $Ythey <<if $Yplur>>focus<<else>>focuses<</if>> on $Ytheir surroundings while mentally checking the trip’s schedule. By the time they leave the town behind, Kai and Gawain are deep in an amiable banter that comes from sharing so much time on tasks and journeys together. The Envoy just basks in the afternoon sun, silently observing $their escorting knights. A few hours into the ride, Yniol turns $Ytheir head to the side, $Ytheir warm hazel eyes wandering over the empty fields that line the road before <<if $Yplur>>$Ythey give<<else>>giving<</if>> all $Ytheir attention to the heir, “is there something that you would like to know about Camelot, the King or your stay, my $Liege?” $name meets $Ytheir gaze, pausing to ponder the question before answering. <<if $mute>>“//Will I be assigned a servant?//”<<else>>“Will I be assigned a servant?”<</if>> It seems like that’s something that’s been bothering $them for a while. “Yes. In fact, King Arthur has already chosen a personal attendant that will assist you, should you need any kind of help.” Something in the knight’s words seems to unsettle the Royal Consort because $they <<if $plur>>divert<<else>>diverts<</if>> $their eyes soon after, tightening the grip on $their mare’s reins. Yniol swallows $Ytheir immediate need to assure $them that there’s nothing to fear and instead $Ythey <<if $Yplur>>elaborate<<else>>elaborates<</if>>, hoping to ease the heir’s mind, “you will have the chance to discover this for yourself, but Gwyar is very attentive to others' discomfort. $GThey will be more than open to a discussion about what are your boundaries and $Gtheir expectations.” “Oh, Gwyar’s a cutie,” Kai confirms. She takes out a flask from one of her saddlebags, drinking a couple of gulps before wetting her hand with the cool water and running her fingers through her short hair from her forehead to the back of her neck, “if you happen to feel uncomfortable, talk to $Gthem and $Gthey’ll adjust.” She then makes a move to unfasten her cape and, together with it, her outer coat. Yniol turns toward her, attentive as an overprotective sibling. “Need some help, Kai?” “My Lord, Yniol,” huffs the older knight. She does ungracefully throw her messily folded cape to $Ythem, though, as she hurries to relieve herself of the coat. Once the flush passes, she audibly groans, “damn me.” Gawain offers her his own flask of water, which she accepts without too much of a fuss. The Royal Consort examines the exchange with well-concealed interest, turning $their attention back on Yniol when things settle down. <<nobr>><<if $MC is "M">><<set $Theynod = "He nods">><<elseif $MC is "F">><<set $Theynod = "She nods">><<else>><<set $Theynod = "They nod">><</if>> <<if $MC is "M">><<set $theyseem = "he seems">><<elseif $MC is "F">><<set $theyseem = "she seems">><<else>><<set $theyseem = "they seem">><</if>> <<if $MC is "M">><<set $Theylet = "He lets">><<elseif $MC is "F">><<set $Theylet = "She lets">><<else>><<set $Theylet = "They let">><</if>> <<if $MC is "M">><<set $theydirect = "he directs">><<elseif $MC is "F">><<set $theydirect = "she directs">><<else>><<set $theydirect = "they direct">><</if>><</nobr>> <<button [[$Theynod + " without elaborating, but despite " + $their + " still rigid posture " + $theyseem + " less tense than before."|yniol5]]>><<set $trait1 to "stoic">><</button>> <<button [[$Theylet + " out a soft exhale, seemingly placated judging by the small grateful smile " + $theydirect + " Yniol’s way."|yniol5]]>><<set $trait1 to "shy">><</button>>

<<if $trait1 is "shy">>Yniol can feel $Ythemselves relax, soothed by the gesture. Although $Ythey <<if $Yplur>>focus<<else>>focuses<</if>> $Ytheir gaze back on the road, there’s a sense of protectiveness that invades $Ytheir insides every time $Ytheir thoughts land on the Consort-to-be. It’s something primal, deeply ingrained in $Ythem, but Yniol has learned to control it to keep it as unintrusive as possible.<<else>>Yniol manages to make $Ythemselves calm down after a careful breath. $name has every reason to be on edge in the current situation. $They <<if $plur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> allowed to keep $themselves withdrawn, after all everything is unfamiliar for $them right now. Yniol only hopes that $they’ll be able to at least get a bit more comfortable in the upcoming days.<</if>> For now, $Ythey will keep guard like $Ythey <<if $plur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> meant to, appeased by the general calmness of the countryside. In fact, they do not encounter any relevant problem for the next hours on the road and Yniol cannot be anything other than glad for that. Sometimes Kai or Gawain initiate light conversation with $name, but they mostly keep it about their journey or other non-personal topics. The Envoy doesn’t show any outward sign of annoyance, although $their controlled expressions suggest that $they successfully locked away any kind of intense feeling for the time being. $They <<if $plur>>indulge<<else>>indulges<</if>> the knights, but $they <<if $plur>>make<<else>>makes<</if>> sure not to get too in depth in the conversation. As a result, $their answers are brief and to the point, not that Yniol’s companions mind all that much. <<button [[The two days’ journey is uneventful and mostly tranquil, that is until they reach the vicinity of Camelot’s walls.|yniol6]]>><</button>>

There’s unrest; Yniol can feel the agitation of the lower town before they even come near the city’s borders. It’s a couple of hours past noon when they arrive there and since it’s a sunny day the capital is gathered outside, likely flooding the major streets. Yniol and Gawain already anticipated this, but now that the future Royal Consort’s safety is in their hands, Yniol can feel some sort of nervous concern swirling in $Ytheir chest. $YThey <<if $Yplur>>keep<<else>>keeps<</if>> it down for everyone’s sake, helped by $Ytheir already accounted for and organized plan of action. $YThey <<if $Yplur>>turn<<else>>turns<</if>> to the Venegard Envoy, $Ytheir face carefully blank and $Ytheir voice even-toned, “we will take a lesser-known route through the lower town so that we can manage the crowd and your own safety with more ease, my $Liege.” The Venegard seventh child nods stiffly, considering that a sensible option. Yniol has to remind $Ythemselves that $they <<if $plur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> been tactically trained by two battle mages and raised in one of the strongest Houses in terms of warfare. This is not a pampered noble child, this is a soldier and Yniol will have to keep it in mind. As soon as the walls come into view, a group of city knights approaches them, bowing their heads in the future Consort’s direction when they come to a stop. “Your Highness.” <<nobr>><<if $MC is "M">><<set $theygive = "he gives">><<elseif $MC is "F">><<set $theygive = "she gives">><<else>><<set $theygive = "they give">><</if>><</nobr>> <<if $mute>><<button [["“It’s a pleasure” the Envoy signs, courteously bowing " + $their + " head."|yniol7]]>><<set $caring to $caring +1>><</button>> <<button [["The Envoy’s callous gaze surveys the knights one by one. Then " + $theygive + " them a curt nod."|yniol7]]>><<set $cold to $cold +1>><</button>><<else>><<button [["“It’s a pleasure” the Envoy answers formally, a warm look in " + $their + " eyes."|yniol7]]>><<set $$caring to $caring +1>><</button>> <<button [[The Envoy’s callous gaze surveys the knights one by one, “well met.”|yniol7]]>><<set $cold to $cold +1>><</button>><</if>>

$They <<if $plur is true>>are<<else>>is<</if>> accustomed to soldiers and knights’ presence, Yniol notes. $name seems marginally more at ease now than $they ever <<if $plur>>were<<else>>was<</if>> while dealing with the commoners and townspeople they encountered along the way. $Their shoulders are less tense, although $their gaze sharper – attentive to every movement of the King’s knights. The spark of uneasiness Yniol had felt while meeting the Venegard heir for the first time is now coiling into a heavy knot. While $Ythey <<if $Yplur>>don't<<else>>doesn't<</if>> hold any kind of hostility towards the future Consort as other knights do, Yniol's loyalty lies first and foremost to the King and $Ytheir worry is, first and foremost, to //his// safety. For both $Ytheir King and his future spouse's sake, Yniol must remain close and very alert. $YThey <<if $Yplur>>makes<<else>>makes<</if>> $Ytheir stallion approach $name’s mare. “Would you prefer to ride alone or with me, my $Liege?” The Consort-to-be turns to $Ythem with <<if $trait2 is "unassuming">>soft, unconcealed confusion<<else>>piercing inquiry<</if>> in $their eyes. $Their interrogative gaze prompts Yniol to explain $Ythemselves, “it is not a necessity and I’d like you not to be pressed by the offer. If you would prefer it, however, escorting you will be my pleasure.” On one hand, Yniol is offering protection. Support maybe – if the Envoy is in need of it. On the other, the Knight knows how much $their first semi-public outing is important for the future Royal Consort. A ride with any other knight would be looked at with confusion, but Yniol is the Round Table Knight appointed for the city’s safety and, by extension, for the safety of the King himself. $YTheir presence by the future Consort’s side won’t be seen as anything else but necessity – likely under the King’s direct will. $name considers the question for a few seconds. <<button [[“I would like to ride with you, then.”|ridewithyniol]]>><<set $ridech1 to "ridewithyniol">><</button>> <<button [[“I would prefer riding alone.”|ridealone]]>><<set $ridech1 to "ridealone">><</button>>

Hello! Thank you for reading through this first half of the very first chapter, I sincerely hope it was a pleasant read! If you enjoyed it, please feel free to let me know on this game's Tumblr blog, where developements updates will be posted. Thank you again and see you soon! <h7>Kal</h7>

<<if $touchaversion is "no">>You know some people who recoil at every unannounced contact, who always try to avoid being too close to people – especially if it’s someone they don’t really know. For you, though, touch has never been something to shy away from. In fact, you find yourself craving body contact more often than you’d care to admit. Almost like a physical ache, the desire to be close to someone – //so close to be felt in your entirety// – sometimes suffocates you. You don’t remember the last time that ache was not with you; the last time that craving was finally satiated. No, that’s not right; //you do.// It was when Saraah went away to never return, leaving you alone in a place where words and hugs are rationed as all unnecessary things are. <<elseif $touchaversion is "mild">>It’s always been like this – a cruel dance between your growing need of soothing touch and the uncomfortable prickling of your skin every time it’s done in the wrong way. Sometimes the lack of warning is enough to set you off, other times you simply can’t bear it altogether. As confusing as it is, you try to make sense of the hunger you started experiencing when your childhood ended and contact started to be rationed like all unnecessary things. It may sound sad, but you clearly remember how it was having your craving periodically satiated. When Saraah went away to marry, he took the warmth of familiar touch with him. It’s never been the same since. //But you’re past that.// <<elseif $touchaversion is "yes">>The sensation that something was very wrong with you started pretty early on and got progressively worse in your teenage years, together with an equally uncomfortable pool towards something you’d normally despise. It took you years to understood that any kind of touch, if not asked for or initiated by yourself, makes you uncomfortable. Especially with people you’re not very close with. With Saraah gone, you basically lost the one person fonder of physical contact you were comfortable with. Since then, and particularly during the rebellion, you’ve often found yourself shying away from physical contact, going so far as flinching back or freezing when it happened unexpectedly, and yet fantasizing about it nonetheless. //But there’s no use in agonizing over it now.//<</if>> <<button [[You bring your focus back on the kid. You have no time to waste.|ship5]]>><</button>>

You’re not surprised when, soon after, you’re ordered to retreat. Your older sister comes to your tent that evening to check on you, informing you of your House’s next move. You are to fall back to Carlow; the plan is to regroup and to wait for the Saoirse House to fill your ranks with their own fresh infantrymen. Your mother is also hoping for some heavy cavalry, but your sister doesn’t elaborate on the plan the both of them likely already have in motion and you don’t question her further. When she stops talking the silence stretches on. You go back to cleaning your half-naked body, soothed by the tent’s privacy. Soaking a rag, you clean the blood off of your hips, revealing a dark and very large bruise just above your hipbone. Your sister, Adrei, watches you in silence for so long that her presence starts to become intrusive. You lift your head to meet her gaze. “I heard you fought well.” Her voice hardly bears any kind of warmth, formal and stiff as you have always known Adrei. She rarely acknowledges your merits, though, so her words make something inside you shift uncomfortably. <<button [[You feel your mouth go dry when you’re reminded of the lives you took today. Killing is not something you enjoy, nor something you’d ever willfully choose to do given a choice. You take a shaky breath, composing yourself in front of her.|sister2.3]]>><<set $caring to +1>><</button>> <<button [[You tilt your head in a sign of acknowledgement. Despite knowing the people you killed today will plague your nightmares, killing is a fact of life you have by now come to terms with.|sister2.3]]>><<set $cold to +1>><</button>>

<<if $mute>>“//Thank you,//” you sign.<<else>>“Thank you,” you carefully say.<</if>> Your older sister just nods, leaving it at that. She moves to leave your tent and she already has one foot outside when she turns around to face you once again. You catch a softness in her gaze that you hardly ever earnt before, something conflicted yet sincere at the same time. “Whatever happens. I am proud of you,” she says. Then, she leaves you alone once again, directed to the frontlines. You spend every day of the next month and a half living in very close contact with your House’s injured infantrymen and the elite fighters your Father ordered to stand by in the rearguard until further notice. You learn some of their names, of the kind of life they had before coming to fight. You make sure not to get too close to them, but it gets increasingly more difficult not to get comfortable in this new routine. <<button [[Up until the end of summer, things seem to be going fine. Then comes the horrific massacre that is the battle of Coan.|sister2.6]]>><</button>>

You are cornered, trapped between your own retreating troops and King Arthur’s knights. The lines are going to collapse on themselves. The troops that should have come to your aid have already been slaughtered by the King's army. Your sister leads the front but you know from the number of retreating fighters that she is not going to hold. You are in the back and you’re doing much, much worse. As you try not to fall over the dead body of an Irish fighter, you can only frantically think about a way for your men not to be completely crushed between the enemy and your own troops. Wherever you turn, there are corpses on the ground, piled up on crushed barracks or burning alongside them. You can smell ash and gore with every breath you take. //You have to remain focused. There has to be a way for you and your troops to escape this hell.// <<button "//You have to find a way out.//" "sister3">><</button>>

//You have to breathe.// You inhale through your nose and then you slowly exhale, trying to ground yourself. You're not on the field now. //You’re not you’re// not. You subtly let your fingers slide into one of your tunic's pockets. Inside, a small metal object captures your attention. You grip it tightly, centring yourself through the coolness of the material under your fingertips. You let yourself slowly explore its smooth surface and, as you do, your vision starts to focus again while the ringing in your ears finally retrocedes. You are not on the field. Instead, you are attending the High Council; your first and probably last one. Surrounded by faintly familiar faces, you've never felt more cornered, though, not even in battle. You have no way to escape, here, no way to run or //refuse.// "King Arthur Pendragon is favourable to signing a treaty. He will accept a marriage with a member of House Venegard in order to formally seal the peace. Fortunately, you have one unmarried child left. Marry your youngest one, and you will avoid being all executed for treason," the Head of House Gaveal states with his eyes fixed on you. Your parents look at each other with the closest expression to grief you have ever seen on their normally steely eyes and your fate is sealed just like that. <<button [[Suddenly you can't breathe, overwhelmed by a painful kind of numbness. You inhale deeply, bringing into focus again the members of the entire Council.|sister4]]>><</button>> <<button [[You don’t outwardly react. Your gaze is fixed ahead of you, empty as you feel right now. There is nothing to be added, you won’t have a say in this decision either way.|sister4]]>><</button>>

<<if tags().includes("credits")>><h2>Credits</h2> <<elseif tags().includes("character")>> <h2>Character</h2> <<elseif tags().includes("codex")>> <h2>Codex</h2> <<elseif tags().includes("cc")>> <h2>Character creation</h2> <<elseif tags().includes("profile")>> <h2>Character Profile</h2> <<elseif tags().includes("love-interests")>> <h2>Love Interests</h2> <<elseif tags().includes("camelot")>> <h2>Lore</h2> <</if>>

<h7>The King's Hound</h7> is a fantasy Interactive Fiction loosely based on the Arthurian legends, with a focus on found family as well as platonic and romantic bonds. You will be able to shape your appearance and personality as you rule beside your King, Arthur Pendragon, but you'll also be free to interact with many other characters in the span of your years spent in Camelot. Before we begin, note that this story is rated ''18+'' for the presence in game of ''violence, blood, gore, sexual content and other possibly triggering topics.'' Click <<link 'here'>> <<popup 'tw' 'Trigger Warnings' 'popup'>> <</link>> for a more detailed (but possibly spoilery) list of trigger warnings. <<button [[Create your character|name]]>><</button>>

*Violence *Mentions of past trauma *Mentions of past abusive relationships *Mentions of incest *Depictions of anxiety attacks *Mentions of past alcohol abuse *Sporadic use of degrading language *Vomiting *Gore *Permanent disability *Graphic scars *Blood loss *Self-mutilation *Depersonalization *Paranoia *Possible explicit sexual content

<center><h5>$name Venegard</h5></center> <b>Status</b>: soon-to-be Royal Consort of Arthur Pendragon <b>Age</b>: 23 <b>Appearance</b>: You are a $height $person, with a $bodytype body type. Your <<if $tatstat is "yes">>tattooed, <</if>><<if $skin1 is "freckled">>freckled <</if>>$skin skin complements your deep $eyes eyes. You prefer to keep your $hairtexture $hair hair $hairlength. You have a very notable scar <<if $initialscar is "eyebrow">>across your eyebrow<<elseif $initialscar is "cheek">>along your cheek<<elseif $initialscar is "lips">>across your lips<<elseif $initialscar is "neck">>on your neck<<elseif $initialscar is "chest">>on your chest<<elseif $initialscar is "abdomen">>through your abdomen<<elseif $initialscar is "back">>on your back<<else>>across your knee<</if>>. <<if $mute>> You were born mute and you use sign language to communicate. <</if>>\ <b>Level of comfort with physical contact</b>: <<if $touchaversion is "no">>you are not touch averse.<<elseif $touchaversion is "mild">>you are mildly touch averse.<<elseif $touchaversion is "yes">>you are severely touch averse.<<else>>undefined.<</if>> <b>Temperament</b>: You are <<if $intimidating gt $unassuming>>quite <h7>intimidating</h7>, your presence holding an oppressive weight to it<<elseif $unassuming gt $intimidating>>quite <h7>unassuming</h7>, your presence holding an unobtrusive quality to it<<else>>neither <h7>intimidating</h7> nor <h7>unassuming</h7><</if>>. You are <<if $cold gt $caring>>a <h7>cold</h7> $person, rarely moved to compassion<<elseif $caring gt $cold>>a <h7>caring</h7> person, easily moved to compassion<<else>>neither <h7>cold</h7> nor <h7>caring</h7><</if>>. Intimidating value: $intimidating Unassuming value: $unassuming Cold value: $cold Caring value: $caring <b>Relationships:</b> you have a <h7><<if $subtle gt $blunt>>subtle<<else>>blunt<</if>></h7> way of approaching and interacting with those you consider close to you. Subtle value: $subtle Blunt value: $blunt <h8>[Note: the values are not yet correctly implemented and shown for testing purposes]</h8> <br><center><<button "Back" $return>><</button>></center>

<center><h10>Romantic Options</h10></center> <div class="contactgroup"> <<link '<img src="images/arthur.png" width="250px">' "arthur">><</link>> <<link '<img src="images/evaine.png" width="250px">' "evaine">><</link>> <<link '<img src="images/morien.png" width="250px">' "morien">><</link>> <<link '<img src="images/yniol.png" width="250px">' "yniol">><</link>> <<link '<img src="images/gwyar.png" width="250px">' "gwyar">><</link>></div> <center><h10>Other Characters</h10></center> <div class="contactgroup"> <<if visited("ch2.5") is 1>><<if $morpresent is "bracelet">><<link '<img src="images/mordred1.png" width="250px">' "mordred">><</link>><<else>><<link '<img src="images/mordred2.png" width="250px">' "mordred">><</link>><</if>><</if>> <<if visited("siblings") is 1>><<link '<img src="images/siblings.png" width="250px">' "siblings profiles">><</link>><</if>> </div> <br><center><<button "Return" $return>><</button>></center>

“Of course,” Yniol answers with a slight bow of $Ytheir head. While the Envoy dismounts their mare, $Ythey gently <<if $Yplur>>lead<<else>>leads<</if>> $Ytheir stallion closer. He’s a quite well-tempered, strong war horse and since the ride to the fortress won’t take long, Yniol is confident he won’t suffer any strain. $YThey <<if $Yplur>>place<<else>>places<</if>> $Ythemselves in the front, so that $Ytheir horse won’t overexert himself. Once $name is safely behind $Ythem, Yniol caresses gently $Ytheir stallion’s neck. “Please do feel free to hold onto me,” $Ythey <<if $Yplur>>address<<else>>address<</if>> the future Consort without turning around. After that, $Ythey can feel one of $their arms coming to wrap itself around $Ytheir midsection, providing an added sensation of heat. The knight keeps $Ytheir body still and $Ytheir gaze fixed unwavering ahead, breathing slowly. “Are you comfortable, my $Liege?” $YThey <<if $Yplur>>ask<<else>>asks<</if>> in a low, even voice. Being so close to the Envoy, Yniol can feel $them shifting slightly at $Ytheir words. <<if $mute>>”//Yes,//” the youngest Venegard signs with their free hand, “//thank you.//”<<else>>“Yes,” the youngest Venegard assures them, “thank you.”<</if>> $YThey <<if $Yplur>>concede<<else>>concedes<</if>> $name another moment to settle, then $Ythey <<if $Yplur>>ask<<else>>asks<</if>>, “are you ready, Your Highness?” $name takes a controlled, steadying breath, straightening $their back on the saddle. <<if $mute>>$They nod with only a subtle hint of emotion in $their gaze, something Yniol cannot fully decipher. “//We can proceed.//”<<else>>“Yes,” $they say with only a subtle hint of emotion in $their voice, something Yniol cannot fully decipher. “We can proceed.”<</if>> <<button [[And so, flanked by the City Guard, they enter the city.|yniol8]]>><</button>>

“Of course,” Yniol <<if $Yplur>>answer<<else>>answers<</if>> with a slight bow of $Ytheir head. The Envoy prompts the black-dotted white mare $they <<if $plur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> been riding until now to place herself at Yniol’s side. $They gently <<if $plur>>scratch<<else>>scratches<</if>> her neck and crest as she obediently obliges, her curly white mane cascading beautifully over the left side of her muscled neck. Same as Yniol’s dark brown stallion, she is a trained war horse and a particularly calm one at that. The Stable Master recommended her for her tranquil temperament. Since she would be unfamiliar with her rider $Ythey had taken her up on the suggestion. Yniol has no doubt she must be tired from the week-long journey, but she doesn’t complain and instead she nudges $name’s hand affectionately. For a long minute, Yniol stands still, watching the tender, silent exchange. $YThey <<if $Yplur>>concede<<else>>concedes<</if>> the future Consort another moment to settle, then $Ythey <<if $Yplur>>ask<<else>>asks<</if>>, “are you ready, Your Highness?” $name takes a controlled, steadying breath, straightening $their back on the saddle. <<if $mute>>$They <<if $plur>>nod<<else>>nods<</if>> with only a subtle hint of emotion in $their gaze, something Yniol cannot fully decipher. “//We can proceed.//”<<else>>“Yes,” $they <<if $plur>>say<<else>>says<</if>> with only a subtle hint of emotion in $their voice, something Yniol cannot fully decipher. “We can proceed.”<</if>> <<button [[And so, flanked by the City Guard, they enter the city.|yniol8]]>><</button>>

Yniol is acutely aware that, had the Consort-to-be been of any House rather than the traitorous one, there would have been a parade awaiting $them in the lower town, with traditional songs and wishes of prosperity to the new Royal Consort. $They would have been escorted by knights through the major streets; Yniol would have taken precautions for $their safety, but… not like this. As it is, with a civil war just ended, there is still unrest in Camelot – enough to put the Envoy at risk. Because Yniol is actually used to visiting the lower town and interacting with its population, unlike some other knights, $Ythey <<if $Yplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> aware of the amount of people against the treaty - the marriage specifically. $YThey <<if $Yplur>>know<<else>>knows<</if>> that the majority of them have at least some sort of trust in the King’s judgement, but Yniol doesn’t make a habit of underestimating how quickly public discontent can spread. Until the marriage is settled, the Envoy’s security will continue to be at high risk. $They will probably be advised on staying indoors or at least within the actual castle’s walls. For now, the knights leave the town’s entrance behind to get deeper into the streets of Camelot. The route Yniol chose is not the main one to the castle, but also not one unviable on horseback. The sound of hooves on cobblestone accompanies them through paved streets, together with excited exclamations when being spotted. The crowd is not bad enough to worry the knight, or at least not yet. The easily recognizable smell of Camelot – a mixture of leather, iron powder and fresh bread – is so very familiar for Yniol, however it must be anything but for the Envoy. Yniol turns just enough to check on $them. <<button [[The future Consort’s gaze is vacant, almost detached to the entire situation. As if trying to keep as uninvolved as possible.|yniol9]]>><<set $Cattitude to "close">><</button>> <<button [["The future Consort’s gaze is guarded as it surveys the lower town, attentively scanning " + $their + " surroundings."|yniol9]]>><<set $Cattitude to "guarded">><</button>> <<button [["The future Consort eventually relaxes, caressing the town with " + $their + " gaze in a way that feels like cautious longing."|yniol9]]>><<set $Cattitude to "open">><</button>>

<<if $Cattitude is "close">>Yniol does in no way blame $them. Everything right now must be so overwhelming, from riding through the Welsh capital to the prospect of meeting their betrothed. As much as Yniol wishes there could be something comforting to say, there really isn’t, so they keep riding in silence.<<elseif $Cattitude is "guarded">>Once again, Yniol is reminded of the Venegard’s military background. $Their posture has been tense since they entered the city, it probably can’t be comfortable. Yniol doesn’t say anything though; they just keep riding ahead.<<else>>Yniol’s heart gets squeezed in $Ytheir chest. Maybe $Ythey <<if $Yplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> letting $Ythemselves be involved too deeply. It’s always like this, though, $Ythey can’t help it. $YThey <<if $Yplur>>opt<<else>>opts<</if>> to stay silent, averting $Ytheir gaze once again.<</if>> The city is busy and lively as always, although Yniol is sure even $name can detect an underlying sense of tense anticipation as they cross street after street. It is, unfortunately, not a particularly good sign. A section of Yniol’s attention is always focused on Kai and Gawain’s humorous commentary in the background, $Ythey genuinely <<if $Yplur>>enjoy<<else>>enjoys<</if>> it and it placates $Ytheir worry. If they suddenly grew silent, //that// would set the knight on alarm. “I remember when Arthur paraded in the city for the first time,” confesses Gawain, “Camelot was almost completely silent.” Yniol shudders at the memory. For the Envoy must be a strange thing to hear, though, because $they <<if $plur>>turn<<else>>turns<</if>> in the knight’s direction with an inquisitive gaze. “Yeah,” Kai agrees, sobered. “We were all so on edge. Even Tristan. I mean, the Round Table had just been officially appointed.” <<if $mute>>“//When was this?//” the Envoy asks.<<else>>“When was this?” $name asks.<</if>> “A couple of weeks after King Uther’s death. Arthur was twenty at the time.” Gawain’s gaze is lost ahead of him after that and Kai gets silent too, at least for a while. The clamour of overlapping voices does die down a little when they reach the upper town. Yniol dismounts first, offering $Ytheir hand to the future Consort when they’re on the ground. <<nobr>><<if $MC is "M">><<set $theydismount = "he dismounts">><<elseif $MC is "F">><<set $theydismount = "she dismounts">><<else>><<set $theydismount = "they dismount">><</if>><</nobr>> <<if $ridech1 is "ridewithyniol">> <<button [[The Envoy takes it with a grateful nod, effortlessly getting off Yniol’s stallion.|yniol10]]>><</button>> <<button "The Envoy tips $their head in a sign of gratitude but $they dismount<<if !$plur>>s<</if>> without help." "yniol10">><</button>><<else>><<button [["The Royal Consort accepts it with a grateful smile, easing " + $themselves + " off the horse in a fluid motion."|yniol10]]>><</button>> <<button [["The Envoy takes it after just a brief moment, effortlessly getting off " + $their + " horse."|yniol10]]>><</button>> <<button [["The Envoy tips " + $their + " head in a sign of gratitude but " + $theydismount + " without help."|yniol10]]>><</button>><</if>>

<h8>Adrei [34]</h8> She is the oldest and appointed Heir to the Venegard House; as such she never married and instead focused on taking charge of the House's military force. She is the only sibling you share combat magic with and she's the best fighter you've ever met. She might come off as cold and she often pushed you to your very limits, but she never took it too far. In her own way, Adrei always looked out for you and she probably always will. <<nobr>><<if $adreitrinket>>You have kept the metal armband she left you on your bed after a particularly bad day a couple of years ago.<</if>><</nobr>> <i>Bonus content</i> <<button "Adrei's reaction to learning her $sibling was going to marry the King">> <<popup 'adreibonus1' 'Adrei bonus content'>><</button>> <h8>Ghaven [30]</h8> They have never been too close with you, being incredibly busy at home and then married off, however Ghaven is a reliable person and, as a child, they looked out for you often. Their art has always resided in politics and tactics; they are a careful planner, not subtle nor charming but effective nonetheless. They married a former Welsh knight, Ser Cathair, and a very influential one as that, just a few months after King Arthur took the throne. <<nobr>><<if $ghaventrinket>>To this day, you keep their own former dagger that they left you before leaving home. <</if>><</nobr>> <i>Bonus content</i> <<button "Ghaven's reaction to learning their $sibling was going to marry the King">> <<popup 'ghavenbonus1' 'Ghaven bonus content'>><</button>> <h8>Emyr [29]</h8> Your older brother married young and your correspondence with him is very, very sparse. You remember him as a reserved, quiet man. He did all that he could to avoid the spotlight in the family, favouring stealth in training and often ditching social interactions as well. You know from Saraah that his marriage is unfortunately not a happy one. In the few letters he sent you over the years, though, he never mentioned it. <<nobr>><<if $emyrtrinket>>You have kept the small carved deer he gifted you before he took off from home. <</if>><</nobr>> <i>Bonus content</i> <<button "Emyr's reaction to learning his $sibling was going to marry the King">> <<popup 'emyrbonus1' 'Emyr bonus content'>><</button>> <h8>Osia [27]</h8> Osia is a confident silver-tongue with very rigid views on a lot of things and one objective in mind; to achieve that she would do absolutely //anything//. The only people she doesn't see as beneath her are her own parents and oldest sister. She married the Saoirse Heir some years ago and since then you've had little contact with her. It's for the best, maybe, because you still have burned in you memory the brutal comments she liked to cut you down with. You've never been enough for her - you'll probably never will. <h8>Saraah [26]</h8> He's the sibling you've been the closest with. Saraah was always there as you were little and he remained by your side, offering warm hugs and loving words, until he too was married off to a Welsh noble. You miss him so much it hurts. You treasure the seashells he often brough you as one of your most prized possessions. <h8>Radel [24]</h8> Radel played with you when you were little and kept being by your side when you both grew older, close almost as twins. As his own marriage came closer, though, he completely retreated in himself, never even coming out of his room. He left without saying goodbye in person and after that your contacts through letter were very rare. You know he cared about you, but maybe being apart like this is too painful for him. <<nobr>><<if $radeltrinket>>You still wear the ring he crafted for you and that he left oout of your door the day he left. <</if>><</nobr>> <<button [[Back|ros profile]]>><</button>>

The castle’s guards, ready for their arrival, have already lifted the heavy grid of the entrance gate. Just on the other side, at least a dozen Royal Guards stand on alert, their armour glistening in the sunlight. Their crimson capes, similar to the King’s very own, colour the courtyard in a vibrant shade of deep red. A bit eerie, Yniol must say. At the same time, $Ythey <<if $Yplur>>take<<else>>takes<</if>> so much comfort in it. It’s both the colour of the knights, something Yniol can now take pride in being, and the colour $Ythey <<if $Yplur>>associate<<else>>associates<</if>> with their King. It makes $Ythem feel warm, welcomed. A part of something and, as such, never truly alone. “You’re dismissed,” Yniol tells the city guards that had escorted them until now. Before crossing the gate, Yniol looks at $Ytheir side to check on $name. <<nobr>><<if $MC is "M">><<set $Theyseem = "He seems">><<elseif $MC is "F">><<set $Theyseem = "She seems">><<else>><<set $Theyseem = "They seem">><</if>><</nobr>><<nobr>><<if $MC is "M">><<set $Theydo = "He does">><<elseif $MC is "F">><<set $Theydo = "She does">><<else>><<set $Theydo = "They do">><</if>><</nobr>><<nobr>><<if $MC is "M">><<set $Theyappear = "He appears">><<elseif $MC is "F">><<set $Theyappear = "She appears">><<else>><<set $Theyappear = "They appear">><</if>><</nobr>> <<button [[$Their + " carefully blank expression flickers for just a couple of seconds, enough for Yniol to spot the hesitation concealed underneath. It disappears just as quickly, though, leaving only subdued passiveness in its wake."|arthurmeeting1]]>><</button>> <<button [[$Their + " eyes settle on Yniol's face for a moment before flitting away. The knight can catch the nervous apprehension filling them, the same emotion that seems to radiate from " + $their + " stiff posture, and it makes Yniol ache."|arthurmeeting1]]>><</button>> <<button [[$Their + " stare is inquisitive and unwavering," + $their + " back perfectly straight. " + $Theyseem + " prepared and focused."|arthurmeeting1]]>><</button>> <<button [[$Theydo + " not meet Yniol’s eyes, " + $their + " firm gaze is fixed ahead and it holds no real investment in the situation. " + $Theyappear + " completely impassive, however Yniol does not know if that’s a façade or not."|arthurmeeting1]]>><</button>>

<span class="subtitle"><h4> 27th day of Fall. Year 209 of the current calendar. <u>//Camelot//</u></h4></span> The Round Table Knights, who led the way until now, place themselves a respectful step behind you. Once you're ready, you advance through the courtyard to the castle’s entrance. The Royal Guards flank you, but you spare them only a sideways glance as you proceed, coming to a stop a few meters behind the external staircase. You have already seen him in person, so you recognize the figure of the King standing atop of it; one knight at each of his sides. Steadying yourself for the next interaction, you observe as he walks down the stair, accompanied by the knights. His honey blonde curls shine in the sunlight, just a few shades lighter than his golden complexion. His armour is ornate in the excessive way monarch's equipment is, completed by a dark red cape with beige fur around his wide shoulders. King Arthur stops after the last step. His clear blue eyes are focused on you, attentive without becoming invasive. You resume walking, shortening the distance that separates you. With the King’s gaze on you, you advance in the empty space ahead of you. Instinctively, you recall how you felt when you first saw him at the official meeting back at home. Your thoughts at the time were clouded by an impending doom, dread and numbness mixing together. You were exhausted and emotionally drained after just a week of rest, and if you have to be sincere, you hold little memories from those days save from the remnants of heavy emotions. Your parents warned you of the Tyrant King, Uther, for most of your life - warnings that became terror when tales of mages captured and tortured reached the Houses farthest from the capital. When the King died in battle and his son took the throne, your parents began to move. Although very little was known of King Arthur at the time, your parents weren't willing to loose their only chance. As you understood, because they hardly talk to you anymore - bred to obey without questioning orders - your siblings' marriages were only in preparation for the rebellion against King Arthur. To dethrone him before he had a chance to do to your family - and the few mages left in Camelot - what his father would have. Somehow, the person you’re approaching just now holds no bloodthirst in their eyes, and no calculated danger in his posture other than... //softness//. Something in you //screams//. This is wrong. There’s a strange sensation in the pit of your stomach as you walk, something you aren’t quite able to name. You take a steadying breath, coming to a stop just a couple of steps away from the King. His gaze locks with yours and it stays there for a long moment. <<button [[Continue|arthurmeeting2]]>><</button>>

He doesn't make any move to get closer, instead, he placed a hand behind his back and then he bows slightly in your direction. You cannot discern if the gesture feels sincere, and you are immediately on edge. //What game is he playing with you?// King Arthur's eyes never leave you as he raises, they are welcoming and impossibly warm, his hushed voice soft like velvet. "Welcome to Camelot." Perhaps taking notice of the flash of emotions in your gaze, the King's face gets solemn, losing a bit of that overwhelming warmth. It is enough for you to notice how calculated their pose really is. And, underneath it all, to see just a brief spark of raw tiredness. “It is a pleasure to have you here.” Now that you’re standing in front of each other, you notice <<if $height is "very short">>how much taller he is<<elseif $height is "short">>how much taller he is<<elseif $height is "average">>how much taller he is<<elseif $height is "tall">>how similar your height is<<else>>how you have to slightly look down on him<</if>>, and how broad and muscular his frame is. “Forgive the subdued welcome. Things still have to sink in properly and we wanted to ensure your safety as our first priority.” <<if $mute>>Ser Yniol told you along the way that the King had been instructed in sign language in preparation of your arrival, so you don’t falter when you sign, “//I understand.//”<<else>>“I understand,” you assure him, neutrally.<</if>> After all, your expectations were much darker. In fact, your arrival has been better received than you thought, considering your family's status as little more than traitors. King Arthur softens up at your answer. “May I introduce you to Ser Tristan and Ser Lamorak?” The knights at his sides bow their head to you in a silent greeting. The King’s gaze then falls on the knights behind you. Arthur’s soft voice has a fond inflection as it addresses them, “I hope the journey went well.” “We didn’t come across any issues, Your Majesty.” “I am glad to hear it.” “St. Devis settled with ease,” Gawain provides. The King sends a grateful smile his way. “Thank you, darling.” //Darling.// He makes free and ample use of endearment terms, regardless of the status of the person he is addressing, it seems. If that is a subtle manipulation tactic on his part, it seems to be working well, for the knights all seem eager for a fraction of the King's attention and praise. “You can go,” Arthur then calmly orders to the knights at his side. They do so with a respectful chorus of, “yes, Your Majesty.” Before dismissing the rest of the knights as well, though, the King directs one fond look Yniol’s way. “Get some rest, Yniol. You can return to your trainees tomorrow, they certainly missed you.” His smile then turns playful, a barely concealed hint of mischief in there as well. “A heads up, though: you’ll find that Bedivere’s not as inflexible of a trainer as we all thought.” Turning a bit, you can spot Yniol’s confusion clear in $Ytheir eyes. The King only huffs out an amused chuckle in response. Seemingly still taken aback by the news, Yniol almost flinches when Kai energetically claps $Ythem on the back. “Oh, I need to see this. Maybe they stole all of your precious trainees – imagine not being their favourite knight anymore.” Yniol doesn’t answer but $Ythey <<if $Yplur>>send<<else>>sends<</if>> Kai a stern look that has her cackling even more. With a smile on his lips, Gawain comes forward and takes the older knight with him. When Yniol turns to leave as well, $Ythey <<if $Yplur>>let<<else>>lets<</if>> $Ytheir eyes linger one last time on you. <<button [[There is a foreign sense of loss lodged in your chest as you watch the knight go.|arthurmeeting3]]>><<set $yniolplatonic to $yniolplatonic +1>><</button>> <<button [[The sentiment is nice, at least.|arthurmeeting3]]>><</button>>

<<if $yniolplatonic is 1>>In the days of travel, you had become accustomed to Ser Yniol's presence. Their silences but their caring gestures as well. You find yourself loathe to part with $Ythem. At least, $Ythey had become somewhat familiar. Now, you are thrusted into unknown arms again - that of the man your family tried to betray.<</if>> The King then turns towards the castle, beckoning you to follow him. “Let me give you a tour. I’m sure the journey must have been tiring. I assure you that after this you’ll be free to rest and to settle down at your own time.” You walk through the entrance and the huge decorated doorway opens up into an ample hall. You follow the King as he unhurriedly leads you through the rest of the castle. As you walk, the servants passing by straighten their backs at the sight of you beside their King’s before bowing lightly. “Your Highness.” You always make sure to answer with respectful nods of your head. While you are accustomed to the presence of house servants, but you have never seen //this many// at once. The castle seems to brim with them, to the point that the sensation of being watched, even followed, seeps traitorously into your bones. You force yourself to swallow the sensation down and bury it. //You are not here to be a prisoner.// It is difficult not to feel grossly out of place, though. Even the castle’s architecture is peculiar – less polished and more vibrant in a way, despite the ample use of stone. It must be a result of the coloured drapes and in many rooms, carpets. It’s different, but not unpleasant you decide. King Arthur offers you a concise, but thorough explanation of the areas you pass, giving you the time to take it all in by indulging in some small anecdotes from time to time. <<button [[You sometimes engage him with targeted questions, trying to memorize all the information the King provides.|arthurmeeting4]]>><</button>> <<button [[You keep silent most of the time, observing your surroundings with a sense of numbness spreading slowly inside your chest.|arthurmeeting4]]>><</button>>

“Here on the right you will find the armoury. If you will concede me just a few minutes, I can show you how to access the training grounds.” You follow the King through a bright hallway that leads to an open archway. “This one is the second access route, you can also reach it from the external courtyard. I hope you will find them to your liking. If you feel like it, you are free to make use of them however and whenever you want.” You swallow your relief in favour of a courteous nod. You are starting to miss the familiar comfort of a training routine or just the tired satisfaction after a well-executed work out. Maybe as soon as tomorrow you’ll take him up on the offer, you muse as you are led away from the courtyard and back again inside the castle. “Ser Yniol is the one in charge of the recruits' training, while Ser Bedivere usually takes on when they're appointed guards. They will be the ones you’ll most likely find there when practice takes place." <<button [[Continue|arthurmeeting5]]>><</button>>

“A general rule the Eastern Wing is allocated for the royal living quarters, so yours as well now. The southern one houses the servants and the western one the knights. The northern Wing is the one dedicated to the general administration, including the Throne Room itself. You are free to explore as much as you like. Should you find yourself in need of directions, any servant will be more than happy to help you.” The path that the King leads you through as he talks is a sequence of wide hallways, brightened by the sun that shines through the windows and subsequently pleasantly warm. You are starting to unconsciously relax, especially after the amount of energy that the long journey took out of you. “As for the marriage itself,” Arthur says, bringing a hand up to softly stroke his crown, repositioning it and brushing a lock of blonde hair behind his ears, "we can talk about it now, if you wish. Or later; we still have a few days ahead of us before the celebrations will start.” Oh, maybe he means your expectations from now on and in that case yes, you’d like to talk about them. But not now, you’re too drained and you’ll need a clear head for such an important talk. <<if $mute>>“//Maybe we can have the discussion tomorrow?//" you offer.<<else>>“Maybe we can have the discussion tomorrow?” you offer.<</if>> “Certainly, dear,” he turns sideways to lock gazes with you, offering you an understanding smile that takes you by surprise, “whatever you prefer.” You follow him, quietly taking in the majestic architecture of the castle. The King seems content to let the silence stretch for some minutes before he resumes talking. “I want to apologize for the short amount of time you were given to adjust, I can only imagine how disorienting the situation must be. A few days was all the time I could comfortably grant you, however. Your presence here without an official title is going to put you at risk. “ //Yes, you guessed as much.// If you have to be honest with yourself, King Arthur is being exceptionally generous with you, with time as well as with everything else. <<button [[There’s a warmth in your chest that threatens to bubble over the more you swallow in the hopes of it going away. Maybe it’s the exhaustion of the journey that’s gotten you this emotional over simply considerate words.|arthurmeeting6]]>><<set $arthurplatonic to +1>><</button>> <<button [[You would feel relieved, if it was coming from anyone else. But you force yourself to remember that this is Uther's son, that the truth of your magic stands between kind smiles and a fate worse than death.|arthurmeeting6]]>><</button>>

<<if $mute>>“//I understand//,” you sign, face carefully guarded, “//and I am grateful for your consideration. It’s been a tiring journey so I appreciate the opportunity to rest.//”<<else>>“I understand,” you tell him, voice carefully even, “and I am grateful for your consideration. It’s been a tiring journey so I appreciate the opportunity to rest.”<</if>> The King’s gaze seems to turn even more gentle. “Let me take you to your chambers, then. Gwyar is waiting for you.” <<if $mute>>“//My assigned servant?//”<<else>>“My assigned servant?”<</if>> Arthur turns in your direction as he walks, leading you up a staircase. “I guess Yniol mentioned $Gthem? Should you have any kind of question or issue you can either ask $Gthem or seek me out. In some cases, in fact, $Gthey might even be able to provide clearer answers than me.” The polite respect in the King’s voice when they talk about the servant is undeniable and in a way it does melt some of your nervous tension because you know, with absolute certainty, that many workers carelessly suffered under his father's reign. As you turn around another corner, a figure going the opposite direction suddenly collides with the King. You hear a muffled “oof” from him, however, he quickly reacts by wrapping his arms around the other person to prevent them from falling backwards. There’s a sound of something hitting the ground, though, and out of the corner of your eye you can see a – basket? – falling on the floor. As soon as the king steadies what you recognize most likely as a servant, you see panicked recognition flooding into the young person’s eyes. “I’m //so// sorry! I didn’t mean to-“ “Oh, no harm done, dear. Please, forgive me, I didn’t see you. Are you alright?” Only after the servant’s confirmation, does King Arthur bend down to retrieve the fallen basket off the floor. When you spot a discarded cloth on the floor near your feet, likely fallen off the basket, you automatically reach for it. Arthur gives you a grateful look as you walk towards him and put the cloth back into the basket. He hands it to the girl with a smile. “Here you go.” <<button [[She gives both you and the King her thanks before taking off in the opposite direction.|arthurmeeting7]]>><</button>>

The exchange leaves you quite unsettled. It is not normal for Kings to address so casually their own subordinates. But this is hardly the first time you saw King Arthur be so... openly affectionate to knights, servants and even you. “Jeanne has been working here for just under a year,” the King provides, their gaze focused in the direction the servant just walked, “a very lovely and hardworking girl. She’s French, just like many other workers you’ll come across in the castle.” As he speaks, your eyes fall on the ornate sword at his side. Maybe the scene that just unfolded in front of your eyes lowered your guard, but you are finding your curiosity difficult to control and as soon as he turns your way you <<if $mute>>sign, “//did you really extract your sword from a stone?//”<<else>>ask, “did you really extract your sword from a stone?”<</if>> The King giggles. They bring a hand to cover their mouth in an evident struggle to hold back a laugh. Their blue eyes are full of mirth when, moving down their hand, they answer, “yes, I did.” Their fingers reflexively come to stroke Excalibur’s hilt, a gesture that seems self-soothing just like your habit of taking hold of something when you need to feel grounded. “Can you believe it?” he asks, amused. //Oh,// you think. //Maybe the stories about the Round Table will be true as well.// <<button [[Arthur smiles, still in a high mood, gesturing the staircase with his arm. “Shall we? Your lodgings are just a short way ahead.”|mordredmeeting1]]>><</button>>

There is a <<if $G is "F">>woman<<elseif $G is "M">>man<<else>>person<</if>> in front of what you believe is the entrance door to your rooms. $GTheir whole appearance should be inconspicuous, with $Gtheir short height and relatively simple clothing, however when $Gtheir molten gold irises land on you, you find yourself transfixed. “This is Gwyar,” Arthur provides by your side. The servant bows, $Gtheir hands clasped behind $Gtheir back. A few silky locks of $Gtheir long black hair fall forward as $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>bend<<else>>bends<</if>> $Gtheir back. $GThey <<if $Gplur>>adjust<<else>>adjusts<</if>> them behind $Gtheir ears as soon as $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>straighten<<else>>straightens<</if>> back up. There’s a sophisticated kind of politeness in $Gtheir movements you have never seen on anyone before. You bow lightly. <<if $mute>>“//It’s a pleasure,//”<<else>>“It’s a pleasure,” you greet $Gthem in return.<</if>> “For me too,” $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>answer<<else>>answers<</if>>, $Gtheir voice melodious with a slightly different cadence on some syllables. “I have arranged for your luggage to be delivered here as soon as possible.” This time it dawns on you that Gwyar has a slight accent, a French one. //Oh, the King hinted at it, before.// $GThey must be among the French workers at the castle. The smile Arthur directs Gwyar’s way is particularly tender. “In that case, I think I can-“ The King interrupts himself at the sight of a small figure coming from his side. He turns at the same time as you do, your focus intent on observing a child gingerly walk towards your soon to be husband, his brown eyes cautiously watching you. “Oh, do you want to say hi?” coos Arthur in a gentle, slightly higher pitched voice. He beckons the child to him with an outstretched arm and the kid goes to place himself just against Arthur's side, the King's arm lightly touching his shoulder. They can’t be older than eleven or twelve. You can’t help but notice how his shoulder length hair, styled out of his face, resembles the King’s own blonde shade. His skin, though, is a few tones darker, a cool sepia to contrast Arthur’s warm golden tone. “This darling right here is Mordred.” You take note of the lack of title or any other reference in terms of kinship. The kid is bit too old to be the King’s own child, but he certainly seems to be at ease around them. “Hello,” the child says, a slightly hesitant voice accompanied by a shy smile. <<if $mute>><<button [["Your heart swelling, your gaze softens marginally and you bow. “I’m " + $name + ", it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you sign."|mordredmeeting2]]>><<set $mordredmeeting to "1">><</button>> <<button [[You have to take a moment to collect yourself after that adorable sight. “Hello,” you sign, equally coy.|mordredmeeting2]]>><<set $mordredmeeting to "2">><</button>> <<button [[You smile softly at him, bowing your head.|mordredmeeting2]]>><<set $mordredmeeting to "3">><</button>><<else>><<button [["Your heart swelling, your gaze softens marginally and you bow. “I’m " + $name +", it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say."|mordredmeeting2]]>><<set $mordredmeeting to "1">><</button>> <<button [[You have to take a moment to collect yourself after that adorable sight. “Hello,” you say, equally coy.|mordredmeeting2]]>><<set $mordredmeeting to "2">><</button>> <<button [[You smile softly at him, bowing your head.|mordredmeeting2]]>><<set $mordredmeeting to "3">><</button>><</if>>

<<if $mordredmeeting is "1">>His gaze turns adorably solemn. After blinking a few times, his warm chestnut irises leave you, sobering up a further as he looks up to the King.<<elseif $mordredmeeting is "2">>His gaze turns even more attentive. His warm chestnut irises leave you only after a few moments, sobered up as he looks up to the King.<<elseif $mordredmeeting is "3">>His smile turns more bashful. He follows you with his gaze as you straighten, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. After blinking a few times, his warm chestnut irises leave you, sobering up a bit as he looks up to the King.<</if>> A silent kind of communication seems to happen between them for a few instants before Arthur, letting his gaze briefly fall on you and then return on the child, asks, “do you want to give it to $them now?” “Yes,” it’s the assured answer. The child takes a step towards you, something held with care in his hands. After one last searching look your way <<if $height is "very tall" or "tall">>– you positively tower over him so he has to crane his neck quite a bit –<</if>> he reaches forward to offer you the content of his smaller hands. It’s an oval, small object, likely a pendant judging from the shape and the size of it. The colour identifies the material as dark wood, it’s a about a couple of inches in diameter and attached to a thin chord. You inspect the small shape, you can guess crudely whittled by someone not yet skilled with the process. It’s... a dog? Probably? Or perhaps a horse. Still... this child made it himself. //For you// You meet Mordred’s expecting gaze. //Is it a welcoming gift?// The gesture is… extremely touching, it makes your heart clench. Though, immediately, your eyes shift to the King. //Was he aware this child would gift you something so precious?// He seems quite serene, with just a slight amount of guarded cautiousness as he keeps watch over Mordred. You ever so cautiously reach out, slightly brushing the child's palms as you gently take the bracelet into your own hands. <<if $mute>>“//Thank you,//” your hands almost tremble while you sign.<<else>>“Thank you,” your voice is almost choked up while you speak.<</if>> He nods, playing distractedly with the hem of his tunic yet looking at you still with an unintrusive kind of openness. The King moves the hand closer to the kid up their arm and shoulder to gently brush one of Mordred’s locks in place. “Well, darlings,” he says in yours and Gwyar’s direction, “we need to leave you for now. We’ll see each other tomorrow, $name. If any kind of trouble arises, Gwyar, please call for me.” He gives you one last smile, “goodnight.” “Goodnight,” also wishes you Mordred. <<button [[And with that, the King together with his kid leaves you alone with Gwyar.|bath1]]>><</button>>

“If you’ll follow me,” $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>say<<else>>says<</if>>, leading you through the door. Inside, the first thing you notice is how spacious the antechamber is, it’s bare for the most part but there’s something to it that feels incredibly… warm. //Ah, the colours.// Almost transfixed, you walk towards the window. You let your fingers softly gaze over the wooden table, then you come to the curtains and you caress them lightly, almost afraid to stain them. This room already feels more personal than the ones you’ve lived in in the past five years. You avert your eyes from the $eyes fabric and you turn to Gwyar. <<if $mute>>“//Is this for me?//” you sign.<<else>>“Is this for me?” you ask.<</if>> “Of course,” $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>answer<<else>>answers<</if>> with a small but sincere smile. $GThey <<if $Gplur>>gesture<<else>>gestures<</if>> to a door to your right, “this way you’ll find your bedroom and also the bathroom. Would you like me to draw a bath for you?” <<if $mute>>“//Yes, please,//”<<else>>“Yes, please,”<</if>> you answer, grateful for the offer. Gwyar nods, formal, “I’ll be back soon, then. If there’s anything else, don’t hesitate to tell me.” And with that, $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>turn<<else>>turns<</if>> around to exit the room. A realisation comes to you, then, that $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>intend<<else>>intends<</if>> to prepare for a warm bath. It’s been… some months since you had one of those. Your parents often pushed you and your siblings to take cold baths if given a choice, to toughen up the body together with the spirit. It’s not that you particularly like cold baths, in fact they are something you’ve come to endure maybe more easily with time but not something you ever purposefully enjoy. However, as years passed, they became a trained habit, even - no, //especially// – during the rebellion. A warm bath sounds like a treat, one you know you shouldn’t allow yourself and yet one you desperately crave to indulge into. You’ll have to decide how you want to go for this time. <<if $mute>><<button [[“A cold one,” you sign after getting Gwyar's attention.|bath2]]>><<set $bath to "cold">><</button>><<else>><<button [[“A cold one,” you call after Gwyar.|bath2]]>><<set $bath to "cold">><</button>><</if>> <<if $mute>><<button [[You stay still. Maybe allowing yourself a warm bath won’t be that bad.|bath2]]>><<set $bath to "warm">><</button>><<else>><<button [[You keep silent. Maybe allowing yourself a warm bath won’t be that bad.|bath2]]>><<set $bath to "warm">><</button>><</if>>

<<if $bath is "cold">>Gwyar turns in your direction, something like hesitant confusion in $Gtheir gaze, “are you sure?” Your confidence in your decision rises at that, and you nod, <<if $mute>>signing, “//yes.//”<<else>>“yes.”<</if>> Gwyar answers with a perfectly polite bow, “as you wish.”<<else>>$GThey <<if $Gplur>>leave<<else>>leaves<</if>> the room and you’re given the next silent moments to contemplate your choice. It feels like you just crossed an implicit line. It feels somehow liberating, but scary at the same time.<</if>> Gwyar gets to work, and since you take the opportunity to observe $Gthem more closely you soon you find out that $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>appear<<else>>appears<</if>> to be quite tired $Gthemselves. <<if $mute>>You tap on the table, making $Gthem turn to give you $Gtheir undivided attention, “//Are you alright?//”<<else>>“Are…” you start, making $Gthem turn to give you $Gtheir undivided attention, “are you alright?”<</if>> There’s a flicker of stunned surprise in $Gtheir eyes. $GThey eventually <<if $Gplur>>smile<<else>>smiles<</if>>, “I am, don’t worry.” In an attempt to disperse the awkwardness, you let yourself be drawn once again to the curtains and the furniture. This has to have been arranged carefully, the colours are too well-matched together and the shade alone is… anything but casual. Gwyar must have followed the direction of your gaze for $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>look<<else>>looks<</if>> at you once again with a disarming intensity. $GThey <<if $Gplur>>let<<else>>lets<</if>> $Gtheir fingers smooth the cloths in $Gtheir hands. “Evaine told me you had striking $eyes eyes,” $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>explain<<else>>explains<</if>>. //Oh.// “And $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>were<<else>>was<</if>> not wrong,” $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>add<<else>>adds<</if>>, strangely bashful. //Wh- What does that mean?// You numbly register $Gthem disappearing into the bathroom. When everything is settled, Gwyar stands in front of you, far enough not to intrude into your personal space. $GTheir silky black locks, neatly arranged not to be of any bother, aren’t out of place even after the past half an hour of work. “I think it’s all in place. I will bring you a change of clothing in a bit.” <<if $G is "M">><<button [[“For now, I will leave you alone,” he bids you goodbye with a perfectly executed bow.|bath3]]>><</button>><<elseif $G is "F">><<button [[“For now, I will leave you alone,” she bids you goodbye with a perfectly executed bow.|bath3]]>><</button>><<else>><<button [[“For now, I will leave you alone,” they bid you goodbye with a perfectly executed bow.|bath3]]>><</button>><</if>>

<<if $bath is "cold">>Cold<<else>>Pleasantly warm<</if>> water slides down your $skin skin, tiny droplets falling in the tub at an intermittent rhythm. In the silence of the bathroom everything seems attenuated, causing your senses to slowly start quietening down. Since your chambers are currently empty, you’ve left the bathroom’s door unlocked. In Ireland, people are accustomed to bathing together and seeing each other naked is just normal. Especially on the field. You’ve spent the last months of your life in close contact with other fighters, there’s honestly not a lot you’ve yet to see. You let your gaze wander down. You ignore the new scars<<if $tattoos>>, only partially hidden by the tattoos<</if>>. Some of them ache, sometimes. You always ignore them when they do. In a fleeting thought, you wonder if King Arthur will find you grotesque with a wedding attire barely hiding the still visible marks left by battle. You are, after all, the very same vestige of a well sedated rebellion. //No. This is of no concern to you.// As you look away from yourself, your attention falls on the soft clothes Gwyar left for you before leaving. You’ve hardly ever seen something of such fine quality. Gwyar explained you, while doing $Gtheir tasks, the origin of the fabrics and materials you’re unfamiliar with. $GThey <<if $Gplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> certainly knowledgeable on the matter, this much you can tell. When $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>talk<<else>>talks<</if>>, even though $Gtheir overall polite, almost detached, mannerism remains, there is true passion in $Gtheir voice. Honestly, you are unsure of what to make of Gwyar as a whole. $GThey<<if $Gplur>>'ve<<else>>'s<</if>> been extremely accommodating to your preferences and, overall, very helpful. At times even //too much//. You’ve been with $Gthem for less than two hours and in whatever aspect that might concern your wellbeing it seems like $Gthey<<if $Gplur>>'re<<else>>'s<</if>> already a step ahead of anything. It’s strange, to say the least. At your brief inquiry, Gwyar told you that $Gthey<<if $Gplur>>'ve<<else>>'s<</if>> been preparing for your arrival for the most part of two weeks. It still doesn’t explain how $Gthey proved to be almost //scarily// in tune with your needs. <<button [["The truth is that " + $Gtheir + " gentle care soothes something in you that you didn’t know was aching and so you’ve let yourself bask in it."|bath4]]>><<set $gwyarplatonic to +1>><</button>> <<button [[It’s off putting. If only because no one has been quite so focused on you and mindful of your comfort for… a long time.|bath4]]>><</button>> <<button [[It’s too much too soon. Everything here is alien and unexpected, it’s making you so disoriented.|bath4]]>><</button>>

Coming down from the high that kept your guard and attention up the past few days, you find yourself feeling dizzy, almost nauseous. You don’t have the strength to pull yourself together once more so you finally let yourself go. The water washes away the sweat and grime of days on the road, loosening up your cramped muscles. You feel weighting on you all the accumulated exhaustion of the past few days – of the past //months//. Overall, your joints hurt, your muscles are stiff and you feel as if you were just trampled over by a horse. You inhale and when you exhale you completely rest your weight against the bathtub. <<button [[Just for a few minutes, you close your eyes, lulled by the tranquil silence that surrounds you.|bath5]]>><</button>>

You taste and smell blood; there’s blood on your hands, on your face, dripping from your drenched <<if $hairlength is "shaved">>chin<<else>>hair<</if>>, in your mouth. You are forced to swallow to get rid of it. As you do, you can only think that //you’re done//. You’re done killing, you did your part. You’re out. You survived. You want to sob, because dying must have hurt so much and you were ruthless. You sliced down knights like they were animals. //Is this the fee for your survival?// The blood that you keep swallowing is starting to come too fast. It tastes of sweetish iron and you want to throw it back up as you gulp it down. It soon fills your mouth and, after that, your throat. Whatever you do, you aren’t able to get rid of it fast enough. You can’t breathe. //<<button [[You can’t breathe.|bath6]]>><</button>>//

You jerk awake in the bathtub, suddenly able to breathe again. You do so in voracious gulps of air, steadying yourself with an iron grip on the tub’s edges. <<if $bath is "warm">>Water now lukewarm at best drips down from your <<if $hairlength is "shaved">>skin<<else>>soaking wet hair<</if>>.<<else>>You’re freezing, your teeth almost clattering together and your skin freezing to the touch. You’re not supposed to stay long in a cold bath.<</if>> Your fingers ache with the force you’re putting into the grasp, however you have no intention to let go. You feel your magic buzzing and prickling under your skin, very slowly receding where it should belong. It leaves a metallic taste on your tongue, something unfamiliar and wrong. <<button [[You exhale forcefully, trying to gain back some sort of normal breathing rhythm.|bath7]]>><<set $bathreaction to "A">><</button>><<button [[You hug yourself, pressing your knees against your chest.|bath7]]>><<set $bathreaction to "B">><</button>>

<<if $bathreaction is "A">>That wasn’t real. The rebellion was months ago anyway. You’re fine; you should be fine by now.<<else>> You’re ok. //You’re ok//. That wasn’t real. The rebellion is over. You’re in //Camelot//.<</if>> You take a deep breath, and then another<<if $bath is "cold">> , your teeth clattering together<</if>>. It’s in that moment that you hear the sound of steps and soon after a soft knock on the bathroom’s door, followed by Gwyar’s voice, “My $Liege? I have your clothes.” <<if $mute>><<button [[You’re still shaking. Everything sounds muffled and wrong. You knock two times on the tub to signal that you’ve heard the call.|bathalone]]>><<set $bathreaction2 to "C">><</button>><<else>><<button [[You’re still shaking. Everything sounds muffled and wrong. “Thank you,” you croak out.|bathalone]]>><</button>><</if>> <<button [[You raise in the tub, stepping out of it and reaching for the cloths. You’re still unsettled and somewhat shaky but you try to resume some sort of composure. And it's time for you to get dressed.|bathgwyar]]>><</button>>

There’s the sound of shifting fabric and then the silence returns. You don’t even bother moving. Your limbs feel stiff, your junctions stony. Most of all, there’s still the phantom fullness of warm blood in your throat. Damn. //Damn.// Gwyar’s even toned voice, clear despite the still noticeable accent, interrupts your thoughts again. “Do you need anything else?” You exhale slowly, letting the air out of your lungs and not inhaling again until the shivers that are making your teeth clatter cease almost entirely. <<if $mute>>You knock one time to let $Gthem know you don’t. You had agreed previously on this simple method of communication in case one of you would be behind closed doors.<<else>>“I don’t think so,” you manage to answer, voice at least steady.<</if>> Again, you recognize the sound of steps and of something being moved around. “As you wish. I will leave now.” You hear the door being closed and you’re alone again. The rest of the evening passes in a tranquil if somehow disoriented calmness. You can’t seem to shake away the feeling of lingering grief that nightmare left you so you just stay in your room, mindlessly observing your surroundings and willing your mind to process the situation at hand. You’re glad you’ll eat in private, as Gwyar offered previously, if only because holding a conversation and possibly meeting more people would have only exhausted you further. <<button [[When Gwyar does bring you food, you thank them and eat quietly, alone on your desk.|dinneralone]]>><</button>> <<button [[When Gwyar does bring you food, you ask them to keep you company for a little while.|dinnerwithgwyar]]>><<set $gwyarplatonic to +1>><</button>>

You tie the cloth around your <<cycle "$twoel" autoselect>><<option "chest" "chest">><<option "waist" "waist">><</cycle>> with practiced movements. Still very much dripping water, you walk to the door – Gwyar’s probably going to leave the clothes on the other side but you’re out of the tub anyway, you might as well collect them directly. As expected, when you open the door Gwyar is just outside and with neatly folded clothes in $Gtheir hands. At your sudden sight, you can see their shiny golden eyes widen in surprise. As soon as $Gtheir gaze falls on your exposed, wet skin, $Gthey politely <<if $Gplur>>avert<<else>>averts<</if>> $Gtheir gaze, lowering it to the ground. You take a step closer. <<if $mute>>“//Thanks,//” you sign<<else>>“Thanks,” you say<</if>>, reaching out with a hand to take the clothes into your own arms.<<if $height is "tall">> You cannot fail but notice how, despite their professionalism, they seem flustered as they raise their head to look up towards you.<<elseif $height is "very tall">> You cannot fail but notice how, despite their professionalism, they seem flustered as they raise their head to look up towards you.<</if>> “You’re welcome,” $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>answer<<else>>answers<</if>> back. “I will be back in a couple of hours to bring you some food,” $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>promise<<else>>promises<</if>>, leaving you alone. The rest of the evening passes in a tranquil if somehow disoriented calmness. You can’t seem to shake away the feeling of lingering grief that nightmare left you so you just stay in your room, mindlessly observing your surroundings and willing your mind to process the situation at hand. You’re glad you’ll eat in private, if only because holding a conversation and possibly meeting more people would have only exhausted you further. <<button [["When Gwyar does bring you food, you thank " + $Gthem + " and eat quietly, alone on your desk."|dinneralone]]>><</button>> <<button [["When Gwyar does bring you food, you ask " + $Gthem + " to keep you company for a little while."|dinnerwithgwyar]]>><</button>>

You take your time with the meal, the silence giving your thoughts the chance to quiet down. For a bit, all you concentrate on are the flavours in your mouth, more familiar than you were expecting. The stew, with cereals and vegetables, is seasoned perfectly and served together with bread and ale. It’s delicious. Not that you could expect less from the royal kitchens but still, you let its warmth fill you until you’re finished with it. It’s then, when you raise your head to look out of the window, catching the orange light of dusk that softly lights up the sky, that the feeling of loneliness hits you. And together with that, a wariness that invades you stronger than ever. Gwyar has been a pleasant company but if you have to be honest you lack the energy to interact with anyone. You feel heavy, drained to the bone. Not only by the weeks long travel but by everything else as well. The rebellion, the marriage, and now this new… cage? Home? You just want to close your eyes and sleep. With one arm you hug yourself, letting out a slow exhale. Your slightly gaze falls on your other arm, rested on the table. Precisely, on the necklace in your pocket. You still feel some warmth at the thought of Mordred’s bashful and yet eager gaze as you accepted his gift. It is a cute pendant and, aside of that, an incredibly thoughtful present. You wrap it in your hand, marginally comforted by the gesture. <<button [[You decide to call it a night after that. You very much crave sleep.|night]]>><</button>>

You offer $Gthem some of your food and, although $Gthey politely <<if $Gplur>>refuse<<else>>refuses<</if>>, $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>sit<<else>>sits<</if>> on the chair opposite to yours. <<if $mute>>“//Where do you usually eat?//”<<else>>“Where do you usually eat?”<</if>> you ask $Gthem, curious about the attendants routine. “Together with the other castle workers. Or in the company of the noble I’m assigned to at the moment.” $GThey <<if $Gplur>>smooth<<else>>smoothes<</if>> the sleeve of $Gtheir white shirt, worn under a dark blue waistcoat. They spare you a glance that is even more guarded and brief than usual. “Sometimes, I eat with the King.” //Well now, this is a surprise.// You doubt it’s a common occurrence among the other servants. While the King undoubtedly seemed fond of $Gthem, he reserved the same overly familiar behaviour for everyone he encountered while in your presence. So why would Gwyar bring this up so- //Oh.// Surely a worker close to the King would benefit from his protection as well. That was a subtle way to make you aware of that. After all, your family is just one marriage away from being executed for treason against the King $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>serve<<else>>serves<</if>> under. <<if $mute>>Despite the slightly tense atmosphere now in the room, you cannot help but notice that $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>seem<<else>>seems<</if>> to understand sign language with particular ease, especially compared to Yniol and even the King himself. You decide to inquire about it. “I taught myself a couple of years ago, I was in a situation that required me to make use of it,” $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>explain<<else>>explains<</if>> you. “When the King came back to Camelot with the news that you couldn’t talk, I helped whoever wanted it to learn how to sign.” That explains the strangely high amount of people you’ve been able to interact with since your arrival in Wales. $GThey <<if $Gplur>>make<<else>>makes<</if>> it seem so effortless, but to have taught even just a handful of people has surely been challenging. Sign is not easy to learn, especially in such a short amount of time. The knights and the King know the basics but it’s still enough to be able to communicate with you and it honestly closes your throat in gratitude. “//That was very considerate of you,//” you sign, hoping that your eyes convey your emotions. It seems to be the case because Gwyar’s smile turns bashfully sweet. <<nobr>><<if $G is "M">><<set $Gtheypolitelybid = "he politely bids">><<elseif $G is "F">><<set $Gtheypolitelybid = "she politely bids">><<else>><<set $Gtheypolitelybid = "they politely bid">><</if>><</nobr>> <<button [["When you’re done with dinner and you assure Gwyar you won’t need any more of " + $Gtheir + " help for the night, " + $Gtheypolitelybid + " you goodnight."|night]]>><</button>> <</if>>Dinner ends rather quickly and silently after that. When Gwyar leaves, your thoughts seem to gravitate towards the adorable kid the King has introduced you to. You still feel some warmth at the thought of his timid and yet eager gaze as you accepted his gift. Taking it out of your pocket, you brush the pendant with your fingers, tracing the crude edges and deciding that, up close, the figurine really is a dog. It makes a pang of conflicted emotion travel through your chest, but you swallow it as soon as it comes. <<button [[You decide to call it a night after that. You very much crave sleep.|night]]>><</button>>

You change into your nightrobes and you slip into the bed. You close your eyes but your thoughts seem unable to really calm down so you fall asleep only a long while later. Likely no more than a couple of hours after you got into bed, though, you groggily open your eyes on a room still plunged in the dark. You will yourself to fall back asleep and eventually you do, but it’s barely three or four hours after that when you wake up again. This time, you do not manage to get back to sleep. You remain in bed for a while, mindlessly letting your gaze roam over the dark, unfamiliar edges of the room. You can’t find any comfort, any kind of peace in this empty, silent bedroom. Eventually, you give up. <<button [[You dress quietly in the dark, deciding to go for a very early morning walk.|evaine1]]>><</button>>

You wander aimlessly in the castle for about half an hour. The few servants and lone knights on guard duty slightly bow their head at your sight but they keep on with their duties without interacting further. At one point, you come across the passage the King showed you the day before, the one that would lead outside to the largest yard. As soon as you step out of the castle, the familiar, if muffled by the distance, sound of scraping metal reaches your ears. The training grounds are almost deserted, save for some early risen servants, each one focused on their own task, and for a lone figure practicing. You step forward, towards the balcony’s stone baluster so that you can see them with more ease. The morning light is still somewhat dim, with the first tentative sunrays lighting up the courtyard, however you can clearly make out their gleaming knightly adorned armour. It’s something else about $Ethem, though, that catches your attention. The way $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>move<<else>>moves<</if>> is so incredibly refined, precise and elegant at the same time. $EThey <<if $Eplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> clearly performing some sort of training routine, however it’s in itself a sight to behold. You stand on the balcony, captured by the view. This kind of practice is so different from what you’re used to, but then again that’s to be expected by Camelot’s knights. You take note, under $Etheir shining light armour, of $Etheir lythe frame, $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>do<<else>>does<</if>> not stand taller than any average person and yet $Etheir moves carry an incredible strength. $ETheir technique is equally impeccable, probably on Adrei’s level. <<button [[You stand still, silently watching them for the next few minutes.|evaine2]]>><</button>>

You did not mean to intrude or interrupt $Ethem, but $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>were<<else>>was<</if>> bound to come aware of your presence sooner rather than later. When $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>take<<else>>takes<</if>> notice of you, $Etheir eyes widening in surprise, $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>end<<else>>ends<</if>> $Etheir routine with a couple of perfectly executed moves. Keeping $Etheir training sword at $Etheir side, the knight approaches you with elegant steps. $EThey <<if $Eplur>>come<<else>>comes<</if>> to a stop some meters away from you, a couple of steps down the external stone stairway and below you enough that $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> to raise $Etheir head up to look at you. Despite $Etheir slightly dishevelled look, with tiny drops of sweat marrying $Etheir dark, deep mahogany neck, and $Etheir rapid breathing pace, $Etheir deep bow still manages to bear an incredible grace. “My $Liege.” When $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>stand<<else>>stands<</if>> again, you lose yourself for a second in $Etheir deep dark blue eyes, fixed on you in a careful, assessing way. <<if $mute>>You hesitate, unsure about their knowledge of sign language. In the end, you decide to at least try. “//May I know your name?//” you ask.<<else>>“May I know your name?” you ask.<</if>> “I am Knight Evaine of the Round Table. It is an honour to meet you.” You dip your head. <<if $mute>>“//Likewise//.”<<else>>“Likewise.”<</if>> <<if $mute>>“//If I may,//” you address $Ethem after a beat of silence. “//Your sword skills are impressive.//”<<else>>“If I may,” you address $Ethem after a beat of silence. “Your sword skills are impressive.”<</if>> “Oh.” $EThey <<if $Eplur>>bring<<else>>brings<</if>> a hand up to $Etheir head to brush a braid back in its place, a nervous gesture probably. $ETheir lips curve slightly up in an abashed, yet still guarded, smile. “Thank you.” $ETheir eyes unobtrusively survey you, likely taking in your presence outside of the castle this early in the morning. “Would you like to…” $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>gesture<<else>>gestures<</if>> to the training grounds and then trail off, a bit of sudden awkwardness filling $Etheir voice. //Oh, $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>want<<else>>wants<</if>> to practice.// <<if $mute>><<button [[“I don’t see why not,” you sign. Maybe that will help you clear your mind.|evaine3]]>><</button>><<else>><<button [[“I don’t see why not,” you reason. Maybe that will help you clear your mind.|evaine3]]>><</button>><</if>>

Evaine goes to get you a training sword and you take a moment to stretch your muscles. You aren’t really dressed for this but it’s not like you plan on doing a full training session. Moreover, you’ve been taught that you should always be prepared for a fight, even in unsuspecting conditions. Fortunately, though, you’ve chosen a simple attire that shouldn’t get in the way. “We can do just a simple sparring,” the knight suggests, handing you the practice sword. You nod, taking position in front of $Ethem. You fall into the usual routine of parrying, waiting for an opening and going for an attack of your own. Neither of you is fighting with the intensity of serious combat, though you have to restrain your strength quite a lot, you never let a blow land and neither does the knight, who’s in fact extremely careful not to ever even touch you with the training sword. Only one time $Etheir momentum brings $Etheir blunted blade to barely brush your covered shoulder and $Ethey actually <<if $Eplur>>flinch<<else>>flinches<</if>>. $ETheir pupils grow wide and $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>draw<<else>>draws<</if>> back immediately. Unaffected by such a small thing, you gesture for $Ethem to continue and $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>do<<else>>does<</if>> so only after a hesitating glance to confirm your intentions. Once again, you notice how smooth $Etheir movements are and how narrowed $Etheir focus becomes on your every movement, managing most of the time to counter your blows them with ease. <<button [[You take a break some minutes later.|evaine4]]>><</button>>

//You’re starting to enjoy this.// <<if $mute>>“//One more time//,”<<else>>“One more time,”<</if>> you ask. Evaine nods and complies. As you move, you suddenly feel the weight of an intense gaze upon you. You bear it until you stop to rest. Turning around, you locate the source with relative ease since they’re the loner spectator of your practice, standing still just at the edge of the training ground. Evaine, noticing your shift of attention, turns $Etheir head and follows your gaze. Panting, $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>announce<<else>>announces<</if>>, “that will be Morien.” Gesturing for you to follow, $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>approach<<else>>approaches<</if>> $Mthem in quick steps. The <<if $M is "F">>woman<<elseif $M is "M">>man<<else>>person<</if>>’s gaze remains fixed on you as you walk, as inscrutable as the rest of $Mtheir expression. The first thing your eyes fall on are the very visible scars on $Mtheir face, one under $Mtheir left eye, from the cheekbone to the lips, and the other, almost vertical and with more irregular edges, from $Mtheir cheekbone to $Mtheir chin. They would not be so visible on $Mtheir pale olive complexion if they weren’t so deep and jagged. You pry your gaze away, meeting $Mtheir bright forest green eyes. $MThey <<if $Mplur>>do<<else>>does<</if>> not make any move to get closer to the two of you, instead settling more comfortably in $Mtheir spot, resting more of $Mtheir weight against the cane $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>grip<<else>>grips<</if>> in $Mtheir right hand. When you reach $Mthem, Evaine bends down in a flourishing bow. There is a fond, respectful smile on $Etheir face when $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>greet<<else>>greets<</if>>, “physician.” “Why the early rise?” $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>ask<<else>>asks<</if>>. Morien shrugs. “I was feeling stiff. Couldn’t sleep.” <<if $mute>><<button [[“Me too,” you sign stiffly.|morien1]]>><<set $morienreaction to "A">><</button>><<else>><<button [[“Me too,” you softly confess.|morien1]]>><<set $morienreaction to "A">><</button>><</if>> <<button [[You direct them a slightly concerned gaze.|morien1]]>><<set $morienreaction to "B">><</button>> <<button [[Seems like lack of sleep is a common problem.|morien1]]>><<set $morienreaction to "C">><</button>>

<<if $morienreaction is "A">>$MTheir eyes snap on you, surveying you with an openly assessing gaze. $MThey only <<if $Mplur>>redirect<<else>>redirects<</if>> $Mtheir attention away when a sound of laughter breaks out relatively near you.<<elseif $morienreaction is "B">>Feeling your eyes on $Mthem, $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>meet<<else>>meets<</if>> your gaze with an unconcerned one of $Mtheir own, only redirecting $Mtheir attention away when a sound of laughter breaks out relatively near you.<<else>>$MThey survey you with a bold assessing gaze, only redirecting $Mtheir attention away when a sound of laughter breaks out relatively near you.<</if>> By this point, more sunlight is lighting up the courtyard and more people, especially knights, are starting to gather. Morien grips $Mtheir cane tighter into $Mtheir hand, casting a brief look your way. “Walk with me, will you.” Then $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>turns<<else>>turn<</if>> around in the castle’s direction. With no other choice, you follow $Mthem, sending Evaine a quick goodbye and receiving a tentative smile in return. <<button [[The physician leads you back inside the castle and towards the residential wing.|morien2]]>><</button>>

As you walk in silence, partitioned only by the rhythmic sound of the physician's cane on the floor, $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>turn<<else>>turns<</if>> slightly towards you. “Has Arthur shown you the infirmary?” You nod in confirmation. $MThey <<if $Mplur>>keep<<else>>keeps<</if>> walking, $Mtheir notable limp making $Mthem rely heavily on the cane. “Then we’re good. You’ll find me there most of the time. Or at the training grounds, depends on the time of the day. In any case, it’s not like I do consistent hours so don’t hesitate to come to me or call for me in the evenings or at ungodly hours of the night. Everyone does that, anyway.” $MTheir voice has a rough undertone, quite raspy and deep without ever becoming unpleasant to hear. $MThey <<if $Mplur>>keep<<else>>keeps<</if>> quiet after that, leading you to your own quarters. Before entering, $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>send<<else>>sends<</if>> you a questioning sideways glance, likely waiting for your permission. You answer with an inviting hand gesture and Morien gets inside, briefly letting $Mtheir eyes examine the room. $MThey <<if $Mplur>>let<<else>>lets<</if>> out a low hum, however you can’t decide if it’s approval or just acknowledgement. “Alright,” $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>exhale<<else>>exhales<</if>> at last, heavily letting $Mthemselves fall on one of the chairs, “let’s have a talk.” <<if $M is "M">><<button [[You nod, meekly. You sit on the bed, hands on your lap, and wait for what he has to say.|morien3]]>><<set $morienattitude to "subdued">><</button>><<elseif $M is "F">><<button [[You nod, meekly. You sit on the bed, hands on your lap, and wait for what she has to say.|morien3]]>><<set $morienattitude to "subdued">><</button>><<else>><<button [[You nod, meekly. You sit on the bed, hands on your lap, and wait for what they have to say.|morien3]]>><<set $morienattitude to "subdued">><</button>><</if>> <<button [["You sit on the bed, your gaze firmly set on " + $Mthem + "."|morien3]]>><<set $morienattitude to "direct">><</button>>

<<if $question gt 0>><<else>><<if $morienattitude is "subdued">>Morien’s features seem to soften a bit.<</if>>“Since I am the appointed physician of this castle, anything happening in here is of my interest. In particular, I treat the servants, the royals and the knights, so for any health-related problem you can come to me.” <<if $trait is "unassuming">>As $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>speak<<else>>speaks<</if>>, $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>keep<<else>>keeps<</if>> $Mtheir whole focus on you in a way you’ve almost never experienced. You’re accustomed to your presence being brushed over, to being looked at for just a moment before being ignored again. Morien keeps $Mtheir gaze firmly set on you, $Mtheir body angled towards you, and even though $Mtheir attention feels almost too intense, you bear it nonetheless.<<else>>While you’re accustomed to have people’s attention on you, Morien’s feels different. Maybe less intimidated, and certainly less judging. $MThey <<if $Mplur>>keep<<else>>keeps<</if>> $Mtheir gaze firmly set on you, $Mtheir body angled in a way to face you as $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>speak<<else>>speaks<</if>>, an unperturbed openness you have honestly experienced very rarely. It’s refreshing in its own way.<</if>> “Anything I see remains between you and me. I have only one thing to ask you, and that is not to hide injuries, or intentionally postpone coming to me, if it’s something even vaguely serious.” Morien's gaze falls briefly on $Mtheir cane, which now rests against $Mtheir leg. “That never ends well.” $MThey <<if $Mplur>>adjust<<else>>adjusts<</if>> $Mtheir weight on the chair, then, raising $Mtheir head again to look at you in the eyes. “So, any questions?” Since $Mthey certainly <<if $Mplur>>don't<<else>>doesn't<</if>> behave like stepping on eggshells around you like almost everyone else does, maybe you could receive some honest answers to the questions that you’ve been accumulating since your arrival. <</if>> <<if visited("arthurquestion") is 0>><<button [[You need to know about the man you’re going to marry.|arthurquestion]]>><</button>><</if>> <<if visited("mordredquestion") is 0>><<button [[“Is there anything you can tell me about Mordred?”|mordredquestion]]>><</button>><</if>> <<if visited("evainequestion") is 0>><<button [[“What can you tell me about Ser Evaine?”|evainequestion]]>><</button>><</if>> <<if visited("gwyarquestion") is 0>><<button [[“Do you know Gwyar?”|gwyarquestion]]>><</button>><</if>> <<if $question gt 0>><<button [[You don't have any more questions.|morien4]]>><</button>><<else>><<button [["You don’t have questions for " + $Mthem + " , you just want to avoid thinking about this whole situation."|morien4]]>><</button>><</if>>

<<if $hormones is "yes">><<if $mute>>“//That would be ideal,//”<<else>>“That would be ideal,”<</if>> you concede. Morien nods. “I will inform Gwyar when I finish the next batch so you can pass by and retrieve them or have them delivered.”<<elseif $binding is "starting">>>><<if $mute>>”//No, I won’t. I’d like to ask you something, though.//”<<else>>“No, I won’t. I’d like to ask you something, though.”<</if>> “Go ahead.” <<if $mute>>“//I want to start binding.//”<<else>>“I want to start binding.”<</if>> Surprise flashes across Morien’s face just for a moment, replaced soon after by understanding. “It’s good that you asked. When you’ll find yourself with some free time, come to the infirmary. I’ll show you how to bind safely, it’s very important that you don’t overdo it.” You nod, grateful. <<if $mute>>“//Thank you.//”<<else>>“Thank you.”<</if>> $MThey nods, rather softly. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be on my way.”<<elseif $hormonesandbinding is "no">>$MThey <<if $Mplur>>nod<<else>>nods<</if>>, heading outside.<</if>> “Have a good day,” $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>wish<<else>>wishes<</if>> you with a raspy voice, closing the door behind $Mthem. With the physician gone, you take a deep breath. Your eyes than fall on your luggage and a sensation of longing comes to you. You know exactly where to look and a feeling of warmth spreads over you as you take into your hands the carefully packed objects in your travel bag. As the seventh born, you have six older siblings, all married off save for your oldest sister, the Heir to House Venegard. Some of them, you share a bond with; some other went away form home years ago and you have sporadic contacts via letters with – if none at all. <<button [[This hasn’t stopped you, because, save for Osia, you have kept small trinkets that remind you of each one of them.|siblings2]]>><<set $trinkets to "everyone">><</button>> <<button [[To this day, you keep the gifts Saraah brought you in your worst days to cheer you up. He is the only one you have space for, the only one to have always been there for you.|siblings2]]>><<set $trinkets to "saraah">><</button>>

<<nobr>><<if $trinkets is "everyone">><<set $radeltrinket to true>><<set$adreitrinket to true>><<set $emyrtrinket to true>><<set $ghaventrinket to true>><</if>><</nobr>> <<if $trinkets is "everyone">>You might not know them well, but they’re still your siblings. And while they may not feel the same way towards you, you know there’ll always be a place for each one of them in your heart. You wear Adrei’s armband and Radel’s ring at all times, Ghaven’s dagger is almost always with you, the handle worn by time but a constant reminder of them, and you have Emyr’s carved deer near your bed.<<else>>It’s not that you stopped caring about your other siblings, but as they married and went away, you found yourself progressively more lost and alone. The burden of keeping the relationship going fell almost completely on you and it was, and is, extremely draining. Saraah was always the exception. You miss him so much, you realize yet again as you hold in your hands small seashells that smell only faintly of ocean.<</if>> You settle at the desk, preparing quill, ink and parchment. You will find a way to send him the letters later – or maybe you won’t, keeping them with you as you’ve done many times before. For now, you just need to get your tangled feelings down on paper. <h9>“Dear Saraah…”</h9> <h8>End of Chapter One</h8> <<button [[Chapter Two|chapter two]]>><</button>>

“What can you tell me about the King?” Understanding washes over Morien. When $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>answer<<else>>answers<</if>>, $Mtheir voice has a surprisingly gentler inflection to it. “Arthur is a good person. For some it might have been hard to believe at first, considering the legacy King Uther left them with, but they’re just as different as one can get from their father.” King Uther. //The Tyrant King.// You know little about him, if only because your parents themselves were always scarce with information about him. What you know is that his bloodlust was comparable only to his cruelty. He was ruthless with his own knights, with any dissident, and with any unlucky mage he happened to capture. “I know that he is a stranger to you, maybe even less than that but I can assure you that your safety and your comfort will be his priorities as far as this marriage goes. Anyway, you’ll find out on your own that he’s an understanding person, sometimes even against his own good.” $They shrug, somewhat dramatically, after that. "But what do I know. I am only a humble physician." <<button [[“Anything else?”|morien3]]>><<set $question =+1>><</button>>

“Alright, then.” Morien raises from the chair with a bit of effort, $Mtheir auburn hair, tied up in a messy bun, acquiring a coppery shine in the sun. “I’ve abused your time enough and I should really get going. Pass by the infirmary, sometimes, I don’t mind company.” $MThey <<if $Mplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> almost out of the door when $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>turn<<else>>turns<</if>> back around. “Ah, before I forget. Will you need any kind of hormone replacement? I make them myself for several knights and servants so it will be easy to stock up for you too.” <<button [[You do, actually. You had your family physician provide the vials for you, back at home, but even though you still have some left you’ll need a stable supplier in Camelot.|siblings]]>><<set $hormones to "yes">><</button>> <<button [[You don’t, but there’s something else you wanted to try for a long time and this seems like the perfect opportunity to do, especially now that you have a physician available for any question. [option to start binding]|siblings]]>><<set $hormones to "no">><<set $binding to "starting">><</button>> <<button [[“That won’t be a problem, thank you.”|siblings]]>><<set $hormones to "no">><<set $hormones to "no">><<set $hormonesandbinding to "no">><</button>>

$theywere [arthur3] $theykeep [yniol2] $Theynod [yniol4] $theyseem [yniol4] $Theylet [yniol4] $theydirect [yniol4] $theygive [yniol6] $theydismount [yniol9] $Theyseem [yniol10] $Theydo [yniol10] $Theyappear [yniol10]

$MThey exhale. "Ah. You met him." “The King brought him here four years ago, he was seven at the time. He's such a cute kid. Very reserved, especially with people he doesn’t know well, but give him some time and he’ll come around.” “In fact,” Morien confides, “he’s been preparing for your arrival as soon as he learned you would be coming here. <<if $mute>>He asked Gwyar to tech him sign language and he practiced basically every day.<</if>> He wanted to welcome you in person.” Everything Morien just said melts your heart. Since you’d like to get closer to him you ask, <<if $mute>>“//is he passionate about anything?//”<<else>>“is he passionate about anything?”<</if>> “Mordred is an avid reader: he likes ancient tales and stories, you'll find him in the library a lot. He has also a fascination with pretty dresses and makeup, which Evaine //loves// to feed.” //You can work with that.// <<button [[“Anything else?” Morien asks.|morien3]]>><<set $question =+1>><</button>>

“Ah, Ser Evaine. $EThey came to Camelot roughly three years ago and $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>was<<else>>were<</if>> knighted soon after.” “Personality wise,” Morien elaborates, “$Ethey <<if $Eplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> lovely, but that’s just my opinion." “There are rumours about $Ethem circulating in the castle,” Morien’s voice loses the little levity that had filled it when $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>say<<else>>says<</if>> that. $MTheir gaze darkens too. “I advise you to believe in what you see rather than in what you hear.” //Interesting.// <<button [[“Anything else?” Morien asks.|morien3]]>><<set $question =+1>><</button>>

The physician's lips slightly curve up at the mention of that name. “$GThey <<if $Gplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> a talented worker. Better educated than most nobles you'l find in Camelot - though you'll find out that is not a very high treshold. $GThey <<if $Gplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> a thing for languages, if I’m not mistaken $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>know<<else>>knows<</if>> four of them, excluding sign.” The physician’s look has a hint of sharp sincerity as $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>explain<<else>>explains<</if>>“Gwyar has also an extensive knowledge about the castle and its residents. Knights, servants and many of the nobles. Make use of it and politics won’t swallow you whole.” <<button [[“Anything else?”|morien3]]>><<set $question =+1>><</button>>

<<if visited("ROsgender") is 1>><<link '<img src="images/profile.png" >' "personal profile">><</link>><</if>> <<if visited("beginning") is 1>><<link '<img src="images/characters.png">' "ros profile">><</link>> <<link '<img src="images/camelot.png">' "lore">><</link>><<else>>Progress further to unlock.<</if>>

<center><h5>Ser Evaine</h5></center> <b>Status</b>: Round Table Knight <b>Age</b>: 24 <b>Pronouns</b>: $Ethey/$Ethem <b>Appearance</b>: $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> dark bronze skin, braided mid-back coily dark brown hair, and dark blue eyes. $EThey <<if $Eplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> around 1.68m (5'6") and <<if $Eplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> a slender frame. <<if $E is "M">> $EThey <<if $Eplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> clean shaven.<</if>> <center><b>Relationship</b></center> <b>//Platonic//</b>: you arent't close to $Ethem. Platonic points: $evaineplatonic <b>//Romantic//</b>: you harbor no romantic interest in $Ethem. <<button [[Back|ros profile]]>><</button>>

<center><h5>Morien</h5></center> /*<center><img src="images/morienportrait.png" width="500px"></center>*/ <b>Status</b>: castle's physician <b>Age</b>: 27 <b>Pronouns</b>: $Mthey/$Mthem <b>Appearance</b>: $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>stand<<else>>stands<</if>> around 1.77m (5'10"), with a well-built body type and broad shoulders. $MThey <<if $Mplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> a pale olive complexion, wavy auburn hair that $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>keep<<else>>keeps<</if>> past $Mtheir shoulders and often tied up in a bun, and dark green eyes. <<if $M is "M">> $MThey <<if $Mplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> a scruffy beard.<</if>> Morien has visible scars on $Mtheir face and $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>walk<<else>>walk<</if>> with a cane due to $Mtheir injured knee. <center><b>Relationship</b></center> <b>//Platonic//</b>: you arent't close to $Mthem. Platonic points: $morienplatonic <b>//Romantic//</b>: you harbor no romantic interest in $Mthem. <<button [[Back|ros profile]]>><</button>>

<center><h5>Ser Yniol</h5></center> <b>Status</b>: Round Table Knight <b>Age</b>: 26 <b>Pronouns</b>: $Ythey/$Ythem <b>Appearance</b>: standing at 2.00m (6'7") with a muscular built, $Ythey <<if $Yplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> an ivory complexion, waist lenght wavy brown hair and warm dark hazel eyes. <<if $Y is "M">> $YThey <<if $Yplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> a light stubble.<</if>> <center><b>Relationship</b></center> <b>//Platonic//</b>: you arent't close to $Ythem. Platonic points: $yniolplatonic <b>//Romantic//</b>: you harbor no romantic interest in $Ythem. /*<br><center><<button "Back" $return>><</button>></center>*/ <<button [[Back|ros profile]]>><</button>>

<center><h5>Gwyar</h5></center> <b>Status</b>: castle servant <b>Age</b>: 22 <b>Pronouns</b>: $Gthey/$Gthem <b>Appearance</b>: $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> a beige complexion, mid-back long straight black hair that $Gthey often <<if $Gplur>>leave<<else>>leaves<</if>> loose or tied up in multiple braids and bright golden eyes. Standing around 1.62m (5'4"), $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> a lean built. <<if $G is "M">> $GThey <<if $Eplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> clean shaven.<</if>> <center><b>Relationship</b></center> <b>//Platonic//</b>: you arent't close to $Gthem. Platonic points: $gwyarplatonic <b>//Romantic//</b>: you harbor no romantic interest in $Gthem. <<button [[Back|ros profile]]>><</button>>

<h8>WORLD MAP</h8> <img src="images/map.jpg" > <h8>HISTORY</h8> <b>Year <h7>1-39</h7> of the current calendar</b>: the Purge. Wales is ruled over by the Mad King, who, for the entire duration of his reign, hunts and burns mages at the stake. When the Purge ends, twenty years later, Wales counts little more than a hanful of mages left alive. They go into hiding, as they descendants do for the centuries that follow. <b>Year <h7>94</h7> of the current calendar</b>: Wales and Ireland are united under the kingdom of Camelot. The capital is built, Camelot the city, around Camelot, the fortress. <b>Year <h7>102</h7> of the current calendar</b>: Scotland formally joins the kingdom Camelot in a united kingdom called Albion. <b>Year <h7>169</h7> of the current calendar</b>: Lot, former knight, organizes a rebellion against the crown. He occupies Scotland and declares it the kingdom of Lothia, separating it from the kingdom of Camelot. <b>Year <h7>176 - 202</h7> of the current calendar</b>: King Uther's reign. At 22 years of age, King Uther takes the throne of Camelot. He marries the Queen Consort, Igraine, who gives him a son the following year. She falls ill and dies three years later. He will be known as the Tyrant King for the cruel treatment of his own knights and his mages hunts in all of Camelot. He proceeds to allow women and commoners to become knights, mainly in order to replenish the losses caused by his own madness. King Uther wages war against King Lot to reclaim Scotland, there are constant battles for years that do not result in the victory of any side. <b>Year <h7>202</h7> of the current calendar</b>: King Uther dies during a battle against lothian forces. The prince, Arthur Pendragon, is crowned king. <h8>ARTHUR'S REIGN</h8> <b>Year <h7>202</h7> of the current calendar</b>: The King signs a peace treaty with Lot to end the war. He creates the Round Table, appointing his closest knights. <b>Year <h7>203</h7> of the current calendar</b>: King Arthur departs for a customary trip around the reign. He returns to the castle with a child. The child, Mordred, is formally recognised as the Heir to the throne. <b>Year <h7>207 - 209</h7> of the current calendar</b>: the rebellion starts and ends in failure. House Venegard, one of the oldest Irish Houses and one of the last to still be composed of mages, merges force with its smaller allies and violently attacks the King's forces. They do not recognise Arthur Pendragon as their rightful King, in the name of the atrocities committed by his father against mages of the continent. House Venegard is defeated by the King's forces, and a peace treaty is signed. The youngest Venegard heir is offered as compensation and sign of peaceful intent by the House. <b>Year <h7>209</h7> of the current calendar - Fall</b>: King Arthur marries $name Venegard. <b>Political meetings and frequency</b> *Great Council of Lords: meetings every six months *Round Table Knights: meetings at the King's call /*<img src="images/roundtable.png" width="300px">*/ <h5>Round Table Knights</h5> <b>Ser Tristan</b> (he/him, 45) <b>Ser Ector</b> (he/him, 44) <b>Kai</b> (she/her, 41): cool lesbian <b>Gawain</b> (he/him, 39): cool gay <b>Gareth</b> (they/them, 39) <b>Urien</b> (she/her, 38): hates irish. bitch. <b>Lancelot</b> (he/him, 38) <b>Perciva</b>l (he/him, 34) <b>Bedivere</b> (they/any pronouns, 33): you disfigured them <b>Lamorak</b> (she/her, 32) <b>Yniol</b> ($Ythey/$Ythem, 26) <b>Evaine</b> ($Ethey/$Ethem, 24) <br><center><<button "Back" $return>><</button>></center>

<center><h5>Arthur Pendragon</h5></center> <b>Status</b>: Camelot's King <b>Age</b>: 25 <b>Pronouns</b>: he/they <b>Appearance</b>: the King has sun-kissed, golden complexion, blonde wavy hair that he prefers to keep at shoulder length, a neatly-trimmed beard and vivid light blue eyes. He has a muscular built and stands at 1.82 m (6'0"). <center><b>Relationship</b></center> <b>//Platonic//</b>: you arent't close to him. Platonic points: $arthurplatonic <b>//Romantic//</b>: you harbor no romantic interest in them. <<button [[Back|ros profile]]>><</button>>

<center><h5>Mordred</h5></center> <b>Status</b>: Royal Heir <b>Age</b>: 11 <b>Pronouns</b>: he/him <b>Appearance</b>: Mordred has a cool sepia complexion, brown eyes and shoulder length straight blonde hair that he either keeps loose or styled neetly out of his eyes. He is quite short, of average height for a child his age. <<button [[Back|ros profile]]>><</button>>

[Locked] <<button [[Back|ros profile]]>><</button>>

<nobr><<set $chapter to "chapter two">></nobr><span class="subtitle"><h4> 30th day of Fall. Year 209 of the current calendar. //Camelot//</h4></span> With a strangled exhale, you wake up. A layer of cold sweat coats your skin, making you shiver in a mixture of cold, agitation and revulsion. You stiffly sit up where you lay <<button [[On the floor. You stopped sleeping on the bed after the first night.|ch2.1]]>><<set $sleep2 to "floor">><</button>> <<button [[On the bed, tangled up in the sheets.|ch2.1]]>><<set $sleep2 to "bed">><</button>>

<<if $sleep2 is "floor">>You find the bed entirely too //comfortable//. The floor is not something you enjoy sleeping on, per se, however it is what you need and deserve.<<else>>You kept making use of the bed after the first night. While sometimes you have to fight off a wave of guilt, it has been quite beneficial to your sore muscles.<</if>> Bringing a hand up to cover your face, you practice a slow inhale, followed by a long exhale. The vision that plagues your sleep gradually starts to feel hazier. You force yourself to get up and quickly dressed. You will not allow your nightmares or visions to control you, for you are stronger than any other fighter. You were trained never to be beaten, and that must include your own mind. In silence, you wrap yourself in a cape and exit your room. <<button[[Continue|ch2.2]]>><</button>>

Lingering magical exhaustion weights on your bones and tendons at every movement you make, at every step you take like a ghost wandering in the dark, silent hallways. You honestly believed you would be free of it by now, yet two days separate you from the wedding and your magic still aches and hums uncomfortably under your skin. You do not know why the battle of Coan has left on you a mark so deep – or, maybe you know. But such thoughts are not ones you will entertain now, in Camelot, nor ever for all that matters. Perhaps, you reason, part of the cause of your uneasiness is due to the small, but numerous, differences between this castle and the house you spent all your life in. You have found that the court has equally rigid, but sometimes completely different set of roules from your House. You were educated and prepared to be one day the spouse of a noble - Welsh or Irish - but still you find difficult getting used to the hectic, frantic life in the capital. That is why, for the most part, you have left your chambers only in the early mornings or in the late evenings. You keep wandering, your boots producing too much sound as you walk with what you are comfortable with. As you round a corner, you nod to a guard passing you, ignoring their piercing stare through your back. This must not be the first time they have caught sight of you during the night. Coming from months spent fighting on the field or recovering in the barren halls of your House make adapting to the drastic changes life at court offers all the more difficult. Sleeping, in particular, is a struggle you are constantly trying to overcome. <<button [[This is the third night you spend restlessly pacing the castle's halls. A ghost in a home that isn’t yours.|ch2.3]]>><<set $pace2 to "1">><</button>> <<button [[You've been tirelessly exploring the castle, attentively inspecting your new surroundings as you would do the terrain of a battle.|ch2.3]]>><<set $pace2 to "2">><</button>> <<button [[For the third night, you've been hiding. From every unfamiliar face, maybe from yourself as well.|ch2.3]]>><<set $pace2 to "3">><</button>>

<<if $pace2 is "1">>You walk like a caged beast, your strides have no direction if not the wish to consume your restlessness step by step.<<elseif $pace2 is "2">>You need to familiarise yourself with the castle’s layout as soon as possible. You do not want to be taken by surprise, especially when surrounded by unfamiliar individuals.<<else>>Every now and then, you need to remind yourself to take a deep breath and relax your tense muscles. Your anxiety isn’t easy to control, but you have to at least try.<</if>> Perhaps, things would be more bearable if you had any kind of privacy. Or a set routine with tasks to complete, as it was always the case since you became old enough to wield a sword. However, you have no assigned duties yet, as you are not yet the Royal Consort. Even then, you wonder what kind of position, and tasks, the King will assign you. For now, the most pressing matter in the castle is your upcoming marriage. The last few days have been hectic with preparations. Gwyar dropped valuable pieces of information here and there about how the ceremony was going to be held and who would attend. They also tried to involve you in the planning. <<button [[But you don’t care, whether because you really prefer to let them in charge or because you want to be as less involved in this marriage as possible.|ch2.4]]>><<set $marr2 to true>><</button>> <<button [[You will take anything that offers you even a small portion of control over you own life.|ch2.4]]>><<set $marr2 to false>><</button>>

<<if $marr2>>You are very aware this marriage is to be the physical proof of the treaty put in place, as such it has been planned accordingly. To be refusing every offered involvement in it is all you can do. Facing them with your passiveness as the only act of rebellion you are able to make.<<else>>You are very aware this marriage is to be the physical proof of the treaty put in place, as such it has been planned accordingly. Despite that, you have at least been preparing yourself for every step, making small decisions here and there. Taking every crumb of agency you are given, because it is //something// at least.<</if>> Regardless, now the only thing left for you to do it wait. You keep walking in silence, coming at last to stand before a small archway, which, from the looks of it, gives access to a garden of sorts. You spotted it once two days ago, however you didn’t think much of it at the time. Now, though, something immediately catches your attention. There’s a small figure leaning with their back against the archway, their attention seemingly frozen ahead. Once you come a bit closer, you realise you recognise the child. And that something is off about him. He looks haunted. Your heart leaps in your chest. <<if $mute>>//Mordred?//<<else>>“Mordred?”<</if>> The child turns to the side, startling slightly when he spots you. He soon diverges his eyes downcast. He looks so scared and tired… <<if $mute>>You drum your knuckles against the wall and when you have his attention you sign, “//are you alright?//”<<else>>You fight the urge to walk towards him. “Are you alright?” you ask instead.<</if>> Mordred nods, though his voice wavers. “Yes.” <<if $mute>>“//Would you like me to walk to your room with you?//”<<else>>“Would you like me to walk to your room with you?”<</if>> you offer, your alarm not diminished. Mordred hesitates a few seconds, before nodding. “Thank you,” he exhales, his voice still a bit shaky but grateful. Worry fills your chest at the sight of the glint of dread hiding inside his brown eyes. You welcome him by your side just as the King did days ago, when you first met Mordred. He settles between your side and your hovering hand, which never ends up making contact with his back. In the darkness of the night, only broken by the lights hanging by the walls, you let him lead you to his rooms. <<if $mute>>“//Couldn’t sleep?//” you sign, softly.<<else>>“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask, softly.<</if>> Mordred simply answers, “no.” <<if $mute>>“//Nightmare?//”<<else>>“Nightmare?”<</if>> A stiff nod is all he can muster. <<if $mute>>“//Does it happen often?//”<<else>>“Does it happen often?”<</if>> He speaks with a mechanic voice. “Sometimes they are more frequent. Sometimes they don’t come for a while.” Alarm bells start to ring in your mind, however you don’t want to interrogate the child more right now to test your suspicions. Desperate to offer him even a small shred of comfort, you remember you have something you hope will help. <<if $mute>>“//I have something for you,//” you sign<<else>>“I have something for you” you announce<</if>>, the slight weight of the pendant he gave you comforting under your clothes. If there was one single thing keeping your mind off of the marriage in the past few days, was this. You rarely ever got to exchange gifts with someone growing up, the only exceptions being your two closer brothers, Saraah and Radel, but you couldn’t simply leave this child’s gift at that. So, in your free time, you made him a little thing in exchange. You kept the small object on you in the hopes you would be able to give it to him and this seems the perfect opportunity. <<button [[It’s a small, proportionate to his little wrist, bracelet made out of real flowers.|ch2.5]]>><<set $morpresent to "bracelet">><</button>> <<button [[It’s a small carved wooden animal. You went for a tiny dragon, as it is the animal associated with the Pendragons.|ch2.5]]>><<set $morpresent to "figurine">><</button>>

<<if $morpresent is "bracelet">>You had in your travel bag a substance used to harden and preserve vegetation, it usually doesn’t serve this purpose but Saraah used it for small crafts and left it to you when he was married off in Camelot. You still keep some of the hardened flowers he picked and gave you, a special kind of reward after gruelling training sessions that left you shaking and almost unable to move.<<else>>While it isn’t extremely detailed, due to its limited size, you think it did come out rather cute. You sculpted an hatchling, adorable and little, just as Mordred is.<</if>> Mordred looks up at you, something coming alive in his otherwise spent eyes when you stop walking and hand him the small gift. He cradles the <<if $morpresent is "bracelet">>bracelet<<else>>figurine<</if>> to his chest. “Thank you.” Your heart melts. <<if $mute>>“//You’re welcome.//”<<else>>“You’re welcome.”<</if>> You keep walking in silence, though the child seems slightly less troubled now. You finally reach his bedroom, which is very close to the King’s own chambers, but before he can get inside, he turns and hesitantly asks, “after your marriage with… with the King, will you stay in Camelot?” A vulnerable sort of fear is hidden in his brown eyes, it makes you want to comfort and shield him. <<if $mute>>“//Yes//.”<<else>>“Yes.”<</if>> Without elaborating, he slowly nods, though you wonder whether that question was hiding something else in it. You don’t pry, though, because he looks so exhausted and small. Mordred eventually bids you goodnight. You don’t avert your gaze until he is safely into his own room, hoping he will be able to get a bit more sleep at the very least. You are greatly disturbed at the though of nightmares being what is keeping him up and so distressed. Nightmares are meant for people like you, people who stopped holding count of the individuals they maimed or killed, not for young children, or caring brothers. <<button [[Continue|urien]]>><</button>>

You are about to head to your bedroom yourself when a rough voice cuts loudly through the silence. “Have you lost your way, Consort?” Once you manage to locate the bearer of that voice, you find out the sight doesn’t spark any recognition on your part. The decorated armour she wears along with her red cape, though, identifies her as a knight. Her tan complexion reminds you of the King, though her hair is a dark shade of brown and her eyes icy blue. You take note of her muscular frame, as well as the age lines you can discern in the limited light. <<if $mute>>Unsure whether she knows sign, you are about to raise your hand when she interrupts you, “my name is Urien. I am one of the twelve Round Table Knights. And of course you are the youngest Venegard.”<<else>>You are about to inquire on her identity, but she interrupts you before you can properly do so. “My name is Urien. I am one of the twelve Round Table Knights. And of course you are the youngest Venegard.”<</if>> The diminishing tone that comes with that, with being an Irish born in Welsh land, isn’t even veiled. You have to bite your tongue not to say or do something you would regret. She takes some steps towards you until she stands by your side, looking at you with piercing blue eyes that have not once stopped being intrusive. “Allow me to escort you to your chambers. We certainly don’t want you of all people to lose your sleep over something so trivial as getting lost in the castle.” There is a not so subtle underline of mockery in her words that makes your skin prickle. While she speaks, she starts walking at a rather fast pace, keeping herself just slightly ahead of you. “Now, this is not on you. The fortress was hard to navigate for me as well the first period I spent here. It seems almost an eternity ago, if I think about it.” Stiff, you keep walking behind the Knight, <<if $mute>>aware she has put you no position to communicate, even if you wanted to <<else>>until you reach a corridor you have become familiar with<</if>>. She stops just in front of your door. The look she gives you holds an uncomfortable, pressing amount of weight. “Ah, but you might be more interested in Arthur than anything else; am I correct?” The ghost of a mirthless smile curls up her lips. “The current King certainly has a way of doing thing very differently from the previous one. Some consider it better. Some do not.” <<if $mute>>Your interrogative gaze must be enough to convey the words you aren’t able to utter because she asks, “where do I fall?”<<else>>“Where do you fall?” You ask.<</if>> She lets out a sharp laugh with a slightly bitter edge to it. She opens her arms to display her armour. “Obviously, given my position, in the former.” She then turns around, her cape following her movements in a whirl, as supponent as everything else about her. "Have a good night," she calls as she walks away, not even bothering to address you by your title. Prolonged lack of sleep weighing down on you, you walk to your room as well, locking the suspicion Ser Urien just arose somewhere inside you and promising yourself to keep your guard up around her. <<button [[Continue|ch2.7]]>><</button>>

<span class="subtitle"><h4> 32nd day of Fall. Year 209 of the current calendar. </h4></span> You walk the path towards the training grounds in silence, only sparing brief glances at the people busying themselves around you. While King Arthur offered to accompany you through a walk in the castle, with the implicit promise to have a talk about the marriage expectations, something you were already both dreading and looking forward to, they were held back by a sudden obligation. And so, suddenly without any plans for the afternoon, your body carried you to the single location of the castle that doesn’t make you feel completely out of place. The training grounds are quite tranquil in this time of the day. Still, while the sight is different from the more divided and neatly organised training quarters at home, there is a certain familiarity that has your attention completely taken. You find a spot suitable for keeping watch over most of the grounds, while being at the same time secluded enough for you not to constantly have to keep your guard up. Should someone decide to approach you, you would have ample time and good positioning to see them coming and not be caught off guard. Once settled, you devote your attention to the recruits, performing exercises under the guide of their instructors. You immediately note that they are equipped with protective gear and blunted weapons. Your parents and sisters often had you go without in training. <<button [[As it has often been the case, your attention seems to hold a certain imposing weight. The recruits that notice your presence seem to shrivel under your inspecting gaze.|ch2.8]]>><<set $intimidating to $intimidating +1>><<set $intim2 to true>><</button>> <<button [[As it has often been the case, your presence doesn’t seem to be noted. Instead, you merge with your surroundings without effort on your part.|ch2.8]]>><<set $unassuming to $unassuming +1>><<set $intim2 to false>><</button>>

<<if $intim2>>You don’t avert your gaze. You often made the more inexperienced soldiers flinch in Ireland. Not on purpose, specifically. However, you found that their nervousness got more and more pronounced after you fought in the rebellion. Maybe they see something in you that wasn’t there before. Or perhaps you lost something, and they can feel the cold emptiness that took its stead.<<else>>While it is not done on purpose, and while your sister always criticised your subdued approach to the soldiers, you have the anonymity of a silent observer. More than once it has been of great help to evaluate the soldiers in their unaffected behaviour, without the alert apprehension they would be in in the presence of a commanding superior.<</if>> Your gaze, eventually, is pulled on the instructor, a tall individual with a full shining armour. There is confidence in their posture, but also patience as they survey the training recruits. As they demonstrate the moves, almost flawlessly if it wasn’t for a slight twitch of their body that seems to happen, you note, once or twice when they assume a certain position. The training continues and you stay put, observing those that were once your enemies practice their posture and skills. At one point the recruits disperse slightly in the courtyard, likely to take a small break. One of them walks to the instructor, and they finally take off their helmet. You can see but their back and side profile, but there’s something uncomfortably familiar to them that stirs an unpleasant sensation in your chest. You keep the rising sense of uneasiness down, forcing your mind to settle. //It is nothing. You have seen countless fighters in the last year. // The conversation ends, and while the recruit leaves, almost by chance the instructor looks up in your direction. When their eyes meet yours, the ground gets pulled from under you. You see the deep, horrible scar taking an entire side of their face. Even despite the distance that separates you, you recognise those eyes; the same ones that looked at you with a mixture of fear and resignation a single instant before your sword cut into skin and flesh. You do not know their name. The last you saw of them was of them lying on the battlefield, their neck and half their face opened, their knightly cape lacerated and covered in gore. <<button [[You try to breathe through your nose as you fight against a wave of nausea, unaware of anything else but the deafening rush of blood in your ears as you stand unable to move.|ch2.9]]>><<set $reaction to "freeze">><</button>> <<button [[You take a step back, breathing heavily and backing again when those eyes keep suffocating you in their hold.|ch2.9]]>><<set $reaction to "flight">><</button>> <<button [[You numbly lower your gaze on the wood of the handrail crushed beneath your fingers. Splintered wood.|ch2.9]]>><<set $reaction to "fight">><</button>>

You retreat in the castle, though you feel suffocated by the number of servants hurrying about. The chaos of the marriage preparations only vaguely agitates your numbed mind. //You disfigured one of King Arthur’s Knights. As soon as they speak with the King, he will know of your status as a mage.// You wonder how will your, admittedly very distant, relationship shift once they are made aware of that. If what your parents said about the Pendragon King will be proven true. You have been free to roam the castle until now, but perhaps that will change as well. He proposed the marriage with you as last child of a noble House, after all, not as a battle mage, especially not as someone who faced Camelot’s own forces in battle. When the King welcomed you here, their eyes were full of gentle warmth. Will they look at you the same way his knights did when you advanced with a sword dripping blood, blackened veins and eyes? <<button [[You feel bile up your throat at the memory, clinging to it together with the overwhelming feeling of revulsion, and you are failing to contain the urge to throw up.|ch2.10]]>><<set $caring to $caring +1>><<set $car2 to false>><</button>> <<button [[Maybe something inside you is hardened already, because you do not feel guilt nor revulsion at the memory. You only feel irredeemably empty.|ch2.10]]>><<set $cold to $cold +1>><<set $car2 to true>><</button>>

<<if $car2>>You cling to a wall for support, your fingers leaving marks on the stone as they curl inwards in the vestige of a fist. //No. You won’t break down now. Not now, and not ever.// With a deep breath, you straighten your back and bring your arm back to your side.<<else>>You fight with the growing, visceral need to tear the hall apart piece by piece. You may be more similar to your oldest sister than you care to admit, for that is exactly what she does when unwanted emotions get the best of her.<</if>> Suddenly, you hear a couple of voices and the sound of steps growing closer. They are quite muffled, as such they probably come from the corridor on the other side of yours. You settle on ignoring them; in spite of that the sound of their steps comes to a halt not distant from your position. You do not catch sight of their owner, so you conclude they must have stopped right behind the corner. You don’t pay particular attention to them, however it is quite obvious by the tone of their voices that they are entertaining each other with rumours of dubious origin. How shameless, gossiping in such a public place. You are about to walk your way when the sound of a name you are familiar with catches your attention. <<button [[Ser Evaine|ch2evaine]]>><</button>> <<button [[Ser Yniol|ch2yniol]]>><</button>>

“… Ser Evaine surely must deserve $Etheir position, my lady.” “Oh, I certainly agree. You may ask yourself, though, which kind of merits we are talking about.” “Surely you are not implying-“ “Let me be blunt, my Lord. $EThey <<if $Eplur>>were<<else>>was<</if>> brought here much as the other strays the King keeps picking up every time he leaves the castle, barely a year passed before $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>were<<else>>was<</if>> appointed as Knight, of the Round Table no less. $EThey may have impressive combat skills, but $their ability to find $Ethemselves in the highest position for one of $Etheir status is even more impressive. Surely you heard the same rumours as I.” “I, well, Ser Evaine seems indeed to be quite close to all the right people. Far from me to insinuate anything that might involve the King, but one cannot deny that Knight does have many admirers, and some of them $Ethey conveniently <<if $Eplur>>keep<<else>>keeps<</if>> quite, ah, //close//.” //How disgustingly pathetic.// What kind of special stupidity must one exhibit to speak ill of the King’s Round Table, you question yourself. So your parents’ admonishments were true, Welsh nobles prove themselves to be bitter, petty individuals. <<button [[You decide to walk away. You’ve had enough of them already.|ch2.12]]>><<set $walk2 to true>><</button>> <<button [[You wish to see how they will react if caught gossiping in such a brazen manner.|ch2.12]]>><<set $walk2 to false>><</button>>

“Did you hear? Ser Yniol was seen frequenting the most unfortunate districts of the lower city once again.” “That must not have been a surprise for you, my Lord. $YThey simply returned to the place $Ythey <<if $Yplur>>know<<else>>knows<</if>> the most.” “Ah, well… Ser Yniol is still a formidable Knight, don’t you agree?” “Oh, surely. But $Ythey <<if $Yplur>>were<<else>>was<</if>> born and bred in the most troubled districts of Camelot, without even a proper education or parents in sight. Let me be blunt just this once, my Lord. Ser Yniol may have become a Knight, however $Ytheir blood will never be the same as ours. A given title, even by the King himself, simply cannot change one's identity, and behaviour, as a simple commoner.” “An unfortunate, but well proven, truth.” “Then, my next question to you, my Lord, is this. Can our safety be placed in the hands of such an individual?” //What a despicable attitude.// So your parents’ admonishments were true, Welsh nobles prove themselves to be bitter, petty individuals. You wonder how they would fare should Ser Yniol face them wielding $Ytheir spear. In fact, that would be a spectacle you’d enjoy. <<button [[You decide to walk away. You’ve had enough of them already.|ch2.12]]>><<set $walk2 to true>><</button>> <<button [[You wish to see how they will react if caught gossiping in such a brazen manner.|ch2.12]]>><<set $walk2 to false>><</button>>

<<if $walk2>>As you resume walking in the opposite direction they are situated, you make sure to imprint their voices into your memory. Perhaps, there will come an opportunity for you to give them a taste of the consequences of their own stupid babbling. <<if $unassuming gt $intimidating>>You might not seem a particularly intimidating, or even dangerous, individual, but that only means they will be unprepared when your retaliation comes.<<else>>Since you often come off as a particularly intimidating individual, you have come to relish the panicked expressions you are the cause of when you retaliate.<</if>> Until them, you will let them live in comfortable lack of worry. It will be even sweeter catching people like them by complete surprise.<<else>>You have no intention <<if $mute>>to interact with them in any way <<else>>to spare even a single word with them<</if>>, you simply want them to be aware of your presence, to set off within them the suspicion someone might have heard their stupid babbling. <<if $unassuming gt $intimidating>>You resume walking, this time towards their precise direction. Due to your usually subdued nature, they notice you only when you are passing them by, your robes brushing theirs for a split second. They immediately stop talking, freezing on the spot, and though you are now giving them your back, you can almost feel the startled apprehension that took hold of them. You walk away unbothered, not sparing them even a glance. <<else>>You resume walking, this time towards their precise direction. Due to your usually imposing presence, the pair almost immediately catches sight of you. You spare them a single fleeting, cold glance as you walk by them, which makes the two freeze and drop their gaze. They almost flinch when you pass by them close enough to almost touch them. You walk away in measured strides, aware of their apprehensive eyes on your back.<</if>><</if>> Well, in any case, you will have lot of chances to confront the nobles, even more than you might like, once you officially become the Royal Consort. This is your life now. <<button [[Continue|ch2.13]]>><</button>>

<span class="subtitle"><h4> Camelot, the King’s private chambers </h4></span> //They are not even wed yet and already being negligent to their spouse//, Arthur tiredly thinks, filled by anxious guilt at his inability to give $name even a few hours of time and, perhaps, needed explanations. They still their fingers when they realise they had been picking at their skin until it bled. He looks down at his hand and, with outmost calm, he takes a small piece of cloth lying around the desk, carefully wiping away the droplets of blood. Something stirs in his chest, though he tries to keep it down. //Maybe//, he thinks, //things will be alright//. The attempt to self-soothe is weak, and coupled with the exhaustion that weights over the King it only serves to burden his mind further. Arthur lets out a long exhale, bringing his hand up to his eyes, then his forehead in a tired gesture. The rebellion, even in its failed state, has left him a lot of loose ends to mend together and deal with. On his part, Arthur feels he has been spending every waking hour either consulting with the nobles or tending to his various bureaucratic obligations, at least the most urgent ones. Only a few moments later, two measured knocks catch his attention. Arthur makes sure to compose himself before answering. “Come in,” he calls softly. Fondness seeps into their blue eyes when they raise their gaze, turning their smile a bit less formal. “Gwyar, my dear. Thank you for coming.” Of course, a call from the King can hardly be denied, but Gwyar nods courteously nonetheless. “I am afraid I will be busy well into the evening again. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to see $name today, either.” “I’m sure $they will understand,” Gwyar answers, formal. Arthur makes sure not to let any nervous tension bleed in their casual tone when they ask, “all matters considered, how <<if $plur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> $they been faring these past few days?” The servant’s expression hardly changes, and $Gtheir voice when $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>reply<<else>>replies<</if>> is equally even, “I believe $they will settle, given time.” Of course, that’s the answer Arthur expected. They know Gwyar values the privacy of the people $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>serve<<else>>serves<</if>>, and they know that $Gthey will only voice $Gtheir concerns should a certain behaviour become in any way alarming. Arthur hums, pensive. He walks to his ample desk, occupied by parchment, ink and various letters, and he takes a seat. He has been thinking about a way to make his spouse-to-be more comfortable, and he believes he found his answer while reviewing a specific discussion he had years ago. “Will you do me a favour, Gwyar? I only need some moments, if you can spare them. Feel free to take a seat in the meantime.” As $Gthey always <<if $Gplur>>do<<else>>does<</if>>, Gwyar doesn’t move. Instead, $Gthey patiently <<if $Gplur>>wait<<else>>waits<</if>>, $Gtheir back straight and $Gtheir hands behind it, with $Gtheir eyes considerately fixed ahead. After a few minutes, the King hands $Gthem a letter. “Make sure this gets sent to Lord Cledwynn. Oh, and there is going to be another reunion with the Nobles tonight. I would be grateful if you could please take care of that as well.” Gwyar bows lightly, the parchment now in $Gtheir hands. “Your Majesty,” $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>excuse<<else>>excuses<</if>> $Gthemselves. Arthur has the time to shake any trace of restless exhaustion off of themselves before another knock comes from the door. Again, they softly invite in whoever is waiting outside. <<button [[Continue|ch2.14]]>><</button>>

As the King welcomes his knight Bedivere inside, he wonders the reason for the visit, especially as they should be assigned to the recruits’ training, if he remembers correctly. “Apologies for the unannounced visit,” Bedivere starts, “however, I have what I believe to be urgent information to relay.” Intrigued, but also worried by the slight agitation the usually extremely controlled Knight is displaying, Arthur makes a gesture with their hand, while putting back in their place the parchments they were previously consulting, “please do go on.” Arthur often finds himself a bit apprehensive of Bedivere. Not by fault of the Knight, who proved themselves time and time again, however every time the King looks at them they are reminded of the moment Bedivere was brought back from the frontlines after the battle had come to an end, barely alive and horrifyingly covered in their own blood. The field physicians had told Arthur it was unlikely they would survive the week, perhaps even the night. Arthur, who had lost his faith in the Lord years ago, had prayed. By that moment, he was coming close to losing the second knight of his Round Table, and despite the rebellion having started months prior, the realisation that he would be losing more and more lives crashed into him suddenly at the sight of the dying knight. “It is about your soon-to-be Consort. As you know, I didn’t have a chance to meet $them yet, though today I had a brief encounter with $them.” Arthur’s immediately more alert, though they keep their body language relatively relaxed. “My King, $they <<if $plur>>were<<else>>was<</if>> on the frontlines, fighting with battle magic.” Arthur freezes. “What?” Bedivere doesn’t repeat themselves, instead standing in silent stiffness as their King’s gaze fills with realisation. The knight can’t see it, but Arthur’s hand grips the fabric of his vest with a tight grip, perhaps to mask the slight tremble of his fingers. “You said a combat mage you couldn’t identify was the one to severely injure you on the eastern front.” Bedivere nods, confirming Arthur’s line of thought. “Indeed, $they <<if $plur>>were<<else>>was<</if>> the one I faced.” “Are you quite certain of that?” Arthur asks to confirm. He doesn’t make a habit of doubting the words of his own Knights, however this is something a lot more… personal than usual, in a way. “I am.” Arthur nods. He shifts a bit, turning and taking a few steps towards the window while he comes to term with the new piece of information. He takes some measured breaths, taking control of his feelings on the matter. “My King?” “Thank you for telling me this, dear. If you feel uncomfortable around $them, feel free to rearrange your own guard shifts and training sessions.” “Thank you, your Highness.” “You can go now.” He hears the muffled clang of their armour as they move, though before they can exit the room, Arthur adds, “I trust that you can keep what we just discussed for between ourselves, Bedivere. For now, at the very least.” “Of course.” <<button [[Continue|ch2.15]]>><</button>>

Alone in the room, Arthur absentmindedly strokes Excalibur’s hilt. //How interesting the way politics sometimes work. You go in Ireland to take care of a rebellion and you come back engaged.// “I’m getting married,” Arthur informs the sword. In response, he just receives a sparkle of uneasiness. “Don’t worry, we’ll make it work. We have to.” <<button [[Continue|ch2.16]]>><</button>>

<span class="subtitle"><h4> Camelot, the Royal Consort’s chambers </h4></span> By the time evening comes, your mood has somehow settled down. Your thoughts, as well, start to focus on something you had put off for a while now, but that you are finally going to address. When Gwyar brings you dinner, you ask $Gthem, <<if $mute>>“//would you like to eat with me?//”<<else>>“would you like to eat with me?”<</if>> $GThey <<if $Gplur>>shake<<else>>shakes<</if>> $Gtheir head, “I already ate a while ago. There is going to be another meeting with the nobles very soon, so many of us servants had an early dinner.” You hum in understanding, watching as $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>take<<else>>takes<</if>> $Gtheir leave. As you eat, you reflect on the specific issue you want to bring up to $Gthem. You may not be in a socializing mood lately, however it has been bothering you so much, recently, that at this point you simply need to have some answers. When Gwyar returns some time later, usually $Gtheir last visit of the day to bring you some wood for the fire and take back the plates, you get up from your seat. <<if $mute>>“//Can we talk?//” you sign as soon as $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> faced towards you.<<else>> “Can we talk?” you say as soon as $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> faced towards you.<</if>> Gwyar takes one look at your face and, in an almost emotionless voice, says, “if you wish for the services of someone else, I will ask the King to be reassigned elsewhere.” The look in $Gtheir eyes makes you uncomfortable in a way you can’t describe. You wonder whether you did give $Gthem cause to reach that specific conclusion. Regardless, you don’t want $Gthem to think you are unhappy with $Gthem. <<if $mute>>“//No, I take no issues with your services.//”<<else>>“No, I take no issues with your services.”<</if>> “What is it then, my Liege?” You take a moment to formulate your thoughts in a way that won’t cause further misunderstandings. <<if $mute>>“I am not unhappy with your assistance or skills. I am simply…”<<else>>“I am not unhappy with your assistance or skills. I am simply…”<</if>> //Confused? Concerned?// Again, you find yourself lacking the right word. Gwyar’s attentive but blank stare clearly signals you that $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> very little idea of where your issues lie. <<button [[In truth, you have grown to care about Gwyar’s wellbeing as your personal servant. You really do want to know whether they are being treated fairly, because Gwyar has been increasingly more closed off in the past few days.|ch2.17]]>><<set $gplatonic to +1>><</button>> <<button [[While you still feel tense and often guarded around Gwyar, you want to at least be sure about the fairness of their work treatment in the castle.|ch2.17]]>><</button>>

<<if $question gt 0>><<else>>There is no subtle way of phrasing the most prominent question on your mind, so you are going to be blunt. <<if $mute>>“How are you treated?”<<else>>“How are you treated?”<</if>> Something seems to click for Gwyar after a brief second of surprise. “Ah. I am sorry. I am aware that servants might be employed and addressed differently here at court than in the noble Houses. I should have offered an explanation of it sooner.” Yes, that was precisely the matter you were concerned with. Their health as well, though perhaps it would be too off putting for you to concern yourself with such a private thing. “It is true that some of us are employed daily or weekly, however many are have been working at the castle for years, or generations as is the case for the servants in the noble Houses. We are offered living accommodations in the servants’ castle wing and while our job is often physically demanding, we are compensated for every day of work. The pay is high enough that the castle has to turn down applicants each year, because there are not enough positions for everyone who comes to the city to work.” Oh. You suppose running the whole castle might require much more labour than a minor House. “Is there anything else you wish to discuss, my $Liege?” <</if>> <<if visited("gquestion1") is 0>><<button [[“Will you report to the King whatever happens during your work?” What you want to know is how much of your personal information, interactions and habits has come to the King’s ears.|gquestion1]]>><</button>><</if>> <<if visited("gquestion2") is 0>><<if $mute>><<button [[“The court nobles are disrespectful towards you,” you sign, carefully. In the last few days, you witnessed more than once how nobles look down on the servitude. They may not be directly rude, but they ignore their very presence almost as if every servant was invisible.|gquestion2]]>><</button>><<else>><<button [[“The court nobles are disrespectful towards you,” you say, carefully. In the last few days, you witnessed more than once how nobles look down on the servants. They may not be directly rude, but they ignore their very presence almost as if every servant was invisible.|gquestion2]]>><</button>><</if>><</if>> <<if visited("gquestion3") is 0>><<button [[Your next question might be too personal, but you can’t keep ignoring their state. “You seem tired. Are you overworking yourself?”|gquestion3]]>><</button>><</if>> <<if $question gt 0>><<button [[You don't have any more questions.|ch2.18]]>><</button>><<else>><<button [[No, thank you.”|ch2.18]]>><</button>><</if>>

”No. I have no reason to. The only instance in which I will speak with the King or the physician is if the person I serve exhibits concerning, or potentially threatening behaviour. I may be a servant, but in this castle no physical harm towards us is tolerated.” You hum, thinking about some the habits fighting on the field left you with. “Define concerning.” Gwyar’s gaze becomes more intense. “If your health is affected in a significant way, I will call the physician.” You can hardly object to that, even though you still do not like to be talked about in a personal way behind your back. <<button [[“Is there anything else you wish to discuss?”|ch2.17]]>><<set $question =+1>><</button>>

“Yes, it happens,” Gwyar confirms. $GTheir casual tone doesn’t sit right with you, however then $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>add<<else>>adds<</if>>, “if it’s a recurring attitude, I receive the complaints and have a talk with the King. They generally let their unhappiness on the matter known.” <<if $mute>>“//Don’t they… retaliate?//”<<else>>“Don’t they… retaliate?”<</if>> “No.” A small, innocent smile spreads on Gwyar’s thin lips as $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>tilt<<else>>tilts<</if>> $Gtheir head slightly to the side, $Gtheir sleek black hair cascading off $Gtheir shoulders. “Why would they? Harmless servants such as us don’t pose any threat to them.” //… $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> definitely not harmless.// In fact, Gwyar seems to possess an impressive amount of knowledge about nearly everything that goes on in the castle. $GThey <<if $Gplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> clearly educated and skilled with languages, and $Gthey just now proved to be closer to the King than most. You are starting to see how you were seeing $Gtheir situation from a wrong perspective. Gwyar definitely isn’t taken advantage of. If anything, $Gthey even <<if $Gplur>>enjoy<<else>>enjoys<</if>> $Gtheir position. <<button [[“Is there anything else you wish to discuss?”|ch2.17]]>><<set $question =+1>><</button>>

<<if $mute>>“//Thank you for your time.//”<<else>>“Thank you for your time.”<</if>> “You are welcome.” Even as $Gthey <<if $plur>>say<<else>>says<</if>> that, $Gtheir voice seems slightly strained. Stress must finally be getting to $Gthem. You do not know if there is anything in your power to alleviate $Gtheir weight, but even if there was it is not your place to worry and fuss about $Gthem. You hope $Gthey will talk to you, or at least to the King, if $Gthey <<if $plur>>reach<<else>>reaches<</if>> $Gtheir limits. <<if $mute>>“//Goodnight, Gwyar. Please get some sleep,//” you settle to sign.<<else>>“Goodnight, Gwyar. Please get some sleep,” you settle to say.<</if>> $GThey <<if $plur>>seem<<else>>seems<</if>> to soften, somehow. With an unusual amount of care, $Gthey <<if $plur>>answer<<else>>answers<</if>>, “you too, my $Liege.” <<button [[Continue|ch2.19]]>><</button>>

$GTheir blank gaze is the only answer you need. You take a step forward and $Gthey <<if $plur>>take<<else>>takes<</if>> a step back. “I am not. I promise I am not.” $GTheir curt answer makes you even more suspicious. Before you can do anything else, though, Gwyar stiffly grips the empty tray in $Gtheir hands. “It is normal here for calm weeks to alternate with busier ones. Please do not think too much of it, we are accustomed to this kind of activity in the castle.” You don’t press the matter, because Gwyar doesn’t seem to want to talk about that and you aren’t close enough to be too inquisitive over $Gtheir personal health. <<button [[“Is there anything else you wish to discuss?”|ch2.17]]>><<set $question =+1>><</button>>

<span class="subtitle"><h4> ???? ?? battlefield Year 208 of the current calendar.</h4></span> Through panicked breaths, you try to remain conscious through the pain. You look at what remains of your leg, after an enemy soldier cut through it. Now you are crawling, desperately trying to retreat from this field of broken bodies and pained cries. You tune out the pleas and dying rasping moans as best as you can. You just need to keep moving, even if pain almost paralyzes you and your vision starts to darken. Then, a shadow is cast from above. You look up and terror fills you at the sight of the demon that stands a few feet away. Their eyes are inky black, the arms and fingers that grip their sword just as dark. They advance, slicing through fighters with too little effort, though they wheeze through their gritted mouth. Panic seizes you as they come closer, and like a trapped, dying prey you make a last, desperate attempt to crawl away. //You don’t want to die here, in this horrible pile of moaning corpses-// <<button [[Continue|ch2.20]]>><</button>>

You can’t breathe. You look up, where the rest of the blade comes out from your chest. You gurgle on your warm blood, terrified beyond any kind of human measure. Tears spill from your eyes as you exhale your last painful breath, looking death itself in its black lifeless eyes. <<button [[Continue|ch.21]]>><</button>>

<span class="subtitle"><h4> 33rd day of Fall. Year 209 of the current calendar. <h7>Your Wedding day.</h7></h4></span> You swallow the taste of blood in your mouth while you wake up. As you do so, it shifts into something acre, so deeply metallic it makes your stomach contract and your mind revolt. Another nightmare plagued your uneasy sleep, full of gore and unheard pleas. You believed they would have done their course when their frequency diminished in the month you spent recovering in your House, however they seem to have come back in an even more violent way since you came to Camelot. You have to breathe deeply a few times to ensure you don’t give in to the nausea. //This is pointless. You should be fine. // Once the urge has subsided, you get <<if $sleep2 is "bed">>out of bed<<else>>up from the floor<</if>>, your muscles aching. You pry open the thick curtains, taking note of the dimmed sunrays illuminating the courtyard, seeping through a layer of morning mist. At least it won’t rain. You stoke the fire with logs that Gwyar left the night before, and when your gaze surveys the room, it inevitably falls on the wedding attire hanging by your dresser. While neither this marriage nor this situation were chosen by you, at least those garments were made according to your requests. Particularly, you chose the colours and the type of clothing you wanted to wear at your wedding, regardless of what was expected from you. <<button [[The clothes are red and golden, Camelot’s colours.|ch2.22]]>><<set $weddingcolors to "camelot">><</button>> <<button [[The clothes are green and dark blue, your House's colours.|ch2.22]]>><<set $weddingcolors to "ireland">><</button>> <<button [[The clothes are green and golden, a mixture of Camelot and your House’s colours.|ch2.22]]>><<set $weddingcolors to "mix">><</button>>

<<if $weddingcolors is "camelot">>You will have nothing more to do with your House once wed. You are to be the spouse of this country’s King, and that has to start today. Perhaps, it will even do you good to be apart from it.<<elseif $weddingcolors is "ireland">>For as long as you can, you want to be identified as a Venegard, not as the Consort of Camelot's King. You may be far away from your family, however you want to let it be known that this marriage won’t change your identity. This display will probably displease some nobles and perhaps prove the point of others. But this is the one choice you were allowed, and you won’t sacrifice it.<<else>>While you do not wish to cast away your whole identity, you do need to show that, once wed, you will be the Consort, not a Venegard heir anymore. You do not know how well this choice will be received by the nobles, however this is the one thing you were allowed to decide for yourself and you will stand by it.<</if>> It’s not long before your servant comes into your room. “Good morning, my $Liege.” It takes one single look at $Gthem to note the tiredness evident in $Gtheir posture and eyes. <<if $mute>>“//Have you slept?//”<<else>>“Have you slept?”<</if>> Gwyar, immediately going to work, answers, “a couple of hours, yes.” Once $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>take<<else>>takes<</if>> notice of your furrowed brows, $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>elaborate<<else>>elaborates<</if>>, “do not concern yourself over me, your Highness. You have a very tiring day ahead of yourself, too.” It couldn’t be any other way, however. Marriages into royalty or, in Ireland, Houses are always much more significant politically and, for this reason, longer and exhausting. “You will be receiving the nobles and knights in the morning, so you have a couple of hours to fully get ready. After the meetings, there will be the parade, the handfasting ceremony and then the banquet. I am afraid to say you will be busy well into the night.” It takes Gwyar very little time to tidy up the room, for one because you left it mostly barren, but also because you are well accustomed to keep your living quarters in military order. $GThey then <<if $Gplur>>start<<else>>starts<</if>> to prepare for a quick bath. “How do you want the water?” <<if $bath is "warm">> <<button [[While your first day in Camelot you chose a warm bath, the horrific vision that followed made you regret your decision. You have gone back to frozen cold water, just as your parents always taught you, and today will be no exception. “Cold.”|ch2.23]]>><<set $bath2 to "cold">><</button>> <<button [[Your first day in Camelot you chose to concede yourself a warm bath, and despite the horrific vision that followed you have not gone back to cold baths since. Today is no exception. “Warm.”|ch2.23]]>><<set $bath2 to "warm">><</button>><<else>><<button [[While your first day in Camelot you chose a cold bath, the horrific vision that followed, along with the huge discomfort you experienced, made you regret your decision. Trying to swallow back the guilt, you have started to allow yourself warmer baths. Today is no exception. “Warm.”|ch2.23]]>><<set $bath2 to "warm">><</button>> <<button [[Your first day in Camelot you chose to have a cold bath, as you were raised to, and despite the huge discomfort it causes you, you have not gone back to that decision. Today is no exception. “Cold.”|ch2.23]]>><<set $bath2 to "cold">><</button>><</if>>

When you are finished and dressed with a simple tunic, Gwyar comes to bring you breakfast. “I was told you have a visitor.” You struggle to imagine who would they be, especially at a time like this, when you have to get dressed and ready to be wed. <<if $mute>>“//Can it wait?//”<<else>>“Can it wait?”<</if>> you ask. Gwyar sends you a tired, apologetic smile. “I am afraid it can’t. They were quite insistent.” Well then. You walk towards the door and open it. On the other side, three men are speaking amongst themselves in a low voice. While one of them is dressed in a guard’s attire, the other two are richly clothed in refined, expensive robes. The man on the right is of average height, with short black hair and an olive complexion. He has the clear posture of a noble, as further shown by the dark green shoulder cloak. What makes your heart leap in your throat, though, is the painful, stark familiarity of the feature of the man on the left. At the sound of the door opening, your eyes meet and you struggle to breathe. //Saraah.// Before anyone can move or even speak, with long strides you reach your brother and envelop him in a tight, desperate hug. His arms are around you just as quickly, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. “You’ve grown up, <<if $nick>>$nickname<<else>>$name<</if>>.” You hold him tighter, almost afraid that he will disappear or leave again should you stop hugging him. <<if $touchaversion is "yes">>He is the only person you bear, and even enjoy, to touch. The only one who’s touch won’t make your skin crawl.<<else>>You cling to him, because for every moment the hug lasts, you feel more at more soothed, relieved and safe.<</if>> You missed your older brother so much. Eventually, he gently draws back. He doesn’t fully let go of you, however. Keeping you close, he holds you by your shoulders, taking one good look at you. <<if $height is "very tall">>“How dare you become this tall.” <<elseif $height is "tall">>“How dare you become this tall.” <<elseif $height is "average">>"At least you didn't become a giant like Emyr.” <<elseif $height is "short">>“You stayed small, how cute.” <<elseif $height is "very short">>“You stayed small, how cute.” <</if>> You ignore the comment about your height. <<if $mute>>“//I thought I would see you with the other nobles,//” you sign, still confused about his presence so early into the day.<<else>>“I thought I would see you with the other nobles,” you say, still confused about his presence so early into the day.<</if>> “Oh,” Saraah explains, “the King sent a letter for Cledwynn and I to come in earlier than planned.” //Why… why would he do that?// It’s impossible it was a favour, so King Arthur probably had some ulterior motif. You will dwell on that later, though. For now, your gaze settles on the Lord who accompanied your brother, his husband. Same sex marriages were only legalised very recently, so recently in fact that your brother was the very first person of higher status to make use of that option. In truth, while all your siblings save for Adrei have always known they would be married off according to your parents’ wishes, Saraah was always adamant about one thing: they would only marry another man. That was a source of conflict in the family, not because of your parents views on his sexuality, but because that was quite literally an impossible wish to grant. So, as soon as King Arthur legalised marriages between same sex individuals, your parents began arranging for Saraah’s marriage. Your brother left the House five years ago to come to Camelot, and you haven’t seen him since. While in his letters he expressed his growing affinity and then affection for him, you can’t know with certainty how Lord Cledwynn treats your brother and you won’t take any chances. <<button [[“How is he?” you inquire, shifting a bit to position yourself in a protective way between the two.|ch2.24]]>><<set $bil1 to false>><</button>> <<button [[You may be the younger sibling, but that won’t stop you from making sure yourself of what kind of man he is. You march up to the Lord in quick strides, ignoring Saraah’s half attempt to stop you, and you stop only when you are so close to him, he has to lean back. “If you hurt my brother, I will inflict on you ten times that amount of pain.”|ch2.24]]>><<set $bil1 to true>><</button>>

<<if $bil1 is false>>Saraah’s eyes soften, though there is also a slight sparkle in them when they talk about their husband. “He is respectful. He makes adorable jokes. I am happy with him… and he is very good with his mouth. And hands.” You let out a breath. //Right, your brother has always lacked any kind of shame.// <<if $mute>>“//I did not ask if he satisfied you in bed.//”<<else>>“I did not ask if he satisfied you in bed.”<</if>> Saraah shrugs. “I mean, you asked how was he. You didn’t specify the context.” <<if $mute>>“//Stop talking about it, those were not things I wanted to be aware of,//” you plead.<<else>>“Stop talking about it, those were not things I wanted to be aware of,” you plead.<</if>> He lets out a laugh, a sound that makes your heart squeeze in your chest. Saraah always had a loud, wild laugh that used to annoy Osia so much, but that you missed so much in the silence that filled the House after he left.<<else>><<if $mute>>Fortunately, he understands sign. It takes him a few moments to make sense of your question, but Saraah must have taught him the basics for he eventually looks at you and says, “… yes, I understand.”<<else>>With a startled exhale, he looks at you and says, “… yes, I understand.”<</if>> He clears his throat, his voice when he speaks again coming out a bit more lower pitched. “Ah, you must be $name. It’s a uh, pleasure to finally meet you in person.” Your penetrating gaze is the only answer he gets. “Stop scaring my husband away,” Saraah pleads once he reaches your side. <<if $mute>>“//If it takes so little to scare him, maybe you should reconsider your relationship.//”<<else>>“If it takes so little to scare him, maybe you should reconsider your relationship.”<</if>> Your brother’s eye twitches and he gives Lord Cledwynn a smile entirely too big. “I told you that my little $sibling was adorable.” The man blinks, a bit lost, but still very attentive to Saraah’s words.<</if>> Your brother gently grabs your arm, leading you towards your room. “Come, come. Let me see your wedding clothes.” “I’ll see you later, darlin',” he greets his husband before closing the door behind the both of you. His attention quickly zeroes on the clothes hanging by the dresser. “Oh, they’re even better than I thought!” While Saraah is inspecting them, you feel an ugly sensation of dread rise within you. //Not now not now-// Despite what your brain repeats, though, Saraah is the only person you feel comfortable enough to open up to. You will have no more opportunities when Saraah is gone. You can’t bear to look at him while you relieve yourself of the weight that presses down on you since yesterday. <<if $mute>>You sign with your gaze lowered to the ground.<<else>>When Saraah has his back turned, that’s when you finally talk.<</if>> <<if $mute>>“//I disfigured one of the King’s knights.//”<<else>>“I disfigured one of the King’s knights.”<</if>> <<if $mute>>Saraah inhales, a broken sound that forces you to raise your eyes. His gaze is so dangerously empty when he speaks.<<else>>Saraah freezes. He slowly turns around, his gaze dangerously empty.<</if>> “You were not fighting,” he says, as if to convince you of it. When you don’t answer, his voice cracks. //“You were not fighting.”// <<if $mute>>“//Mom and dad wanted me on the field,//” you explain.<<else>>“Mom and dad wanted me on the field,” you explain.<</if>> Saraah’s complexion becomes ashen. “Give me… just give me a moment,” he chokes out, lifting a hand to cover up his face. He takes some long, steadying breaths, though you feel the tremor in his body. Eventually, he drops his hand. His eyes bear a kind of heartbroken resignation and you hate being the cause of that pain. “I’m sorry. I truly am. I didn’t think that would ever happen, but then again…” He lets out a heavy sigh, “I didn’t even have a single dream about it. I thought you were safe.” Differently from you and your oldest sister Adrei, Saraah didn’t inherit combat magic from your parents; he did, though, inherit precognition magic from one of your grandparents. It is one of the most volatile kinds of magic, impossible to control or direct, often difficult even to be made of use. For the most part, one can only bear the visions that comes as nightmares through the night, and hope to make sense of maybe a third of them. As far as Saraah is concerned, while he talks very little about his magic even with you, you are aware that his visions never concern him nor people he is even vaguely close to. Saraah always felt guilty for that, he wanted this otherwise exhausting magic to be at least useful for his younger sibling. It is not his fault he didn’t have precognitive dreams of you, but he keeps apologising for that. <<if $mute>>“//Saraah…//”<<else>>“Saraah…”<</if>> “Fine, fine. Let’s not talk about that.” He doesn’t ask why you didn’t mention your involvement in the rebellion to the letters you two exchanged, because he likely can imagine how shaken you were afterwards. In truth, that was not the only reason. You knew he would agonise over it if you told him. Saraah always felt incredibly protective of you, growing up. He is around three years older than you, however despite the small age gap he was often the one to take care of you when things in the House became too much, especially as you started your training. You remember most of your other siblings being there for you during your childhood, but then some were married off away from the House, and some became almost your opponents when you began your physical training. Saraah didn’t. Saraah was there as a soothing balm after each gruelling session, when you couldn’t move without crying in pain, when all you wanted was someone to tell you you did good. Saraah brought you hardened flowers to keep your mind off the pain, he read you books your parents didn’t allow you two to have and made faces and voices as he did. Saraah tried to protect you from harm even when he was exhausted by his own nightmares, when he came in with red, puffy eyes and when his voice was ruined by screaming through the whole night. <<button [[Continue|ch2.25]]>><</button>>

<<set $intimidating to 0>> <<set $unassuming to 0>> <<set $caring to 0>> <<set $cold to 0>> <<set $subtle to 0>> <<set $blunt to 0>> <<set $arthurromance to 0>> <<set $arthurplatonic to 0>> <<set $evaineromance to 0>> <<set $evaineplatonic to 0>> <<set $yniolromance to 0>> <<set $yniolplatonic to 0>> <<set $morienromance to 0>> <<set $morienplatonic to 0>> <<set $gwyarromance to 0>> <<set $gwyarplatonic to 0>>

“You said you disfigured a Knight, and I assume they belong to the Round Table if you saw them here. It must be Ser Bedivere, then.” Saraah says after a long pause. <<if $mute>>“//What do you know of them?//”<<else>>“What do you know of them?”<</if>> “Very little. Cled brought them up only a couple of times. They are of noble birth, the third child. They were knighted under King Uther, though once Cledwynn named the Round Table Knights he was weary about and there wasn’t their name amongst them. The only other information I have on them is that they are very reserved and not involved in politics, which is good at least. Do you want me to ask my husband? He could know more.” While you trust Saraah with your life, you do not know Lord Cledwynn at all. <<set $cledtrust to 0>> <<button [[Yes|ch2.26]]>><<set $cledtrust to +1>><<set $cledhelp to true>><</button>> <<button [[No|ch2.26]]>><<set $cledhelp to false>><</button>>

<<if $cledhelp>><<if $mute>>“//If you trust him this much, I will trust him too.//”<<else>>“If you trust him this much, I will trust him too.”<</if>> Your sentiment makes your brother relax in a grateful smile. “Thank you, <<if $nick>>$nickname<<else>>$name<</if>>. I do. I really trust him.”<<else>>Even if Saraah is close to him, you do not know the man enough to trust his husband with that. “I understand,” your brother tells you with a wave of his hand. “Well, we can deal with it on our own like we always do.”<</if>> Eventually, Saraah looks at the wedding clothes you have hanging by the dresser. “I’ll help you put them on.” You strip off the simple tunic you had on, stretching out a hand waiting for Saraah to hand you the clothes, but instead you hear a sharp intake of breath coming from him. You tilt your head to look at your reflection in the huge mirror. Your scars are very visible. He must have noticed the amount of new ones you acquired during either training when he wasn’t home anymore or later in the rebellion. You keep still while his gaze travels down your whole frame. You freeze, completely immobile when he <<if $initialscar is "eyebrow">>reaches out to trace the scar across your eyebrow<<elseif $initialscar is "cheek">>he reaches out to trace the scar across your cheek<<elseif $initialscar is "lips">>he reaches out to trace the scar that crosses through your lips<<elseif $initialscar is "neck">>he traces, ever so delicately, the whole length of the scar across your neck<<elseif $initialscar is "chest">>he traces with hesitant fingers the scar over your chest<<elseif $initialscar is "abdomen">>he traces with hesitant fingers the huge scar that crosses through your abdomen<<elseif $initialscar is "back">>you feel the hesitant touch of his fingers trace the scars on your back<<elseif $initialscar is "knee">>he kneels down and traces the scar across your knee<</if>>. “Was this done to you while you were fighting on the field?” You nod. He lets his hand fall. You feel a strong urge to reach out to him, <<button [[and you allow yourself to give in.|ch2.27]]>><<set $saraahhug to true>><</button>> <<button [[but you don’t give in.|ch2.27]]>><<set $saraahhug to false>><</button>>

<<if $saraahhug>>You cling to Saraah’s arm, drawing him closer. Your brother lets you hug him from the side, reaching up to place his hand on your arm.<<else>>You keep the painful longing that constricts your chest at bay, letting a heavy silence fall between the two of you for the next few moments.<</if>> “Come on,” he tells you eventually, “let’s get you dressed. I don’t want you to fall ill from the cold.” You comply. As for the scars that litter your skin: <<button [[you made sure to tailor your clothes to hide most of them. You don’t want them visible for all, especially the King, to see.|ch2.28]]>><<set $marriagescars to "hidden">><</button>> <<button [[the wedding clothes will make some of them visible, and while it wasn’t deliberate, you have no intention of hiding them on purpose either.|ch2.28]]>><<set $marriagescars to "visible">><</button>>

<<if $binding is "starting">>“Oh, you started to bind?” Saraah asks, when he refocuses fully on your body in undergarments. You look at him, unsure of how he feels about the news. <<if $mute>>“//Yes.//”<<else>>“Yes.”<</if>> Saraah simply hums, not quite disinterested but unbothered like it was a completely normal fact about you, and hands you the undershirt.<<else>>Saraah hands you the undershirt, then he helps you put it on the other pieces of clothing.<</if>> It takes you both a while to dress you up, with Saraah adjusting and readjusting the positioning and folds of the fabric again and again until he is satisfied. You let him obsess over the details, happy to just have him with you at this moment. “All done,” he declares eventually, seemingly very proud of his work. Saraah then starts to explore your room in search for your makeup kit, <<cycle "$makeupmarriage" autoselect>> <<option "even when you tell him you won’t wear any. “For me,” he declares" "no">> <<option "after you decide to apply it" "yes">><</cycle>>. “Did you choose the colours? They are matched to your eyes.” “No, Gwyar did. That’s… my personal servant.” “Oh,” your brother exhales, admiring the room some more. “How cute.” As you think about that feeling that blossomed in your chest the first time you laid your eyes on this room’s interior, you realise that it truly was a very considerate gesture. You still cannot understand the reason why Gwyar went to such lengths just for you. Looking at your mostly empty bookshelves, Saraah asks, “do you want more books? I can lend you some.” “No. You only read erotica.” Your brother doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty. Instead, he directs a playfully dead stare your way. “You are an ungrateful brat. After everything I did for you, how can you shame me like that?” “That is an impossible feat. You have no shame.” You easily dodge the pillow he throws against you. Unfortunately, Saraah catches sight of the dagger you keep under it. He lifts the small weapon up, raising his eyebrows. “Really?” <<if $mute>>You would sign for him to stop touching your things, but your brother has already shifted his attention to another one of your belongings.<<else>>“Stop touching my things.” You are completely ignored.<</if>> “Did you bring a whole travel bag full of weapons? Did Adrei pack it for you?” You do your best to ignore his attempts to get a rise out of you. Instead, you take a moment to brush your clothes softly and reflect seriously on an issue you have been putting off for a bit. There is something, a precise thought that has been wandering in your mind for some days now. A centuries long tradition has it that lovers exchange gifts after the wedding, usually during their first evening or night together. Though this is no Irish marriage, maybe you should consider this. “Should I give a gift to the King?” Saraah looks at you with an inquiring gaze. “Do you want to?” <<button [[You nod.|ch2.29]]>><<set $marriagepresent to true>><</button>> <<button [[You shake your head.|ch2.29]]>><<set $marriagepresent to false>><</button>>

<<if $marriagepresent>>Despite the fact that you owe this man nothing and that the marriage wasn’t of your own choice, you want to make clear your willingness to put work into the relationship. It’s true that the King didn’t manage to talk to you the past few days like he told you he would, but he may have his reasons. In any case, you can make the first step. <<if $mute>>“//I only have something small prepared, though.//”<<else>>“I only have something small prepared, though.”<</if>> “Oh, really? What is it?” You take out a small, decorated pouch from your bedside, showing the content to Saraah. It is filled with seeds of an Irish tree, specifically a willow. A promise of growth together, the hope that something Irish can grow and thrive on Welsh soil. “I love it. What a fantastic idea.” You hope the King will like it just as much.<<else>>You owe this man nothing, after all. The marriage wasn’t of your own choice, and though you hold no resentiment against him, you also won’t be the one to make the first step as far as your life as a couple is concerned. He didn’t even manage to talk to you like he told you he would. Maybe, you realise, he simply wishes for this marriage to be purely in name. Perhaps they wish for the distance between the two of you to remain as it is now. It’s probably for the best. “It’s fine,” Saraah replies. “At least it means there will be less work for the both of us.”<</if>> You let Saraah make some final touches to your looks, then he takes a step back to admire you with a fond smile. “You look stunning, $name. Ready to get married?” <<button [[Your heart squeezes in your chest and your gaze falls.|ch2.30]]>><<set $marriageattitude to "negative">><</button>> <<button [[“I will do what I must.” Something horribly twisted flashes in your eyes, and Saraah sees it before you can shove it back down.|ch2.30]]>><<set $marriageattitude to "negative">><</button>> <<button [[You nod, some sort of hesitant but genuine softness showing in your expression.|ch2.30]]>><<set $marriageattitude to "positive">><</button>> <<button [[You nod. While you face doesn’t betray your emotions, though, you feel a spark of softness inside at the thought of what awaits you.|ch2.30]]>><<set $marriageattitude to "positive">><</button>>

<<if $marriageattitude is "negative">>His smile immediately falls. He shifts closer and looks at you with such an endless amount of care. His eyes are heavy with the realisation of the magnitude that their next words hold. “I know this was not what you would have dreamt of, this is not what I wanted for you either… but I am here, and I promise today will go well. I can see it. I… I will make sure of it. Please, trust me on this.” You know Saraah sometimes makes promises he can’t maintain. It happened a handful of times before, and in all cases he was desperately trying to comfort you when everything else failed. This is exactly what this promise is. He knows, after all, he has little to no power to make things better in your life, not during your adolescent years and not even now. You know he wishes he could do more for you, keep you away from harm tucked gently by his side. But he can’t and that is probably the thing that brings him the most anguish about you. In response, you nod. <<if $mute>>“//Ok, Saraah. Alright.//”<<else>>“Ok, Saraah. Alright.”<</if>><<else>>His smile acquires a more tender edge to it. His eyes, as well, fill with gentle relief. Unsurprisingly, Saraah is quite perceptive when it comes to you, even after years apart. “I don’t know King Arthur well,” he starts, “but I hope you can feel safe here, in Camelot. But if you don’t, send a single word to me – or a drawing, that would be cute – and I will come to kidnap you. We will live together in a nice little house in the woods, how does that sound? Then, obviously I would bring my books, to pass the time, and I won’t lend them to you even if you beg.” By now, Saraah is making a whole story up and you look at him with a smile while he rambles. “Serves you right for insulting my tastes. Come to think of it, if you beg really hard, I could read some of my precious book to you.” <<if $mute>>“//No, that will never happen,//” you sign with a straight face.<<else>>“No, that will never happen,” you say with a straight face.<</if>> Saraah musters up a fake indignant look. “Fine, you ungrateful youngling. I wouldn't have done it anyway.”<</if>> You take a deep breath. Whatever your feelings on the matter are, in a few hours you will be wed to the King of Camelot - son of Uther and prophesied ruler of the whole of Albion. <<button [[Continue|ch2.31]]>><</button>>

"We had no choice left." Adrei grips the sheets of her bed with such force her knuckles whiten. Every nerve of her arms is on fire and yet she welcomes the pain, gritting her teeth through it to look at her mother. "When?" She rasps out. "$They will leave in two weeks for Camelot." All that follows is the wheezing sound of Adrei's laboured breaths. She feels more vulnerable tham ever.// Weak//. Unable to even move, unable to even speak more than a sentence. For the first time in decades, she feels close to tears. On the corner of her eyes, she sees her mother rearrange her bed and leave. Her vision darkens for a few moments, but she wills herself into consciousness again. A broken imitation of a sob, a single one, is all she allows herself to have, while no one is in her room and the sky is darkening. It only makes the rage, the desperation bubbling inside of her chest grow. //She was so weak they lost the war. So weak her youngest sibling, the only one she had left with her, had to pay the price. She condamned $them to the enemy King's mercy- $They will DIE $they will be killed and it's HER FAULT-// Every breath burns her lungs. Despite the nearly unbearable pain, she is too weak to resist the pull of destruction. In pathetic, broken movements she tries to get off the bed but when her legs don't support her, she collapses on the floor. A wave of pain shocks her entire body, stealing her breath away and still, she crawls forward, blinded by the need to //rip everything apart//. The floor cracks under her grip, breaking when she tears it off. Despite the taste of blood in her mouth, despite how difficult it is to inhale, how painful it is to exhale, Adrei only stops when all her muscles give up on her. She collapses, boneless, on the destroyed floor, losing consciousness when the pain becomes too much. -- She opens her eyes on a white, familiar ceiling. She takes a stuttering breath when the pain starts, already intimately familiar with it. She tries to even her breathing, though it takes a lot out of her - perhaps more than she can give. Adrei goes in and out of consciousness for days. When she opens her eyes again, the room is dark. Someone is at her bedside. "<<if $plur>>Have<<else>>Has<</if>> $they left yet?" She asks her father. "No. But tomorrow $they will." Resignation settles on her like a heavy blanket. Weakly, her eyes survey the sparse furniture of her room. She needs to give her sibling something. Something to defend $themselves with, when $they will be in the dragon's mouth. None of the weapons she forged, though, are crafted with enough ability to be of use. She can't give $them a blunted, flawed weapon. With a sigh, her gaze settles on a chest. "My chest," she guides her father. "Take the white envelope and give it to $name for me." Her father obeys, retrieving the metal circlet, one of the only creations Adrei is satisfied with. With that task accomplished, she already feels exhaustion starting to take hold again. The last thing she feels is the cool touch of her father's hand on her forehead. "Rest, baby. I will give this to your sibling before they go."

Ghaven goes through their morning in the same way they did the past weeks. They ignore the tension in the air as they wake their wife and help her choosing her clothes. For some reason, Cathair seem to enjoy letting them have control over her dresser. Almost everything else has to be done by her own rules, but in this she trusts Ghaven to choose for her. They get dressed in silence, exchanging only glances that are at the same time practiced during years of marriage and stiff. Ghaven takes in a breath just before gripping the handles of Cathair's wheelchair and pushing her out of the bed chamber. As soon as they are out and crossing the hallway, two servants come dutifully by Cathair's side. "Any news from the King?" she asks, voice rough and slightly cracked like it has always been since Ghaven met her. "Yes, Ser," answers the servant, handling her a letter which she hands Ghaven without opening. Despite being retired, Cathair demanded for everyone to keep addressing her as her former Knight title rather than her newly acquired lordship one. "We'll be in the study. Deal with everything that needs to be done in the meantime." The servants bow, and Ghaven leads Cathair to a spacious room, functioning as a study and filled with most of the books in the fortress. They separate once they close the door, Cathair wheeling herself to the overfilled desk without sparing another glance at Ghaven, who instead walks slowly towards the window. They produce a knife out of their tunic, carefully opening the letter from the King. A knock interrupts them before they can do anything else, but they lower their gaze when it is just a servant leaving breakfast for the both of them on a table. Once they're gone, Ghaven takes a steadying breath and starts reading. They can feel a penetrating gaze on their back; and for some reason it feels vaguely comforting rather than intrusive. Their heart beating rather loudly in their ribcage, their eyes skim through the letter, going through it quickly to catch the most important sentences. Once they're done, their heart rate only increasing, they read it again. And then a third time. They expel a breath our of their lungs, an uncomfortable emptiness settling inside their chest instead. //So... this is what was traded. Their $sibling.// They become aware of the slight sensation of dizziness just once they look away from the letter. They feel a detachment from their limbs that is there only in the rare occasions something shakes them. Then they become aware of Cathair, moving away from the desk. "Ghaven, come here," she orders, commanding though not unkind. Ghaven walks to their wife, sitting stiffly on her lap. They stay like that, in silence and unmoving, for several long moments. Very slowly, some tension leaves Ghaven's body. They tilt their head to the side, meeting the former knight's glacial eyes. "Do you think $they fought?" "I would have made $them." Ghaven once again feels a bit off, the weight on their chest solidifying. A hand moves from behind their side to reach out towards the breakfast tray. "We will check," Cathair says, breaking freshly made bread. Ghaven opens their mouth to be fed, still on her lap, when their wife reaches out with a piece of bread for them. They eat the rest of the food in silence, comfortably close.

With his head hung low, a curtain of hair falling to hide most of his face, Emyr sits at his desk. His chambers are dark, with a very minimal amount of sunlight managing to seep through the curtains obscuring the window. Three knocks, insistent and loud, break the silence Emyr desperately tries to hide in. When he doesn't answer, nor react in any way aside from sparing a numb glance towards the closed door, a very muffled voice comes in its stead. "It's been two weeks, Emyr. I think I gave you enough time." He doesn't answer. His eyes fall on the letter on the desk, slightly crumpled at the edges. He hears a sigh. The voice that follows is curt, filled in equal parts with resignation and annoyance. "Fine, then. Do your work and you can hide away in that room as long as you want. I'm going to leave some documents here to review." Then, he hears the familiar sound of his wife's steps get finally away from the door. He doesn't move for hours. The little amount of light coming through the curtains slowly dims and Emyr, joints aching and almost locked in place, raises. He looks at the letter. In the dark, his mind provides the words written on it, memorized by heart. His ears ring and all he can feel is the anxious, excruciating demise of his hope. //They were all meant for this. Powerless pawns in unkind hands.// He is no exception. His youngest sibling is no exception. He can't even remember $their voice, Emyr realises as he stands on unsteady legs, gripping the desk for support. His knuckles white, he feels a quick spark of anger that whispers him to destroy the letter, to burn it. Of course, it dies down soon after. Emyr would never do that. He can't fight back. He never has and never will. Aiding himself with the furniture in the room, he walks cautiously towards the door. The sound of the door opening in the empty hall is loud, at least for his tastes, and makes him flinch. He takes the documents inside in silence, locking the door once again. The next day, on the floor outside of Emyr's bed chambers is a pile of parchments and official records.

Hi Kal! I went through the code and did the following: * Fixed the errors from the JavaScript that messed with the running of the game ** Right SideBar now shows ** Updated the Save settings so it won't send errors ** Updated your FontAwesome version ** Removed unnecessary/unused JavaScript code and macro ** Cleaned up some of your settings too * Fixed issues with the CSS/Stylesheet because of the update ** Right SideBar icons not showing TODO ** Fix some formatting issues ** Reorganised your StyleSheet ** Removed unnecessary code Also some suggestions: JavaScript: * Since SugarCube 2.37 now has a clear import all to disk, I would decrease the slots available from 15 to 6-8 StyleSheet/CSS: * You should change the import from GoogleFonts into a local one (add those @import into your font folder) * the Cycling macro should get an indicator that it's not just a regular link. You already had the code as a comment in there

<span class="subtitle"><h4> Camelot, the King’s private chambers</h4></span> Arthur fixes once again the cape on his shoulders. “How do I look?” he asks, turning around. Tristan steps forward, his movements measured and heavy, posture rigid as it almost always is. He is Arthur’s oldest Round Table Knight, and he bears the sign of age as well as numerous scars acquired during his years close to King Uther. The majority of them aren’t battle scars, but Arthur doesn’t allow themselves to think about it, because it would surely make the spiral. “You look like a King.” Despite the cool tone of his voice, bordering on detached formality, his words bring Arthur a sort of soothing comfort that is there regardless of the meaning of the words themselves. Even that is only temporary, though. Arthur’s lips curve up in a hesitant, slightly strained smile. “Will it be enough?” Tristan takes a step forward. Slowly, just brushing him, he fixes a stray lock of his King’s hair. “Yes, it will. It needs to be.” The discomfort, though, doesn’t lessen around Arthur’s insides. Instead, it only grows when Tristan lowers his arm and takes a step back. Immediately, he misses the contact. His mind buzzes in the same way it did when, trembling, he would walk at night towards the Knights barracks and seek Ser Tristan’s embrace after what his father put him through. //He doesn’t- He-// Suddenly, Tristan is holding him again. His body isn’t warm, the armour poking Arthur in a way it could become uncomfortable if not for the way the static slowly leaves his brain, leaving a mess of uncertainty and fear behind. Arthur buries his face in the crook of the older knight’s neck. “I don’t know what to do...” “You are doing everything Uther would not have done,” Tristan says, evenly. Arthur feels the warm caress of validation on his prickling skin. //Tristan would know.// <<button [[Continue|ch2.32]]>><</button>>

He lets the silence stretch for a few moments before he murmurs, in a hushed confession, “$they <<if $plur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> a battle mage. The one who disfigured Bedivere.” Tristan doesn’t pull away from the embrace yet; even though these days his physical contacts with the King are much shorter in length than they were when he was a terrified child. Arthur soaks up his presence now, while he can. “The Venegard child?” Tristan asks. Arthur nods against his neck. “I will speak of it with $them soon. Otherwise, $they will rightfully think-“ Arthur’s voice fades. “…my father would have put $them-” he starts to say, voice trembling and cracking on the last word. Anticipating their anxious, spiralling thoughts, Tristan pulls back, though leaving a hand on the King’s arm. “None of that. He is dead and buried. As for you, don’t burden yourself with more than you can carry.” Arthur exhales. The weight that has settled heavily on his stomach doesn’t lessen. “Just as the kingdom is my responsibility, my spouse is my responsibility as well.” The older knight is about to answer when a knock interrupts him. Arthur wipes his face, curving his lips in a slightly wobbly smile and calling, “yes?” Ser Ector enters first, placing himself at Tristan’s side and leaving space for Mordred to approach Arthur. Some of the previous stress is replaced by tenderness at the sight of him so put together, face set in a formal expression. “Oh, look at you,” Arthur can’t resist his cooing. “Are you all set?” Modred nods, solemn. He stays silent, as he often does, though Arthur has to say that he has been quite less closed off around his soon to be spouse. It might be a naïve hope, but he still does wish for Mordred to grow closer with them. Arthur has tried his best but… obviously, if Mordred feels comfortable around someone, even if it isn’t him, he will welcome it with open arms. “The Venegard child is about to enter the Chamber of Lords,” Ector announces, ever so direct. Arthur inhales, straightening himself up as much as he is able to. “Well then. We shall go. It wouldn’t do to be late to my own wedding.” <<button [[Continue|ch2.33]]>><</button>>

<span class="subtitle"><h4> Camelot, your private chambers</h4></span> You and Saraah separate just outside of the Room of Lords, where, as tradition, the council will meet the soon to be Consort before the wedding is officiated. He wraps you in a hug, which envelopes you in his nostalgic scent. “I will see you later, <<if $nick>>$nickname<<else>>$name<</if>> he murmurs against your ear, his warm breath making you shiver and feeding the urge to stay here, wrapped in his arms until the day is over. “Everything will be fine. We'll be here for you. Me and Ghaven and Radel. And… I know Adrei isn’t here, but she looks out for all of us too.” At the names of your other siblings, your heart clenches painfully. <<if $trinkets is "everyone">>You have waited so long to see them again. The knowledge that you won't have to face this alone is such a relief.<<else>>A mixture of discomfort and longing fills you, leaving you even more on edge. Still, the knowledge that you won't be completely alone in this is a relief.<</if>> You want to thank him but <<if $mute>>you do not want to stop clinging to him<<else>>your throat is closed in a knot<</if>>. It's Saraah who gently pulls away, giving you a kiss on the cheek before he leaves in the chapel's direction - where the wedding will be officiated. Gwyar, who had accompanied the two of you here, and who had stayed discreetly silent for the whole exchange, gives you a moment to compose yourself before meeting your gaze with the slightest shift in $Gtheir immaculate pose. “My $Liege, I am tasked to be with you during official meetings,” $Gtheir eyes are tired, golden irises dull with exhaustion, and $Gtheir expression solemn as it has never been. Despite that, there is a spark nestled inside $Gtheir gaze that speaks of genuine care. “For this to work, you will need to trust that I will be on your side, and that the information or directions I will sometimes provide you are given in order to assist, and never to harm.” You do not know how to answer to that, but Gwyar isn’t finished. “You must know that, from now on, you will become my reflection at court. The influence you hold will define and, sometimes, even shield me.” After a beat, you ask, “is that what every servant experiences here at court?” Gwyar tilts $Gtheir head, and in the process their silky hair cascades over $Gtheir shoulder, “it is the case for those of us who attend to the nobles, or the most influential people that reside in the castle. And you will be one of them soon, my $Liege.” It makes sense. <<button [[Your position at court considered, it is quite difficult to put your trust in anyone here. However… you do not feel any ill intent coming from Gwyar. Instead, they have been accommodating and discreet. |ch2.34.1]]>><<set $gwyarplatonic to $gwyarplatonic +1>><</button>> <<button [[That may be the case, but Gwyar should perhaps remember that you are little more than a political captive, kept here so that your parents and siblings can be spared their execution. |ch2.34.2]]>><<set $g2 to false>><</button>>

You take a step closer to $Gthem, aware of the way $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>give<<else>>gives<</if>> you $Gtheir full attention, <<if $height is "tall" or "very tall">> and it seems to you $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>turn<<else>>turns<</if>> bashful at the sudden closeness, $Gtheir golden complexion darkening a bit when $Gtheir neck tilts upwards to meet your gaze<<else>>and you can see soft keenness in $Gtheir golden eyes, in the same moment $Gtheir rigid posture eases.<</if>> <<if $mute>>“//Thank you, then//” you sign. “//I am grateful for any kind of aid or information you will be able to provide me.//”<<else>>“Thank you, then” you say. “I am grateful for any kind of aid or information you will be able to provide me.”<</if>> Gwyar bows slightly, courteous and, it appears, genuinely pleased. $GThey <<if $Gplur>>straighten<<else>>straightens<</if>> up and, in a display that completely lacks the reserved composure $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> kept around you, especially the past day, $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>bring<<else>>brings<</if>> a hand up to $Gtheir face and tiredly <<if $Gplur>>rub<<else>>rubs<</if>> $Gtheir eyes. The movement is so sluggish and strangely uncoordinated that worry settles into your stomach. It is clear $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> been sleeping poorly, if at all. You have witnessed $Gtheir demeanour slowly change, from the patient openness of the first days to the exhausted detachment $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> exhibiting even now. Since your arrival in the capital, Gwyar has been considerate of your every need, incredibly unobtrusive. $GTheir golden eyes, for better or worse, so very perceptive of every little detail or movement. But now, $Gtheir eyes are spent. Dull, and horrifyingly empty. <<if $mute>>"… //are you well?//" you inquire, concerned.<<else>>"… are you well?" you inquire, concerned.<</if>> $GThey <<if $Gplur>>blink<<else>>blinks<</if>>, slowly, a spark of vulnerability simmering under the fatigue making $Gtheir delicate facial traits so much sharper than the first time you saw them. “I...” $Gtheir voice cracks, “I am alright.” It is clear $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> not. <<if $touchaversion is "yes">> <<button [[Sincere care seeps, almost unbidden, into your throat.|ch2.35.1]]>><<set $caring to +1>><</button>> <<else>><<button [[You repress the urge to reach out and brush their hair away from their face in the same way Ghaven always did to console you.|ch2.35.1]]>><<set $caring to $caring +1>><</button>><</if>> <<button [["No, you are not," you counter, perhaps too bluntly considering how Gwyar flinches. "But you are allowed not to be."|ch2.35.2]]>><<set $cold to $cold +1>><</button>>

<<if $mute>>“//Influential?//” Your gaze is so hard that Gwyar slightly flinches.<<else>>“Influential?” Your tone is so dry that Gwyar slightly flinches.<</if>> <<if $mute>>“//I am here in order to keep my family docile and obedient. While I am grateful that the King decided to spare my parents and my siblings, I cannot hold any kind of political strength at Court.//”<<else>>“I am here in order to keep my family docile and obedient. While I am grateful that the King decided to spare my parents and my siblings, I cannot hold any kind of political strength at Court.”<</if>> You set your jaw. <<if $mute>>“//… I am sorry if this impacts you as well.//”<<else>>“… I am sorry if this impacts you as well.”<</if>> Gwyar doesn’t answer immediately, $Gtheir gaze contemplative and serious. $GThey tilt<<if $plur is false>>s<</if>> $Gtheir head, almost as if checking your immediate surroundings, then $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>say<<else>>says<</if>> in a low voice, “your position isn’t strong now. But you can strengthen it. I have seen it happen, and I believe it is doable, even with your current standing..” $GTheir faith in you is strangely touching. It isn’t an insincere platitude, because you aren’t able to detect even a hint of pretence. Instead, the golden in $Gtheir eyes seem to shimmer as a sharper tone takes hold in $Gtheir voice, “and, if I may, the marriage won't just keep your House in check, but the court as well. The King took the decision and, even if they don’t like it, the court must respect it.” You can clearly see it now. How this seemingly meek servant has survived Camelot’s court. In golden eyes, marked by dark circles of exhaustion, burns a fire that has nothing to do with you and everything to do with the cautious weariness that keeps $Gtheir muscles impossibly taunt. And with a cunning intelligence that has surely been overlooked by many. <<button [[Your gaze softens, gratitude flooding you.|ch2.35.3]]>><<set $platonicgwyar+1>><</button>> <<button [[You aren’t sure if you agree at all with them. You settle on a curt, “perhaps.”|ch2.35.4]]>><</button>>

Gwyar nods, slowly. “Yes… once it’s all over we can rest.” //We.// It is heartwarming in the most pathetic, relieving way. You swallow the knot that has blocked your throat ever since your arrival, that is the very physical sign you are completely overwhelmed. By the marriage, the war and everything in between. You give $Gthem a faint smile, which $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>mirror<<else>>mirrors<</if>> before one of the guards attending to the Chamber announces, “the Chamber of Lords is ready for your, my $Liege.” <<if $gwyarplatonic gt 0>>Before you can fully turn, Gwyar is hesitantly reaching out. Although $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>stop<<else>>stops<</if>> before $Gthey can grab your arm, $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>look<<else>>looks<</if>> at you with wide, golden eyes. You remain still as $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>brush<<else>>brushes<</if>> your garments straight with a feathery touch, a strangely caring precision to $Gtheir gestures. “I know this marriage is not what you had imagined, and I’m sorry for that,” $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>murmur<<else>>murmurs<</if>>, a hesitant, but hopeful glint in $Gtheir eyes. “But I hope that my assistance can make things a bit better.” $GThey <<if $Gplur>>draw<<else>>draws<</if>> back, after $Gthey’<<if$Gplur>>re<<else>>s<</if>> done, taking place behind you.<</if>> <<button [[Continue|ch2.36]]>><</button>>

$GThey must recognise how your words can be applied to your own situation too, because $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>let<<else>>lets<</if>> your words linger – //you are allowed not to be alright// – before exhaling a simple, “okay.” It has always been easier for you to concede even a fraction of commiseration for others rather than yourself. In the same way it is easier for your eyes to slightly soften at the sight of the exhausted $Gperson in front of you than it is for you to acknowledge your own exhaustion. The conversation is brusquely interrupted by one of the guards announcing, “the Chamber of Lords is ready for your, my $Liege.” <<if $gwyarplatonic gt 0>>Before you can fully turn, Gwyar is hesitantly reaching out. Although $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>stop<<else>>stops<</if>> before $Gthey can grab your arm, $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>look<<else>>looks<</if>> at you with wide, golden eyes. You remain still as $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>brush<<else>>brushes<</if>> your garments straight with a feathery touch, a strangely caring precision to $Gtheir gestures. “I know this marriage is not what you had imagined, and I’m sorry for that,” $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>murmur<<else>>murmurs<</if>>, a hesitant, but hopeful glint in $Gtheir eyes. “But I hope that my assistance can make things a bit better.” $GThey <<if $Gplur>>draw<<else>>draws<</if>> back, after $Gthey’<<if$Gplur>>re<<else>>s<</if>> done, taking place behind you.<</if>> <<button [[Continue|ch2.36]]>><</button>>

<<if $mute>>Your signs are way less stiff when you answer, “//then, I am glad I have you by my side.//”<<else>>Your tone mellows out when you answer, “then, I am glad I have you by my side.”<</if>> Gwyar seems to get marginally bashful at the direct tone of it, but they do not try to hide how those words affect their tired demeanour. “I will do my best,” they reply, incredibly softly. You give them a small smile, which they mirror before one of the guards attending to the Chamber announces, “the Chamber of Lords is ready for your, my $Liege.” <<if $gwyarplatonic gt 0>>Before you can fully turn, Gwyar is hesitantly reaching out. Although $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>stop<<else>>stops<</if>> before $Gthey can grab your arm, $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>look<<else>>looks<</if>> at you with wide, golden eyes. You remain still as $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>brush<<else>>brushes<</if>> your garments straight with a feathery touch, a strangely caring precision to $Gtheir gestures. “I know this marriage is not what you had imagined, and I’m sorry for that,” $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>murmur<<else>>murmurs<</if>>, a hesitant, but hopeful glint in $Gtheir eyes. “But I hope that my assistance can make things a bit better.” $GThey <<if $Gplur>>draw<<else>>draws<</if>> back, after $Gthey’<<if$Gplur>>re<<else>>s<</if>> done, taking place behind you.<</if>> <<button [[Continue|ch2.36]]>><</button>>

They swallow, their gaze falling by their feet. You feel a small stab of regret, not because you do not mean what you said, but because Gwyar is trying to be on your side, despite it not being a strict requirement of their job as your personal attendant. You do not know if you have the energy nor the will to act on their suggestion, even if you believed it was possible for your status to be improved so. Before you can think of what to say next, one of the guards attending to the Chamber announces, “the Chamber of Lords is ready for your, my $Liege.” <<if $gwyarplatonic gt 0>>Before you can fully turn, Gwyar is hesitantly reaching out. Although $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>stop<<else>>stops<</if>> before $Gthey can grab your arm, $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>look<<else>>looks<</if>> at you with wide, golden eyes. You remain still as $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>brush<<else>>brushes<</if>> your garments straight with a feathery touch, a strangely caring precision to $Gtheir gestures. “I know this marriage is not what you had imagined, and I’m sorry for that,” $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>murmur<<else>>murmurs<</if>>, a hesitant, but hopeful glint in $Gtheir eyes. “But I hope that my assistance can make things a bit better.” $GThey <<if $Gplur>>draw<<else>>draws<</if>> back, after $Gthey’<<if$Gplur>>re<<else>>s<</if>> done, taking place behind you.<</if>> <<button [[Continue|ch2.36]]>><</button>>

Shadowed by Gwyar, you make your entrance into the Room of Lords with measured steps, most of the idle chatter inside dying out at the sound of the heavy doors scraping as they are opened. You walk forward with your gaze settled ahead, roaming on faces you are unfamiliar with - save for your brother's husband, him and your other siblings' wives. You allow yourself only a fraction of a moment to inspect the nobles and confirm the lack of your siblings' presence. As they married into high-status Houses, they were part of the Council for years, until all of them were prohibited from attending following your House's rebellion. //... you are well and truly alone.// <<button [[Even if your presence doesn't usually command attention, and if you would perhaps prefer so, in this situation you need to not show even a shred of weakness.|ch2.37]]>><<set $ch2vart to true>><<set $unassuming to $unassuming +1>><</button>> <<button [[Your sight is usually enough to command attention, but now even more so. The Nobles quieten unusually quickly at your confident, almost predatory, steps.|ch2.37]]>><<set $ch2vart to false>><<set $intimidating to $intimidating +1>><</button>>

<<if $ch2vart>>Your gait is carefully controlled, stiff in the way you learned to be at every Council meeting in Ireland, where you’d try to stay behind your family, to not draw attention to yourself. //Never to disappoint your parents, never to fail your House.//<<else>>While all you see in some Nobles’ eyes is contempt, others bear a visceral unease that you know very intimately - not because you are accustomed to provoking, since you have been sheltered most of your life. Because it belonged to whoever saw in person your oldest sister, and your parents.<</if>> You take your reserved seat at the very head of the table, rigidly, and look at the rest of the gathered nobles, each representing their, or their spouse’s, respective House. <<if $weddingcolors is "camelot">>Low murmurs fill the Chamber, and the eyes fixed on your body feel like schorching needles. While there is no anger in them, perhaps the pleased glint they bear at the sight of your choice of wedding clothes is worse. //You know your place, then,// they seem to say. //Good. Make sure you stay there.//<<elseif $weddingcolors is "mix">>Low murmurs fill the Chamber, and the eyes fixed on your body feel like schorching needles. Some display just annojance at your choice to mix the Pendragon colors with your House's, others apper slightly pacified. What they all bear is a final, condescending certainty. //Cling to your House while you can. But you lost, and in the end, you too will bow.//<<else>>Low murmurs fill the Chamber, and the eyes fixed on your body feel like schorching needles. Barely contained rage flashes in the eyes that notice, with disgust, your House's colors proudly displayed. //We will teach you to bow,//" their hardening gazes seem to promise. They want you to stay down, rolled over showing your belly like a //dog// that pleads for mercy by its master. But you //won't//.<</if>> <<if $mute>><<button [[Continue|ch2.38.1]]>><</button>><<else>><<button [[Continue|ch2.38.2]]>><</button>><</if>>

Gwyar's presence doesn't go unnoticed. A noble spots $Gthem by your side and their gaze goes to the guards, “you will need to escort the servant out. Only nobles are allowed at this table.” The guards don't move, though, and Gwyar lets the man finish before $Gthey calmly <<if $Gplur>>answer<<else>>answers<</if>>, “I will act as $Liege $name's interpreter.” Confused murmurs fill the room - until you sign and Gwyar translates. “//I am mute, not deaf. My condition does not prevent me from taking care of all my future duties as the Royal Consort. I ask the people present in this room to act accordingly.//” While this meeting is meant to be a Consort’s formal introduction to the Council, it is clear that for you it is also a show of superiority on their part. Royal Consorts do not hold their own amount of power – their influence is completely derived from the King’s own, and from that of their family of origin. But your House is disgraced and your marriage is part of a peace treaty that a third of the Council opposed to. “With all due respect, my $Liege, the duties of a Royal consort imply interactions both with the King, and with any envoy or host Camelot will receive. With such a limiting… condition, can we really assume you will be able to handle your duties?” Ah. You have heard such arguments all your life, and still every time they are able to make your blood boil. Before you can answer, however, one Lord interjects, “I do believe, Lady Carwyn, that we are having a perfectly fine discussion. An interpreter is all is needed.” She sneers, “during formal events, perhaps. Are we to assume that the King will need an interpreter to be present every time he is alone with his spouse as well?” You grit your teeth so hard they should be able to hear it. You sign to her face, directly, and Gwyar translates. “//The King himself was taught sign. Obviously, we will not be forced to communicate with basic gestures, my Lady. Do you think so poorly of your own Monarch’s judgement that you think they had not made any form of arrangement for my condition?//” “It wasn’t my intention to imply that,” she replies immediately, face blanching slightly. “I have absolute trust in His Highness, you will need to excuse me if that does not extend to you and your House, $name Venegard.” From there, the meeting devolves into rather personal, mostly tasteless, exchanges. The Council quietens only when a scraping, ruined voice comes from the far end of the table, hard in tone as its bearer is in appearance. “Considering the useless yapping I must hear on a monthly basis from people seated here, a mute consort might not be so bad.” You would take that as a personal insult if you didn’t recognise the woman staring right at you. Ser Cathair, former knight of King Uther and your older sibling Ghaven’s wife. She is known for her ruthlessness, and was selected by your parents as a potential marriage candidate specifically because of her stance towards the Crown. Cathair was the very first female knight, the one King Uther modified the law for. She won battles for him, and bled for him too. A formidable weapon to break, and reshape, and break again. Most of the nobles make sure to avoid her gaze. She is said to be unforgiving, and as cruel as the King had been to her. Looking at her in person, however, all you can see is stubborn resilience. Even seated in her wheelchair, her presence is the most imposing at the table. Marred by scars, yes, but it all just makes her cold gaze more intimidating. //… Ghaven always did have a thing for muscular ladies that could bend them in half.// No wonder in their sparse letters there was never a single complain regarding their wife. At least one of you has been blessed with a happy marriage. Ser Cathair leans on her forearms more heavily, pinning Lady Carwyn down with a gelid look that bears only fury. “If $their lack of speech is such a grave impediment to you, I should not be at this table.” “I- I never implied that-“ “I cannot walk and I cannot fight. Am I just warming my seat?” Ghaven’s wife presses, even more livid. “What a fucking pitiful spectacle we are offering the Royal Consort. If my in-law proves themselves to be lacking, we will adjourn the Council and proceed from there.” After a tense silence, the Lady backs down and dips her head, followed by most of the nobles. The rest of the Council meeting proceeds with a quiet underline tension, but no more fights occur. You are formally introduced to every high noble present, though it proves impossible for you to remember them all by name or even by face. You are then given brief descriptions of your duties as Consort. Mostly, you are to remain docile, by the King’s side, pledging obedience and overseeing some minor events at court. You do not have any military power, and what little political say you have is granted to you by you husband. It’s nothing you didn’t expect. It is an unfortunate truth that Royal Consorts have less freedoms and powers than other noble spouses. <<button [[Continue|ch2.39]]>><</button>>

Gwyar sends you a steady look and then leaves, as no worker or personal attendant is allowed into the Council room. You then let your $eyecolor eyes sweep over the gathered people, all much older than you, very aware that you are at disadvantage, with no allies to be found here. “It is a pleasure to see you again, $name” an older noble, with greying hair and a well-groomed grey beard, greets first. You think you vaguely recognise them, because when you were little during more than one meeting, they held you in their arms and let you play with their shiny necklaces. “I remember when you were so small I could hold you with one arm.” And nostalgia hits you like a horse at full charge. “… Noble Fiadh.” Your lips murmur their name, that carry the floral perfume they had clinging to their clothes and the sound of their low, calm voice as they held you against their chest. At the sound of their name, their golden eyes flood with delighted warmth. //Never mind.// It seems you have some allies left after all. An elder Lady breaks the moment with a forced cough. “Yes, we are all happy to see you reunited with young Venegard, Noble Fiadh, but $they <<if $plur>>aren’t<<else>>isn't<</if>> a child anymore and we should all remember that.” "As we should remember $their traitorious House." More than one voice overlaps, then, and the meeting devolves into rather personal, mostly tasteless, exchanges. The Council quietens only when a scraping, ruined voice comes from the far end of the table, hard in tone as its bearer is in appearance. “Traitors the Venegards may be, but at least they do not numb each other with useless yapping every single time they see each other.” You would take that as a personal insult if you didn’t recognise the woman staring right at you. Ser Cathair, former knight of King Uther and your older sibling Ghaven’s wife. She is known for her ruthlessness, and was selected by your parents as a potential marriage candidate specifically because of her stance towards the Crown. Cathair was the very first female knight, the one King Uther modified the law for. She won battles for him, and bled for him too. A formidable weapon to break, and reshape, and break again. Most of the nobles make sure to avoid her gaze. She is said to be unforgiving, and as cruel as the King had been to her. Looking at her in person, however, all you can see is strength. Even seated in her wheelchair, her presence is the most imposing at the table. Marred by scars, yes, but it all just makes her cold gaze more intimidating. //… Ghaven always did have a thing for muscular ladies that could bend them in half.// No wonder in their sparse letters there was never a single complain regarding their wife. At least one of you has been blessed with a happy marriage. Ser Cathair leans on her forearms more heavily, pinning the whole table down with gelid despondence, “even my youngest horses are not as undisciplined as the lot of you.” But she isn’t finished, nor is the storm in her gaze placated. “What a disgrace, that this is their first Council and all they are subjected to is nobles fighting like fucking children!” You see some people actually flinch. Ser Cathair silences the affronted murmurs that begin to rise with a harsh, definitive decision, “now, if I am not mistaken the Consort’s House was punished accordingly to their actions. Their presence here is part of the accord signed, so unless any of you wish to act against the King’s written word, you will start explaining the Consort their duties.” And so they do. You are formally introduced to every high noble present, though it proves impossible for you to remember them all by name or even by face. You are then given brief descriptions of your duties as Consort. Mostly, you are to remain docile, by the King’s side, pledging obedience and overseeing some minor events at court. You do not have any military power, and what little political say you have is granted to you by you husband. It’s nothing you didn’t expect. It is an unfortunate truth that Royal Consorts have less freedoms and powers than other noble spouses. <<button [[Continue|ch2.39]]>><</button>>

As customary, the nobles raise and all start to leave the Council's gathering room, while you remain seated at the head of the table. Ser Cathair pushes back her wheelchair, the last to leave. As she does, without even turning, she warns with rough, ominous words, “some people aren’t as loyal to the King as they want to make you believe. And, before I forget, Ghaven has presents for you.” Without further explanations, she is out of the Chamber while warmth spreads slowly through your chest. Of course your older sibling has presents for you. Ghaven was the one who left wrapped up cute rocks outside your door; who sneaked you treats behind your parents’ back. You always knew it was them when you found a new toy on your bed after a particularly rough day. Unfortunately, being almost a decade older, they left the house to be married when you were barely entering your teens, so any memory of them is quite old. You wonder, with perhaps some tension, what will they think of you now. You aren’t a sweet child to be spoiled anymore. You impose yourself not to think of Ghaven further. //The marriage comes first.// You leave the Chamber of Lords to walk, alone, towards your soon to be husband. A guard escorts you through a couple of unfamiliar halls until you reach more familiar ground. Then, they leave you alone with the King. He stands just under the castle's main entrance, thick decorated doors wide open, petting a horse. Not a horse, you realize as you draw closer, but the Pendragon mount itself. Once upon a time, centuries ago, each House had its own mount, magical creatures each possessing peculiar characteristics of their belonging House. As magic was purged from the land, though, and as Houses began to be extinguished or to die out, less and less mounts remained. Incidentally, the Pendragon beast is centuries old, as is yours, and was unfortunately not spared from the most magic hostile sovereigns that took the Crown. Perhaps it managed to escape the slaughter simply because House mounts only show themselves during special occasions, such as official marriages or very important ceremonies. Even still, you can see patches of skin that have been visibly burned off, leaving only scarred skin and charred scales. Nausea builds up inside you at the sight. //The Tyrant King experimented even on his own house's mount.// When you are close enough to hear the words King Arthur is saying, soothing shushes reach your ears. The horse, majestic in its golden pelt and sparse bloody red patches of dragon scales, indeed looks quite spooked. "Shh... it's alright, my dear one..." The creature nibbles at your soon-to-be husband's hand before its red eyes snap on you, wide and cautious. The King turns as well, a welcoming, if tired, smile on his face. "I hope the Council was at least bearable.” <<if $mute>> <<button [[You nod, barely a hint of emotion in your eyes. You have dealt with worse.|ch2.40]]<<set $var239 to true>><</button>> <<button [[“It was not,” you sign, barely any hint of emotion in your eyes.|ch2.40]]<<set $var239 to false>><</button>><<else>> <<button [[“It was,” you reply softly. It was challenging, to be honest, however not unmanageable.|ch2.40]]<<set $var239 to true>><</button>> <<button [[“It was not,” you reply, voice rough. You are an enemy in the castle, and you will remain as such at their eyes for quite a while.|ch2.40]]<<set $var239 to false>><</button>><</if>>

<<if $var239>>His eyes convey soft understanding. “Unfortunately, we do have to undergo many more pleasantries this evening, and the next. But, between me and you, I do believe many higher nobles are much less unpleasant after a good quantity of ale.”<<else>>An apologetic grimace replaces the tentative smile. “I am sorry for that.” He exhales a small sigh, hand playing with his royal rings. “Unfortunately, your political standing is precarious at best. My hope is that it will steadily improve.”<</if>> As you near them, you catch their eyes roam over your figure, inspecting your choice of clothing and whole body. <<if $marriagescars is "hidden">>You are glad you covered your scars. They won’t, at least, see the remainder of the rebellion you fought against their own reign.<<else>>Their gaze rests on your exposed scars without their sight leaving any kind of blatant emotion to them, but you wonder just what it feels like to bear the sight of such a visible remainder of the rebellion – and the very event that caused this marriage to take place.<</if>><<if $weddingcolors is "camelot">>You cannot clearly discern the kind of emotion that slowly overcomes the King as they take notice of the red and gold attire you chose. They offer you a smile that is slightly tinted with sadness before commenting, “you look dashing, my dear.”<<elseif $weddingcolors is "ireland">>The King’s features do not change in any significant manner as they take notice of the blue and green attire you chose for the wedding. They simply offer you a polite smile, as they comment, “you look dashing, my dear.”<<else>>You notice the smallest hint of surprise in his gaze as he takes note of the green and golden attire you chose to wear. The smile they offer you is warm, if slightly tinted with neutral compassion, “you look dashing, my dear.”<</if>> Considering their usual affectionate manner, you are sure they are simply being courteous to their soon to be spouse. Still, his words are sincere, softening the edge of apprehension within you. You let your gaze inspect him as well. He is wearing his ceremonial robes, so richly decorated that the threads woven into the red fabric shine in the sunlight. Pendragons always wear red. But despite the crimson cape draped around his shoulders and the familiar crown atop his blonde curls, there is an undeniable softness to him that lowers your guard a slight bit. <<if $mute>>“//You as well//,” you sign,<<else>>“You as well,” you answer,<</if>> <<if $arthurplatonic gt 0>>perhaps a bit softly. You have to say, the bashful look he gives you in response is similar to Mordred’s and quite endearing. <<else>> neutrally. <</if>> The King answers with a slight smile, his face becoming a bit less visibly tired. They clear their throat, beckoning you to the skittish mount. “Would you perhaps like to come closer?” they offer. You do not know how well your presence would be received by the creature, and in fact after just a couple of steps forward it draws back, almost hiding behind the King. They shush it, a soothing hand caressing its neck. “They can't harm you, darling. Nothing will happen.” You stand still, not wanting to upset it further. You are about to draw back, because it clearly feels in danger, but then you watch as the mount slowly but ever so surely calms down under the King’s gentle ministrations. Its hooves clap on the ground as it steps forward, the King monitoring it attentively, and it bows. Oh. What a well mannered creature. You exhale, reaching to delicately brush its muscular neck, all the while thinking how your own House mount would have already bitten your hand off or gone for your throat. For a bit, you gently pet the creature, trying not to let your thoughts rest too much on the feeling of its burn scars under your fingers. Then your gaze seeks the King and you sign/say, “I was informed you allowed Lord Cledwynn and my brother to come early.” “I did.” Your marriage won’t be celebrated in that of a festive mood, so yes, you did long having close someone you trust. “It was… appreciated.” Still petting the Camelot mount, who is now docile and calm under your fingers, a sight that makes your heart soften despite the charred, ugly remains of its mane you can see up close, your gaze wanders over the empty archway, seeking the arrival of your own mount. “Before we go, there is something I need to discuss with you.” The King's voice has turned cautiously serious. Your hand falls from his mount’s neck. “I want to pre-emptively apologize for needing to have this talk now, just before our marriage. The ill timing is entirely of my own doing, as I should have reached out to you when the subject matter was brought to my attention.” The word play is a bit disorienting, and it conceals an underline of gravity that makes you immediately feel tense. Arthur must notice it, and their gaze becomes even more consternated and grave. The lines of his face, previously showing softness towards their future spouse, are now displaying just guarded cautiousness. <<button [[It makes your heart stutter, to be on the receiving end of their sombre firmness. You just want to be a good spouse. Useful at least in this.|ch2.41]]>><<set $arthconfront to 1>><</button>> <<button [[This is it; you realize as your heart sinks. But numbness comes soon after, for you should have known better.|ch2.41]]>><<set $arthconfront to 2>><</button>> <<button [[You grit your teeth, keeping your face hard set into an emotionless expression just as your fingers starts to tingle with the familiar hum of magic.|ch2.41]]>><<set $arthconfront to 3>><</button>>

“Just very recently, I was made aware that one of my closest knights had already met you previous to your arrival in Camelot.” The blood in your veins freezes. The King continues to speak, “Ser Bedivere recognized you as a battle mage. Now, of course I am not about to accuse you solely based on their word, however I much value their impartiality when it comes to such matters.” <<if $arthconfront is 1>>Your mouth dries, the sensation of needles slowly inserted under your skin pervades you. You suddenly feel lightheaded as the King keeps talking and no sound reaches your ears through the ringing in it. Lost, you can only will back the taste of bile in your mouth, and the overwhelmed tears threatening to fall, and wait for the dizziness to recede. It doesn’t. The King must see something is wrong with you, because when the nausea slowly recedes enough for you to become aware of him again, he is silent and has taken a step back. You cannot muster the lucidity of mind to be grateful, or to interpret that gesture as lack of hostility on his part. Instead, all you can think of is //chains and bindings – now your husband will keep you imprisoned and you will rot-// A neigh, soft, and a tentative touch on your neck. You exhale. Slowly, your breathing becomes less laboured. You realise that you have the Camelot Mount pressing its muzzle on your shoulder, breathing calmly. You have never… heard of a mount interacting with anyone other than its House blood. Yet, the textured skin that is rubbing on yours, the warm huff of its breath on your neck are proof of the contrary. It’s trying to soothe you. “I… apologize,” the King’s voice is a bit strained, but much more clear now. “This clearly was not the right time or place to talk about this.” “However, if I may,” he continues, before you can react, “you need to know that my stance on magic differs greatly from my father’s. I am aware this may be difficult to believe, but you are relatively safe here. Your magic is something only known by Ser Bedivere and I, and I intend to keep it so.” His words do indeed manage to calm you down. Not simply for their meaning, but by the way the King is talking to you, with a soft sincerity that makes its way through the thick cloud of fear in your heart. <<if $mute>>With one hand, you manage to make the sign for “alright,” while you lift up your other arm to brush the mount’s charred neck in gratitude. <<else>>Lifting your right hand to brush the mount’s charred neck in gratitude, you manage to croak out a simple, hushed, “…alright.”<</if>> The magical beast nudges you gently one last time, before retreating to return back to the King’s side.<<elseif $arthconfront is 2>>Your mouth dries, your body locking up in place. Fear, mixed with cold numbness, settles like a horribly heavy weight on your chest. It presses on it until your breath becomes laboured, until every other sensation has been reduced to the way you are glancing, deadly rigid, at the King. He must see something is wrong with you, because when the nausea slowly recedes enough for you to become aware of sounds again, he is silent. But your mind is not for, it drowns in primal terror and all you can think of is //chains, cells, magic-blocking bindings and-// A neigh, soft, and a tentative touch on your neck. You exhale. Slowly, your breathing becomes less laboured. The Camelot Mount is what’s pressing its muzzle on your shoulder, breathing calmly as if instructing you to do the same. You have never… heard of a mount interacting with anyone other than its House blood. Yet, the textured skin that is rubbing on yours, the warm huff of its breath on your neck are proof of the contrary. It’s trying to soothe you. “I… apologize,” the King’s voice is a bit strained, but much more clear now. “I'll give you some moments." And he does. Slowly, you come to yourself, and are able to focus your gaze on King Arthur, fortunately not too close. He clears hois throat, visibly unsure. "If I may... you need to know that my stance on magic differs greatly from my father’s. I am aware this may be difficult to believe, but you are relatively safe here. Your magic is something only known by Ser Bedivere and I, and I intend to keep it so.” His words only marginlly calm you down, your body remains stiff and weirdly uncomfortable. But for now, it's enough and so <<if $mute>>with one hand, you manage to make the sign for “alright,” while you lift up your other arm to brush the mount’s charred neck in gratitude. <<else>>lifting your right hand to brush the mount’s charred neck in gratitude, you manage to croak out a simple, “… alright.”<</if>> The magical beast nudges you gently one last time, before retreating to return back to the King’s side.<<else>>You interrupt him just as he finishes speaking with firm signs/a firm, emotionless voice. <<if $mute>>“//I am//.”<<else>>“I am.”<</if>> You take a step forward, ignoring how the Camelot mount huffs in agitation in the corner of your vision. <<if $mute>>“//I am a mage//.”<<else>>“I am a mage.”<</if>> You advance. <<if $mute>>“//Where is my cell, my King?//”<<else>>“Where is my cell, my King?”<</if>> King Arthur’s face contorts, “No, I-“ You press on, the veins in your arms starting to burn with magic, your eyes darkening too, <<if $mute>>“//perhaps you favour the stake after all.//”<<else>>“perhaps you favour the stake after all.”<</if>> The King blanches. You back off only when his gaze empties itself of discomfort and fills up with an off-putting blankness instead. From the side, the Camelot mount neighs and comes to nudge the King with its head, shifting to press its side against his chest, almost putting itself between you and King Arthur. Confused, if not a bit placated – it should have no affection for the child of its torturer; and yet it seems sincerely protective – you take a slight step back. He clears his throat, carding his fingers through the mount’s mane – or what remains of it. "Pyres are reserved for proper mages funerary rituals; there hasn’t been an execution since my father was alive. Magic is not persecuted in Camelot, and in fact any act of unwarranted violence towards mages is punished accordingly.” The Camelot mount nudges the King, softly tucking its head under their arm. It neighs, tense, and eyes you with wide, weary eyes. Most of the fight leaves your body at the sight. Guilt replaces the tension, closing your throat. You swallow it, so that just numbness remains. Perhaps you went too far. //No wonder they call you a demon.// King Arthur clears his throat, his hand raising to touch his beard in what seems like a stress relieving gesture. “I- it must be difficult to imagine, but my stance on magic does differ greatly from the monarchs that wore the crown before me. I am not my father, and I hope my actions, if not my words, will prove it to you.” He doesn’t know that, but seeing the Camelot mount come to soothe and protect him has already started to erode your distrust. You won’t be at ease around him for some time yet, but you think that perhaps the foundation for that has been planted.<</if>> <<button [[Continue|ch2.42]]>><</button>>

After a brief pause of silence, King Arthur speaks again. “I have to make a request that might sound perhaps insulting, but I would be grateful if you allowed me to pose it, nonetheless. If you can, please do keep your magic hidden. As regrettable it is to admit it, my own court has opinions and beliefs that do not quite align with mine. I cannot predict what they would do with the information, but it would be best for your magic to stay a very limited knowledge for the time being. To be clear, I am not asking you to make absolute no use of it, simply to be… discreet.” The request kind of unsettles you. It isn’t unreasonable, nor insulting as he implied, but after his previous attempt to reassure you, this must mean that his court isn’t safe. It is initself something you were already planning on doing, so you tilt your head down in a nod, and the King shows visible relief. A sound of hooves clapping heavily on the ground interrupts the exchange. You turn in the sound’s direction, however the King calls to you again. “One last thing. I believe Ser Bedivere might not be comfortable in your presence. I can give you my word that they will not seek any kind of retribution or vengeance. However please do make sure to give them space.” You detect a hint of protectiveness in their words. <<button [[Your throat closes, and immediately a nearly unbearable amount of guilt tightens its grip around your lungs. You nod, this time almost shakily.|ch2.43]]>><<set $caring to $caring +1>><</button>> <<button [[Your nod is less stiff, this time. The Knight deserves that at the very least.|ch2.43]]>><<set $cold to $cold +1>><</button>>

Before any more words can be exchanged, your whole attention is captured by the creature advancing, head high and eyes sharp, towards you. Its indigo irises bore into you as it comes to a stop just in front of you. The Venegard mount bows, its curly dark blue mane brushing the ground and showing the gills underneath. In sign of deep respect, you bow as well, staring softly at it as you raise your head. The mount lets out a majestic huff, clearly showing off its beauty, seemingly pleased with your greeting. Arthur is silent beside you, but when the Venegard mount pushes its snout against you, almost insistently, they quietly reach in their pocket and offer you their hand, a treat on their palm. You peer at their face, in search of any kind of residual tension, but he just quietly admires your mount. You hesitate. It seems almost irrational after witnessing them interact with the Camelot mount, but you couldn't forgive yourself if they meant harm to your horse. Before you can move, the mount quickly reaches out and eats the treat out on the King's hand, almost biting his finger off too. As feisty as you remember it to be from your sibling’s marriages. A bit hidden behind the King’s frame, the Camelot mount eyes yours nervously. Arthur offers it a treat as well, and they seem to settle a bit. He clears his throat, then. “I believe it’s time for us to go.” You both mount the horses and exit the entryway, flanked by a perhaps ridiculous amount of castle guards. The parade starts. The mood is incredibly grave. Few amongst the lower town inhabitants cheer at the King's passage. The ones who do it, end up half-hearted at best. Some people even choose to stay silent or whisper amongst themselves at your passage. Most of all, their gazes are on you. //Traitor//, they seem to whisper. <<button [[You feel discomfort curl around your lungs, though you make sure to hide it under a neutral gaze.|ch2.44]]>><<set $caring to $caring +1>><<set $perschoice to true>><</button>> <<button [[Your gaze is steel, and fixed ahead.|ch2.44]]>><<set $cold to $cold +1>><</button>>

<<if $perschoice>>//They are not wrong, after all.// Your family did try to dethrone their King.<<else>>//Your family did what they had to.// For you, your siblings and any other mage in Camelot.<</if>> Arthur is solemn as well. Back straight and crimson cape around his shoulders, petting his mount every few minutes with the hand that holds his Royal Seal and who will soon hold the wedding band too. The Round Table rides behind you in a line, Ser Tristan and Ser Ector at the front. Perhaps it is because of their age, but you have a feeling that they are closer to the King than most of the other Knights. In a way, when you reach the chapel at the very edge of the city and they watch Arthur dismount, they seem like fathers accompanying their child to be wed. The feeling only intensifies when they leave their horseback too - and you understand there that they will be the ones officiating the marriage. You dismount as well, <<if $mute>>brushing your mount's neck in a grateful gesture<<else>>murmuring a low praise to your mount<</if>>. It neighs proudly, then tilts its head to approach the Camelot mount, who backtracks, spooked, before hesitantly sniffing it out. There is a strange silence in the streets now. You guess the citizens have come to terms with the youngest child of the rebels marrying their King. That, or they simply wish to see their King while in one of his few public outings. Arthur looks at you and you at them. You are as ready as you both can be. “Shall we go, my dear?” <<button [[You feel more grounded as you enter the chapel together.|ch2.45]]>><<set $arthurplatonic to $arthurplatonic+1>><<set $choice244 to 1>><</button>> <<button [[Your uneasiness doesn't lessen, but at least you know you aren’t doing this alone.|ch2.45]]>><<set $choice244 to 2>><</button>> <<button [[You do not need his coddling. You march into the chapel by his side with stiff steps.|ch2.45]]>><<set $choice244 to 3>><</button>>

<<if $choice244 is 1>>The bond of fate that is about to tighten around you both feels less oppressive than you thought. Perhaps it is because you are walking beside a man who seems just as tense as you are, and who’s constructed confidence seems to fray a bit as well.<<elseif $choice244 is 2>>You are reminded by the tense posture of the King that, in the same way you are marrying to keep your family safe, he, too, is facing a marriage for the sole sake of his kingdom’s peace. He, too, must feel lost.<<else>>Despite your will to endure this alone, you cannot help but notice just how tense the King’s posture is too. Perhaps for the first time, you wonder whether he feels just as trapped as you do. He seems… unusually sensitive for a monarch.<</if>> You wonder then if he has even ever had a past lover, or any kind of experience before this. While you doubt that, as he was fighting by his father’s side even before the rebellion took place, it would make this whole ordeal even more uncomfortable. The chapel you walk into is said to be as ancient as the city walls. The very first building to be erected as the city grounds were marked in order to thank the dragons who allowed for its construction. It is one simple enormous hall, the roof built of calcified gigantic dragon ribs. It is mostly devoid of furniture, its main focus being the huge metal brazier positioned exactly at the end of the hall. As per ancient customs, you and your spouse to be flank the brazier, one facing the other – the slow burning flame in between. Then, at his side comes Ser Tristan and Ser Ector by yours. The ceremony proceeds just as you expected. Gwyar had explained it to you in great details, to prepare and perhaps appease your possible unease. Ser Tristan and Ser Ector both retrieve fragments of centuries old dragon bones carefully wrapped in cloth, because those will be the essential parts of the ceremony. Every monarch of the royal line was wed with this specific rite, which involves burning the remains of dragon bones into the ever-burning fire that placidly swirls in the colossal brazier. It is said that once there won’t be any more dragon bones to burn, the Pendragon bloodline will end. But for now, there are still remains available and so you are handed a fragment of old, unusually heavy bone from Ser Ector – just as Arthur is handed his by Ser Tristan. The latter pronounces the vows that will bind you from now on, promises of loyalty, devotion and cohesion. “May your union last as long as the dragon breath will burn,” Ector recites as you unwrap the bones. As instructed, you throw the bone into the fire at the same time as the King does. The flames roar, growing unusually high, tinted with a deep scarlet tint that resembles eerily the sight of freshly drawn blood. “May you be consumed by these flames should you ever betray one another.” Ser Ector looks straight at you while he says so. <<button [[And just like that, you are married.|ch2.46]]>><</button>>

No deal must be signed, as the peace treaty had already been binding for both you and the King. In a way, the ceremony is strangely short and anticlimactic. No one even tries to kill you or to stop the marriage. The King seems as off put as you feel, glancing in your direction with a troubled gaze, the tired lines of his face accentuated by the dragon fire that illuminates his side. It settles into you, then. That you will live the rest of your life in Camelot, bound to a husband whose father slaughtered and experimented on mages until you went almost extinct. Outside of the chapel, the crowd finally cheers – or maybe protests. Their voices overlap in a distant cacophony that makes your stomach roll with nausea. For an instant, your vision blurs. Your body feels as pierced by scorching needles, and every sound is suddenly so distant. //No. Not now.// You clench your hand until the nails pressing on your palm. You go through the process of self-soothing, as the last thing you want is to breakdown in front of the King and, soon, the entire capital. Your thoughts, almost unbidden, settle on your family, and as it focuses on one of your siblings, you slowly manage to regain your calm. <h4>[Note: you can find information on each sibling in the characters section]</h4> <<button [[It’s Radel.|ch2.47]]>><<set $sibling2 to "radel">><</button>> <<button [[It’s Saraah.|ch2.47]]>><<set $sibling2 to "saraah">><</button>> <<button [[It’s Ghaven.|ch2.47]]>><<set $sibling2 to "ghaven">><</button>> <<button [[It’s Emyr.|ch2.47]]>><<set $sibling2 to "emyr">><</button>> <<button [[It’s Adrei.|ch2.47]]>><<set $sibling2 to "adrei">><</button>>

<<if $sibling2 is "radel">>You wish Radel was here. Only a year older than you, you and Radel grew up as twins would. Despite the chasm that separates you now, caused by his complete withdrawal after his marriage, you long for his steady presence. He always took you side, always. He terrorised people for you more than once. He must be livid at the thought alone of this marriage. You know he must be at the fortress, however you haven’t spoken in years and his absence in your life fees like a dagger plunged through your lungs.<<elseif $sibling2 is "saraah">>You wish your brother was here. During your whole life, Saraah has always been the one most capable, and willing, to be by your side and calm you down. You remember with fondness the presents left on your pillows at night, his warm hugs as you cried, or laughed, or giggled wrapped around him. The letters sent every week, with his perfume on them, and the books he lent you, sometimes with comments written for you to find. You know he must be in the fortress, however you feel his absence like a dagger plunged through your lungs.<<elseif $sibling2 is "ghaven">>You wish Ghaven was here. In a way, your sibling raised you as a young child, before their own duties became so much heavier to bear, and before they married Ser Cathair. Ghaven has always spoiled you, the one sibling to sneak sweets into your tiny, chubby hands as often as they could, even when your mother confiscated their treat stash, and forbade them to overfeed you. You know he must be at the fortress, however you haven’t seen them in person in years and their absence in your life fees like a dagger plunged through your lungs.<<elseif $sibling2 is "emyr">>You haven’t spoken or seen Emyr in years, more than a whole decade, but you wish your oldest brother was here. Emyr was never the most expansive, but for you he always made time in his day. He kept you on his lap as he studied, even sometimes teaching you some words, or reading aloud to entertain you. He didn’t come to Camelot for your wedding, and you wonder if he didn’t stomach the thought of seeing you, of facing the King who defeated his House, or if his wife didn’t allow him to come. Still, his absence feels like a dagger plunged through you, even after years. You wonder if he’d recognise you now.<<else>>You wish Adrei was here. She would know how to soothe you. In her own way, perhaps a bit roughly, but she’d know the feeling of powerlessness and she wouldn’t let it eat you alive as it is trying to do. In a way, Adrei has raised you as the mage you are. She insisted with your parents to take over your training, you suspect to spare you from the even more gruelling one they subjected her to. She was never… emotional with you, nor outwardly affectionate, but she’s been there. She is bearing the consequences of the war in an even worse way than you, and that’s why she couldn’t come to Camelot. Still, her absence hurts so much.<</if>> And despite that, not one member of your family was allowed by the Council to be at the chapel with you. //It’s your own wedding and they are keeping your siblings away.// <<button [[Continue|ch2.48]]>><</button>>

As soon as you exit the chapel, a sight that is unexpected and infinitely adorable makes your legs weak, and at the same time your whole body tense, ready to intervene. The royal Heir is too close with your mount, a reactive vicious beast that more than once bit you and your siblings’ hands, but you refrain from pulling him away once it is clear how docile it is being, like a pacified foal, while Mordred braids its dark, curly mane. He must have learned the technique from Ser Evaine, the knight you spared with some days ago, as you recall the physician informing you of their closeness. In fact, now your mount’s mane resembles vaguely the knight’s long braids, a bit different in execution but still stunning. As soon as the crowd stirs at your sight, though, the child flinches and turns around, expression clearly chastised. Your mount huffs, miffed by the interruption, side eying you and the king with affronted annoyance. //Ridiculous beast.// The Camelot mount, too, becomes agitated. Where it previously stood, hidden slightly behind the child, eyes focused guarding on him, it now shifts towards the king, seeking refuge with its charred tail swinging nervously. Careful to avoid frightening it further, you step towards Mordred, <<if $mute>>signing calmly, “//cute//.”<<else>>saying calmly, “cute.”<</if>> You think you hear your husband restrain a coo at the sight as well. Mordred seems flustered at the comment, shily gazing at you with his dark eyes as you brush the braids and mount on the beast – now even more vain than before. His shoulders, though, immediately draw inwards, his whole body closing off when Ser Urien speaks, harshly, from behind you both, “come now.” Your insides burn with bitter rage. //This bitch.// How dare she speaks that way to the Royal Heir. Perhaps spitefully, before Mordred can move you reach down and scoop him up with one arm, placing him in front of you. Turning around your mount, you meet her aggravated gaze with a heated one of your own. While the King softly calms his knights, “oh, it is fine. Mordred will ride with $name,” you cradle him close to your chest. <<if $mute>>Signing with one hand, you ask, “//is this alright?//”<<else>>Leaning close to his ear, you ask, “is this alright?”<</if>> He nods, settling down a bit more comfortably. “Yes.” <<button [[Continue|ch2.49]]>><</button>>

With the King by your side, you return to the fortress for the banquet. The parade is livelier than before, and the Round Table especially is on the receiving end of quite the few cheers. You suppose it is a rare occasion to see them all riding behind the King. You and Arthur dismount just as you enter the inner castle walls, leaving the lower town behind while the celebrations are already starting in the whole capital. The guards and knights give you a moment of privacy as you give your goodbyes to the mounts. Your own mount shakes its neck, showing off its new braids. It seems so very proud of itself. You thank it with a pet on its neck, just above the gills. It tilts its head, bumping it against your chest, and huffs, leaning against you for a long moment. //How adorable.// Drawing back, it nuzzles Mordred too. It is something that makes your heart stutter, softly, because mounts are known to only interact with the House bloodline. It must really have gown fond of the child, having allowed Mordred to braid its mane and now greeting him too. You lean in and, conspiringly, you <<if $mute>>sign to him, “//you won its favour.//”<<else>>murmur him, “you won its favour.”<</if>> Mordred seems to grow bashful, and when the beast leaves, he glances up at you. “Where will it go?” <<if $mute>>“//Each House mount has its own place of rest, though the exact location has been lost to time. I do know that my mouth rests in a lake, however. Perhaps you saw that it has gills.//" “Oh. Does it sleep in the water?” “//Yes. I believe so.//”<<else>>“Each House mount has its own place of rest, though the exact location has been lost to time. I do know that my mouth rests in a lake, however. Perhaps you saw that it has gills." “Oh. Does it sleep in the water?” “Yes. I believe so.”<</if>> While you entertain Mordred, the King is murmuring soft hushed words to their mount. They pet its scaled neck, careful of the injuries, and you can hear them say, “thank you for coming, darling. You can go and rest now.” The Camelot beast seems so greatly soothed by the words. Finally, King Arthur places a kiss on its forehead, and the mount takes a couple of steps back, hooves clapping on the stone ground. Its red eyes dart in your direction, a side gaze that is cautious, but warm. Then you realize it is not actually looking at you, but at //Mordred//. It trots towards him, slowly. Lowering its neck, it nudges the Royal Heir just slightly, neighing in what seems like a greeting as it brushes past him to disappear in the opposite direction of your own mount. <<button [[Continue|ch2.50]]>><</button>>

As soon as you make your official entrance in the main hall, the two-day banquet officially starts. You have partaken in your fair share of celebrations, as every noble family has, but the opulence and grandeur of Camelot cannot compare. Bards and storytellers have come from the entire kingdom to be able to entertain the court, and while they sing you are fed endlessly all throughout the night. Roasted duck, rabbit stew with herbs, venison cooked in wine and game birds glazed with honey. Despite the rarity of some of those meats, it is the simplest dish of all, the hare which leaves in your mouth more than the taste of roasted meat and herbs. It sparks memories of meals consumed on your parents’ legs, held comfortably close, you on your dad’s lap and Radel on your mom’s. It had been during a visit to another House, one much less wealthy than yours, but those moments became imprinted in your memories for the relaxed atmosphere – away from your House and its heavy burdens. //You... miss them.// You try to imagine how your parents are spending this evening, knowing that miles away from them their youngest child has just been wed to the son of the tyrant king. You are aware that your siblings, the one present in Camelot at least, have been allowed to participate to the banquet, but the festivities are so chaotic that you are unable to locate them even after hours. You wonder if they have tried to come closer, or how they are being treated by the rest of the court. Only your brother Saraah comes, once the crowd of nobles has abated a bit. He kisses your cheek, hugging you from behind, his husband in tow. You cannot help but melt at the familiar contact. “Things are a bit of a mess, aren’t they?” he murmurs by your ear. “But I have good news. I found Ghaven and Radel. I don’t think people will leave you alone for today, so find us the day after tomorrow in the minor western courtyard, we’ll talk there, ok?” You nod, inhaling his sweet floral perfume one last time as he leaves, merging into the crowd once again. Meanwhile, at your side, the King is filling Mordred’s plate out of his own. You have been educated about the dining etiquette and so you know that being served from the King’s own plate is a high sign of favor. While mostly symbolic, there is also a practicality to it, as the food of the King is usually prepared separately and thus safer in case of poisonings. You note that Arthur carefully picks out what to give to the child, and that, even if Mordred takes quite a long time to eat, he eventually finishes everything. You can see gentle fondness in the way Arthur looks over him. <<button [[It is kind of pathetic, but a small part of you wonders whether one day the King will share his food with you as well. If you will be allowed to share yours with him.|ch2.51.1]]>><<set $arthurplatonic to $arthurplatonic +1>><</button>> <<button [[You have no energy to even care, however. You keep to yourself, just as you have done until now, wishing this all to end soon.|ch2.51.2]]>><</button>>

That soft longing aches in your chest despite your attempt to push it back where it came from, in that dark, lonely, needy part of your being that you learned to suffocate. Despite that, something loosens inside you as your husband leans close and politely asks, “would you like some wine, my dear?” <<button [[Oh well. Perhaps alcohol will be of help in swallowing the lump of awkwardness and sorrow in your throat.|ch2.51.1.1]]>><</button>> <<button [[You shake your head. Truthfully, you cannot allow yourself to become inebriated in a place where it would be very far from safe to lose your guard, even in part.|ch2.51.1.2]]>><</button>>

You tune out conversations happening around you, but find yourself unable to escape the feeling of uncomfortable dampness as your robes cling to your increasingly sweaty skin, as the grand room becomes warmer and more crowded. As the night progresses, servants constantly refill your glass, and everyone else’s, with mead, wine and sweet cyder. <<button [[You accept one drink after another. Perhaps alcohol will help you get through and forget this day.|ch2.51.3]]>><</button>> <<button [[You do not drink, whether you don’t want to risk having your guard down or because you are not in such a festive mood.|ch2.51.4]]>><</button>>

The King serves you personally – though judging from the numerous glances you receive it is far from proper etiquette. You sip your sweet wine until the glass is empty, just a few minutes later, and a servant refills it again. And again, when you finish that too and request him to do so. The celebrations do not stop through the night, nor the early morning after. You see some people, servants and nobles alike, resting on the padded recliners around the three fireplaces that warm up the enormous hall, although with all probability some are simply passed out from the overconsumption of mead. <<button [[Continue|ch2.52]]>><</button>>

Perhaps more than in any other location or setting, now you need to keep your mind grounded on the present, because as much as you’d love to dissociate from what is happening around you, there are possible threats you need to consider. King Arthur courteously nods, and instead they fill their own goblet with wine. The celebrations do not stop through the night, nor the early morning after. You see some people, servants and nobles alike, resting on the padded recliners around the three fireplaces that warm up the enormous hall, although with all probability some are simply passed out from the overconsumption of mead. <<button [[Continue|ch2.52]]>><</button>>

You are exhausted yourself, after almost a full day of missed sleep and constant interactions – only some of it positive. Most of the people have now wandered over to the more comfortable padded reclined benches close to the fireplace, including you and Mordred, who has at last fallen asleep against the King’s side. As soon as your husband finishes the conversation they were in, though, they excuse themselves and gently nudge Mordred awake. “Wouldn’t your bed be more comfortable, darling?” He yawns. “I’m not tired.” The Kings smiles indulgently, if a bit tiredly themself. “Ah, but I am.” At that, Mordred, who is clearly still very sleepy, sends them a concerned glance. “Oh.” They both raise from the bench, and the King regards you with a kind look. “I will escort Mordred to his room, and then I will likely take advantage of a few hours of sleep myself.” He doesn’t even falter when, as he speaks, a woman finely dressed stumbles close, looking worriedly ashen. Handling her gently by the shoulders, he simply hands her to another woman who comes immediately after, apologizing with slurred words as her companion mumbles, “I didn’t even drink this much at my own wedding…” Instead, your husband is still looking right at you when he concludes, “feel free to stay here longer, though.” <nobr><<set $blunt to 0>><<set $subtle to 0>></nobr> <<button [[“I will retire to bed as well,” you answer, raising stiffly from the bench.|ch2.53.1]]>><</button>> <<button [[You nod, and you watch him and Mordred retreat, after the child has sleepily murmurs his good night to you.|ch2.53.2]]>><<set $arthurch2 to false>><</button>>

The alcohol tastes… good. It doesn’t bear the comforting aftertaste of the mead you drank at the barracks, bloodied and aching after another battle. Still, it’s more than enough to ease some of the burden on your mind, especially since you purposefully avoid splitting it with water. The celebrations do not stop through the night, nor the early morning after. You see some people, servants and nobles alike, resting on the padded recliners around the three fireplaces that warm up the enormous hall, although with all probability some are simply passed out from the overconsumption of mead. <<button [[Continue|ch2.52]]>><</button>>

Perhaps more than in any other location or setting, now you need to keep your mind grounded on the present, because as much as you’d love to dissociate from what is happening around you, there are possible threats you need to consider. And so you stay alert, if in constant discomfort. The celebrations do not stop through the night, nor the early morning after. You see some people, servants and nobles alike, resting on the padded recliners around the three fireplaces that warm up the enormous hall, although with all probability some are simply passed out from the overconsumption of mead. <<button [[Continue|ch2.52]]>><</button>>

It is late, or early, when you finally close the door to your chambers behind yourself, completely exhausted. In the haze of your bone-deep tiredness, you catch sight of something placed on your bed, but you decide to change out of your wedding clothes first. A relieved sigh escapes your lips as you strip down to your undergarments, leaving everything scattered on the changing board. You walk to your bed and, with the faint light of a candle in hand, you reach out for the parchment placed on top of a carefully wrapped packet. It’s your sibling’s handwriting. Enjoy, there is simply written, followed by the irish word of little sibling, the most affectionate inflection for it. Your heart lurches with nostalgia, and affection. You unwrap the package next, exhausted but too eager to wait till after your sleep. There is a carved wooden box, filled with glass vials and detailed instructions. Ha. Ghaven was always so fond of poison. Then, wrapped up in a cloth, you uncover a deliciously made dagger. You can’t read what the small incision on the handle says in the faint candlelight, however just by feeling it with your fingers you can tell it’s engraved with your House emblem. How nostalgic. Finally, into the smallest of boxes, there is a ring. The piece of parchment attached to it explains that it is a poisoned ring, something Ghaven probably ordered custom made for you. It is made in such a way that, angled in the right position, a small spike emerges, wet with the deadliest of toxins your sibling has managed to produce. You don’t know how intentional it is, but the design of the ring greatly resembles the Pendragon dragon scales. It has probably been made as such so that you can wear it freely. Be careful, it can kill mages too, the note just ends with. Which is… concerning. Usually, most mages are resistant to poisons, at least the ones commonly used. Just how has Ghaven managed to make this? //… and how do they know it affects mages?// Perhaps it’s better not to know. They probably wouldn’t tell you anyway even if you asked. But the day has been too long and too heavy to stay awake any longer. You wrap the gifts back into parchment, and leave them on the table close to the bookcase, just so you can finally collapse in bed. You are asleep within seconds, as your wedding night comes to an end. <h2>END CHAPTER 2</h2>

With Mordred following the both of you, you and the King make your way to the residential quarters. You walk past the hall leading to your chambers, and into an unfamiliar corridor that eventually brings you in front of Mordred’s room. The child steps forth, flanking you, his brown eyes a bit clouded by exhaustion and residual sleep. “Good night.” He is so formal, so polite, it makes you heart ache for how cute he is. You smile at him, more softly than you have done for anyone else today, “good night, Mordred.” King Arthur, silent between your interaction, leans towards you and asks, “will you give me just a few moments? I’m going to help him get ready for bed.” You nod, and you are left alone in the hallway a handful of minutes before the King returns as promised. He was faster than you thought, even. Arthur doesn’t provide more information about his Heir, though, instead he leads you in silence to a very nearby door, likely leading to his own private bedchambers. The castle guard standing in front of it, alert, steps aside and stands straight. “My King.” Arthur nods at them, then turns to you. “Would you like to come in?” You hesitate, aware of the likely implications, then nod. You are led into a waiting chamber, painted walls with the Pendragon crest, most of the room taken up by shelves overflowing with book and scrolls, and by soft couches on light carpets. Your husband gestures for you to follow him to the fireplace, the warm light of some still burning coals casting a dim light on the rest of the room. You take a seat on one of the padded chairs while the King briefly stokes the fire and then joins you. “You must be as tired as I am, so I will not keep you long,” they promise, almost collapsing on their chair. “I merely wished to ask how you were feeling.” <<button [[Your expression shifts in a subtle display of worry. The marriage was exhausting, yes, but your husband really seems worn to their bones.|ch2.54.1]]>><<set $subtle to $subtle +1>><</button>> <<button [[“You should worry about yourself. You look exhausted,” is your blunt, but not uncaring, answer.|ch2.54.1]]>><<set $blunt to $blunt +1>><</button>>

The hall now has quietened significantly, and with the King gone you are left to your own company. There are familiar faces in the now smaller crowd, however. <<button [[You spot the knight you once sparred with, Ser Evaine, in a corner, having hushed discussion with someone.|ch2.53.evaine]]>><<set $evaineplatonic to $evaineplatonic +1>><</button>> <<button [[You look around the hall in search of Gwyar, since you know that if you are exhausted, they will be completely spent by now.|ch2.53.gwyar]]>><<set $gwyarplatonic to $gwyarplatonic +1>><</button>> <<button [[Your gaze roams around seeking the massive figure of the knight who brought you to Camelot, but you are unable to find it.|ch2.53.yniol]]>><<set $yniolplatonic to $yniolplatonic +1>><</button>> <<button [[It is difficult to spot them at first, but you eventually find the castle physician seated at a table, playing dice.|ch2.53.morien]]>><<set $morienplatonic to $morienplatonic +1>><</button>>

<<if $subtle gt $blunt>>You lean in and, instead of replying, you demand, <<if $mute>>“//how are you feeling?//”<<else>>“how are you feeling?”<</if>> King Arthur’s gaze mellows. “I am alright, dear, don’t you worry about me.” You insist, gently but persistent. <<if $mute>>“//We are married now. Are we not supposed to care about each other?//”<<else>>“We are married now. Are we not supposed to care about each other?”<</if>><<else>>They are so out of it that they cannot even fully hide how that statement weights on them. “I am simply very tired, it’s all,” they try to wave your concern away, but it is clear it’s not just that. A long, unrelenting stare on your part is able to eventually erode their, already half crumbling, resolve. <</if>> King Arthur sighs, a long exhale that lets his body hollow for a moment. His steady exterior slowly starts to crumble before your eyes. “I do admit that I’m… tired. And worried. I’m afraid I cannot really explain myself better because my own feelings on this-” //This marriage.// They meant to say it, but they don’t. “On these matters are not particularly clear to me as well. In any case, your concern is noted and appreciated.” He musters a tired smile. “If there is anything you need, though, regardless of how big or small a matter it is, please come to me. “ <<if $marriagepresent>>You suddenly remember the small gift you intended to give to your husband. Getting up, your find the pouch in the pocket of your clothes, and under the confused gaze of the King you get close to him, handing the pouch of seeds without too much fanfare. <<if $mute>>“//Here. For you.//”<<else>>“Here. For you.”<</if>> Arthur takes it with no small amount of perplexed intrigue. You decide to provide a small explanation for his sake. <<if $mute>>“//It is customary for my family to gift our spouse when the wedding is officiated.//”<<else>>“It is customary for my family to gift our spouse when the wedding is officiated.”<</if>> “Oh. That is very thoughtful of you,” he murmurs, holding the pouch closely. “I am very grateful.” Both of you are really too tired to engage in further pleasantries, and instead you start to roam around the room, your eyes especially caught by the collection of books they keep.<<else>>You nod, stiff, though you know you will keep your guard up for a while longer. In the silence that follows, your gaze wanders over the spines of the books, and the parchments that fill the bookshelves. Getting up, you walk closer, taking in your hand a burning candle to properly read some of the titles. Perhaps, they will help you get some insight on the King’s mind, or at least a brief glimpse into the privacy of their space. You attentively scan the selection, brushing your fingertips over some of the leathery covers of the volumes that catch your attention the most.<</if>> Some time passes in silence, and when, eventually, you turn back to your husband, his eyes have fallen shut. His broad chest rises and falls rhythmically, head resting on his hand in a rather awkward position. He must have fallen asleep a bit of time ago, while you were talking. The fireplace lights up the place in a way that makes the tired lines on his face seem quite pronounced, making visible how exhausted he must have been. You walk to him, and very gently you start to untangle the crown from his curls. The movement of taking it off feels intimate, in a way that makes your chest tighten up. Once you have it in your hand, the crown feels cold to the touch, and heavier than you would have guessed. You can feel some rubies set in the solid gold and while you can’t see their pattern well now, you remember how they shone in the chapel, deep red like beads of blood on the King’s crown. Having set it free, after just a slight effort in untangling it, you take it aside and place it on the nearest available flat surface. You then let your gaze rest on your husband’s almost peaceful expression. <<if $mute>>When your attention is on him again, he is blinking groggily. Instead of signing – because usually it takes a bit for people not accustomed to it to understand – you tilt your head to the entryway for the proper bedroom.<<else>>“Go to sleep,” you murmur, concise and loud enough that they stir. <</if>> You do not linger, staying just enough to make sure they really are going to get some true sleep. You both wish the other good night, and you exit their room quietly, ignoring the guards stationed outside while you leave. <<button [[Continue|ch2.55]]>><</button>>

Mildly curious, and craving the company of someone who won’t coddle or show hostility towards you because of your newly acquired status, you walk up to $Mtheir table. Finally, after having made your way through a dancing crowd and less than sober courtesans, you come close enough to hear the physician’s rough voice. “You’re just a sore loser.” One of the people playing with them sighs, then hands $Mthem a small pouch – probably Morien’s winnings. “I fucking swear, you’ve never been this lucky in a game.” The woman talking, likely a castle servant by the less colourful but well-kept clothes, sees you first and she blanches, “oh, your Highness.” Morien turns, and their deep gaze inspects you in a perhaps more intimate way than expected of $Mthem, though most of $Mtheir focus remains on the game. “You wanna join?” You shake your head, already aware that your presence is a source of deep discomfort for the group of people gathered around the table, already cautiously eying you rather than their game, but someone announces, “let me get you a chair, my $Liege.” Your chair is placed very close to the physician, in a favoured position by $Mtheir side against the rest of the players. After you’ve sat down, Morien’s cane resting against the table by your leg and $Mtheir own thigh almost brushing yours, you watch as the betting resumes. Your own soldiers played with the same dices. You were invited to join a few times, and so you know the rules. Watching the people in Camelot play the exact same game, with the exact same rules, makes you realise that, despite everything, Camelot is still a united kingdom. Morien proceeds to win most of the next few games. Between one and another, when the rest of the people are turned, checking their losses or taking a brief break, the physician tilts $Mtheir head towards you and announces in a low tone, “I’m cheatin’.” You try your best not to let your expression show even an ounce of emotion. You don’t even turn to better face $Mthem as $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>continue<<else>>continues<</if>>, in the same unshamed, almost conspirational tone. “They don’t know that, and can’t accuse me either. I’m using a loaded die I confiscated from one of them last time. The lecture I gave him put the fear of God into all of them.” And, without further elaboration, as the other players gather again for one last round, the physician’s green eyes sparkle with cold mischief as $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>dare<<else>>dares<</if>> them to lift their bets. “Don’t get scared now. We have a spectator to entertain.” The group looks at you, suddenly self conscious as if they momentarily let your presence slip into the background. Most of them end up raising their bets. In the end, predictably, the physician wins. $MThey <<if $Mplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> collecting $Mtheir winnings when the full force of $Mtheir piercing attention shifts on you. “Did His Highness already ditch you?” You shake your head. “He was tired. Brought Mordred to bed.” The cold physician’s gaze softens a bit. $MThey <<if $Mplur>>slip<<else>>slips<</if>> a hand into a pocket of $Mtheir tunic and get out a flask, only to then drop some of its content into $Mtheir drinking goblet. You keep note of how the tension in $Mtheir body eases slightly as $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>drink<<else>>drinks<</if>>, and of the two empty goblets on the table close to $Mthem. “So, tell me. I am aware you aren’t the most well loved person in court, but what brought you to seek me out? I am not of great company, as even you can see.” <<button [[Your answering glance is unusually soft, filled with a placid wish to spend time in their presence.|ch2.54.morien]]>><<set $subtle to $subtle +1>><</button>> <<button [[“Neither am I,” is your answer, and though it’s delivered stiffly, it doesn’t lack an underline of warmth.|ch2.54.morien]]>><<set $blunt to $blunt +1>><</button>>

<<if $subtle gt $blunt>>You expect the gruff physician to grumble, or to call you off. Instead, $Mtheir stiff aloofness crumbles slightly, and $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>swallow<<else>>swallows<</if>> without answering. The space between the two of you becomes filled with a strange, warm kind of anticipation, until Morien gestures for you to reach out. “Give me your hand.” You do so, palm facing up, and the physician proceeds to drop in your hand $Mtheir loaded dice. $MThey <<if $Mplur>>take<<else>>takes<</if>> care not to touch or even brush your skin with $Mtheir fingers, but when $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>draw<<else>>draws<</if>> back $Mtheir voice has a clear softer inflection. “There, keep this. Use it if someone challenges you. Serves people right for using it first.” Slightly touched, by the gesture more than the gift itself, you thank $Mthem <<if $mute>>with clear signs<<else>>with a slightly softer tone<</if>>. Morien waves away your gratitude, but the silence after that is comfortable and soothing.<<else>>Morien’s gaze pierces through you. Slowly, $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>raise<<else>>raises<</if>> a hand and <<if $Mplur>>grab<<else>>grabs<</if>> a goblet from the servant handing $Mthem one. $MThey <<if $Mplur>>slide<<else>>slides<</if>> it to you. “Let’s drink to that.” You note that $Mthey very rarely <<if $Mplur>>use<<else>>uses<</if>> your proper honorifics, and after such a heavy day, you do not mind it at all. More out of camaraderie than real desire to ingest alcohol, you drink the ale offered. What would seem a condescending gesture from any other person, being offered to drink from the physician feels quite… intimate. The silence that falls between you, mellowed by a background of traditional music and chatter, is much more pleasant than what you have experienced today. For once, there is no expectation for you, and you can allow your body to settle a bit.<</if>> Despite $Mtheir claim, Morien makes for a good company, $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> direct but very willing to entertain $Mthemselves through cutting sarcasm on whoever has the misfortune of catching $Mtheir attention. Eventually, though, $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>let<<else>>lets<</if>> out a huff and grip<<if $Mplur is false>>s<</if>> the handle of $Mtheir walking cane, which $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>use<<else>>uses<</if>> to drag $Mthemselves up. “These people are too drunk, it’s not even fun anymore. Let’s get some sleep, yeah?” Indeed, the day has been gruelling and your whole body is heavy with accumulated exhaustion. You walk by Morien’s side, adjusting to $Mtheir slower pace since $Mtheir knee seems to have become stiff with the inactivity, making $Mtheir gait less steady than usual - but perhaps that is simply all the alcohol $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>have<<else>>has<</if>> in $Mtheir body. You don’t really interact as you walk, but the silence isn’t heavy nor stifling. You reach a flight of stairs leading towards the royal quarters, and Morien stops. “… good night,” $Mthey <<if $Mplur>>wish<<else>>wishes<</if>> you, even if it’s early morning. You nod and wish $Mthem a good sleep as well, something in you stirring uncomfortably when you leave $Mthem behind. As you ascend the stairs, you feel the weight of $Mtheir gaze on you. It’s only when you have set foot on the proper second floor that you start to hear the faint, rhythmic sound of $Mtheir cane. <<button [[Continue|ch2.55]]>><</button>>

At their sight, your body shivers with phantom adrenaline, the one that pervaded every fiver of your muscles as you sparred with $Ethem. Ser Evaine is perhaps the knight in Camelot that is associated with mostly positive emotions at this point. And a member of the Round Table as well, which does indeed align with the level of raw talent you saw in $Ethem. Unwilling to resist the pull, you start walking towards the less crowded part of the hall. As you draw closer and closer, though, and the music dims a little, you can see how $Etheir body language is guarded, $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> leaning slightly away from $Etheir companion, and nothing in the way $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>move<<else>>moves<</if>> seem to indicate $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> pleased, or even tranquil. It becomes rather clear why once you are able to hear some of what they are saying to each other. “I said no. Just go,” is saying Ser Evaine, voice more cutting then what you heard at your last meeting. You don’t hear the answer, but you see the knight evade the hand that was about to rest, placatingly, on $Etheir arm. “We’re done here.” With a shake of their head, and some last brief parting words, the other person leaves just when you are reaching your destination. At first, Ser Evaine isn’t aware of your presence. $EThey <<if $Eplur>>look<<else>>looks<</if>> down, inspecting $Etheir clothes – $Ethey must have changed out of $Etheir armour after the parade – then $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>glance<<else>>glances<</if>> at the half full goblet in $Etheir hand, as if unsure of what to address first. It’s only when $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>sigh and turn<<else>>sighs and turns<</if>> to rest the goblet on a bench behind $Ethem that $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>notice<<else>>notices<</if>> you. Immediately alert, $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>straighten and bow<<else>>straightens and bows<</if>> $Etheir head slightly. “My $Liege.” <<if $mute>>“//Is something of the matter//?” you sign<<else>>“Is something of the matter?” you ask<</if>>. You don’t want to outright mention the exchange you just witnessed, but even aside of that $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>do<<else>>does<</if>> seem weary and inebriated. “Don’t… don’t worry about me. It’s nothing.” In the darkness of the night, with only the feeble light of some candles, only Ser Evaine’s blue eyes shine on $Etheir dark hair and ebony complexion. Although, in truth, you can discern makeup applied on $Etheir face, one that perfectly matches the dark blue fabric of $Etheir luxurious clothes. Though, upon closer look, you can see the outline of a stain on $Etheir overshirt, the fabric darker than it should be, with a few dark stains on the white undershirt as well. As soon as $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>notice<<else>>notices<</if>> where your gaze has fallen, Ser Evaine lets out a dejected, defeated sigh. <<button [[You pull out an embroidered piece of cloth out of your pocket, and offer it to them without words.|ch2.54.evaine]]>><<set $subtle to $subtle +1>><</button>> <<button [[“Did someone do that to you?” You ask, very directly.|ch2.54.evaine]]>><<set $bold to $bold +1>><</button>>

<<if $subtle gt $blunt>>You do not wish to make $Ethem feel embarrassed over it, and despite your curiosity at what must have happened, you simply wish to help $Ethem – a favour exchanged for the liberating spar $Ethey graciously offered you some days prior. The knight’s whole body slightly deflates, expression first unsure, then softening in gratitude. “Thank you,” $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>say<<else>>says<</if>>, taking the handkerchief from you, and gently starting to dab at the stain. “It just happened, I haven’t yet had the time to change,” $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>explain<<else>>explains<</if>>, as if you were going to judge $Ethem for it. <<if $mute>>“//I understand. Would you like me to walk you to your quarters?//”<<else>>“I understand. Would you like me to walk you to your quarters?”<</if>> “Oh,” $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>look<<else>>looks<</if>> up at you. “Would you?” You nod. <<if $mute>>“//I would like to get some sleep before tomorrow in any case.//”<<else>>“I would like to get some sleep before tomorrow in any case.”<</if>><<else>>Ser Evaine stiffens. “It was an accident. I believe.” It seems $Etheir mood is diminishing more and more as $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>inspect<<else>>inspects<</if>> the gravity of the stain. “I… think I’m going back to my room. I hate the feeling of wet fabric on me and it’s late… early?” $EThey <<if $Eplur>>glance<<else>>glances<</if>> outside of the windows, but the darkness doesn’t give any clarification on the exact time of the night. “Anyway. Would you like me to escort you back to your quarters first, my $Liege? It would be no trouble.” <<if $mute>>“//No,//” you sign, hand movement open, “but I would like to walk you to your room, instead.”<<else>>“No,” you answer, immediately, “but I would like to walk you to your room, instead.”<</if>> “Ah…” $Etheir expression shifts into confusion, and while it seems $Ethey would like to object – probably for the sake of normal protocol – in the end $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>agree<<else>>agrees<</if>>, perhaps too uncomfortable to do otherwise. “Thank you, I would like that.” <</if>> And so you do just that. Ser Evaine leads you out of the main hall and towards the western wing of the castle, where the training grounds and the knights living quarters are located. Most of the guards are housed in the lower town, but for obvious reasons the Castle Guards and the highest ranked knights are provided with quite luxurious personal rooms here in the inner fortress. You reach what must be the door to $Etheir personal quarters, because you come to a stop. The knight doesn’t make any move to enter, however, instead $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>turn<<else>>turns<</if>> to face you, and with a bit of hesitation in $Etheir voice $Ethey <<if $Eplur>>say<<else>>says<</if>>, “I know your schedule from now on will be quite full, but I would enjoy sparring with you again. I don’t want to presume but… you are incredibly skilled, perhaps you are used to train with a certain frequency, so this could be an excuse for you to make use of the training grounds.” //What an unexpectedly considerate offer.// Yes indeed, using the training grounds with your position and the history of your family would probably be a source of discomfort and even objection, but perhaps with a Round Table Knight by your side – guarding you like a vigil keeper – you could be allowed to do that in peace. That is what brings you to answer, <<if $mute>>“//I would like to spar with you again as well, Ser Evaine. Thank you for the offer.//”<<else>>“I would like to spar with you again as well, Ser Evaine. Thank you for the offer.”<</if>> You bid $Ethem goodnight, then, and you start the walk back to your bedchamber, hoping not to lose the way. <<button [[You do, in the end. You have to ask two guards to give you directions to your own quarters.|ch2.55]]>><</button>>

That is… odd. You remember seeing $Ythem at the parade, dressed in the fine armor of the Round Table knights, and thinking back you admit $Ytheir complexioned seemed a bit pale, $Ytheir eyes slightly unfocused. Unfortunately, it is quite late and $Ythey might have already retired to sleep – or just be on guard duty. You settle on asking of $Ythem tomorrow, and head towards the familiar route to your rooms. <<button [[Continue|ch2.55]]>><</button>>

<<if $mute>>You nudge $Gthem very softly to get $Gtheir attention. When $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>turn<<else>>turns<</if>>, you sign, “//let us get some sleep, Gwyar.//” <<else>>You lean closer to $Gthem and say, “let us get some sleep, Gwyar.”<</if>> $GThey <<if $Gplur>>sigh<<else>>sighs<</if>>, eyes slightly red in the feeble candlelight. “… alright.” You can see $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>are<<else>>is<</if>> so beyond tired that the intelligent patience that albergates in $Gtheir eyes is considerably dimmed as you both start to head towards the eastern exit of the main hall. In truth, you do not know whether to speak of it to $Gthem, or simply to let Gwyar rest as soon as possible, but before you can decide, Gwyar slows down beside you. Turning, you can both discern the object of $Gtheir scrutiny – an abandoned tray half filled with spilling goblets – and the intensity of $Gtheir annoyance at a level you have never encountered before. Anger flashes in $Gtheir golden eyes, followed quickly by fatigue. In that moment, Gwyar looks ready to collapse from exhaustion. $GThey <<if $Gplur>>glance<<else>>glances<</if>> at you, then back at the tray, and $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>take<<else>>takes<</if>> $Gtheir decision in the next instant. Lifting it up, Gwyar exhales heavily, “sorry. We can go.” In the time knowing $Gthem, you have come to understand that Gwyar is very precise, a perfectionist and someone who, in big or smaller tasks, hates to leave things unfinished. Perhaps exhaustion is only making that worse. You have walked only a couple of steps when another servant, in the process of gathering up some empty goblets and cleaning the benches, catches sight of Gwyar and gives $Gthem a puzzled look. You are reminded in that moment that Gwyar isn’t expected to work on the castle’s upkeep, but specifically as your personal attendant. Before you can move past him, the other servant is already reaching out for the tray, gently offering, “let me get that.” “No.” The firm rejection is let out with such dry coldness that it makes even you turn to the side in worry. Gwyar is hugging the tray closer to $Gtheir chest, and you notice $Gtheir grip on it tightening. The other man almost flinches, taken aback. $GThey <<if $Gplur>>send<<else>>sends<</if>> you a hesitant look, to which you wouldn’t know how to answer. This… is new to you. “Uhm… alright.” As you watch him get back to their work, your gaze falls over the nearby benches, the disarray that reigns over this section of the hall, now mostly vacated but needing to be attended to for the banquet to continue tomorrow. You can imagine how much work most of the servants will have to do, even after almost two days of continuously serving food and drinks. You bend to pick up some goblets and a stained tablecloth. As soon as you raise, ready to follow Gwyar, you find $Gtheir eyes staring with a panicked sort of confusion. <<button [[You simply glance down at the tray they are holding and meet Gwyar’s gaze with silent understanding.|ch2.54.gwyar]]>><<set $subtle to $subtle +1>><</button>> <<button [[“Come on,” you prompt, direct but kind.|ch2.54.gwyar]]>><<set $blunt to $blunt +1>><</button>>

<<if $subtle gt $blunt>><<if $mute>>”//Allow me//” you sign, one handed.<<else>>”Allow me” you say, softly.<</if>> A shadow of something raw you are unable to name settles in $Gtheir eyes, as $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>swallow<<else>>swallows<</if>> and take a moment to compose $Gthemselves. After that, $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>offer<<else>>offers<</if>> you a small, relieved, “we can pass by the kitchens on our way back.” So that is what you do. You deliver what you are holding, and Gwyar exchanges some murmured words with other workers before $Gthey <<if $Gpur>>lead<<else>>leads<</if>> you out, through narrow corridors you assumed are normally used by the servants.<<else>>$GThey <<if $Gplur>>look<<else>>looks<</if>> unsure for a moment, and eventually $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>offer<<else>>offers<</if>> a low, “alright.” You tilt your head at $Gthem in silent accord, then you resume walking. You deliver what you are holding, and Gwyar exchanges some murmured words with other workers before $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>lead<<else>>leads<</if>> you out, through narrow corridors you assumed are normally used by the servants.<</if>> You hoped $Gthey would head towards $Gtheir room – you really just want to see $Gthem lay down and sleep – but instead Gwyar brings you to the familiar entry of the hallway where your bedchamber is located. $GThey <<if $Gplur>>stop<<else>>stops<</if>> there, and <<if $Gplur>>peer<<else>>peers<</if>> into your eyes before letting out a hushed, “goodnight, my $Liege.” But before $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>leave<<else>>leaves<</if>>, you <<if $mute>>sign, “//Gwyar, wait.//”<<else>>call, “Gwyar, wait.”<</if>> $GThey <<if $Gplur>>do<<else>>does<</if>>. $GTheir whole attention on you, focused as if you were the one sole centre of $Gtheir world, and perhaps you are now. Because indeed, as the formal Royal Consort, $Gthey <<if $Gplur>>answer<<else>>answers<</if>> to you and you alone. Which suits you fine when you instruct, <<if $mute>>“//after tomorrow’s night, please take a day for yourself. I will be in the company of my siblings. You… rest.//”<<else>>“after tomorrow’s night, please take a day for yourself. I will be in the company of my siblings. You… rest.”<</if>> You half expect $Gthem to snap at you like $Gthey did with the other servant, or to object at the very least. Instead, Gwyar takes a minute to digest that and nods. “As you wish.” <<button [[Continue|ch2.55]]>><</button>>