King and Lionheart

Moonlight

Diarmuid sat on the ledge of one of the castle's balconies. The night was chilly, the cool air nipped at his fingertips and nose, but he didn't bother wearing a coat. He'd stripped off his armour earlier that evening and decided to take a breath of fresh air before he called it a night. On the way to the balcony, he'd met Gawain, who had offered him a bottle of wine to enjoy for the night, saying something about him going off to enjoy the other bottle he had with Lancelot and Bedivere. Gawain had obviously invited him to drink with them, but Diarmuid courteously denied, preferring to be alone. However, the main issue with being alone was that there was nothing to distract him from his fight with Arthur. He poured himself a goblet of wine (it must've been his third now) and looked back out over the city of Camelot before he took a sip.

Diarmuid could spot a few lights flickering within the city skyline, but it seemed that most residents had already gone to sleep. Some torches were also lit around the castle courtyard, but the moon did all the work of lighting up the castle grounds for the most part.

It was cold enough that his breath would form small puffs around him with every breath he took. Diarmuid took another sip of the wine and swung his feet in the air one at a time. He wasn't far off from the ground, just a story, and so he wasn't worried about falling.

The memory of his fight with Arthur slithered back into his mind, and he grimaced before he finished the goblet of wine quickly. He poured himself another goblet and drank it immediately. There was too much on his mind; the fight he had with Arthur, the fact that Arthur might be the death of him, how he had a child, and now he also had to worry about Grainne coming to ruin his only sliver peace. His life was a mess right now, and he wanted to drown in alcohol and simply forget everything. The only thing he was actually looking forward to was meeting his son.

It was the creak of a door that caught his attention. He looked down, right below him, as that's where he'd heard the noise from and spotted a hooded figure emerge from the stone archway. They held the cloak tightly around themselves and seemed to look around before they stepped towards the gates carefully as if calculating every step. The dark cape fluttered in the cool autumn breeze, and the person started crossing the courtyard.

Diarmuid furrowed his brows. The urge to call out won him over. He leaned forwards slightly and tilted his head. "Who goes there?" He called loud enough for the cloaked person to hear him but not so loud as to attract anyone else's attention.

The figure froze in their tracks, and they whipped their head around to see where they'd been called from.

"Up here." Diarmuid waved, seeing the person tilt their head in confusion after finding no one around.

The figure looked up, and the moonlight was only strong enough to let Diarmuid see the person's eyes. Rich green eyes, like polished emeralds, reflected the white moonlight. The eyes reminded him of two distinct people, but it was when the hood slipped from the person's head and pooled at their shoulders that Diarmuid fully recognized them.

"Lily." He smiled.

Lily stared up at him with wide eyes, and then she looked down at her hands, panicked before she looked back up. "D-Diarmuid..." She stared at him as if she'd been caught doing something wrong.

"What are you doing sneaking around the castle this late at night?" Diarmuid raised an eyebrow. "It looks to me as if you're a thief in the night."

Lily forced a smile. "What are you doing up so late? And why does it look as if you're about to jump from the balcony? Shouldn't you be resting for tomorrow's practice?"

Diarmuid laughed and tutted. "I asked you first."

Lily's gaze drifted away from Diarmuid, and then she spoke in a defeated sigh. "Morgana needed me up until now, and I'm heading home. Now, you should really be hurrying off to bed. Goodnight."