Forbidden Love (Rewritten) | Arthur Pendragon

40 • THE WICKED DAY

The morning sun was shining brightly in the azure sky, illuminating the Royal City of Camelot. The streets were buzzy with joy, all the inhabitants preparing for the prince's birthday. Banners were hung between houses, the Pendragon colors flowing from rooftops, as some left gifts by the castle's gates for Arthur: bread, fruits, and even garments. People of all horizons had come to participate in the celebration, even though they could not enter the palace.

"Had I known you could make thunder rain, I would have pledged allegiance to you," Gawain said, walking amongst the thick crowd.

Eowyn chortled. "It isn't very knightly of you to have such feeble loyalty toward the house you swore fealty to."

She stopped at a flower stall and picked a few plants for a nice bouquet. The owner beamed a grateful smile at the coins of gold she dropped in his hand.

"Keep the change," she said, widening the florist's grin.

Gawain stepped closer to her, shielding her with his body when they reentered the crowd. Every passerby glanced, eyes wide in awe, as she brushed past them. Some stopped to greet her; others who knew her from her apprentice days exchanged a few words, saying how much they missed having her around. Now and then, she would visit the lower town for a stroll, more often since Lancelot's death. Usually, Alfhild or Gudmund would escort her. However, this time the general was taken by negotiations with the Council regarding the terms of the declarations whilst the Valkyrie was training. In these cases, like at present, a knight of the Round Table would accompany her. And it fell upon Gawain.

Truth be told, Eowyn did not need to be escorted, but Arthur insisted that she always be guarded. She could defend herself, of course, but having an additional pair of arms could still come in handy. Besides, though she was known amongst the inhabitants, some were still sceptical regarding her origins and abilities. Uther's hatred of magic had infested the whole lands, and old teachings were difficult to wear off.

"Well, I remember saying you were my favorite princess--well, favorite queen, now," Gawain replied with his infamous smirk. "I'd say I'm making proof of my unwavering loyalty to you by pledging to you."

"Arthur wouldn't be very keen to hear that."

"I'd argue he'd be gladdened to know the mightiest of his knights would protect you."

Eowyn chuckled. "You always find something to retort, don't you?"

Gawain nudged her. "Learned that from the best."

The crowd thinned the more they neared the gates of the city. The chatter of the town grew distant behind them, replaced by the chirping of birds as the earthly floor crunched under each step they took. Gawain matched his walk with her, standing right beside her. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword attached to his hip, as if ready to unsheathe it in case of an unexpected attack. Protocol would require him to be a foot behind, but Eowyn was not holding tightly to these kinds of silly rules. Gawain was a friend, after all.

"May I ask you something?" she then said.

He nodded. "Can ask me anything."

"What are your true intentions towards Alfhild?"

"Maybe not anything."

Eowyn playfully slapped his shoulder, earning a laugh from him. Gawain always hid behind jokes and laughter, making it hard to see his true self within. But Eowyn was no fool.

"Do you see her as a challenge to be won, or..."

"I'd never dare see a lady as a trophy." He had shaken his head. "In all my years of traveling the lands and fighting, I have never come across a woman so agile with a sword. It is as though she belongs to the battlefield, rushing into the enemies' lines with no fear." A grin spread across his lips. "I was doomed from the start."