Chivalry ♛ King Arthur

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THE baker's assistant was in the castle kitchens, arms deep in flour and dough when a young boy ran past wearing a knit navy cap. "Blue!" She called, noting he was dragging a blunted sword that was almost as big as him. The boy turned around, red-faced and out of breath.

"Sorry," he mumbled, walking backward toward the door.

Three more steps and he would bolt. "Get back here!" Frida called hands on her hips. It wasn't good for him to be running around with a sword, blunted or not, let alone so early in the morning.

"I'm gonna be late!" The boy lamented as he trudged back to where Ida was kneading a batch of sourdough bread.

Despite her relationship with the King, Frida still busied herself in the kitchens. She made almost all the sweets for any important events. "Late for what?" She inquired, wiping her hands off in a stained, patched apron.

Blue looked down at the training sword he held in his hand. It was heavy and off-balance, but he had to start somewhere. "The boss is teachin' me how to use one," he remarked.

Ida didn't like to think about Blue learning how to fight. Not after everything that had happened. She hoped that the new world Art was building fighting wouldn't be necessary, but until that was certain, she supposed it wasn't altogether a bad thing.

"Here-" Frida handed the boy one of the warm apple pastries that had just been dipped in a cinnamon-honey glaze, they were to be served later at the council meeting "-you won't do much learning on an empty stomach." Blue took a large bite, wiping the sticky glaze that trickled down his chin away with the sleeve of his roughspun tunic.

She poured a glass of freshly squeezed apple juice and passed it to the boy. He took two large gulps of the juice and took another bite of the pastry. Ida crouched down in front of the boy and looked him in the eye. "And tell Art if I find a single scratch or bruise on you then he's going to get an earful," she told him with a smile, tapping the tip of his nose with a flour coated finger.

Blue grinned, his rosy cheeks stuffed with the sweet autumn pastry.

♛ ♛ ♛

The archer from the woods arrived in the late afternoon. Heavy rains had made the journey take longer than anticipated. Water still beaded from the heavy leather cloak resting on his shoulders, puddling on the pale stone floor around worn boots.

"Gwaine," Arthur greeted before the squire could announce the arrival. All pretenses of their first encounter in the woods were gone. Ida stepped forward, hands clasped before the pewter belt that hung low around her waist. A fitting accessory given the deep blue dress she wore. The archer smiled at her, though he quickly averted his eyes to the person who stood at his side.

Next to the archer was a woman, though it had taken Frida several seconds to discern that. She wore a long dark green cloak and the same attire as her companion with her golden hair pulled back into a tight braid. Gwaine shifted on his feet and motioned toward the woman. "This is my wife, Gayle." The huntress bristled at the name and lowered the hood of her cloak. "Our hunting party calls her Galahad, though," he amended.

Arthur looked between Frida and Galahad. The two women seemed to be opposite sides of the same coin. Both were dangerous. The danger that Frida posed though, was hidden behind a sweet smile and soft façade. "You have some skill with a blade?" Art asked, noticing the sword on her hip.

Gayle met his gaze with bright green eyes. "Aye, my king, I was raised with a sword in hand." Her gaze shifted to Frida, curious to know if this was really the Arcanist that people spoke of. In truth, she'd expected an enchantress given her husband's description, not the demure woman who stood at the King's side.

Behind them, the smell of herb-roasted quail filled the air. Art smiled and waved their guests over to the table in the main hall where the evening meal was being laid out. "C'mon," he announced, "let's eat." Negotiations tended to go better when food and spirits were involved.

♛ ♛ ♛

Frida paced the length of the large bedchamber as she wrung the remaining dampness from her hair "So?" Art asked. She stopped and turned to Arthur, who was reclined on the bed, hands folded behind his head.

He had told her of his grand plan. To assemble a troupe of trusted allies to maintain the order and justice within England and neighboring realms. It was a good plan.

Finding the right people, on the other hand, would be no easy feat.

Ida looked down at her feet and the small puddle near one of her toes from the last drops of water in her dark hair. "I trust them." It almost sounded like she was loathed to admit it, but after having dinner with the husband and wife duo she could not deny they were decent, honest, hard-working people.

"Since you approve," Art started, rolling onto his side to fully look upon her, "if everything remains in order, I'll have him knighted in a month's time." The archer would have a duty to the Crown then, to maintain the law in the King's forests and report back to court.

Frida turned to the dark wood vanity and picked up a wooden comb. "And what of Gayle?" She asked, working the tangles from her dark hair. Ida had appreciated the company of another woman, but the huntress was not meant to wear silk and parade around the court. She was her husband's equal.

Arthur's brows furrowed. "We can name her as a Lady?" Frida looked at his reflection, shaking her head. That was not an acceptable answer. It did not seem fair that out of the pair Gwaine would be the one knighted only because he was a man.

He seemed to be able to read her thoughts, for Arthur let out a long sigh and rolled back onto his back. "If she accepts the offer then we will have gained two knights instead of one. Gwaine and Galahad."

Once her hair was free of tangles, Ida plaited the damp strands and tied off the end with a thong of dyed leather. It would soon be time for a trim. With her hair reaching her lower back it was the longest it'd been since Edwyn let her start helping in the bakery.

Frida pulled up the skirt of her pale nightgown and climbed onto the bed and atop Arthur, pressing her hands to his chest. He smiled. It was a rarity for him to see her in this state. But moments later his smile faded as he noted her contemplative expression. Arthur ran his hands up her bare arms and grasped her shoulders. "What's that look for?" He questioned, clear blue gaze suspicious.

"I've been thinking," Ida started.

He paled. "Oh no."

She rolled her eyes and swatted his chest in a playful manner. "What if we opened the castle to orphaned children?" Camelot's castle seemed empty. There were few rooms occupied with the girls and appointed nobles, but the vast majority of space was left unused.

Art hadn't been expecting that.

"We were lucky to have someone take us in-" Frida brushed her fingers over the scars on his neck and face "-but others aren't as lucky as we were. Londinium isn't a kind city to orphans, even now." It was true. There were always problems in the larger cities. Even his white cloaks couldn't stop every criminal act.

It had been by luck that two people had been willing to take them in and by chance that they had run into one another on the streets. Now though, they had the power and will to shape the history of England.

Arthur sat up and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against him. "I think we can do that," he replied, lips brushing against the pulse of her neck. Frida smiled. He rolled them over into the center of the featherbed. His hand cradled her left cheek. Ida's warm cognac eyes were opened wide as she met his soft gaze.

Art shifted his weight and leaned forward to press his lips to hers. She tasted of honey and mulled wine. Nothing could compare. He sighed and pulled away, not quite understanding how a woman like her could have fallen in love with a street rat like him.