The village marketplace just outside the gates of Camelot, bustled with life. Merchants shouted their prices, farmers hauled carts of produce, and blacksmiths hammered away in the background.
Felicity walked the cobbled streets of the village of Camelot while the sounds of clinking metal, merchants haggling, and children laughing as they darted between stalls filled the area around her. Horses' hooves clacked rhythmically against the stones as carts rolled by, their wheels rattling under heavy loads of grain and produce. The air smelled of freshly baked bread, leather from the smithy, and the faint perfume of wildflowers that adorned the market stalls.
But for Felicity, none of the usual sights and sounds could distract her. Her mind was a whirlpool of dread, her pulse racing as she moved briskly through the market, the events of the past few days weighing heavily on her. The vision of Camelot's destruction still haunted herâGuinevere and Gavin all at the center of the kingdom's downfall from her prophecy.
The rhythmic clopping of hooves drew her gaze to the road ahead, where a man on horseback entered the village, the sun glinting off his polished armor strapped to the back of the animal. His stallionâa sleek black horseâmoved gracefully through the crowd, the knight atop it commanding attention without even trying. Felicity's breath hitched. She had never seen him before.
His broad shoulders and muscular frame were accentuated by his well-fitted clothes, made for a robust knight. His dark hair, slightly tousled from the ride, framed his sharp, chiseled features. His eyes scanned the crowd with calm observation, and when he smiled briefly at a merchant who waved to him, it was the kind of smile that could win over hearts without effort.
Several women nearby whispered to each other, giggling as they watched him pass. One of them boldly waved, and Lancelot nodded politely in response before continuing toward the center of the village.
Who was this man, and dare she be so bold as to stride up to him and introduce herself. After all, she felt it was her duty as Merlin's granddaughter to keep Camelot from outcasts who only wanted to bring harm to their lifestyle.
She pulled her hood down slightly, hiding her face as she weaved through the crowd, determined to keep an eye on him for any suspicious activity.
The handsome knight dismounted near the village fountain, securing the reins of his horse to a nearby post. He accepted a waterskin from a merchant and took a long drink, his gaze occasionally drifting across the market as if he were studying the people of Camelot.
Felicity hesitated for a moment, her hands trembling slightly as she approached him. I have to do this, she reminded herself. For Gavin. For Camelot.
"Good afternoon, Sir Knight," she said, keeping her voice steady as she pulled back her hood.
He lowered the waterskin and turned toward her, his expression polite but curious. His gaze lingered on her for a moment, as if assessing her, before he offered a warm smile. "Good afternoon."
Felicity inclined her head slightly. "You must be new to Camelot."
"I am," he replied, his tone smooth and friendly. "Sir Lancelot du Lac, at your service, fair maiden."
Hearing his name, her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. This was the man that Gavin told her would fall in love with Guinevere. If only Felicity dared believe that, then maybe she could push the devilish handsome knight to woo Guinevere before that woman could get her claws on Gavin.
Lancelot extended his hand in greeting, and she shook it briefly, noting the strength of his grip.
"And you are?" he asked.
"Felicity," she said. "I work closely with Merlin."
At the mention of the wizard, Lancelot's brows lifted slightly, though he quickly masked his surprise. "Ah, Merlin. I've heard many stories about him. It's an honor to meet someone in his inner circle."
Felicity forced a small smile, her mind already racing to form a plan. "What brings you to Camelot, Sir Lancelot?"
"I'm seeking work as a knight," he said, casually resting a hand on the hilt of his sword. "I've served in several courts, but I've heard that Camelot is where legends are made. I'd like to earn my place here."
Her stomach twisted at his words, but she maintained her composure. "You've come at an interesting time. Camelot is undergoing... changes. The return of Prince Arthur has stirred many things."
"So I've heard," Lancelot said, his tone thoughtful. "A lost prince returning to claim his birthright. It sounds like the kind of tale poets would write about for generations."
"Yes," Felicity agreed, though her throat felt tight. "But it also means Camelot's politics are delicate right now. Too delicate for someone new to get involved."
Lancelot tilted his head slightly, studying her. "Are you warning me, Maiden Felicity?"
"I'm giving you advice," she said firmly, lowering her voice. "There's another tournament happening in Eldermoor, just a few days' ride from here. It's a prestigious event. Knights from across the realm will be competing for prizes, recognition, and favor from the king himself. If you're seeking glory, Eldermoor might be a better opportunity."
Lancelot leaned back slightly, crossing his arms as he considered her words. "That's interesting. I hadn't heard about it."
Felicity nodded, trying to press her advantage. "If you leave now, you'd make it in time to register. The road to Eldermoor is through Willowmere Forest, just east of here." She pointed in the direction, hoping he took the bait and went in the direction of Lady Guinevere. "Winning a tournament like that would make you even more valuable to Camelot... as well as catching the eye of a real lady, when you return."
"And why would you want me to leave so soon?" Lancelot asked, a glimmer of suspicion creeping into his gaze. "It almost sounds like you're trying to get rid of me."
Felicity's pulse quickened, but she didn't flinch. "I'm looking out for you," she said smoothly. "Camelot is complicated right now, and the court is full of people with hidden agendas. You could easily find yourself caught in the middle of something you didn't intend. If you prove yourself in Eldermoor first, you'd return here with more leverage."
He studied her in silence for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing her sincerity. Then, he smiled again, though it was more cautious this time. "You're persuasive, Maiden Felicity. But I came to Camelot for a reason, and I'm not sure I'm ready to leave just yet."
Her stomach twisted, but she kept her expression neutral. "At least think about it," she urged. "Eldermoor's tournament could give you exactly what you're looking forâand keep you out of unnecessary conflict."
Lancelot nodded slowly. "I will consider it."
She prayed he considered it quickly before Gavin became more in love with Guinevere. But she hoped she'd bought herself a small window of time, but it wouldn't last. As she turned and began walking back toward Merlin's cottage, her mind raced with possibilities. She would have to come up with another planâsomething that could bring him and Guinevere together faster.
Because if Sir Lancelot stayed in Camelot, it was only a matter of time before fate pulled him into Gavin's path. And once that happened, the prophecy would begin to unravel.
And this time, Felicity wasn't going to let fate win.
* * * *
The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting long shadows over the rolling hills surrounding Camelot. Gavin stared at the distant spires of the castle, their peaks catching the fading sunlight like beacons calling him forward. The hum of the village below had softened, merchants packing up for the night, villagers returning to their homes, and distant laughter drifting on the breeze.
But Gavin's thoughts weren't with the village or the castle. They were with herâGuinevere.
He shifted his weight, his fingers brushing over the hilt of Excalibur as he tried to make sense of the knot of emotions tightening in his chest. Since his visit to King Hector's court, her name had lingered in his mind like an unanswered question. Meeting her in the forest had stirred something inside himâa sense of curiosity, of connection. At first, he had dismissed it as chance, but now it felt like something more.
Her image haunted him constantly. The way the sunlight had danced in her golden hair, the softness of her voice when she spoke, and the grace with which she had played the lute were always in his thoughts. There had been an air of mystery about her, as though she carried secrets that only someone willing to look closer could uncover. And Gavin wanted to be that someone.
"I need to see her again," he whispered, the realization settling like a stone in his chest.
He didn't just want to know more about her... he needed to. She wasn't just a woman placed in his path by fateâshe was the key to understanding whether this path was truly his destiny. If he was to consider her as a future queen, as Hector had suggested, he couldn't rely on stories and assumptions. He had to see her for who she really was.
The door to the cottage creaked open behind him, and Felicity stepped out, her cloak draped loosely over her shoulders. Her auburn hair caught the last of the sunlight, and for a moment, Gavin hesitated. He didn't want to hide anything from her, but he also wasn't sure how to explain why he was drawn to Guinevere.
"You're awfully quiet," Felicity said, joining him at the wooden fence. Her gaze followed his to the distant castle. "Thinking about when you will become king?"
"Something like that," he replied, exhaling slowly. "Honestly? I'm thinking about Guinevere."
Felicity stiffened beside him, but she quickly masked it with a forced smile. "What about her?"
Gavin hesitated, struggling to find the right words. "When I met her in the forest, it felt... different. As if we were meant to cross paths. I can't explain it, but there's something about her I can't shake."
Felicity lowered her gaze, her fingers tightening around the edge of her cloak. "And now you feel like you need to see her again."
"Yes," Gavin admitted. "I want to understand her. Not just the version Hector presented to me as a political alliance, but the real Guinevere. I want to know who she is when she's not being watched or judged by a court."
Felicity nodded, looking up at him again. "So, what are you waiting for?"
Gavin turned to her, surprise flickering across his face. "You think I should go?"
"What I think doesn't matter, does it?" she said softly. "You've already made up your mind."
He frowned, sensing the tension in her voice. "Felicity, this isn't just about what Hector wants. I need to know for myself if Guinevere is someone I can trust. Someone I can rely on."
Felicity bit her lip, her gaze locked on the horizon. "Then go," she said, her voice steady. "But be careful. People aren't always what they seem."
Gavin studied her for a moment, as if trying to read between her words, but eventually, he nodded. "Thank you."
With that, he turned and strode toward the stable where his horse waited, his footsteps echoing softly against the dirt path.
The ride to Guinevere's family estate was a quiet one. The countryside was bathed in twilight, the fields stretching endlessly beneath the darkening sky. Gavin's thoughts churned as his horse trotted along the winding road in the forest, the rhythmic clopping of hooves the only sound accompanying him. As he approached the estate, the outline of the grand house came into view, its stone walls covered in ivy, and the soft glow of lanterns lit the path leading to the entrance.
A servant met him at the gate, bowing politely before leading him to the garden. Gavin dismounted and followed the lantern-lit path through the neatly trimmed hedges and blooming flowerbeds. The scent of lavender and jasmine filled the air, and the gentle trickle of a nearby fountain added to the tranquil atmosphere.
As he rounded a corner, he spotted her.
Guinevere sat on a stone bench beneath a large oak tree, her gown flowing like silk around her as she strummed a soft tune on her lute. The glow of the lanterns bathed her in warm light, highlighting the delicate features of her face and the golden waves of her hair. She looked up as he approached, her fingers pausing on the strings.
"Prince Arthur," she said, setting the lute aside and standing gracefully. "I wasn't expecting you."
Gavin smiled, his nerves easing slightly at the warmth in her voice. "I hope I'm not intruding."
"Not at all," she replied, gesturing for him to sit beside her. "What brings you here?"
He sat, the cool stone beneath him grounding him as he gathered his thoughts. "I wanted to see you again," he admitted. "There's something about you that I can't stop thinking about."
Guinevere's gaze softened, and a small, knowing smile curved her lips. "Is it curiosity or something more?"
"I'm not sure yet." His honesty surprised even himself. "I feel like fate brought us together, but I don't want to rely on fate alone. I want to know who you really are."
She tilted her head slightly, studying him with an intensity that made his pulse quicken. "And how do you plan to do that, Prince Arthur?"
He hesitated before answering. "By asking the right questions. By spending time with you."
Guinevere smiled again, this time more genuine. "Then stay a while," she said, her voice soft. "The night is still young."
As the conversation continued and the stars appeared overhead, Gavin felt the weight of his doubts begin to shift. The woman beside him was more than a name from a prophecyâshe was real, layered, and intriguing. But in the back of his mind, another image lingered: Felicity, standing by the fence, her words of caution echoing in his ears.
People aren't always what they seem.
And yet, tonight, Gavin wanted to believe that fate had placed him exactly where he needed to be.