“So true, sir knight.” The woman placed her hand on his shoulder. “Since we have you here, could you lend this old bag of bones a hand?”
With a nod, he followed the woman out of the room, and out of Gwen’s sight.
Her stomach lurched a little with him gone. Not out of fear, but a genuine ache.
She liked being by his side.
“Queen Gwen, Mother Martha says that I am taller! Do I look taller?”
With a smile, she absorbed herself in the children, sitting on the floor with them, braiding their hair to match hers, holding the young ones in her lap while they told her all she had missed.
Her cheeks ached with the smiles she shared — and she felt lucky, somehow, to be able toclaimthis kind of pain.
After some time, the door opened, and her knight walked in with a fresh bouquet of flowers. One by one, he gave each of the little girls in the children’s home a flower, tucking the lilies and daisies behind their ears.
And just like that, each of the children in the home was as enamored with him as she felt — for behind the flowers, were an assortment of sweets for the boys.
Guinevere rose from her spot on the floor, biting down on the inside of her cheek to keep her smile in check. “Do you know what you’ve done?” She asked him, stepping towards where he stood, encircled by a dozen young faces.
“Won over every heart in this building?” He suggested with a quirk of his eyebrow.
He had no idea.
“They’ll talk about this forever, Lance.” She drew closer to him, but forced herself to stay far enough that she couldn’t do anything rash.
“I have one left.” He held his hand out to her, and she took it. The children’s eyes were wide as they watched the interaction between knight and queen.
Tugging her closer, he tucked the remaining flower, a white lily,behind her ear. “Beautiful,” he whispered. She wasn’t sure she was supposed to hear.
“It’s getting late, your grace.” He said, finally breaking free of her gaze. “We should be going.”
A chorus of “nos” rang out in the room, which almost brought the queen to her knees.
“I’ll be back, my dears.” She promised with a smile. “I’m certain Sir Lancelot will escort me back again,” Her gaze flickered to him for just a moment, but she saw so much warmth in his eyes, her heart threatened to burst.
“It would be my honor, highness.” He bowed, and the young girls in the room just about swooned.
After they said their goodbyes, and left the room, the knight spoke again. “I hope you don’t mind, your grace. I chartered us a carriage.”
“I can walk, I don’t mind.”
“Bah,” he shook his head. “You’ve had a busy day, you’ve earned a little respite.”
“My life is nothing but respite, Lance.” Sourness leaked into her words, she hadn’t meant to feel so strongly.
“Perhaps it was before. Come, my lady, your carriage awaits.”
It was a simple design: two horses, a coachman, and a small cart. No cover, no grand adornments or doors, just — a coach.
Lancelot knelt down, offering his hand to her as she steadied herself for the step. Once more, her skin sparked to life with his gentle touch.
The sun was beginning to set, leaving a gentle chill in the air. Without a thought, Lancelot undid the cloak from around his neck, andoffered it to her.
“What about you?” Gwen asked, trying her best not to let her teeth chatter.
Lancelot gently coaxed her forward, wrapping her up in his oversized cloak. She wouldn’t lie - it was warm, and enveloped her in the smell of him.
As the carriage began its course home, she found herself aching once more. For connection, for his touch, for the tenderness that oozed from him. Slowly — very slowly, she shifted herself closer to where he sat.
