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At least there was that.
* * *
Mordred found the Knight in Gold standing upon the ramparts, watching the forest that was now in full spring bloom. Between the keep and the forest, a field of grass swayed, green and fresh, in the setting sunlight. It was beautiful—even if it was a sign of the mayhem and the death that was certain to come.
Galahad was on watch, waiting for the inevitable army to come and lay siege to their home.
And perhaps he was on watch for someone else as well.
Mordred stood beside him, his black hood over his head, choosing to shield his eyes from the glare of the setting sun as it slipped closer to the horizon. He did not ask what troubled the knight. He knew quite well what it was.
Ages ago, with the formation of the Iron Crystal, Galahad was forced to part ways with the woman he loved. He was forced to watch as Mordred trapped Zoe in the Crystal. Mordred had done it last out of respect to his companion and closest excuse for a friend. But perhaps saving her for last was crueler than it had been kind.
Now, both of their hearts belonged to those who were doomed for imprisonment or worse.
Out there was the soul Galahad had not seen in over three hundred years. One who Mordred was certain he would give anything to hold in his arms once more. One who Mordred had gone to see instead, knowing that if he let Galahad free, he would never see the Knight in Gold again. He and Zoe would go into hiding, far away from all the strife and troubles of the world. Somewhere they could simply go to be together.
For Mordred had the same desire, if far more fledgling, for Gwendolyn.
“I cannot spare your presence,” Mordred broke the silence. “You are my strongest knight.”
“I know,” Galahad responded, his voice quiet and doing little to hide the knight’s clear grief. “I have not asked.”
“You needn’t speak the words.”
“Nor you to explain yourself.” Galahad’s eyes were sorrowful and tired as he kept his gaze locked upon the trees—likely wishing and dreading for the glowing form of his lady love to appear. Wishing to see her once more while dreading what he knew would have to follow. “Tell me, is she well?”
Mordred nodded once before turning his attention back to the same woods. “Perhaps I have not come to deliver an explanation, but instead an apology.” At Galahad’s silence, he continued. “For I find myself in the rather unusual and unpleasant situation of being a hypocrite. And if there is any shred of dignity or honor left in my blackened soul, I hope it is to recognize when I am being quite distinctly inequitable.”
“You have always known when you are being unjust, my prince.” Galahad straightened his shoulders, easily adding to his already considerable height when he was not slouching. “It is simply that you believe that the success of your mission outweighs all cost to those around you.”
“I believed so, until Gwendolyn.”
“Yes, I suppose.” Galahad smirked, just barely, with a curl to that gray mustache. “I will confess to some guilty satisfaction at your recent struggles. That you might know what it is like to lose the one you love.”
Mordred did not bother to pretend that he did not love Gwendolyn. It must be brutally obvious to the Knight in Gold. Especially since his rash decision to let the young fire elemental go free. Something he had not allowed Zoe.
“Tell me, Galahad, do you despise me?”
The Knight in Gold stood there silently for a long moment, clearly debating his answer. After careful consideration, he answered with a single word. “No.”
Mordred would always value the knight for his honesty and his integrity. “I will not rebuild the Iron Crystal. Not until I am given no other choice.”
“Oh?” Galahad sounded surprised.
“I would hardly be a just ruler if I seek to imprison those guilty of no crime. I will wait for the elementals to seek the ruination of this world once more. If—when—they repeat their actions? Then, I shall rebuild the Crystal. But for now, I shall not hunt them down. Not until given cause. There is only one who I will seek to destroy.” He needn’t name the bastard.
Galahad smiled, full of tentative hope. Hope that he might have a future of peace ahead of him. But his smile quickly faded as the likely reality set in.
For asking elementals to keep peace was like asking a cow to fly.
You might be able to hurl it from a trebuchet and replicate the intent, but it would not be long until it came crashing down.
But hope was insidious and hard to root out. Galahad nodded once, in thanks, and went back to his silent watch of the forest.
Mordred left the knight to his post and decided he was, for once, quite weary.
He simply hoped his dreams were not plagued with the sound of laughter and the taste of woodsmoke and spices against his lips. How sad had he become that he could not stand to be apart from a woman he had only known for a flicker of a single candle in all his long years?
