It was days like these that Arthur was able to temporarily shed the shackles of solemn expectations and princely duties that bound him. For though he was to be a gracious host and an honorable representation of the future king of Camelot, he had not been mandated by his father to do anything other than succeed in the full utilization of his skills during the tournament. Five full days devoid of council gatherings regarding executions of justice, military contentions, and alliance treaties. There were to be no tiresomely verbose speeches to listen to or bulks of suitors to siphon through in pursuit of a future queen. It was to be just him, his horse, his armor, and the thrill of the competition. And that Arthur was more than capable of.
The sound of celebratory enthusiasm thundered down around Arthur’s ears in a cacophonous din as he rode through the courtyard on his favorite blood bay mare. His own excitement threaded through him like an arrhythmic pulse, demanding in its intensity, as he fidgeted in his saddle. A wide smile spread across his full lips, his already brilliantly bright blue eyes resplendent with eager anticipation and a hint of cocky determination as he watched the entourage of various kingdoms march through his gates. Half of these kingdoms he had only ever heard of in the scrolls of history text he’d read as a child. But this - this was so much better. To have once read vague passages about these kingdoms and their people paled in comparison to having them within Camelot’s walls now.
All around him, citizens of Camelot and other kingdoms alike flooded his horse’s feet, swirling around Arthur and his fellow knights in undulating whirlpools as they tried to get a better view of the new guests as they entered. It was the very same reason why Arthur and his knights were moving through the crowd now, to better see and assess the other kingdoms’ knights as they came. Now that Arthur was officially the Crown Prince of Camelot, there were more people than there ever were before and Arthur didn’t want to miss a single one.
Arthur’s horse balked hesitantly beneath him at the chaotic commotion that surrounded her, but with a reassuring pat on the neck and a guiding squeeze of his heels, she moved forward effortlessly through the crowd. His red cape bearing the crest of Camelot and his identity as the prince also helped to ease his passage through the narrowed streets as he supplied gentle yet firm “Excuse me“‘s to his people before he finally made it to the front gates.
He made it just in time to recognize the knights of Fanelia’s kingdom as they entered the town square. Together, he and his own fellow knights appraised theirs, making quiet bets as to who the chosen knight would be. There seemed to be only two solid contenders - one was the traditional, sound choice while the other looked to be a comical option. He was relatively tiny, looking incapable of handling a regular dining knife, let alone a sword. And to top it off, he kept scanning the crowd as if he was expecting an attack already while the games didn’t even begin until the next morning. The idea of him even being considered for the tournament was a joke, so when it was confirmed that he was to be Fanelia’s chosen one, it was all Arthur and his knights could do to keep themselves from quietly chuckling to one another. It seemed they at least had this one in the bag.
Still, Arthur composed himself quickly, feeling slightly embarrassed and disappointed in himself at having been so open about his thoughts, hoping that the duchess and her knights hadn’t seen. The last thing he ever sought out to do was offend and so with a quick clearing of his throat, he brought his knights to a reverent silence as he approached the duchess. The castle was to house her and her knights and a few other select kingdoms during the duration of the tournament while the other kingdoms were to stay within the houses of various citizens. As much as Uther had wanted to house everyone, the number of rooms in the castle was not infinite and he’d had to choose. To rectify this, however, all kingdoms had been invited to the castle that night for a gargantuan celebratory dinner before the events began the next day.
As he approached the duchess, he bowed his head respectfully, unable to help but to take in her features as he perused her in modest acquaintance. Though her hair was as vividly red as the stories of her foretold, he felt as though she was not quite as stunningly beautiful as others spoke of her. Oddly enough, he noticed, it was her chosen knight who seemed to be getting more attention than herself. Shaking these thoughts from his head, he stole his bewildered, contemplative gaze from the strange knight and smiled in warm welcome to the duchess. “M’lady, welcome to Camelot,” he supplied in greeting. “If you will, I can take you and your knights to the castle now so you can settle in. I hope your journey was an easy one?” he asked in pleasant small talk.
Women threw freshly picked flowers at the hooves of Camelot’s finest, shrilling as they waved and pushed forward to try and touch them. The celebration on the streets had easily lead up to the citadel and the castle itself. Speaking of the castle, towered over everything; its white walls caught the light of the sun and gave it an ethereal glow. The temple back in their valley paled in comparison to this intimidating structure, but the Duchess would not admit that. It was glorious, the pride of Camelot.
It was the announcement of jeers that drew the knights’ attention to the coming of the kingdom’s best. The older knight chuckled and looked over the young men, which made him think of time long past when he was at the cusp between adolescence and becoming a man. His attention shifted to the other knight who had given the crowd a worried, troublesome look. “Something ails you so much that a smile can not shine through, even for show?” His voice was deep, rumbling from his throat and easily heard by the Duchess, but most importantly, the knight.
“Would it please you if I did smile, our Lady is doing enough for the both of us,” his words were as hard as the steel blade resting in the comfort of its scabbard. Upon closer inspection, one would see the hint of a smile touch his soft lips, even curling somewhat as if trying to retain the laughter that started to surface. The green-eyed, pretty boy, could have been somewhat related to the Duchess herself. He had peach discoloration peppered across his cheeks and nose, adding allure to his already young looks. His hair was slicked back, a shorter version to the waves of curls that framed the head of his lady.
Yes, the resemblance was there, yet not quite.
“Oh, the Prince arrives,” the Duchess pressed her fingers along her lips, trying to conceal the wonderful smile that matched those of the many ladies in the presence of Camelot’s most sought-out bachelor The knight, adjacent to her, lifted his attention to see Arthur arriving close to their entourage. This was the first time he had laid eyes on the Prince, but knew of him through stories and news from the kingdoms of Albion regarding The Tournament of Camelot – among other things. The way his knights looked at him as they approached, with the hint of humor glinted in their gaze, it appeared they were withholding laughter.
The knight turned away from seeing the ridicule in their eyes and focused more on their stature and the way they proudly sat, mounted on their equines. He listened to the roar of the crowd, how they cried in adoration – it was almost deafening. But, when he too met the gaze of the Prince, all sounds melted into after thought. When Prince Arthur had tore his gaze away and given to it to one more deserving, the knight took a deep breath and focused more on the other knight that he would meet in the duelling pitch.
“Oh your Grace, we are forever grateful for such hospitality and allowing us to remain within your castle’s walls. As far as our journey goes, it was nothing but splendid. We came across several enchanting settlements to rest before arriving. ” The Duchess was all smiles as she tugged lightly at the reins while offering a bow of her head to Arthur. “May I be so bold to say, that seeing you in person exceeds your reputation. I can understand why so many are drawn to you, M'lord.” He was handsome, not even she can deny this fact. Her eyes tried desperately not to linger far too long, for it was not proper for a woman in her position.
“I look forward to tonight and the events thereafter. We heard of your past victories, do you intend on keeping your title as Champion, M'lord Pendragon? I do hope that you would have a chance at the games with Sir Lucian.” She asked with a light chuckle as her two knights looked on at the crowd, but the sea-green eyes of the one nearest to the Duchess shifted quickly to Arthur, expecting his response.
