[Third Person POV]
"I wish to one day get the opportunity to test my sword skill against you, Sir Ivere. If Lance managed to reach the level he is at now thanks to your guidance, then you must truly be an exceptional swordsman," Arthur said earnestly, his tone respectful as he extended his hand toward the older knight.
"What? Sword skill? What sword skill?" Nicholas blurted, his voice laced with confusion as his eyes widened at Arthur. "Since when do you know how to wield a sword?" The question struck Arthur like a thrown stone, freezing him mid-motion as he realized the slip he had made. His mind scrambled for an excuse, but his mouth refused to form the words.
Before Arthur could even stammer out a correction, Bedivere reached forward and clasped his hand warmly, the knight's grip firm yet kind. A calm smile spread across his face. "It would be an honor to cross blades with an aspiring swordsman," he said, his voice carrying a steady confidence.
Arthur trembled slightly under the weight of everyone's gazes. He gave a sheepish grin, scratching the back of his neck as he muttered nervously, "I… uh… will explain everything later… I promise." His tone carried both apology and desperation, hoping to push the subject aside for now.
"Wait… your teacher doesn't know you're a swordsman?" Lance asked, his brow rising in amusement as he leaned forward slightly, clearly entertained by the revelation.
"That's not even the best part," Merlin chimed in with a sly grin, eyes glinting with mischief. "He's not only Arthur's teacher, but our adopted guardian as well. Technically, he's like our grandfather."
Lance blinked, his lips twitching as he fought back laughter. "Are… are you serious? And you've been keeping it a secret from him" His voice cracked with the effort of holding it in.
Arthur lowered his gaze to the ground, cheeks burning with embarrassment. The weight of the situation pressed on him, and for once, he wished the earth would just swallow him whole.
"I figured you exercised," Nicholas admitted, his tone softer but tinged with surprise, "but I never expected you'd been secretly training with a sword as well."
"Not only that," Lance added with a mischievous grin, "he's actually better than me. And I've been trained by a skilled practitioner—"
Arthur's sharp glare cut him off before he could dig the hole deeper. He ran his thumb slowly across his neck in a clear, silent threat while his eyes widened dangerously. Lance swallowed, forcing an uneasy smile as he quickly decided to shut his mouth.
Before the moment could stretch any further, a loud voice cut through the air.
"Arthur! Lance! Mer-lynn!!" Gwyneth shouted, calling out with all the energy of a storm. Her voice carried such force that Merlin sighed inwardly.
'And here comes the second person I didn't expect to see…' Merlin thought grimly, already bracing herself.
"Gwen… be gentle, you'll pull my bloody arm socket out if you're too rough!!" a male voice snarled in protest.
Everyone turned toward the commotion, and there they saw Gwyneth dragging a boy along by the wrist. He wore a permanent scowl across his face, his blue eyes sharp and unamused unlike Gwyneth's bright hazel ones. His hair, a few shades brighter than Gwyneth's blond, contrasted starkly with his thick, dark eyebrows that lent him a look of constant irritation. Even at first glance, his expression screamed defiance.
"Everyone!" Gwyneth announced proudly, ignoring his protests as she gave her brightest smile. "I want you all to meet my younger brother! Say hi, Boris!"
'And there he is,' Merlin thought, narrowing her eyes. 'The second face I didn't expect to meet… I should have suspected something when she mentioned a little brother, but truthfully, I never would have imagined it would be him of all people.'
Boris looked over the group with a deadpan expression, his tone flat and serious as he said, "Alright, be honest with me. How much is she paying you to be friends with her?"
"That is not how you greet people! Don't be rude!" Gwyneth exclaimed, snapping at him with a sharp glare.
"Hey, you didn't greet everyone here either," Boris shot back with a shrug. "Don't come at me for something you didn't bother to do yourself."
Gwyneth froze, realization dawning on her face before she gasped. "Oh my goodness, you're right! I completely forgot!" She quickly turned to the others, bowing her head in apology as her cheeks flushed pink towards Nicholas and Bedivere. "I'm so sorry, everyone! I'm Gwyneth, a friend of Arthur's and Lance…"
While Gwyneth was enthusiastically introducing herself and her brother, Merlin and Bedivere shared a single glance. It was brief, no more than a flicker of acknowledgment, but the effect was devastating. That single look nearly sent the both of them into laughter. They had to grit their teeth, forcing themselves to remain composed, though the corners of their mouths betrayed the urge to burst into laughter right then and there.
To understand the reason behind their struggle, one would need to know the long and complicated history of the Knights of the Round Table. More specifically—the history between Sir Bors the Younger and Queen Guinevere.
For Boris, who in another life was known as Sir Bors, was no ordinary knight. He was a man of great renown, one of the three legendary knights to successfully undertake the perilous quest for the Holy Grail. Fiercely loyal to Lancelot above all others, Bors had been painfully aware of the affair between Guinevere and lord. He understood all too well the devastating consequences such a scandalous relationship could have on Camelot and the fragile stability of the kingdom.
Thus began their infamous feud.
"Strained relationship" was far too mild a term to describe what existed between them. They were oil and fire—always sparking, always at each other's throats. Bors loathed Guinevere for the damage she threatened to bring to both the kingdom and to Lancelot, the man he respected more than any other. Guinevere, in turn, despised Bors for his constant interference, seeing him as an obstacle in the way of her forbidden love.
Merlin's lips curled into a mischievous smile as old memories resurfaced. Nights where drink had loosened tongues and lowered inhibitions always ended in chaos. She could still see Lancelot wrapping his arms around Bors' chest, dragging the fuming knight out of the hall before he could draw steel. At the same time, Arthur himself was forced to haul Guinevere away, carrying her by the waist as she shrieked insults across the room, kicking and clawing to get at her rival. The two of them had been a storm that never ceased to clash.
'Fate is a cruel mistress,' Bedivere thought, biting down on the inside of his cheek to stifle a laugh. His gaze flicked toward the two siblings, and the irony nearly broke him. 'Of all things… what possessed her to make those two family in this life?'
"Anyways," Gwyneth announced brightly, placing a firm hand on Boris' shoulder, "I just wanted to introduce my brother since I mentioned him yesterday."
"You did?" Boris asked flatly, blinking once before turning toward Arthur and the others. "And what exactly did she sa—Hmmm!"
His question was smothered as Gwyneth's hand clamped down over his mouth with practiced ease.
"As I was saying," she continued, her smile stiff but unbroken, "I should be getting him back now. Our parents are waiting for us over there." She motioned toward the entrance, where two familiar figures waved warmly from a distance. "Enjoy your holiday, everyone!"
Before Boris could peel her hand away, she dragged him toward the gates.
"Okay, but seriously," Boris grumbled once his mouth was free, his voice echoing faintly as they disappeared from sight. "Why are they all good looking? Don't lie to me, how much are you paying them? Because there's no way they're actually your friends. Last I checked, you were so lonely you thought your plants could talk to yo—OW!"
"Shut it!" Gwyneth snapped, landing a swift kick to his backside that made him stumble forward.
Nicholas let out a low chuckle, watching the siblings vanish around the corner. "Well, that was entertaining. But we should probably get going too. We wouldn't want to keep Penny waiting."
Arthur and Merlin both nodded in agreement. The three of them began gathering their things, moving slowly as if reluctant to part from the company they had kept.
Goodbyes came soon after. They exchanged words with Lance and Bedivere, though Bedivere lingered the longest, his eyes betraying a rare softness as he looked at Arthur. The knight seemed torn, unwilling to let the boy go just yet, as if a part of him feared this would be the last time.
At last, Arthur and Lance shared one final look. A faint smirk tugged at both their lips, the unspoken bond between them stronger than words. Neither said farewell outright—instead, Arthur raised his hand in a casual wave, while Lance responded with a sharp two-finger salute.
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