The land of Britain stretched before them in its quiet beauty, rolling hills and meadows bathed in the warm light of the early afternoon. Arthur rode at a steady pace, his gaze far ahead, almost as though lost in thought. His horse moved with ease, its hooves kicking up dust on the well-trodden path.
Beside him, Artoria's expression was strained, her brows furrowed in silent frustration. She rode in perfect form, her posture straight and controlled, but there was no mistaking the tension in her movements. The weight of her crown, though not physically present, seemed to press down on her in every moment.
The silence stretched between them as they rode across the vast landscape.
"Arthur, please," Artoria finally spoke, breaking the stillness. Her voice, though calm, carried the sharp edge of urgency. "Can we make haste? I do not like how Britain will be without a King. The longer we delay, the more vulnerable Camelot becomes. The people need us."
Arthur glanced to the side, his gaze flicking over to her. Despite her calm tone, he saw the subtle tightening of her jaw, the clenched hands on the reins. She was restless. Her mind was clearly elsewhere, and the burden of her kingship weighed on her more than she was willing to show.
He slowed his pace even further, though, to Artoria's visible frustration, he did not seem to be in any rush. The land before them was peaceful, but the tension between them felt palpable. Arthur's expression, always a mixture of calm and focus, did not change.
"Arthur!" Artoria's voice was tinged with frustration now, the control she so often held slipping for just a moment. She nudged her horse forward to ride at his side, her gaze intense, but Arthur remained unfazed.
She had been so eager to set out, so driven by the need to protect her kingdom, but now... Now, it felt like they were moving at a crawl, as though time itself had stopped for them.
Before she could voice another complaint, Arthur's calm voice cut through her thoughts.
"Artoria." His voice was not harsh, but firm enough to halt her train of thought.
Her eyes snapped up to meet his, a mix of curiosity and frustration in them. For a moment, Arthur seemed to search her expression, as though weighing something unspoken.
"Don't you see," he continued, his words steady, "this is your moment of freedom."
Artoria blinked in surprise, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected turn of the conversation.
"What do you mean?" she asked, confusion evident in her tone.
Arthur glanced ahead, his eyes softening as he spoke, but his words held the weight of something deeper. "This journey... this road we travel—it's not just a path to your kingdom. It's a moment for you. Not as a king, but as yourself. The person you want to be, not the one you are forced to become."
His words hung in the air, a challenge, an invitation—an attempt to get her to look beyond her duties and into her own heart.
Artoria felt something stir within her, a mixture of unease and longing. She had always placed the kingdom before her own desires, her own self. The weight of her duty had been her constant companion, ever-present and unyielding.
But as she glanced at Arthur, she saw something in him—a quiet understanding, a wisdom that she had never truly recognized before. He was not just her king or fellow ruler; he was, in many ways, the one person who understood the cost of the crown.
"I don't understand..." she whispered, the doubt creeping into her voice. "I am the King. It is my duty to be there for Camelot, to protect it. I cannot simply abandon it, not even for a moment."
Arthur turned his gaze toward her, a slight smile on his lips, though his eyes remained serious. "You don't have to abandon it, Artoria. But you need this. You need a moment where the crown is not your burden, where the weight of expectations doesn't crush you every step you take. You are allowed to be... you. To choose something for yourself, if only for a while."
Artoria stared at him, feeling the truth of his words settle into her heart, though the resistance within her fought it. She had never allowed herself that kind of freedom. She had always been King. And that had always been enough. Or so she had thought.
"I don't know who I am without it," she murmured, almost to herself.
Arthur's smile softened, a look of sympathy in his eyes. "You'll find her." His voice was gentle, but firm. "You've spent your entire life trying to be the perfect King. But you don't have to be perfect. You don't even have to be King, not all the time. Just... let yourself be free. Even if it's only for a short while."
Artoria remained silent, her thoughts spinning. There was a deep, hidden ache inside her, a longing she had never given voice to. But Arthur's words—so simple, yet so profound—pierced through that ache like a needle through cloth.
For the first time in a long while, she considered the possibility that she could, indeed, be something more than just a ruler.
"Perhaps..." she whispered, her voice quiet, almost uncertain. "Perhaps I have forgotten what it means to be... free."
Arthur didn't respond right away. Instead, he gave her a look that spoke volumes—one of understanding and encouragement. Then, he urged his horse forward again, his pace remaining leisurely but steady.
"Then let this be your journey of rediscovery. One step at a time."
Artoria followed him, her heart lighter than it had been in ages, and for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to relax, even just a little. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was more to life than kingship.
And maybe, just maybe, she would find out who she truly was along the way.
The evening sky above them was a masterpiece, a canvas painted in hues of pink, purple, and orange as the sun slowly began its descent. Arthur, his gaze steady, lifted his head and studied the horizon, the breeze tugging at his cloak.
"I believe it'll be good for us to halt travel for now." His voice was calm, yet there was a hint of reassurance in it as he spoke. His eyes lingered on the sky for a moment longer before lowering to look at the path ahead of them.
Artoria followed his gaze, her eyes tracing the fading light. "I suppose you're right," she agreed with a slight nod, though there was still a tension in her posture. She had been quiet for most of the journey, her mind occupied with the things left unsaid between them.
Arthur dismounted, his movements smooth and practiced, and immediately began preparing the camp, carefully unstrapping the packs from his horse.
"You can look for a place to bathe, I'll set up camp," Arthur offered, his tone light and unburdened. He flashed her a smile, the same easy, reassuring smile he often gave, though there was a certain warmth to it now—something only for her.
Artoria hesitated for a moment, her hand resting lightly on her horse's reins, the sound of the wind rustling through the trees filling the silence between them. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice betraying a hint of concern, though she tried to keep it neutral. The idea of leaving him with the responsibility of setting up camp on his own wasn't something she wanted, especially when the journey had already been taxing for both of them.
Arthur's smile deepened, though there was a subtle softness to it as he looked at her. "I'm going to be fine," he reassured her, though his gaze softened just a touch. "Go ahead, Artoria. I'll take care of things here."
For a moment, Artoria stood still, caught in the rare gentleness of his words. Something in his expression seemed to ease the tightness she hadn't realized she was holding in her chest.
"Alright then," she said, giving him a small, almost imperceptible nod before turning and walking off into the surrounding forest.
The woods were quiet—peaceful in a way Artoria hadn't allowed herself to experience for a long time. The only sound was the soft crunch of fallen leaves underfoot and the distant rustle of the trees swaying in the breeze. The further she walked, the more she felt herself unwind, her muscles relaxing, her thoughts slowing. It was as though the deeper she ventured into the forest, the further she could escape from her duties, from the pressure of kingship.
Soon, she came upon a small clearing, the sunlight filtering through the trees and illuminating a calm, shimmering lake nestled between the trunks. It was perfect—isolated, tranquil, and far from the demands of Camelot. The sight was a relief, a balm to her soul that had been constantly wound tight for far too long.
She approached the water's edge, gazing down into the clear, reflective surface, her breath catching in her chest. For a moment, she simply stood there, lost in the quiet beauty of the lake, the world around her fading away.
The water was cool and inviting, its surface smooth like glass, and the thought of submerging herself into the cool embrace of it made her feel even more at ease. Slowly, Artoria began to remove the layers of armor and clothing that had weighed on her, piece by piece, until she stood in a simple tunic, then she lost that as well, the warm breeze brushing against her skin.
She lowered herself into the lake, her body relaxing as the cool water washed over her, soothing her sore muscles from the long journey. She closed her eyes and let herself drift for a moment, the weight of her crown and responsibilities far from her mind. In this moment, she was simply a woman, free to just be.
The water lapped at her skin, and as she floated there, her mind wandered, but not to the kingdom or to her duties. She thought instead of the peace she hadn't realized she longed for—moments like this, where she could exist without the expectations that always seemed to surround her.
Back at camp, Arthur finished setting up their small fire. He had set up the simple camp with ease, and yet, despite the quiet satisfaction of his work, his mind often wandered back to her—wondering if she was all right, wondering if she had returned by now.
It wasn't like him to worry so easily, but something about Artoria was different. She had become the center of his thoughts ever since the beginning, and though he knew it wasn't his place to address it just yet, there was a pull—a quiet tug in his heart when he thought of her.
As the evening shadows grew longer, he finally gathered his cloak and began to make his way toward the woods, eyes scanning the darkening landscape. The forest was quiet, but there was an unsettling stillness to it now.
Artoria lost track of time in the cool waters, her body weightless as the gentle current carried her slowly around the lake. The sky was darkening, and she realized how much time had passed. Her heart skipped a beat, and a pang of guilt tugged at her chest. She had not meant to stay so long, but the sense of freedom had been so foreign yet so welcome that she hadn't noticed the time slipping away.
"Arthur..." she whispered to herself, the weight of the moment sinking in. She quickly stood from the water, gathering her clothing and armor. As she hurriedly dressed, the urgency of returning to camp washed over her.
Her steps quickened, and when she reached the edge of the forest and spotted the flickering firelight in the distance, she let out a small sigh of relief.
Arthur had been searching for her for what felt like an eternity, his gaze frantic, scanning every corner of the forest. When he finally saw her emerge from the trees, drenched from the lake, her hair damp and the light of the campfire casting a soft glow on her face, the tension in his chest loosened.
"Artoria," he called, his voice warm but tinged with concern.
Artoria paused and met his gaze, her expression unreadable. She was embarrassed, but she didn't want to admit it. "I lost track of time..." she began, her voice quieter now. "I didn't mean to worry you."
Arthur's face softened, though his voice remained calm. "There's no need to apologize. It's just..." He paused, glancing at her, his eyes lingering for a moment longer than usual. "I'm glad you're safe."
She felt something in her chest tighten—something unexpected and unfamiliar. "I'll be more mindful next time."
Arthur nodded. He took a step closer, his gaze flicking down to the ground before meeting her eyes again. "You deserve moments like this. Peace. Rest."
Their eyes held for a moment, and in that fleeting moment, the quiet weight of what they both felt hung between them—unspoken, but clear.
In the gentle warmth of the campfire, Artoria finally allowed herself to relax. Perhaps, for the first time in a long while, she could let go of everything for a brief moment, standing on the precipice of something new.
And though neither of them said it aloud, the bond that had begun to form between them in silence—through shared glances and subtle gestures—was undeniable. They had their duty, but they also had each other. And that, in the end, was a comfort neither had expected.
Arthur stood by the fire for a moment, contemplating the quiet, then turned to Artoria. His voice, calm and steady, broke the stillness between them.
"I think I'm going to take a bath now. Mind showing me where the lake was?"
Artoria, caught off guard by his sudden request, blinked once before nodding slowly. "Of course."
Her response was automatic, but beneath her composed exterior, something stirred. She wasn't sure why the request felt different, but it did. A subtle shift in their dynamic—a strange, almost unspoken tension that made her feel... more aware of him than usual.
Arthur gave her a small, casual smile, but there was a certain earnestness to it, a quiet sincerity that made her heart beat a fraction faster than she would have liked to admit.
As he gathered his things, it seemed that Arthur pulled a fresh set of clothes out from thin air—his characteristic ability to be prepared for anything. Artoria didn't question it, simply watching as he adjusted his sword and cloak, his movements fluid and efficient.
She turned, silently leading the way toward the woods. The path to the lake wasn't far, but it was secluded, hidden by the trees. The air grew quieter as they moved deeper into the forest, the sounds of birds and rustling leaves filling the space between them. Neither of them spoke for a while, though there was an almost palpable awareness of each other. It was as if the quietness between them had a life of its own, hanging in the air like a delicate thread.
Artoria walked with her usual grace, but this time, she couldn't help but be more conscious of Arthur walking behind her. The faint sound of his footsteps, the way his cloak shifted as he moved—it was all strangely present in her mind. She wasn't used to this kind of awareness. It was as though something was shifting, something unspoken, and neither of them was ready to address it outright.
After a few moments, the trees parted to reveal the serene lake, its surface calm and reflective, catching the last rays of sunlight like liquid silver. The water shimmered gently in the fading light, offering a peaceful tranquility that seemed to momentarily dissolve all the weight of their responsibilities.
Arthur took a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "This place is perfect." His voice was low, almost to himself, as he gazed out over the water.
Artoria nodded in agreement, her eyes scanning the peaceful surroundings. "It's a good place to rest."
There was something unspoken between them, a subtle acknowledgment of the rarity of this moment—a moment to simply be.
Arthur turned to her, his expression calm and earnest. "Thank you," he said simply, his voice filled with gratitude.
Artoria met his gaze, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at her lips. "It's no trouble." Her tone was quiet but warm.
Without another word, Arthur began to remove his armor, the smooth, practiced motions of a knight used to the task. He seemed to have no hesitation as he unstrapped his sword and removed the layers of his armor. Artoria, for a moment, found herself transfixed. She couldn't help but watch as his clothes were shed, his strong frame becoming more visible as the pieces of armor came off one by one.
Her breath caught slightly in her chest. She quickly averted her gaze, feeling a strange heat rise to her cheeks. "I'll turn around," she said, her voice more flustered than she intended.
Arthur glanced over at her, the faintest of smiles touching his lips. "No need." His voice was soft, a quiet reassurance in the way he spoke. "I trust you. This is just a bath, after all."
Artoria's heart skipped, but she didn't say anything. She turned her back to him, though the quiet tension in the air seemed to linger. She focused her eyes on the water, her thoughts a little scattered as she tried to push away the feelings that had been building in her chest since... She honestly didn't know.
The air around them was thick with unspoken words, but neither of them seemed ready to voice what lingered between them. The quiet of the forest seemed to stretch on forever, the moment feeling suspended in time.
As Arthur finally stepped into the cool water, the sound of his footsteps soft in the shallows, Artoria felt the strange weight of his presence behind her, like a pull, something gentle and undeniable. The lake shimmered as Arthur waded further in, the water lapping gently around his legs.
Artoria turned back, her eyes quickly shifting over his form, though she quickly averted them again, the sight of him standing there—calm, yet somehow more... real—striking her in a way she wasn't prepared for.
She couldn't stop the fluttering sensation in her chest, though she quickly masked it with her usual stoicism. "I'll... wait here," she said, her voice steady though her hands betrayed a slight tremor.
Arthur, noticing the shift in her demeanor, gave a slight chuckle, though it was gentle and warm. "Don't worry, I'm hardly in the water for long. Just a quick dip to cool off."
He made his way deeper into the lake, the water rising to his waist as he dipped beneath the surface briefly, emerging with his hair dripping and water trailing down his shoulders. The sight of him, even in something so mundane as a bath, made Artoria's heart race again—though she quickly tried to push those feelings away. It was just a bath. It meant nothing.
But still, a quiet voice whispered in her mind, reminding her of the tenderness in his smile, the way his words always seemed to carry a subtle weight. She couldn't deny it—it was becoming harder to ignore.
After a moment, Arthur stepped out of the lake, the water dripping off him as he began to don his clothes again. Artoria, despite her attempts to keep her gaze averted, couldn't help but notice the fluidity in his movements, how his body seemed to move with an ease that spoke of the strength and grace beneath the surface.
As he finished dressing, he turned back to her with a small smile. "Thank you for showing me to the lake."
Artoria nodded, her gaze still a little distant, but the corners of her lips twitched upward in a quiet smile of her own. "It was no trouble."
But beneath the calmness of her voice, there was a sense of understanding, something unspoken but felt. They were both aware of the subtle tension between them, but neither was ready to name it just yet. In the silence, the quiet bond that was slowly forming between them lingered in the air, a delicate thing that neither dared to disturb.
This moment, though small and seemingly insignificant, marked another subtle shift in their relationship—a quiet understanding, a glance that held more than words could express. Neither of them spoke it aloud, but they both felt it, in the silence that stretched between them. And for the first time in a long while, they both allowed themselves to simply be.
Arthur interrupted the moment with a breath, speaking up. "I'm going to head to sleep now," he said, standing and making his way toward his tent.
Artoria nodded. "Goodnight, Arthur."
Arthur returned the sentiment with a small nod. "Goodnight, Artoria."
She watched him go, her gaze lingering on his back as he disappeared into the tent. Even after he was gone, she remained still, her draconic eyes fixating on the fire before her. The flames flickered and curled, shifting in mesmerizing patterns, yet they did little to occupy her thoughts.
Dragons were creatures of instinct, of hoarded treasures and unyielding bonds. Artoria could not explain the way her chest tightened as she watched Arthur retreat to the solitude of his tent, nor the faint stirrings of something primal beneath her skin. Her kind did not part easily with what was theirs.
The fire crackled, casting shadows across her face. She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes. It was fine. He would still be there in the morning.
The crackling of the fire slowly faded into the background as Artoria stood, her thoughts still swirling around the warmth of the flames. With a breath, she rose, her gaze lingering on the tent where Arthur had disappeared.
—
The rhythmic clatter of hooves against dirt echoed through the vast expanse of the open road. The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the landscape. A gentle breeze wove through the air, rustling the trees that lined the distant horizon.
Arthur rode slightly ahead, his posture relaxed yet undeniably regal, as though the weight of his sword and armor was nothing more than an afterthought. Artoria, ever composed, matched his pace, her piercing gaze focused on him rather than the road ahead.
For some time, neither of them spoke. The silence was not uncomfortable, but it carried an unspoken weight—one that neither had yet decided to address.
Finally, Artoria broke the quiet. "Arthur, where are we truly going?"
Her voice was even, yet there was an unmistakable edge of curiosity in it. She was not one to enjoy being led without understanding the purpose behind it. It was in her nature to seek clarity, to command certainty where there was none.
Arthur glanced at her from the corner of his eye, a faint smile playing at his lips. "That ruins the journey if I tell you, wouldn't it?"
Artoria exhaled sharply, not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh—something in between. "I find little amusement in aimless wandering."
"Then you should take comfort in knowing this journey is far from aimless," Arthur countered smoothly.
Artoria narrowed her eyes slightly. He was always like this—unbothered, composed, and frustratingly enigmatic. She did not dislike it, but it unsettled her in a way she could not fully articulate.
Still, there was something in his expression, something in the easy way he held himself, that made it impossible to doubt him.
She studied him for a long moment, the way his golden hair caught the sunlight, the way his green eyes reflected an unreadable depth. He was not an ordinary knight. That much had always been clear. But the way he carried himself, the way he spoke—it was as if he had seen beyond the world she knew, as if he knew more than he let on.
And yet, despite all of that, there was no deception in him. Only an unshaken certainty, an unspoken promise that wherever they were going, it would be worth the journey.
"If you do not wish to tell me, then I will stop asking," she said finally, her tone measured.
Arthur chuckled, the sound warm and strangely familiar. "I doubt that."
Artoria frowned slightly, but there was no true irritation behind it. "You presume much."
"Perhaps." Arthur turned his gaze back to the road ahead. "But you are a king. A knight. A warrior. You are not one to follow blindly." His voice softened slightly, his usual lighthearted tone giving way to something more sincere. "I do not expect you to trust me without reason."
Artoria's grip on the reins tightened slightly. Trust. It was such a fragile thing, yet when spoken by him, it felt... different.
"And yet you have not given me a reason to doubt you either."
Arthur smiled at that. "Then perhaps that is answer enough."
The silence stretched between them once more, but this time, it was different. Not a void, not an emptiness, but something steady, something understood.
Artoria looked ahead, allowing herself, for once, to let go of the need for certainty. Perhaps, for now, it was enough to ride beside him, to let the journey unfold in its own time.
And though she would never say it aloud, she was beginning to think that maybe—just maybe—she didn't mind the mystery.
Not when it was him leading the way.
The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the rolling hills as the two rode in comfortable silence. The scent of earth and distant woodsmoke drifted through the air, carried by a gentle breeze. It was then that Arthur's keen gaze caught sight of a village nestled between the hills. The glow of lanterns flickered against the approaching dusk, and the distant sound of life—laughter, conversation, the clatter of tools—was carried to them by the wind.
Arthur nodded toward it. "We should rest there for a bit."
Artoria followed his gaze, her expression unreadable. "I'm starting to think you are deliberately making this journey longer."
Her voice was calm, but there was a thread of suspicion woven into it.
Arthur chuckled, a quiet, knowing sound. "And if I were?"
Artoria frowned slightly, her emerald eyes narrowing. "Then I would call you a fool."
Arthur met her gaze, his expression unreadable, save for the faint smile tugging at his lips. His eyes, deep and unwavering, held something else—a quiet, searching quality that made her feel as though he saw more than she was willing to say.
"I only wish for you to find what you are looking for," Arthur said, his voice softer now.
Artoria stilled at that.
She had spent years carrying the weight of a kingdom, of duty, of expectations that would never allow her to be anything less than perfect. And yet, here he was, speaking as though she still had something left to search for. As though there was something beyond kingship waiting for her—something more.
Arthur shifted slightly in his saddle, and for a fleeting moment, his hand moved as if reaching for her. It was barely perceptible, but she saw it. The slightest hesitation.
And then, just as quickly as it had appeared, he pulled back.
That stopped her more than anything else.
Arthur was many things—charming, confident, steady—but never hesitant. She had seen him vulnerable before, seen him wounded in ways that even kings and knights were not immune to. But hesitation? That was new.
Her grip on the reins tightened slightly, and for a reason she could not quite place, her heart beat a fraction faster.
She did not ask him why.
Instead, she turned toward the village. "If we are resting, we should do so before nightfall."
Arthur exhaled quietly, as if amused by her choice to ignore the moment between them. And yet, she could still feel his gaze lingering on her.
A moment passed before he smiled. "Very well."
Without another word, they rode toward the village, but the silence between them had changed. It was no longer the comfortable quiet of before, nor was it uneasy—it was something else entirely.
Something unspoken.
Something understood.