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It wasn’t unusual for strange guests to turn up at Arthur’s court. In fact, it was something of a weekly occurrence at the court. They had runaway princesses, cursed knights, sickly druids, and now an old crone in a red cloak.
“Your majesty, I request the assistance of one knight, and one knight only.”
“And which knight is that?”
“Sir Galehaut.”
The giant knight stepped forward, “How may I be of service?”
The old crone leaped forward, like lightning she struck Galehaut in the chest. In her hand was a sleeping thorn that was now imbedded in the knight’s chest. Galehaut fell to the ground as the old crone ran away, leaping out a window.
Silence fell over the court, nobody was fully sure what they witnessed.
“Somebody bring me a druid, Gawain, Lancelot, and Tristian go after the crone and find out what her purpose was,” called out King Arthur.
For the next three days every druid in Camelot visited the knight but nothing could be done for him. The man was sound asleep and they tried every waking spell they had.
Finally, the three knights returned. According to Gawain, the crone was working for King Malbert, a coward and childhood rival of Galehaut.
“Of course,” said King Arthur, “Well, sir Galehaut can hardly avenge himself in this state.”
“That is the other thing she said, the only thing that can break the spell is true love’s kiss,” said Tristian.
“If only we knew his true love,” said a forlorn Lancelot.
The three men shared a glance; they all knew about Galehaut’s feelings for the Frenchman. It was hard not to when the knight looked at him with stars in his eyes.
“You know I believe friendship to be rather powerful, perhaps if we all kiss Galehaut it would equate to one true love’s kiss,” said Gawain.
“I see no harm in trying,” said Arthur, “Lancelot as his closest friend you should be the first to kiss him.”
“I shall do my best,” said Lancelot bowing. The knight made his way to the Galehaut’s room, there the knight slept peacefully.
Would a substitute kiss even work? If it did, he would kiss Galehaut a thousand times. But he couldn’t help but feel that he should be searching for his true love, not kissing him.
Galehaut was a peaceful sleeper, always been that way. When his eyes were closed, he always looked otherworldly. Lancelot carefully brushed away a lock of hair from his face. He really was beautiful.
“Please come back to us.”
He kissed him. And while the kiss itself was light it felt heavy. Lancelot prayed that this worked he wasn’t fully sure what he would do if it didn’t.
The knight stepped back, and for a moment his heart sank, but then he watched as Galehaut’s eyes fluttered open. “What happened?”
“Gawain can explain better than I can, but you need to fight Malbert to avenge yourself.”
“Lancelot why are we in bed together?”
“Oh, you were stabbed with a sleeping thorn, and the only cure was true love’s kiss.”
“Does this mean-”
“Yes, our friendship was as strong as true love.”
Galehaut’s smile almost broke at that, “Of course it is.”
***
Not much was said about the kiss. Lancelot thought it was platonic and Galehaut thought about it. For perhaps more than he should, especially since he had other business to deal with such as fighting Malbert. Something that took so little time that the whole journey felt pointless.
The bright side was that Lancelot made the journey with him. Initially, other knights would come on the journey, but Gawain stated that Lancelot was more than enough and for that Galehaut was forever grateful to him.
The sun was waning in the sky and there was no town in site. Lancelot halted his horse and gestured to a clear patch on the ground.
“We can stay here for the night.”
“Maybe,” said Galehaut glancing at the shimmering lake.
“Where do you want to stay the night?”
“Camelot,” Galehaut muttered, something about that lake was bothering him, “This place is fine, but we should leave as soon as possible.”
“Of course.”
They set up their tents, and Galehaut had their horse drink from his canister. For a moment he could have sworn that the lake was glowing. But then he looked again and it was a normal lake. Despite his uneasy feelings he was quick to close his eyes, and quicker to fall to sleep’s arms.
Galehaut woke up with a thud. He opened his eyes to see a large, gray wolf staring at him. The wolf sat down on his chest and nuzzled his face. This had to be the earth’s strangest wolf. The knight petted the wolf as he slowly woke up.
Then it hit him. Galehaut ran out of the tent. Lancelot’s tent was completely packed up, except for the neat pile of his clothing.
“You could never resist water could you,” he said to wolf-Lancelot.
The wolf let out a low whine as if ashamed.
“What am I going to do about you?” he had no desire to return to Camelot with Arthur’s best knight as a wolf. Nor did he have any desire to see the knight stuck in this form. Maybe there was a fairy in the lake that would be of help.
Wolf-Lancelot walked to the lake.
“What are you doing?” and he jumped in. Before Galehaut could react a flash of light appeared and there stood Lancelot as a man.
“I’m only a wolf when I’m outside the lake.”
Galehaut nodded, “I see.” He made direct eye contact, not daring to look lower.
“You have to understand; this is the first time this has ever happened to me.”
The half-giant nodded, he was positive that this wouldn’t stop Lancelot from getting into lakes. He tried to think if he had any wizards that owe him favors.
“Do you remember when I was under the sleeping thorn’s influence?”
“I remember,” said Lancelot, “You think true love’s kiss will fix this?”
His mother used to tell him that a kiss from one’s true love could fix anything. He wasn’t sure how much that was genuine advice or that was a fable told to children, but it couldn’t hurt to try. Galehaut shrugged, “Supposedly true love is a good way to break curses.”
“That is true, if only we knew who my true love is,” Lancelot paused to think, “Would you be willing to kiss me?”
“Of course,” said Galehaut as calmly as possible, which given the situation wasn’t too calm. They were going to kiss, and he would be present for it.
He stood at the edge of the lake, slightly bent down. Lancelot looked up at him, and gosh if Galehaut died after this he would have no regrets. Lancelot’s eyes were wide, his hair was wet, and altogether, adorable.
Galehaut slid his thumb underneath his chin, lifting him up.
“May I?”
“Yes,” it came out breathless but there was an eagerness to the tone. Or at least, Galehaut hoped there was, too much of this felt like a dream.
He leaned in, pressing his mouth to his. Lancelot’s lips were softer than he had ever imagined, none of it felt real. His hand slid from his chin to cheek. And he felt the Frenchmen leaning closer, there was almost a hunger to his movements, as if he needed more. Galehaut knew if he didn’t pull back now, he would be lost forever.
“That should be good,” said Galehaut.
The Frenchmen nodded, taking a step out of the lake. He stayed a man. “Well, if we ever run into any magical encounter we should try kissing.”
Galehaut nearly choked on air, “Yes, that sounds like a good plan.”
***
And like the previous kiss they didn’t talk about this one. It made have been longer, and far more intimate but Lancelot saw no point in bringing it up. So, the kiss remained between the two of them. Even when recounting the events at Arthur’s court neither one said a word about the incident.
For a while life continued as it always did. Summer faded to fall, and fall began to shift into winter. Lancelot and Galehaut drew the unlucky straws and were sent to patrol the border. Lately it seemed that him and Galehaut were spending more time together.
Not that the Frenchman minded, in fact he considered the knight to be one of his dearest friends. Yet, he could have sworn the court was conspiring to get them to spend time together. Only, he couldn’t think of a reason for why.
So far, they haven’t encountered any threats, at most a few bears. All of which Lancelot was grateful for, that said the sun was starting to set and the wind was increasing in harshness.
“How close are we to a town?” asked Galehaut.
Lancelot looked down at his map, “Not terribly far.”
They rode west but before they reached any town they approached a castle on top of a hill. It was made from dark stone and seemed to glow with the sun. It was tall and imposing, and by the light in the window it was inhabited.
The two knights glanced at each other; no words were exchanged as they made their decision. They approached the castle’s red door, knocking and requesting boarding. The door flew opened and a woman dressed in gold and green silk walk towards them.
“Are you knights of king Arthur?”
“We are,” said Galehaut.
“Then you are welcome in my keep.”
She led them to her hall where a large feast was already prepared. There was roasted goose, fruit pies, potato soup, and so many berries that Lancelot could hardly keep track of. The knights thanked their host profusely.
She smiled in kind, and it was a smile that reminded Lancelot of the fairies in his childhood. Their host was quick to engage them in conversation, and the thought disappeared.
“I must ask, being as well traveled as you are, what is the one thing you could never forget?” asked the hostess.
“I supposed that would be Lancelot,” said Galehaut, “If you had seen him on the battlefield, you wouldn’t be able to forget him either.”
“Is his battle prowess all you remember?”
“His eyes I could never forget his eyes,” the knight took a swing at the bottle.
“And is that all?”
“His voice.”
The two continued in tangent with Lancelot staring nervously between the two. The words were too sweet to be true. His cheeks gained more heat each time Galehaut spoke. Never in his imagination did he think knight saw him as anything beyond a friend.
“Wonderful,” said the hostess clapping her hands, she turned towards the Frenchman, “Let’s play a game, shall we?”
“A game?”
“Yes, a game, do you think there is any chance that Galehaut could forget you?”
“No, milady.”
“I wish to test that,” She snapped her fingers; a blank expression befell Galehaut
The table and chairs disappeared, and what was once a bright dining hall turned into a grimly lit throne room. The hostess sat on a silver-iron throne. Lancelot had his back against the stone wall and there was Galehaut standing in the center, the blank expression remaining with him.
“Begin.”
“Galehaut?”
“Yes?” the half-giant looked at him curiously.
“Oh, I was worried.”
“I’m sorry, dear sir do I know you?”
Lancelot froze; it was as if he was a stone dropped into a lake so deep, he would never see the sun again. They knew each other, they knew each other, it was as secure as the moon knowing the night and the sun knowing the day.
“Yes,” it came out more breathless than he would have liked.
“I’m sorry, where did we meet?”
“On the battlefield.”
“I fear there are many knights on the field, it’s hard for one to stand out,” Galehaut said as kindly as possible, but the words were daggers.
“You know me,” Lancelot took a step forward, “We’re companions.”
“I believe you must be mistaking me for someone else.”
“Having fun?” the hostess called out, “If you can’t get him to remember you, he stays with me.”
For the first time in his life, he felt dread in his heart. Dread so deep and heavy, Lancelot almost couldn’t breathe. He was drowning in air.
He positioned himself before Galehaut, “Look at me.”
“Sir, I don’t know you, but I wish I did,” he said as if he was consoling either a child or a madman.
“Do you not remember all the nights we spent together? The battles we fought, the words we share, the times you held me, the times I held you, surely there has to be some memory of me in you.”
Galehaut took a step backed, “You’re drunk.” He took another step.
Something in Lancelot snapped. He didn’t know what, but sanity fled him and he became more feral than when he was a wolf. The knight pounced on the half-giant, knocking him to the ground.
His lips crushed against Galehaut’s. It took Lancelot a moment to even realize he was kissing him. But once he started, he couldn’t stop. Tears poured down his face as he kissed the poor knight. Lancelot tugged on his hair pulling his mouth closer to his. It was messy and desperate.
The Frenchman was so lost that he didn’t notice the hands going to his waist. He barely registered that Galehaut was kissing him back.
“Lancelot, I need to breath,” his tone was light as if that wasn’t a real concern of his.
That shook the knight out of his haze, he sat upright in Galehaut’s lap becoming aware of their surroundings. “You remember me.”
“I do.”
“I won your challenge,” said Lancelot standing up, “Galehaut isn’t yours, and we will be leaving your company.”
“I don’t know why you’re so upset, lovers rarely fail this challenge,” the hostess called out in a sing-song voice.
Lancelot was too busy dragging Galehaut out of the room to hear her words much less think about them.
***
The night was cold, the wind was howling, and the two knights were sitting close by a fire in a cave. It was completely silent between them with Lancelot glancing at the bruise underneath Galehaut’s lip. He hadn’t realized he had bit him there till after they left the castle.
“Are you alright?” the half-giant asked.
“I kiss you like a madman.”
“And it worked.”
“Surely I could have kissed you in a calm and dignified manner.”
“Any kiss you give me I would gladly accept.”
“And what if there was no curse involve, would you still accept?” The words left Lancelot’s mouth before he could stop them. He wanted to tell Galehaut he was drunk and the question was foolish. But he had to know the answer.
“Why do you ask?”
Losing him was sharp and painful. He felt his soul destroying itself when Galehaut stepped back. Fear wasn’t an emotion he encountered often but he felt it about losing him. And while he had deep friendships with a good portion of Arthur’s court, he didn’t think losing them would be nearly as painful.
“I realized you’re the dearest person to me.”
“That’s quite the honor,” said Galehaut.
“Galehaut, what am I to you? Your words made it sound like I’m your dearest person, or was that the influence of magic?”
“I assure you there was no influence, you always been the dearest person to me.”
“If we’re each other’s dearest person, and our kiss rival’s true love’s, are we-”
Galehaut came within inches of his face, “Doesn’t matter.” He leaned forward capturing his mouth. The kiss was somewhere between madness and delicacy. Galehaut tasted sweet, like strawberries in summer. He planted his hands on the ground in a way that had the Frenchman between his arms. Lancelot’s part he wrapped his arm around Galehaut’s neck pulling him closer. The kiss was desperate, feeding the other’s hunger. More than that it was reassurance that their feelings matched.
“True love or not, I will always love you.”