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The sun was at its most peak in the sky. Rays of light filtering through the canopy of leaves overhead, leaving each step Arthur took filtered through gleaming gold.
Arthur usually detested wearing his full suit of armor in such heat, but was ultimately grateful for the protection when he grew separated from his knight amidst the dense foliage. The two were heading back into Camelot after a rather mundane visit to a small local village, only to be separated upon crumbling magical ruins, thrumming with an undercurrent of chaos energy.
The crunch of a twig could be heard under Arthur’s boot, and then the tearing threads of vines as Caliburn tore through them under Arthur’s clenched hands. It had been a long time for him personally since he fell upon such an almost serene place. Chaos energy was in abundance all throughout the kingdom of Camelot, but something about the lush overgrowth and dilapidated stone pillars made this enclosed space feel like a sanctuary. Especially when he came before an open temple. Peering up against the sun, Arthur admired the patterns etched into stone pillars before stepping in himself for respite in the shade.
He contemplated briefly with the thought of removing his armor. Settling down, he figured a break from the extensive journey was necessary as it had worn him down little by little. Surely Lancelot wouldn’t miss what was such an integral structure amidst all these ruins?
—
Lancelot had called out to Arthur time and time again but to no avail. He gritted his teeth as he moved forward, seemingly fighting against the heat burning in his blazing set of iron armor. The extended trek truly didn’t go unappreciated by him.
As he lifted his visor to get a more clear view in front of him, Lancelot took note as well of the tablets of stone scattered amongst overgrown roots and vines. The area he was in proved to be more dense than Arthur’s. He maneuvered below hanging curtains of vines, draped with tropical blooming flowers in all variants of shades. He supposed he would’ve found the place calming if not for his biting agitation.
The rim of his left air shoe caught on a stubborn, jutting root.
He fell.
He caught himself on his arms, visor slipping. Standing hastily and dusting off his gauntlets, his keen eyes caught on the green vines that essentially were the forest floor slithering towards him discreetly. Lancelot sheathed Arondight and struck down upon the retreating tendrils in one sharp motion, noting in the back of his mind the peculiar sight of them. Lancelot is no stranger to the prospect of chaos energy dabbling in nature, more specifically because of his youth spent in Misty Lake, but the sight of them writhing and so alive nearly unnerved him.
Misty Lake is a well-maintained, tranquil place housed by none other than Lancelot’s own mother, the Lady of the Lake. It houses many different colorful favours of flora, from the simple marigold to the petunias and lavender often crowding the trails in Lancelot’s own interest. In contrast, the forest he and his liege are trapped within, in deep woods, is thrumming with a more wild and uncontained force of its own. These spaces are often marked sacred, most used to house Chao such as the Lake. Although these gardens house live vines, laden with thorns, that keep pursuing the fur between the crooks of his armor.
Lancelot would hate to have them pursue his liege with ill intentions. He’s sure he can handle a few vines, however. Most of nature's forces seem to hold Arthur in high regard, which is a fact that both baffles Sir Lancelot and simultaneously awes him.
With the swipe of his blade, he watched with mild interest as tendrils shrieked away from ones he had just severed, clearing the dense flooring. Some of the cut vines bloomed into flowers now thrumming with the magic energy of a livewire. Soon enough the whole mass of greenery was reacting in tandem. Lancelot’s vision was flooded with rising stalks of lavender and foxglove. His nose twitched, curled fist halting around Arondight. The plants seemed to lavish in the attention, a few blooming just beneath his air shoes. Before Lancelot could fully suspect the ruse on display, the dangling vines from above had hooked themselves underneath his arms in a foul swoop, hauling him upwards in a rush that caused his sword to slip from his dutiful hands and his body to lurch. A strong stalk ensnared his wrist with a grip that was telling of its intentions.
Arthur believes he had fallen asleep at some point. Flexing his arms out above his head, dark blue spines arching, he brought up a hand to his dropped visor. The cold stone pillar behind his back had perhaps served as too good a comfort. As he rose to his feet, golden armor creaking, Arthur noticed that the temple he laid fallen asleep in was different than the one before him. Lots more of green vegetation had taken over, presumably within the span of his light nap. It was an interesting display, he supposed. Blue hyacinths and an array of lilies. A particular red poppy not far off had struck the king’s undivided attention.
It’s a well known fact back home in Camelot that King Arthur loves his flowers, or better yet springtime in general. This bloom however in its vibrancy had reminded him too much of a certain, brooding companion. As he moved to pluck it, perhaps intent upon reuniting with a gift, green moss had spread over his armored fingers and begun creeping down his palm. He gasped quietly at the sight before being emboldened enough to pluck the poppy regardless. He felt the energy so full of life for himself, an ear twitching faintly. Arthur tucked the poppy somewhere beneath his breastplate whilst trying not to crush it.
Birds wing’s flapped and suddenly the king was startled out of his reverence by a dull thud sounding throughout the woods not far away. He had a feeling he knew who it was. So, he dashed down from the temple and towards the base of a nearby tree.
“Lancelot!” Arthur’s voice carried, containing a faint lick of concern underlying his swift movement. “Are you there?” *He peered behind the tree a bit childishly, though his other palm slipped to his holster containing Caliburn.
Unfortunately he went about as unanswered as Lancelot did in his quest earlier. He didn’t let himself dwell on the disappointment though, instead making his way towards the source of the sound remaining on-guard.
Arthur crouched low to the ground with a hand hovering just above his hilt. The forest grew thicker, more dense around him as he navigated through it with his unsheathed blade. Clean slices sent the tendrils, now lunging at him, writhing away with a twinge of light energy. They disintegrated as they were sapped of their chaos energy wholly.
Lancelot braced himself upside down as he had finally succeeded in clawing his way out of the thicket of vines dangling him as if he were a mere fruit, and not a knight commanding of respect. As his nails severed the last viney threads holding him captive, he quickly righted himself unto his feet, his armored air shoes landing with a resounding thump. The drop had his ankles spark with a short burning pang. He immediately recovered however and retrieved his trusted sword, scowling in the general direction of the vines above.
It wasn’t long until one of his scarred ears twitched in the direction of a faint rustling. This time, his hand hadn’t braced for his sword.
Arthur bustled out of the thicket of bushes as soon as he caught clear sight of Lancelot. “My liege,” The knight sighed, shoulders slumping. He offered a small bow. Arthur on the other hand came straight up to him, armored gauntlet resting heavily on his shoulder. “Why, I’m glad to see you’re still in one piece! I’m assuming that noise was you, perhaps?”
*His king spoke with a cheeky grin already lining his lips. But before he could properly form a response, Arthur was already leaning over his shoulder. “Oh here, let me.”
He plucked a leaf or two from the knight’s quills. Lancelot couldn’t quite contain his smile as his king went about tending to him needlessly. Especially when he held view of the man’s very own skewed and prominently messy quills. He, in turn, reached a hand out to pluck an orange petal from his hair. “Glad to see you as well, my liege.” He let the petal drift, taking a small step back between them. “I’m assuming you have managed to stay out of the grasp of such plants.”
“For the most part, yes, it is you that I’m more concerned with.” Arthur withdrew his hand and briefly combed through his own head of sharp quills. He glanced around the clearing, still filled with lavender, before addressing his knight once more.
“What I would like to know is, how a few measly plants got ahold of you. Surely you put up a decent fight?” *Though he was merely jesting, Arthur was trying to etch in a small amount of his earlier worry into the sentiment. His knight couldn’t find the strength to be irritated any further and simply replied. “I was caught off guard, nothing more. I managed to free myself so I see no glaring issues.” The king looked as though he expected something along those lines. “Fair enough, I suppose. We truly ought to focus on getting out of here though. Camelot is expecting our return today, by all means.” Arthur looked up towards the sun, not as prominent in the sky as it was hours ago, but not quite setting just yet. Lancelot nodded solemnly in return. “Allow me to lead the way, then.”
The two embarked closely as they both severed leafage and shrubbery lining the path forward. The heat had died down a significant amount. Arthur’s footfalls trailed behind Lancelot’s as he let him do most of the clearing, He held his compass in hand, having fetched it from his side satchel. With him guiding his knight in the right direction, they eventually emerged from the deep thicket the woods was known for and into a nice clearing.
A shallow pond surrounded by blanketing shrubs and a sturdy oak towards the center. The tree had some mulberries as far as he could tell. “My knight, would you have missed this fruit tree?” The king stood underneath and plucked a couple based off of the color. He handed them to the nearby knight before plopping one in his mouth, stem and all. Lancelot simply watched him before graciously eating the few offered as well.
Reluctantly, his lip curled as he made a twisted face beneath his helm. “Hm. Seems I got the sour lot.” Lancelot eyed the king warily.
Yet, it didn’t go unnoticed as he chuckled. “Ah. My apologies. Truly.”
Raising a hand to hold his amusement, he caught sight of those red eyes, portrayed a tinted brown by the sun’s lighting. “That reminds me! Oh, I bet it is no good by now…”
Arthur turned away, only to pry at his chestplate before he pulled free a slightly withered poppy from his armor cavity. This seemed to draw the knight’s attention, whose scarred ear flicked. “It is for you, my knight!” He held out the poppy directly towards him, an honest smile seemingly waiting for him. Lancelot’s heart thumped in his throat as he outstretched a shaky hand of his own. His fingers curled around the stem, and in turn brushed against his majesty’s. “Why, thank you kindly my liege…” Ever grateful for his visor, the stoic knight lowered his head bashfully.
A small laugh taunted him, stepping away. “I was simply reminded of you. You are welcome as always, though I am happy to have you keep it.”
The king glanced over his shoulder, and for the first time in a quiet moment Lancelot’s red eyes met that lively, verdant green of his. And oh how they seemed to dull all the other colors living around them.
He seemed to snap out of his momentary stupor by lightly shaking his own head, earning a different kind of glance from Arthur. “Right. I, of course.” Arthur moved on ahead and let the knight trail behind him. They left the clearing and the berries, now nearly out of Deep Woods entirely. The sun was starting to set, finally it seemed.
And as the two breached the magical forest littered with ruins and treacherous plants, they had no excuse to miss their supposed arrival upon Camelot. “Ready, my knight? I’ll race you there! You know the loser has to explain our whole mishap of getting lost!” The knight snickered at that. You could guess who had presumably gotten them lost in the first place.
“Very well, I find said terms agreeable. Though I don’t suppose I’ll be holding back because of a rather heartening gift.” A small smile crossed the knight’s still warm muzzle.
The two digging their heels into the ground, Lancelot took a moment to secure the wilting red flower inside the cavity of his chestplate. Perhaps he could find a suitable vase to nurture the poppy until it eventually had to wither away.
Arthur inclined his head towards him, and the two took off in a wild sprint home towards Camelot castle.