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The birds sang their songs; crickets chirped in applause and fairies’ laughter could be heard in the air. A boy no older than ten summers sat in the croak of a tree, gathering daisies that he turned into crowns.
Fairies would sneak up on him and ‘steal’ the crowns. They were gifts but everything needed to be earned in the fae world. Even the squirrels join in the fun, some of them would snatch the flowers right out of his hands. He watched as two squirrels chased each other across the tree.
“Lancelot,” the Lady of the Lake called out. Her hair was a silk made of water and duckweed, her eyes were a gentle green, her dress was of loose spider silk and lilies. When she approached him there was a puddle of water, “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
The boy nodded, following his mother out of the forest and into a valley of petals. There stood a giantess with a boy who was half her size. She was dressed in a rich red dress with a golden belt. The boy’s clothes were plainer but were just as fine, with a sword attached to the belt.
“This is lady Bagott and her son Galehaut,” the lady of the lake gestured towards them, “This is my son Lancelot.”
The two mothers pushed their sons towards the other. Lancelot stared at his mother in confusion. The other boy who looked older bowed and Lancelot copied him.
“Lancelot show Galehaut around me and Lady Bagott have much to discussed.”
Lancelot soon found himself alone with a boy that towered him by two heads. Despite this he led the boy around taking him through flower valley, the crystal lakes, the mountain who would turn into thunder if angered and finally the forest of the fairies.
“This is my tree,” Lancelot said quite proudly, “It’s where I make flower crowns.”
“And is this how you occupied your time?”
“Yes,” Lancelot said picking up a crown made of bluebells. He waited patiently for Galehaut to take it, but he never did.
“I see,” and Lancelot could see he was losing the other boy’s interest.
“This is for you.”
“Thank you,” before he could reach it Lancelot pulled it away.
“You have to steal it.”
“That’s not very noble.”
“It’s just how things are done here. I’ll even close my eyes to make it easier,” before he could even blink Galehaut yanked out the crown angerly putting it on his head.
“No need to mock me, if I need to steal, I will succeed.”
Lancelot nodded sagely at his words, “It looks good on you.”
Galehaut smiled his thanks and Lancelot smiled back. The younger found himself staring at the sword strapped to Galehaut’s waist. Despite it being covered he wanted nothing more than to touch the blade himself.
“Where did you get that?” his hands went to grab it before getting slapped away by Galehaut.
“Do you fae have no manners?”
“You should be honored that somebody saw your sword valuable enough to steal.”
“Over this summer I shall teach you manners,” Galehaut stood up, after a moment of looking he handed Lancelot a large stick, “Stand up, I will teach you fighting drills.”
“Without the sword,” Lancelot said sadly, tilting his head.
“Yes brat, without the sword.”
“That’s not fair, why do you get the sword?”
“Because I earned it,” Galehaut rolled his eyes adjusting Lancelot’s position, “Give it a few years and you might earn a blade”
That summer was spent with Lancelot teaching Galehaut to weave flowers and Galehaut teaching him sword-fighting. It wasn’t till the end of summer that Lancelot learned his friend was only staying during that season.
The seasons passed, and Lancelot was eleven with Galehaut at fourteen. He founded that his friend was far moodier at this age. He seemed to assume greater responsibility than needed. Acting like an adult when he was still a child. It was all nonsensical.
It didn’t affect their relationship too much other than that he seemed to demand more out of Lancelot during his training. It wasn’t even something the younger minded. However, it was a particularly warm day with the sun brighter than ever.
He was convinced that if he wasn’t swimming, he would have been drowning in his sweat. So, Lancelot skipped morning practice and dipped into one of the many crystal lakes. He hoped his friend would understand.
“What are you doing?” asked a very crossed Galehaut.
“Swimming,” Lancelot answered innocently.
“You know what I mean, we should be training.”
“I am training.” For that answer he received a scathing glare. He hated to make his friend upset but the day was so dreadfully hot and the water was so wonderfully cold.
“No, you aren’t.”
“Alright, I’m not,” Lancelot pouted, “But why can’t we go swimming.”
“It would break my discipline.”
“Break it, it’s hot out.” This only got him an unimpressed stare. “Swimming, is a very valuable skill.”
“Is it?” Galehaut gestured to the mermaids splashing in the lake.
“Fine you win,” Lancelot sighed in defeat, his voice trembled as he asked if Galehaut could help him up. It was at this point that he did feel some guilt; it was after all a very hot day. But Lancelot needed discipline if he was ever going to be a knight at his court.
Lancelot grabbed his hand, pulling it tight.
“I know it’s hard but you are making the right choice,” it was only after saying this that Galehaut realized Lancelot stole his ring.
“Mera, catch!” He tossed the ring to a beautiful green mermaid before turning towards his friend, “I guess we have to go swimming.”
“You little brat,” he was quick to toss Lancelot into the lake and dive in himself. Lancelot was laughing as he swam towards Mera.
It was a hard fought battle that involved more bribery than anything, but Galehaut got back his ring. Lancelot was barely any help in that regard. However, it only took two flower crowns, a random crystal Lancelot found in a cave and promised to train tomorrow to get back in Galehaut’s good graces.
Summers passed and the two grew in the other’s influence. Lancelot became more disciplined even going so far as waking up Galehaut to train. Galehaut grew more relaxed, he was the one to stop training and was the one to insist on days off.
Though one thing remained unchanged, Galehaut was still trying to wrangle Lancelot. Only this time he was trying to get the boy to rest.
“One more match, I promise that’s all.”
Galehaut ignored him, he already made the mistake of giving in the first three times he wasn’t about to do a fourth. His court training would mean nothing if all it took was one pout to give in.
“Please,” Lancelot laid down next to him in the grass.
The prince closed his eyes enjoying the warm sun against his skin. Truly there was nothing he was more grateful for than this place. When he was a boy, he saw it trivial, anything that wasn’t preparing him to be king was. However, the summers taught him to enjoy life. His only regret was that he poisoned Lancelot with an absurd work ethic.
“Tell me, do you get enjoyment out of losing?”
“Bold words,” Lancelot muttered.
“Is it?”
When it came to sword fighting Lancelot had yet to best him, but he was coming closer. In truth, he would probably have beaten him if his skills didn’t soften every nine months. It wasn’t his fault, there was only so much you could do when you didn’t have an opponent.
“You know, I think I have exhausted you and you’re refusing because you know I can beat you.”
“Interesting claim,” with that he rolled over.
“Galehaut, please,” Lancelot pleaded.
“I fear another duel would bore me.”
“We can make it interesting, add a wager.”
It might have been his father’s courts or his time in the land of the fae but Galehaut knew how to be cunning. And maybe in this case unnecessarily so.
“Alright, what do you get if you win?”
“Your sword,” really he should have seen that coming. Lancelot always had a fascination with his sword. Even after Galehaut gave him his own he still wanted his.
“You really would leave me defenseless in these wild lands?”
“Fine, we trade swords.”
“And if I win.”
“Anything you wish.”
Galehaut turned and pounced, knocking Lancelot down to the ground. “Your first kiss.”
“What?”
“Oh, I know it’s too much to risk.”
“I never said that,” Lancelot pushed him a way, “You have a deal, now let’s spar.”
Regret stabbed Galehaut’s heart. He knew how important a first kiss was to Lancelot. His friend grew up on hearing love stories of ladies and their knights. He wanted nothing more to serve a lady in such a way. As for Galehaut, any chance of being a lover died in that scheming court. Still, he didn’t want to take that away from Lancelot.
“Are you sure?”
“So you are afraid to lose,” Lancelot said brightly, and Galehaut was really thinking about faking it.
“You have a taste for defeat.” He got up, a stab of guilt tore through his heart, “Tell me do you think you would enjoy my lips against yours?”
“You haven’t even won.”
“Lancelot.”
“Say goodbye to your sword,” the boy was blushing perhaps finally realizing where all this was heading, “Come on Galehaut, I know I’m not as good as those at your court but I deserve to be taken seriously.”
Any thoughts of purposely losing vanish. “You’re right.”
Despite the tiredness Lancelot must have felt his strikes were relentless. It was quick blow after blow and Galehaut had to admit his technique has improved. Still, his strikes carried more force, for every three strikes he countered from Lancelot, Lancelot counter only one. But that one had the force of five men and what more, Galehaut still had the edge of skill.
In effort to win, Galehaut reduced the force behind his blows, allowing him to do a bit of fancy sword work to get Lancelot’s sword flying out of his hands.
“When did you learn that?” Lancelot looked slightly betrayed.
“I’ll teach it to you tomorrow.”
“Were you ever going to teach me it,” the answer was yes but he was hoping to do it next year when he actually mastered the technique.
“When have I ever not taught you something?”
“What you just did.”
With a sigh, Galehaut went back to lying in the grass. He hoped they would eventually drop the conversation, but he had a feeling Lancelot would be relentless. He should just teach him now; it would save time. But Galehaut was really trying to not make a habit of giving in.
“I can’t believe I have to kiss you,” before he knew it Lancelot was lying on top of him.
“If it pains you too much, we can change the reward, you know I could use a flower crown.”
“You mock me,” Galehaut’s eyes went wide open when Lancelot kissed him. It was soft and felt far too innocent for it to be anything he deserved.
“Lance.”
“Don’t, I was bound to kiss someone one day, better a friend than a stranger.”
“You really don’t mind?”
“I wouldn’t have agreed if I did,” and as if to prove his point he kissed him again. This was somehow softer if a bit more playful.
In the coming summers they shared more kisses. It started out as Lancelot using them to bargain but slowly, they morph into something they into something they did just because. The innocence slowly faded and was replaced by a growing maturity.
And Galehaut loved it, at twenty and one years he found Lancelot’s lips to be his greatest vices. If he could he would spend all day kissing him. But Lancelot would make him fight for it, and they were at a point where they match each other in skill, strength, and speed. It was always a tossup on who would win.
Galehaut sat on top of a vibrant green hill watching the sunset. The colors dance through the sky in a way no other place did. Lancelot came upon him and instantly pulled him into a kiss. It was desperate, even sorrowful. But there was a sweetness beneath the sadness.
“What is it love?”
“I want to go to a different court.”
“No.”
“I haven’t seen anything beyond the land of fae, I need to experience the rest of the world before I pledge myself to you.”
“You can experience the world at my court.”
“Mother thinks I should find King Arthur’s court and serve him there.”
“No,” Galehaut said again but it was more of a plea. He couldn’t imagine a world where Lancelot wasn’t by his side.
“It could be a good idea, besides I heard Camelot has a high level of magic so it wouldn’t be terribly different from here.”
“And Sorelois doesn’t?”
“Galehaut, you’re all I experienced of the other world, I can’t be relay on you forever, I want to experience that world for myself.”
Lancelot kissed him, it was as close as he could get to an apology without it being one. And as always, Galehaut was helpless against him. At once their lips found each other and pressed against each other in a sort of dance.
“You will come to Sorelois, eventually?”
“I will.”
“Take too long and I just might conquer the world to find you,” he meant it playfully but deep in his heart he knew it was true.
“I look forward to it, but you have to give me at least three seasonal cycles before I come to you.”
“You ask for too much.” But he would give it to him, this was something they both knew.