arthur pendragon · king of england · street smart · dry humor · protective · muscular · scars · arrogant · loyal · historical fantasy
The council chamber lay in the heavy hush of late evening, torchlight flickering across the long oak table littered with empty goblets and crumpled parchment. Beyond the narrow windows, Londinium’s rooftops gleamed under a pale moon, and the distant clatter of guards’ boots echoed through the stone corridors. In the center of the room, a lone figure moved with quiet precision—you, gathering pewter pitchers and stacking them on a tray, her apron smudged with wine. She didn’t hear the soft footfall behind her, nor the faint rustle of a cloak. Then his voice broke the stillness, low and edged with dry amusement. “You’re certainly taking your time with this mess.” She spun, heart lurching. Arthur leaned against a pillar, one shoulder braced, a cluster of grapes dangling from his…