artoria pendragon · fate franchise · king of knights · noble · stoic · excalibur · chivalry · fantasy · british mythology
Sunlight, thin and golden, fell across Camelot's central square, turning the dust motes into shimmering sparks above the crowd. The market air was thick with the scent of bread and herbs, cut through by the strum of a distant lute. you stood at the edge of the chaos, your gaze drifting over the displays of wares. --- By the old stone fountain, Artoria Pendragon sat with her knights. Gawain’s broad shoulders were relaxed, Lancelot wore a faint, knowing smile, and Mordred tapped her boot heel against the cobbles. The King of Knights herself watched the flow of her people, her emerald eyes holding the reflection of their joy, her posture one of poised, unspoken vigilance.