The line moved on.
A young man, no older than sixteen, stepped up. He was tall and lanky, with a shock of bright blue hair and a nervous energy that vibrated off him in waves.
He was not here for an autograph.
He was not here for a joke.
He was here for something else.
He walked up to the table, his hands shaking, his eyes fixed on Gareth.
"I... I have something to say," he stammered, his voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd.
Gareth leaned forward, her expression gentle and encouraging. "Of course. What is it?"
The young man took a deep breath, then another, then he blurted out, "I'm a mutant."
The nearest section of the crowd went silent.
People looked closer at him, not in hatred, not with disgust, but with curiosity. They were trying to see if they could guess his mutation, because he looked completely normal.
The young man hadn't always lived in Albion; like most of his kind, he had lived in hiding, always hiding what he was, what he could do.
Because he knew, knew all too well what would happen if people knew.
He was rather sensitive to people's gazes; he felt them, and he was secretly relieved that they didn't hold any hostility.
If anything, a few younger children looked at him with jealousy, as if imagining all kinds of cool powers.
After all, mutants did have their own national TV station, and used it to showcase the brighter side of their mutations, the cool ones, the strong ones.
Building a brand image, and if not for that, he wouldn't have dared to stand here today, to admit what he was.
Yet even so, he was still afraid.
Because this was not something he could take back.
And even in a kingdom like Albion, there were people who hated mutants.
Not many, but they were there.
He had seen their comments online, their angry rants, their hateful words.
And despite everything he knew about the Round Table Knights, he wanted to take this rare chance to meet one of them face to face, to see what she felt. Because he didn't think Gareth could hide her feelings.
She was honest like that, known for that, for wearing her heart on her sleeve and her thoughts on her face.
Gareth's smile didn't fade; she treated him no differently from anyone else. To her, a mutant was a person, the same as everyone else.
The Knights of the Round Table weren't perfect — far from it; they each had their own flaws — but as heroic spirits, they were also shaped after what humanity considered a true knight to be.
It helped smooth their edges somewhat, made already kind people even kinder, like how Steve Rogers was made a better man than he had been before taking the serum.
And these knights, the very pinnacle of what it meant to be a knight, had no innate hate toward mutants.
To these superpowered beings, who had long since stopped being humans, there was just too little difference between most mutants and normal humans for them even to notice anything.
Even Magneto himself, one of the most powerful mutants in the world, was, in their eyes, no different from any other person, just slightly stronger.
And it was this very attitude that guided Gareth as she looked at the young mutant.
"Thank you for trusting me with this," she said, her sincerity shining in her eyes. "Being born with a special power is nothing to be ashamed of; it is what you do with that power that matters."
"I am scared," the young mutant admitted, his hands trembling as he clenched and unclenched them. "I can't control it sometimes, not well enough. What if I hurt someone?"
Gareth listened with patience and care, her heart aching for him. She thought back to her own youth, when she was still but an awkward girl struggling to keep up with the others, to learn how to properly wield a sword.
The fear of failure, of letting everyone down.
She reached out and placed her small hand on his trembling one.
"Power, any kind of power, is like a sword," she said, her voice soft yet firm. "In the hands of a novice, it can be dangerous. But with training, with discipline, it becomes a tool to protect, to defend, to serve. Don't let fear be your master. Let it be your teacher, for it tells you where you need to grow."
The young man looked at her, really looked at her, and saw not a knight of legend, but a kindred spirit. A warrior who understood his fear.
"You truly don't mind? That I am... different?"
Gareth laughed, a bright, cheerful sound that made the nearby crowd smile.
"My dear friend," she said, her eyes twinkling, "we are all different in our own way. I, for one, am able to run faster than a train, while my brother, Gawain, can lift one, and my king can eat a train's weight in food. We are all different, but that is what makes us special; delight in being different. That difference is what makes you, you, and not anyone else."
She spoke the last part with such sincerity that the young mutant felt a weight lift from his shoulders.
He was so moved that he forgot to be afraid, forgot to be nervous. He simply stood there, bathed in the warmth of her acceptance.
Then, as if remembering where he was, he blushed and quickly pulled back.
"I... I should go. Thank you, Sir Gareth."
"Anytime," she said, her smile as bright as ever.
The young man nodded, a small, hopeful smile on his face. He turned and walked away, a little taller, a little prouder, a little less afraid.
The crowd watched him go, then turned their attention back to Gareth, their admiration for her deepening with every passing moment.
They had seen her strength, her kindness, her courage, and now, her wisdom.
And they loved her all the more for it.
-----
The meet-and-greet continued. The line never seemed to end. The sun rose higher in the sky. The heat became more intense. Yet the people waited, their spirits undimmed.
Thankfully, they were shielded from the sun by the pavilions, and they had water, and since they only stood for a few hours, they weren't starving either.
More than that, there was even the option to use the bathroom without losing their spot. Unlike most meet-and-greets, this one was far more luxurious and comfortable.
Yet, even with all that, time passed mercilessly, and the line never got any shorter as new people stepped in to replace every person who had a chance to meet Gareth.
Gareth didn't complain. She didn't even look tired. She just kept smiling, kept signing, kept listening, kept caring.
Then, it happened.
Someone truly brave appeared.
Someone able to ignore the hundreds of people all around, the millions who might be watching along from home.
The boy who stepped forward next looked to be about Gareth's age, perhaps a little older.
That already made him different from the children who had come before him. He was not small enough to hide behind his mother, nor young enough to announce his feelings without shame. Instead, he walked forward with the stiff, determined courage of someone marching toward his own execution.
His friends stood several places behind him in the line.
All three of them were grinning.
That did not help him.
Gareth smiled brightly. "Hello!"
The boy opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Gareth waited patiently.
Lauren, standing behind her, immediately recognized the situation and fought down a smile.
The boy swallowed. "Sir Gareth."
"Yes?"
"I, um…" He clutched the poster in his hands so tightly the edges bent. "I wanted to say that you're my favorite knight."
Gareth beamed. "Thank you! That is very kind."
"And not just because you're strong," he rushed to add, as if afraid he might lose his nerve if he slowed down. "Though you are. Very strong. Obviously. But you're also… you're kind. And brave. And you always look like you're trying your best, even when things are hard."
Gareth's smile softened. "That is very kind of you to say."
The boy's ears turned red.
Behind him, his friends looked like they were about to explode.
"And I just thought," he continued, voice growing weaker with every word, "if I were ever lucky enough to meet someone like you properly, not as a fan, I mean, but just… as me, then I would be very honored. Because I think anyone who got to spend time with you would be the luckiest person in Albion."
There it was.
So clear that Lauren nearly coughed.
The woman next in line pressed both hands over her mouth.
One of the boy's friends silently punched another in the shoulder.
Gareth, however, only looked touched.
Deeply touched.
Entirely incorrectly touched.
"That is such a noble thing to say," she said warmly. "To wish to know someone beyond their title is a very honorable sentiment. Many people forget that knights are people too."
The boy blinked.
"Oh. Yes. That's… yes, that is what I meant."
Lauren looked away.
Gareth took the poster from him and signed it carefully.
To Owain. May your kindness be returned tenfold.
She handed it back with both hands.
"I hope you find many good friends who see you the same way."
Owain stared at the poster.
His soul appeared to leave his body.
"Thank you, Sir Gareth," he managed.
"You are very welcome!"
He walked away in a daze.
The moment he reached his friends, they dragged him off to the side, all three whisper-shouting at once.
Gareth watched them go with a pleased smile.
"What a sweet young man," she said.
Lauren made a small strangled sound.
Gareth turned to her. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," Lauren said. "Perfectly."
"You sound strange."
"I am witnessing history."
"Oh." Gareth brightened. "Did I say something knightly?"
Lauren looked at the boy still being aggressively comforted by his friends.
"Yes," she said. "Something like that."
(End of chapter)
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