As the heat of battle faded, Artorius finally looked down and realized his hands were a mangled mess, shredded by the razor-sharp bristles of the Demonic Boar. Before he could even think of hiding them, Guinevere was there. Ignoring his protests and the gore on his skin, she began to chant.
Ripples of brilliant light flowed from her fingertips—high-level healing magecraft that far surpassed the skill of a common court magus. Within seconds, the stinging pain vanished, and his skin was as smooth as if the struggle had never happened.
"I studied these arts for a long time," Guinevere whispered, her eyes meeting his with a shy intensity. "I wanted to be sure that, if I ever had a heroic husband like you, I could take care of him when he returned from the fray."
The hint was as subtle as a sledgehammer.
Artorius felt his heart skip a beat. She was breathtaking, and her devotion was palpable, but his rational mind was screaming at him: Don't touch this! This wasn't just a romantic entanglement; it was a political minefield. If he got involved with the future Queen now, he wasn't just being "unfaithful" to a King who hadn't even appeared yet—he was practically signing his own death warrant. He had a family to protect and a future to secure. He didn't want the "Lancelot Route"; he wanted the "Early Retirement Route."
Desperate to change the subject and break the tension, he thrust the white cub he had been holding toward her.
"Here," he blurted out. "Take it. It's a gift."
Guinevere's eyes shimmered. "Is this... a token of our affection? A pledge?"
Artorius felt a cold sweat break out. "Actually... maybe you should just give it back."
Guinevere let out a soft, musical giggle and pulled the small beast close to her chest, hugging it tight. She looked at the fluffy creature, then back at Artorius. "Since you gave it to me, you must name it."
Artorius was notoriously terrible at names. He looked at the creature, which wiggled in the Princess's arms and let out a curious cry: "Fou! Fou-fou!"
"Let's go with Fou then," Artorius said with a shrug.
Guinevere seemed enchanted by the name, stroking Fou's soft fur as her heart sank deeper into the mire of her feelings for the boy before her.
"Thank you, Artorius," she said softly. Then, before he could blink, she took a sudden step forward and stood on her tiptoes.
He didn't have time to react before the sensation of warm, petal-soft lips pressed briefly against the corner of his mouth.
"Thank you for the gift," she whispered, her face turning a deep shade of crimson. "I... I love all of it."
With that ambiguous parting shot, the Princess turned and fled back into the safety of her carriage like a startled rabbit.
Artorius stood frozen in the dirt, the faint warmth of her kiss still lingering on his skin. He felt the weight of dozens of eyes on him—the shock of the knights, the suppressed grins of the squires, and the absolute silence of a crowd that had just witnessed a scandal in the making.
Inside, Artorius let out a silent, despairing wail: I'm officially screwed!
Artorius has successfully "invested" in the future Queen, but perhaps a bit too literally. He has officially stolen Lancelot's destiny and complicated the King's romance before it even began. And now, the "Beast of Disaster," Cath Palug—better known as Fou—has become their "token of love."
────────────────────────────────────────
Support me here: https://[email protected]/AuAuMon
Spring Sale Special – 20% OFF!
Fate : What Do You Mean I'm the Proto-Saber?
Join the journey and become part of the story!
────────────────────────────────────────