Sir Galahad Corbenic

Aiden was almost caught by surprise when a hoard of tiny feet stamped down the stairs and soon enough they were surrounded by a group of children of different ages with their eyes wide with curiosity. “Hey now, I’m sure there’s enough for everybody,” he said, taking a couple of the tarts and handing them to the orphans. “Or enough to share, for sure.” He felt bad for eating some on the way, these children needed them more than he did. At the same time, they didn’t know some were missing and the spark in their eyes was filling him with a strange feeling of joy.

“Let’s everyone take one and pass them around,” Galahad instructed gently, crouching down slightly so he was closer to the children’s eye level. Some hung back, cautious, but others were more intrigued than they were scared and came forward to grab the tarts from the tray. Soon enough they were all sharing them around and even the wariest came forward to take one, smiling and laughing as they bit into them. Standing back up, Galahad caught sight of the look on Aiden’s face and grinned. “And that’s why I like helping people.”

Hairud leaned into him, sighing in relief when all her weight was off her hurt leg. “I can wait the rain out somewhere,” she corrected him. “You don’t need to stay, gods know I’m bothering you enough as is.” There were healers that could help her in their camp but she couldn’t tell him that, of course. “Seriously, I will be just fine, no need for physicians or anything like that.” She tried to sound as convincing as possible.

“Perhaps not, but the thing is, I’ll feel terribly guilty and keep worrying about you if I leave you alone in the rain with a sore ankle,” Galahad said, catching sight of his horse through the rain. He thought he remembered a cave a little way north, near the river, where he could take her to wait out the storm. “So really, you’ll be doing me a favour if you humour me.”

“I think so,“ Hairud nodded, gripping onto his shoulder for better support. “If you could just help me find a shelter under some tree or in a cave until the rain stops, I can take care of myself from there.“ She didn’t want to bother him and she was terrified of the idea of him taking her to the city. What if someone recognises her?

“Good.” Galahad tightened his grip around her waist to make sure he was supporting her, and then slowly started in the direction of his horse. At her suggestion, he frowned. “I think you should see a physician,” he started, not keen on the idea of just leaving her somewhere, hurt and alone in the middle of a storm. “But I suppose we can at least wait the rain out somewhere.”

“Ah, of course. Just when I was starting to have fun,” he said, perhaps with a hint of disappointment in his voice. “Well, what can we do? It seems that we’re just going to have to give these out to some hungry children instead of continuing in our fruitful conversation.” Giving Galahad a smile, he stopped in front of the entrance, nodding. “After you, sir Galahad.”

“Ah, but now we fulfil out noble quest. We can keep talking afterwards,” Galahad said, in all sincerity. This wasn’t something he talked about much with anyone, and he appreciated both Aiden’s neutrality and his sincere responses. Leading the way inside, he lifted the tray of tarts high over his shoulder and called as he went, “We are in need of some brave children to help us get rid of these tarts! Are there any around here?”

“You are very sweet, to send me such a note, whoever you are,” Galahad said laughingly, a blush staining his cheeks.

“Very true,” Aiden nodded enthusiastically. “Well, from what I can say so far, you are one my favourite knights for sure.” The duke met a few of them and most have been too serious or cocky in a way he didn’t care for. This one he liked, though.

“Why, thank you. You’re one of my favourite dukes,” Galahad replied with a grin, lifting the half-eaten tart in his hand in a kind of salute. As he spoke they came to the end of the street, and the orphanage came into view only a few feet away from them. “Ah, here we are.”

Hairud wanted to protest but realised it was pointless. She couldn’t run even if she wanted to and trying to convince him she was fine would be stupid. “Alright,” she nodded, sniffling as she moved the hair from her eyes, wiping some water off of her face as well. “Thank you. I’m sorry to be a bother.”

“It’s alright, no bother at all,” Galahad assured her. Aware she was still upset and not wishing to frighten her further he kept his words soft and made sure to move slowly as he encouraged her to put one arm around his neck while his wrapped his around her waist and lifted her up to stand on her unhurt foot. “My horse isn’t far,” he said, nodding in the direction. “Do you think you can hop with me supporting you?”

Hairud closed her eyes as the noise approached but when she heard the voice, she opened one eye, looking up. It sounded familiar but really wasn’t sure at all where she could know him from. Her hair was obstructing her view and the rain wasn’t helping either but she was fairly certain she couldn’t recognise the face. “I don’t know. I slipped and can’t get up. I- I think it’s my ankle,” she replied, gasping. “I’m fine. I think.” Though she was fairly certain she wasn’t.

“If you cannot get up, I’m not sure you can reasonably say you’re fine,” Galahad pointed out with a smile in his voice, though he was still concerned for her that she had hurt herself all the way out here, alone and in the rain. “Let me at least help you up and somewhere dry, where we can take a look at your ankle.”

“What a  shame that the seers are not as progressive,” Aiden sighed theatrically. “But although you were not prophesised to do so, there is none saying you cannot do it anyway.” He offered the plate to the knight with a wide grin.

“Well, that is certainly true,” Galahad chuckled, reaching out to take one such tart. Glistening red jam was oozing out of the pastry over his fingers, and he licked it off with a smile. “As a prophesied knight, I must do my best to keep up my strength, after all.”

A smile of touched surprised flitted over Galahad’s face as he read the note. He had no idea who might have sent it and the idea that someone had been secretly admiring him was odd . . . but it was a sweet gesture, so after a moment’s more contemplation he folded it up and slipped it between the pages of his book to keep.

Aiden watched the knight carefully, frowning ever so slightly at his words. “You didn’t choose this,” he said, shaking his head a little. “It’s not like you woke up one day and told yourself ‘I’m bored, I think I’m going to be the chosen one today’, right? Even if you do end up disappointing them - which I’m not saying you will - that is their problem and not yours.” 

“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Galahad said, through there was still a faint frown on his forehead. It didn’t quite feel like that - it felt like by taking up his place he was accepting the prophecy and all the responsibility that came with it. Or was that just something he told himself to make it easier, because the other option was to admit that he had never had any choice at all but was just some kind of puppet for fate? He shook his head and found a smile. “How much easier it would be if I’d just been prophesied to liberate some tarts.”

“Right,” Aiden shrugged. “What do I know about the way prophecies work, right?” He paused. “Nothing. I know nothing about prophecies,” he added quickly to reassure Galahad. “But I can imagine the pressure must be exhausting.”

“Then you know as much as I do,” Galahad said with a small smile. He felt silent for a few moments, watching the road in front of them, not really sure what to say. This wasn’t something he talked about much, even with his mother and sister. It had been a part of him for so long, it many ways he was used to it, but if he really looked inside himself . . . “Sometimes I feel like a fraud,” he admitted. “I see people watching me, expecting great things, or something special. But I don’t think I’m any different or better than any other man.”