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Chapter Text

“Then it is decided,” announces the blue-quilled king, addressing his knights.  “Percival and Galahad will travel north to the lake to visit Lady Nimue and inquire about the artifacts.  Gawain and Lamorak will spend a fortnight in the village to the east to guard the townspeople from the bandits.  Lancelot and myself shall stay here to welcome the mercenaries from the HillTop Kingdom.”  

King Arthur nods with certainty, as if settling the matter then and there with the gesture.  “Inform the castle staff and pack thy belongings, and kindly set out before sunset.” The Knights of the Round Table all bowed quickly to him and turned to their errands-

All but one.

“Lancelot...” the king beckons cheerily, turning to address the knight who was at present leaning against the cold stone wall.

“My liege,” the knight returns formally, eyeing Gawain and Lamorak bickering about their coming journey in the corner of the room.

“Kindly assist the others in their preparations while I gather supplies for us.”

“Supplies, my lord?” inquires the knight.  “I thought we were staying here.”

“O that we are,” replies the king, patting the dour knight jovially upon the shoulder plate of his armor and causing Lancelot to flinch slightly.  “However, it will be at least one week before their arrival, so in the meantime, I’ve devised a test of sorts.”  The word “test” attracts the full attention of the black hedgehog, as well as that of the previously arguing echidna and hawk- both of whom had fallen silent.

“Thou see, dear Lancelot, I’ve noticed that our previous training has become rather... stagnant.  Surely thou will indulge me in a test of thy stamina while we await our guests’ arrival?”  The Knight of the Lake could feel a slight blush crawl across his tan muzzle.  Lamorak scoffs.

“My king,” squawks the bird, “Will there be a test waiting for me once we return from the village?  I am most certain that Sir Lancelot could not possibly hold a candle to mine own stamina.  As thou art well aware I once single-handedly fo-”

“Hold thy tongue, Lamorak,” the king interrupts sternly, his eyes narrowing.  “For a knight supposedly so skilled as thyself, methinks thou art oddly fixated on proving thyself when it is not at all necessary.”  Lamorak freezes, and a stare-off commences between the nonplussed king and the hot-tempered hawk.  “I suggest thou return to thy task as assigned- then I might be more inclined to pay more personal attention to thy feats.  Someone who supposedly fought off thirty knights at once should find himself at least some amusement in protecting his kingdom from a notorious group of bandits, would he not?” 

Lamorak seethes quietly while Gawain and Lancelot share a rare, short truce to watch the living headache attempt to dress his rebuttal in niceties.  The king gives his knights a curt nod before exiting, cutting off any chance for Lamorak to argue further.

“Lamorak, I swear that one of these days His Highness will eventually tire of thy horseshit and send thee packing,” Lancelot sniffs, his gaze still trained out the door where the king was now merrily conversing with a few members of the castle staff, as if he had not had to rebuke one of his strongest knights but moments prior.

“His Lordship hath practically already cast us aside,” spits Gawain.  “Lamorak and I have been banished to a three days’ journey off to the east, at least a fortnight spent in town, and then another three days back, all the while ‘Dear Lancelot’ gets to play host with our king to a lot of soldiers of fortune, drinking ale and living comfortably like a spoiled housecat.”  His amethyst eyes practically glow with contempt as he beholds his great rival, sneering with sharp fangs bared.

“Not by choice, Gawain,” Lancelot growls lowly, “His Majesty’s orders are absolute, and if thou feels neglected then thou may take it up with His Majesty personally.”

“How can we, pray tell, when his famous shadow is always within arm’s reach?” Lamorak jeers, leering at the hedgehog with an icy stare.  Lancelot rolls his eyes and pushes off the wall.

“If thou art quite finished, I do believe ye have some packing to attend to, unless of course Gawain intends to fashion himself an ugly green feather pillow to lay his head upon as soon as he tires of thy shrill voice, Lamorak.  Now if thou will excuse me...” the black hedgehog snarls, leaving in search of the far more pleasantly-tempered Percival and Galahad to lend his strength. As much as he hated to admit it, there was some truth to the other knights’ jeering.

Two years ago, Lancelot had hesitantly requested a personal audience with his king.  Having never seen the normally imperturbable and fearsome knight in this state, King Arthur tepidly took him out for a simple trek out into the woods so that they could truly speak in private with no prying ears.

While sitting in a flowerfield underneath the stars with his king, Lancelot quietly announced his resignation from the Round Table.  Stunned, King Arthur pressed him for a reason, offering the red and black-quilled hedgehog anything and everything just to make his most loyal knight more inclined to stay, but this only caused Lancelot to look ashamed, and to avoid his king’s mournful gaze even further.  

Lancelot’s words had been cautious and guarded, and yet the famously compassionate and personable king heard a layer of fear and trepidation behind his careful speech. Both the king and the knight were renowned for their stubbornness, but in the end, the king was able to find the true reason why Lancelot no longer wished to stay in Camelot with his king and the other knights.

Sir Lancelot du Lac, his closest and most trusted knight, had fallen deeply in love with him.

“The love a knight holds for his Master,” Arthur asked, “Or the love one shares with an equal?”

“Both,” Lancelot finally answered, swallowing thickly.

“... Is that all that troubles thee, my knight?” the king asked after the secret was revealed.

“... My lord?” Lancelot whispered, completely floored by the king’s handling of his confession.  “I- I am afraid that I do not understand-” he hesitated, knowing that his feelings towards Arthur were most inappropriate for a knight to have for his king.  Now that the king knew, he would surely be banished from the kingdom, or worse, he could be put to death.

“O come now Lancelot- thou say this as if I were not already aware of thy feelings,” the king chided gently.

The knight felt positively nauseated at this revelation.  His king may be brash and bold- one might even say he seemed almost careless at times- but those who knew him personally knew he was no fool.  Assuming him to be one could be a potentially deadly mistake.

Of course he could see right through him.  Of course he had caught his stolen stares and had seen through his overprotective nature for what it truly was, especially since they were a relatively recent development.  The knight’s change in behavior was very clear to His Majesty:

Lancelot had fallen head over arse for his king.

Every instinct of his screamed at him to flee and never return, however, running would be an absolutely preposterous thing to do.  While the knight was the only one who could keep pace with King Arthur, so lovingly called the “Knight of the Wind” by all of Camelot for his godlike speed, the king could easily catch him in an instant and drag him back to the castle to be burned at the stake in front of the entire kingdom.

Before he could consider his options further, Arthur very softly took Lancelot’s hands into his own and caressed them as best he could through their gauntlets.  Lancelot looked down, staring closely at their hands clasped together… my, how naturally they fit together, his lecherous heart was sure to point out.  How many times had he kissed that very same gauntlet in reverence of the king who had taken him into his court at Lady Nimue’s behest, and had proven his right to the throne to him and the rest of Camelot by saving countless lives without a second thought?  How many times had he done this while his king knew of the real reason why he did it?

“Lancelot,” the blue hedgehog called softly.  The knight hesitantly lifted his garnet eyes up to his king’s usually-bright emeralds, and was taken aback to see that they were currently clouded in sorrow- itself a rare sight.

“Yes, my king…?” Lancelot murmured.

“Remove thy helmet.  I wish to look upon thy face.”

Lancelot dared not hesitate before his king.  If he were to escape with any semblance of dignity, he mustn’t show fear...

“Thou art my greatest, most trusted knight, and the bravest man I hath ever met.  It absolutely breaks my heart that thou feared that I would even dare try to harm thee over something silly such as this- over anything at all- and it would cause me a great deal more pain if thou were to banish thyself from my kingdom and my court.  I want to assure thee that I am not at all upset by thy confession, and more than anything, I wish thee to know that I am exceedingly grateful for all thou hast done for this kingdom and for me personally.”

“... I cherish thy words deeply, my liege,” the knight returned solemnly after a moment’s reprieve, bowing low.  There had to be some sort of caveat to this, surely.

“I am not saying this as thy king,” Arthur murmured, squeezing Lancelot’s hands tighter while reaching to pluck a flower blooming beside his knight, “I am saying this as thy friend.  If thou must go, then I suppose it is not right of me to stop thee if thou truly feels uncomfortable staying. However, if thou chooses to remain here, by my side, then I hope that I can prove to be the companion thou require.”

The king then reached over and tucked the white flower in his knight’s dark quills.

Lancelot froze, unsure of how to continue.  He was absolutely baffled by his king’s words. He had thought his years of service and devotion to the crown were over- he had thought his entire life was over.  He hugged his knees, feeling foolish and unable to meet his king’s gaze. 

“How long?” he finally asked.

“What?”

“How long hast thou known, my liege?”

The blue hedgehog smiled.  He leaned back among the flowers and gazed up at the sky and stars hanging above him and his knight.

“For quite some time, I’m afraid.”  Arthur sighed heavily from his nose, looking thoughtful.  “For all thy doom and gloom, thou art a dreadful liar.”  Lancelot sighed, embarrassed yet relieved that his confession was not being met with a death sentence.  “Fear dost not suit thy face, my knight.”

“Nor thine, my king,” he huffed in response.

“Enough of that,” the blue hedgehog waved off amicably.  “Thy ‘king’ in court, simply ‘Arthur’ betwixt the two.”  He reached for the other’s hand once more, pulling his knight down to lay among the tall wildflowers with him.

“As thou wish, Arthur,” he whispered before his lips were overtaken by the other’s.

The knight smiled behind the kiss and reached for the blue hedgehog’s muzzle to pull him even closer.

The two maintained their forbidden love in secret, with nobody the wiser as to why their king still had no interest in meeting princesses and noblewomen, even if such a marriage would strengthen alliances with neighboring kingdoms.  He was attracted to women as well as men, he had admitted freely to Lancelot, though he loathed the idea of being “tethered” to someone for land or for wealth, and the idea of having children made the king’s skin crawl.

A freak accident involving a broken window in the king’s chambers was the perfect excuse to relocate Lancelot’s private chambers to a spare room in the king’s under the guise of “increased protection” in the event of another “attempt on His Majesty’s life.”  As the winter became colder, both the king and his lover delighted in the chance to share a bed and hold each other close without Lancelot being questioned about being awake and roaming about the castle so late at night.

Yet here was his treasured companion, years later, being so careless about his more tender feelings for him in front of the rest of the court.  Lancelot stops and crosses his arms tighter, scowling at the stone floor as if it too knew of their scandalous relationship as he reflected. Gawain and Lamorak were already particularly mouthy about how Lancelot was favored by their king; he knew he would never hear the end of it if they knew to what extent that favor led to.  

Huffing under his breath, the saturnine knight finally turns to go assist the others, vowing to have a few words with His Majesty as soon as they were alone about his clear favoritism and putting their secret in jeopardy.

After dinner, those who were to travel began to take their leave.  King Arthur and Sir Lancelot stood at the gates to bid farewell to their companions and wish them luck on their journeys.  The king fondly shook hands with all of his parting knights, while his companion held back, glaring daggers into the backs of Lamorak’s and Gawain’s helmets.

“Dear Lancelot, thou seem more sullen and churlish than usual,” chuckles the king once the others were out of earshot.  “I did not think it possible. Whatever troubles thee, my knight?”

“I must speak with thee in private, my king.”

“We have all the privacy in the world, Lancelot.  Come, let us hear it before we retire upstairs. I have a test waiting for thee, after all.”  He winks playfully and turns, causing his long red velvet cape to swirl gracefully with his movements, and he leads his knight back into the castle.

Lancelot inhales sharply through his nose, gathering his thoughts as he strides in step with his king.  The two are silent for most of their journey, until they near their destination at the top of the final staircase.

“When was the last time thou sent me on a task as grueling as the other members of the Table, my liege?” Lancelot speaks lowly.

“Come again, my knight?”  The king appears befuddled.

“There is unrest among the other knights, Arthur.  They can see that thou favors me.”

“But of course I do, my sweet,” the king returns with a teasing grin.  Lancelot’s cheeks flush pink with embarrassment; his eyes burn with fury.  He abruptly seizes his king’s arm and pulls him into their shared chambers, the sudden movement causing the blue hedgehog’s ornate crown to fall askew on his ear.  Instead of fixing it, the king flings it to the side in distaste and hurriedly unties his cape from under his muzzle before casting it aside as well. Lancelot leans on the table beside the fireplace, glowering at his companion before speaking quietly.

“How long until they finally figure us out?  As much as they can seem to be, they are not stupid, Arthur.  They would not be such high-ranking members of thy court if they were.”

The king sighs, scowling as his normally perky and alert ears fall flat against his sapphire blue quills.  He moves to lie back on their secretly-shared bed and stares mournfully at the ceiling.

“Lancelot,” he murmurs, finally breaking the silence, “I apologize for seeming so careless, but if they have a problem with how I treat thee then they may take it up with me.  I do cherish thee so,” he whispered, turning to his partner. “Thou must understand how hard it is for me to hide that away.  I did not intend to spend these next few weeks causing more sorrow to grow behind those already sad eyes of thine.”  The black hedgehog exhales softly, and stands to leave.

“Prithee, my dear Lancelot,” calls the king, simpering when he hears the knight freeze, “why in Chaos’s name art thou sneaking away to thy chambers with thy tail between thy legs?  I think thou would find it far more pleasurable if I were between them instead...”

“Typical,” the knight huffs under his breath with a resigning smirk, turning his attention back to his king and striding back to the massive bed to meet his lustful gaze.  “We’ve been alone for but a few moments, and yet thou art already eager to pounce on me like a stag in rut.”

“But of course- I know just how to make up for my carelessness, and it would be a crime to let that fat horse’s cock of thine go untouched for a moment longer.”  The king sits up, his eyes hungrily traveling over Lancelot’s body once more before grasping him roughly by the hips. “I stowed the shackles away when the bedding was last washed,” he growls lowly in his knight’s ear.  “Shall I fetch them again?”

Lancelot flushes scarlet and looks away.  Arthur could be… rather brash about his desires on occasions such as this. 

Normally the king was the one on the receiving end of their lustful escapades, however once in a blue moon he would be the one to pin Lancelot to the mattress, delighting in the desperate, lascivious noises the most feared knight in his court would make as he took him roughly.  

The blue-quilled hedgehog was the only one who could best Lancelot in battle, the only one he knelt for; it strangely felt right- enticing, even, to roll over and present himself if his king so desired to indulge in his body, especially after a particularly rough sparring match.  Neither hedgehog pulled their punches. 

“I shall retrieve them,” Lancelot says firmly before turning his attention to the chest where the king kept his more salacious tools.  Arthur smirks, rolling over to stretch out over the warm jackal pelt strewn over their bedding, and listens intently to Lancelot dig through their collection.  Lancelot stops when he notices a new bottle, wrapped in a silk pouch, and the king seems to notice his hesitation.

“I thought thou might be a bit tired of olive oil.  The apothecary recommended something a little more suited to our needs.”

“Did they pry about it?” Lancelot asks hesitantly, looking over his shoulder.  “A notoriously unmarried king asking about lubricant for such a crass and carnal purpose is practically begging for a kingdom-wide scandal.” 

The king scoffs at this notion.

“They believe me to have bed servants.  Thou needn’t worry.”  

“Dost thy ‘test of stamina’ hath anything to do with thou sending the other knights away on several days’ journeys?” Lancelot asks, making his way back to the bed with the requested items.  The king takes no time in yanking his knight over by his crimson tunic, pulling it over his inky black quills and casting it aside before pressing a ravenous kiss to his lips.

“Lie down,” he growls softly, gesturing to their bed with a nod.  The knight obliges without a second thought, his cheeks reddening once more as Arthur promptly pins him against the plush mattress, his hunger for the other clearly visible in his eyes.

“As for thy question,” the king murmurs, straddling his captive and moving to restrain him against the bedpost, “I saw an opportunity and decided to take it.  After all, we would not want to wake the entire castle with thou squealing like a whore, wouldn’t thou agree?  I merely wish to watch those pretty eyes of thine roll back in thy head and listen to thee cry out in rapture without us being so rudely interrupted,” he purrs, gently pressing kisses along Lancelot’s jaw.  

“Thou would not dare deny me the pleasure of watching thee come undone under my touch, would thee?”  The knight shivers under his lover’s caress and attempts to steady his breathing, finding it so much harder to remain calm when his normally jovial and almost juvenile king looked at him with such a sinful gaze.  He nuzzles against his companion’s plush sapphire quills tenderly, unable to embrace the other as he normally would with his arms bound.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my love,” he whispers, the words hanging delicately in the air between them.  The king lets out a pleased hum at his partner’s rare open admittance of his fondness for him before pulling back to admire his prize, whose muzzle and ears are flushed beautifully in the light of the fireplace.  

“What in Chaos’s name hath I done to deserve a companion such as thyself, my beloved?” Arthur murmurs, leaning forward to kiss his bound lover once more.

“My king,” Lancelot sighs between kisses,  “After all this time, thou must know by now that I cannot help but be drawn to thy warmth and comfort, thy strength and compassion.  Pray tell, what have I done to deserve to be cosseted such as this, by mine own cherished king?” 

 Arthur delicately runs his tongue over his companion’s lips, asking for entrance that he is quickly given, and delights in his lover’s taste before pulling back slightly and resting his forehead against his knight’s.

“My world, I would indulge thee in any desire that could possibly cross thy mind if only thou remained by my side.”  He pulls back to meet his lover’s gaze. “Now then, what shall we start with?”

“With whatever thou craves, Arthur,” Lancelot huffs.  “Thou art not the one bound to the bedpost.”

“So I am not,” the blue hedgehog snorts, his eyes boldly trailing down Lancelot’s body with hunger.  “Thou hast always had such a beautiful body…” he comments idly, running his ungloved hands over the knight’s stomach and stroking the silky white fur on his chest.  The black hedgehog swallows, willing himself to relax under his king’s gentle touch.

The king draws his own knees under himself and presses his knight’s thighs back.  He boldly begins to fondle the quickly-hardening pouch between his captive’s legs, and a dry smile spreads across the black hedgehog’s muzzle when the king picks up the vial of lubricant.

“Thou certainly art not wasting any time,” the bound hedgehog huffs playfully.  He sharply sucks in a breath as he feels two wet, familiar fingers delicately trace around his entrance.

“Art thou complaining?” asks the king before gently pressing a finger inside.  Lancelot hisses as he feels the cold finger breech, earning a chuckle from the blue hedgehog.  “Thy arsehole certainly is not. Such a greedy little cunt thou hast, dear Lancelot- it’s practically swallowed my finger whole in no time at all!”  He pulls the finger slightly to the side before inserting the other one, causing another squeak to fall from the knight’s lips.  

“There we are,” the king murmurs softly once the knight’s member slowly began to peek out of its pouch.  He continues to pump his fingers in and out of his lover as Lancelot groans sensuously and eagerly rolls his hips in time to meet with the invading digits.  The blue hedgehog twists the two fingers together, watching gleefully as it stretches his captive apart. “Now where was…” he hums teasingly, curling his fingers and beginning to search around while Lancelot keens.  The black hedgehog lets out a loud, brazen cry once his lover’s fingers find his prostate.  

“Right there?” the king grins.  Lancelot shuts his eyes tight, laying his head back on the pillows, and nods quickly, knowing what was coming.  The blue hedgehog presses at that spot once more, this time while running his tongue up the length of his lover’s now-exposed cock.  The knight gasps, trying in vain to maintain his composure, but his king was well-versed in exactly what to do to drive his knight mad with pleasure.

“A-Arthur-” the black hedgehog groans, looking down at his partner sucking him off.  The king closes his eyes and hums, knowing why his lover wanted his attention and instead chooses to take his captive’s cock fully in his mouth and suck firmly.

“Ffffffuuuuuck- Arthur, please- I cannot last like this…”

“I do not wish for thee to last, Lancelot- I want to hear that beautiful voice of thine wail,” the blue hedgehog replies gleefully, pulling back for air before swallowing his lover’s member down once more.  “Thou art always so dour and fearsome - so very cross,” he teases as his knight groans, “and yet thou make such a pretty face whenever I play with thee...”

“My king, please, I- fuck, I- agh…” Another firm stroke to that sensitive bundle of nerves makes it impossible for Lancelot to think clearly anymore.  He clings to the shackles and his sanity as the blue hedgehog sucks at his cock with fervor. It all feels far too good and soon enough the pleasure overtakes his mind completely and he feels the tension in his abdomen snap.  The king, who could feel the twitching and straining of his captive’s swollen member in his mouth, manages to correctly gauge when his lover would reach his peak and pulls back just in time to give his knight’s member a few quick pumps, causing the black hedgehog to messily climax onto his own chest.

Lancelot collapses back onto the mattress, catching his breath as he watches his king suddenly rise and make his way over to the chest in the corner.  Arthur had to be painfully hard by this point- what in God’s name could he possibly be searching for? He’d gladly return the favor for his lover if only he released him from his chains.

“Arthur, is this ‘test of stamina’ thou hast so eagerly devised merely a chance to see how long it takes before I fall asleep in this position?”  

The king snorts crassly, and eyes the black-quilled hedgehog with lust once more.

“Oh Lancelot, thou truly cannot fathom what I want from thee, dost thou?” he asks, apparently having found what he needed and returning to the bed.  His captive attempts to see what his king has behind his back, and the king presents a large, polished stone plug before darkly chuckling, “The test is to see how many times I can make thou climax before thou goes mad.”

Lancelot’s eyes go wide as the blue hedgehog reaches for the vial of oil on the nightstand.  “Is that a challenge, my lord?” he asks, with an excited glint in his eye.

“But of course, my beloved.  Thou knows I dost so adore thy competitive nature.  Would thou be so kind as to demonstrate thine abilities for thy king?”

“Only if my king might use thy strong hand to assist me in performing at my best,” Lancelot purrs lowly, watching closely as his partner coats the tool in oil.  “After all, I might find it difficult without.”

Arthur lifts the black hedgehog’s thighs slightly before he presses the stone plug teasingly around the puckered ring of muscle, drizzling more of the oil over both Lancelot’s entrance and the toy itself before returning the vial to his nightstand.  The knight gasps sharply, digging his claws into the pillow as Arthur presses in and out more firmly, finally allowing the toy to breech until it goes in with only soft whimpers from the recipient. Lancelot sucks on his teeth and pants lightly as he becomes accustomed to both the icy material and the sensation of being full, while Arthur soothingly massages his thighs.

“Art thou alright, my pet?” the king whispers lightly, his wild grin growing wider when Lancelot enthusiastically nods in response despite the teasing nickname, the knight’s eyes dazed in pleasure.  “Good,” he murmurs, gently twisting the toy to earn a few more disoriented mewls from Lancelot, whose previously-spent member was already beginning to harden once more. The king admired his lover’s beautifully flushed face before gently tugging back on the stone toy.  His captive’s groans steadily became louder as he begins to pull more harshly, earning him a low whine from the knight.

“Too mu-”

“No,” Lancelot gasps.  “Keep- keep going...”

 Keeping an eye on his lover’s face to gauge whether he was in serious pain, the king pulls harder on the stone toy, watching Lancelot’s face contort with a twisted mix of pain and pleasure as an increasingly loud “fuckfuckfuckfuCKFUCKFUCKFUCK” tumbles uncontrollably from his lips until the toy is removed completely with a loud “POP!”, causing lubricant to leak down to his tail.  The blue hedgehog smirks wickedly and he stuffs it back inside, wanting the knight truly distracted before he reached for his lover’s still-sensitive member once more.

Lancelot shuts his eyes tightly and bites his lip, reveling in the sensations his partner was indulging him in.  At this point, the other knights could eat shit for all he cared. His lover was far too proficient at this for him to be upset for long.  He lets out a loud, satyric groan as he feels Arthur’s skilled tongue travel up his member once again, and before long the king begins pumping it in his slick hand.

Far too quickly he feels the warmth in his groin swell once more before he is overtaken by intense spasms.  A second overwhelming wave of pleasure crashes over his entire body as Arthur continues to pump his member roughly, causing him to paint his fur in another splash of creamy white as he howls.

“That was faster than I could have guessed!” Arthur purrs, giving a few more strokes to his captive’s twitching cock before tenderly squeezing Lancelot’s cramping thighs.  “Is it truly that sensitive? That was only the second!” The knight nods tiredly, his head still buzzing with pleasure as the dreaded ache already begins to set in.  

Truth be told, two was far more exhausting than he could have dreamed.  How could he possibly survive a third or even fourth if his king so desired?  He supposed he’d just have to find out- the two were notoriously competitive, and of course Arthur had just found another avenue to compete in with his favorite sparring partner.  Once he got the chance, there was no doubt in Lancelot’s mind that the blue hedgehog would want the same done to him as well.

The king hums thoughtfully, looking pleased with his work so far and the mess he had made of his usually so-stoic knight.

“I want at least one mo-”

“Anything for thee, my love,” Lancelot murmurs without a second thought.

“My sweet, thou doth spoil me so,” the king asserts, taken aback as he reached for the vial one last time to lather his own straining member in oil, “however, if thou art too tender to indulge me in this-”

“Not at all, my king,” the black hedgehog pants, slowly shaking his head against the pillows.

“Lancelot-” Arthur starts, voice soft yet firm all at once.

“Arthur, stop with thy coddling and just fuck me already,” the knight snarls lowly, his merlot-colored eyes beginning to refocus sharply.

So it was like that, then? the king realizes.

Needing no further convincing, a much darker smirk grows across the king’s muzzle as he makes his way closer to his captive.  He presses Lancelot’s thighs back, black-furred knees almost reaching the mattress. 

“Hold,” he growls, pressing them forward.  “For Chaos’s sakes Lancelot, I know thou art far more flexible than that.  Hold.” Lancelot reaches languidly with his bound hands and grasps behind his knees, feeling the cramping muscles in his thighs tremble.  Running his tongue over Lancelot’s sensitive member, the king lightly taps at his knight’s abused entrance with his thumb, teasing and testing the pliancy of the ring of muscle.  

“Fffffuuuuuuck- Arthur please…” the black hedgehog gasps breathlessly, shuddering under His Majesty’s lecherous tongue.  The king huffs playfully, giving Lancelot’s tail a slight tug before finally positioning himself and gently prodding at the knight’s entrance with his painfully hard member.

“Thou art curiously demanding tonight for someone in thy position,” the blue hedgehog comments dryly.  He presses forward as Lancelot inhales sharply through his nose, relishing in the familiar stretch and willing his muscles to relax.  Hitting a bit of resistance on the way in, the king pulls back before pressing on once more with a low groan, grasping Lancelot’s hips as he eases himself inside.  

The black hedgehog chokes on a gasp, feeling his lover fully sheathe himself inside before letting out a low, pleased groan.  The blue hedgehog atop him, his emerald eyes hazy with lust, struggles to keep his breath steady but awaited Lancelot’s unspoken permission before losing himself completely and giving his captive the fucking they both so thoroughly desired.

Shortly, Lancelot releases his grip on his thighs, which were beginning to ache even more from the strain.  His legs come down over his king’s hips and he crosses them tightly behind his back, allowing the blue hedgehog to take him even deeper.  Arthur licks his way into the black hedgehog’s mouth once more, far more roughly than before, and begins moving his hips at a steady pace. 

It was already far too much- Lancelot was dizzy and exhausted beyond belief, his king’s firm grip the only thing keeping him in position as he penetrated him thickly and fully.  The knight’s usually pitch-black fur was tacky with his previous releases, and he was eternally grateful that the cold winter’s air was keeping them from getting uncomfortably sweaty.

“My love,” Arthur gasps between thrusts, slowing his pace slightly, “thou art awfully quiet.  What can I do to hear that heavenly voice of thine once more?”

“I- m-my lord,” Lancelot pants, “I find it quite- hngh- difficult to think- clearly in my- fuuuuuuuuck ” he groans, jaw going slack as a thrust grazes his prostate, “sit- sit-uation...”  

The king chuckles lowly at this, reveling in the sight of the famed Lancelot du Lac- cunning, deadly, and notoriously ill-tempered, and now so flustered and breathless while impaled on his cock.  

“I suppose that was part of my plan.  However,” he pauses, drawing back slightly and stalling his hips before caressing Lancelot’s flushed cheek with a clawed hand, “is there anything at all that thou require?”  The black hedgehog swallows thickly, savoring this reprieve for a brief moment before turning his attention back to his lover.

“My legs ache in this position, Arthur.  Could we perhaps-“

“Say no more,” the blue hedgehog nods, releasing the shackles at once and giving Lancelot room to roll over and position himself more comfortably.  “But don’t thou dare bury thy face in that pillow,” he purrs, playfully flicking his knight’s tail.

Curiously, Lancelot reaches for the shackles and begins to reaffix them around his already-sore wrists.

“Thou haven’t had enough punishment, my pet?” Arthur teases, adjusting them both to be just a touch tighter before running his fingers soothingly through Lancelot’s disheveled black and crimson red quills. 

“Punishment?” Lancelot huffs with a weary yet crazed grin, “I dare say I feel quite spoiled by this treatment.  However...” he intentionally trails off, turning back to behold his king and his aching hard-on.

“However?” the blue hedgehog pries, ghosting his fingers from the underside of the knight’s tail to his abused entrance.

“I am quite unsure if his lordship has the power to bring me to climax one last time…” the knight murmurs with a teasing, lustful glint in his eye.

“Is that a challenge, my knight?” the king purrs, gleefully lathering his member with more oil.  “Because I know I could tear at least one more out of thee if I so desired.”  

With no further words Arthur roughly thrusts himself back inside, causing Lancelot to cry out in pain and pleasure.  The blue hedgehog digs his claws into his knight’s hips and grasps handfuls of his inky black fur.

“Thou really should- hold thy tongue- dear... Lancelot...” the king pants, pressing his chest flush with the other hedgehog’s back to growl lowly in his ear.  “It will be thy undoing.” Lancelot lets out another carnal gasp as his king finds his prostate once more. Arthur laughs at this discovery, angling his hips to hit that sweet spot more directly.

“Why was it thou were so displeased with me when thou came to bed?  Because I play favorites with my court?  Cruel Lancelot, thou doth vex me so,” he jeers, yanking the knight’s tail to the side, causing Lancelot to cry out once more.  “If thou art so ungrateful for his king’s treatment, then perhaps I should keep thee chained under the Round Table, where thou can suckle at my cock until thou learn thy place!”  Lancelot whimpers softly, desperately trying not to go limp.

“One must wonder what the other knights think of thee,” the king snarls mockingly, pulling back to take a handful of red and black quills while pressing down on the knight’s back with his other hand, “‘Prithee, what must it be like to be the famed Sir Lancelot?  Doth thou just envy his position, staying behind at Camelot at the behest of our king?’  Little do they know thou art in his bedchamber, bound to his bed posts, taking his Master’s cock like a fucking champion!”  

Arthur snaps his hips faster, relentlessly hammering away at his knight’s prostate as Lancelot howls.  That familiar sensation of him reaching his peak is tightening in his abdomen, but it is merely just another part of his body screaming vulgarly at his current predicament.  He needs it all to stop so he can think clearly, but his lecherous body craved that sweet release he knew the king could give.

“Perhaps thou should demonstrate to the others what true loyalty to thy king is- bent over thy master’s bed with my seed leaking out of thy freshly-fucked arsecunt for all to see!”

“M-my liege-” Lancelot gasps desperately.

“Speak up,” the king groans, his breaths coming quicker.  “Thou cannot possibly be cumming again so quickly.”

“I- I am, my love…”  Behind his lover’s harsh words, Lancelot keenly detects the blue hedgehog’s pace quickening and his voice faltering slightly with pleasure.  There was no way he was very far behind.

“Greedy fucking Lancelot,"   the blue hedgehog snarls, “was two simply not enough for thee?  Thou grouses about being spoiled and then begs thy king for more!”  The knight digs his sharp canines into the pillow, hopelessly trying to muffle his howls until Arthur grabs another handful of his quills and growls lowly in his ear.

“Get--thy face--out--of the pillow,” he snarls.  “If thou- art going to beg—for me to allow thee—another release, then- I want--to hear- every damned word--!”

“Plea-please… FUCK-” the black hedgehog chokes, “Please my- lord-- have m-mercy--may I please come- for you- my love--”

“Then let’s have it, then!”  Arthur roars, reaching around to pump Lancelot mercilessly.  It was all far too intense- he already ached and his king’s relentless assault on his prostate made the tightening in his abdomen cramp inexorably.  Lancelot can hear the king shout at him to come somewhere in the back of his mind, but everything was far too foggy to properly register. The blue hedgehog’s grip on his cock practically stings but he could feel his release so, so very close.  He just needs a little more friction, a little more time before-

“ACK- MOther of FUCK--!” Lancelot screeches, his muscles convulsing as his orgasm violently ripped through him.  Suddenly, Arthur stops his assault on his backside and pulls out harshly, pumping himself while pulling the knight’s face to the side and releasing himself upon it.  The black hedgehog shuts his eyes and hesitantly opens his mouth to pant as his king paints his face and muzzle in ropes of pearly white. The king’s chambers fall quiet, save for the crackling of the dying fire and the hoarse panting of the two exhausted hedgehogs.

The king snorts tiredly at the sight of his lover, breaking the silence.

“I see now why they call thee ‘The White Knight.’”

Lancelot rolls his eyes in response.

“Art thou alright, my love?” the blue hedgehog asks his mate.

“Arthur…” Lancelot murmurs, eyes slowly returning to focus, “there never were any mercenaries to begin with, were there?”

“My dearest Lancelot, thou art draped handsomely across the pelt of the only mercenary to come through this kingdom in years.  I would like to keep it that way.” The king withdrew with a purr, though not before stroking his thoroughly spent knight’s muzzle with a soft, affectionate hand.  “Come, I had the staff draw a bath before we started.  We wouldn’t want that lovely fur of thine to mat, would we?”  

The knight huffs under his breath and gives a tired smirk as Arthur offered him a hand up.  He plants a firm kiss on his king’s lips once he sat up, accepting his offer to carry him.

“Next time,” the black hedgehog groans, “it shall be thee who is chained to this bed.”

“I would be deeply disappointed if we spent these next few weeks to ourselves without thou getting thy revenge,” Arthur chuckles softly, poking his nose through his charge’s quills as he gently cradles him in his arms.  “In fact, thou will forgive me if I admit that I was quite looking forward to riding thy cock if we had gone another round.”

“My lord, there is nothing left for thee to ride…” Lancelot grumbles miserably.  The king snickers tiredly and carries his lover over to the adjacent bath hall.  

The servants had filled the entire pool-like bath with scalding hot water less than an hour ago, and it had since cooled to a more pleasant temperature.  The king maneuvers his exhausted lover to wrap his black legs around his own blue hips and slowly makes his way down the steps into the water. The knight folds his arms around his king’s neck and settled comfortably in his lap once the blue hedgehog seats himself on the bench under the water.

Lancelot welcomes the warm bathwater on his aching muscles, and arches his back slightly to scrub the dried remains of their previous activities out of his fur.  The blue hedgehog tenderly licks behind his ear, smoothing down a tuft of bent fur before affectionately reaching out for his companion’s cheek once more, gazing solemnly into his eyes.

“Lancelot, how would thou feel about running away with me?”

Chapter Text

Sir Lancelot wakes the next morning wrapped cozily in ornate blankets and a familiar pair of peach-colored arms.  Ignoring his aching muscles and stinging backside, his head feels strangely clear, as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders.  He cannot recall the last time he had slept that well. Blearily, he opens his eyes and thinks back to his lover’s question the night before-

“Lancelot, how would thou feel about running away with me?”

“My king?” Lancelot had asked, confused.  He certainly could never fault Arthur for being predictable.  Sitting in his lover’s lap, he suddenly felt vulnerable, and a wave of uneasiness washed over him.  Arthur leaned back to the edge of the bath, looking drained, his eyes unfocused as he stared off at nothing in particular.

“My lamb, I-” he began softly.

“I am no lamb, Arthur, I am thy knight-”

“Thou weren’t but moments ago,” the king huffed playfully, flicking the flustered hedgehog’s nose.  “Shall I march thee back in there and paint thy beautifully flushed face white once more to prove it?” he asked, resting his cheek in his hand.

“That is not what I meant, Arthur,” Lancelot growled.  “Thou hast a kingdom to rule.”   God damn it- he was exhausted and was not at all in the mood to entertain this now...

“In any case, my wolf,” sighed Arthur, soothingly running his fingers through the black hedgehog’s damp fur.  “Aren’t thou tired of this?  All this hiding? All this gallantry dressed up in pointless theatrics?”

Lancelot now stares at the thick fabric of the canopies that kept their bed dark and peaceful, idly listening to the gentle rumblings of his companion’s snores.  Had Arthur finally gone mad? Indeed, the pageantry was silly and meaningless, but to abandon Camelot...? 

“The kingdom adores thee, my liege,” Lancelot murmured, simmering down slightly under his partner’s tender caress. Oh, how there was something in the way Arthur would touch him in times such as this that made him abandon all logic and reason and instantly quelled the fire of his temper...  “Camelot needs thee.”

Arthur let out a soft exhale and looked Lancelot in the eyes.  “And whilst I adore serving my kingdom, one does not need to be king to do that.  When all is said and done, I feel as though I am a prisoner. I want to be out protecting my people- I want to be out actually making a difference in the life of the common man, not wasting time sitting atop a stupid and tacky throne surrounded by wealth like a wretched, greedy dragon that signs treaties and trade agreements while people starve...”

Lancelot sighed, resting his chin on his lover’s shoulder.  What a foolish, gentle-hearted soul he had fallen for…

The black hedgehog turns to his sleeping companion now, studying the details of his face.  Stress has added years to his once-boyish features- dark circles have grown underneath his eyes, and the fur on his muzzle is unkempt.  His quills, while still a dashing royal blue, have faded slightly. As much as he hates to admit it, he knows his partner is miserable here, and it is killing him.  Arthur’s eyes still shine brightly with mischief and moxie, and the space above his nose still crinkles slightly when he laughs that mirthful laugh of his, but for how much longer?

He too sorely misses the days when he and the king were freely permitted to travel together, out fending off evildoers side by side and doing good for the people.  On the rare occasion they did travel out of the castle grounds now, it was usually for a faire or celebration of some sort to put on a good appearance, before being shuffled back to Camelot at once to sign some such treaty or to hear some noble speak about nothing important in the grand scheme of things.

But to abandon the throne completely?  To run away like children?

“Lancelot, I do not feel that this is what I was truly meant to do.  Indeed, if I was even remotely comfortable with my position, why am I still not permitted to slip a wedding band around thy finger?” the atypically solemn king had whispered, “to proclaim before God and my kingdom my love and devotion to thee?”   

Arthur ran his hands soothingly along the black hedgehog’s back, gently running water through his back quills.  The wearied hedgehog melted under the care and nuzzled into the blue hedgehog’s neck. Lancelot had never considered marriage- he found the concept silly and sentimental, and why waste time even entertaining what could never be anyway?  As his king carefully washed his fur, the knight thought quietly to himself.  

Arthur truly wished to marry him...  There was something about hearing those words spoken out loud and the spark of hope in the blue hedgehog’s tired eyes that made him suddenly feel humbled and strangely enraptured with the idea.  He blamed his foggy, overstimulated mind on the words that spilled from his mouth-

“What they would question a king and his knight for, they would not question two altruists merely living together by chance far off in the countryside...”

“Lancelot,” the blue hedgehog murmured in his ear, “art thou suggesting something?”

Damn it all, Lancelot thought to himself.  He would follow this man to the ends of the earth with only mild complaining.

“While one may preclude the other, thou may recall that my allegiance as a knight is to thee, not specifically the kingdom.  Where thou goest, I shall dutifully follow.”

“My shadow,” the king chided, “I do not wish thee to feel obligated-”

“I am not obligated- I am committed, and it is final,” the other spoke firmly.

“Lancelot, I am serious,” the blue hedgehog replied, caressing his partner’s cheek.  “I will not be cross with thee if thou wishes me to stay here.  Thou art the level head that I myself lack most often- I trust thy judgement above all others.”

“And thou art the sunshine that provides the warmth I need.  It would be daft of me to cloud that.”

Arthur smiled grandly at this.  “Art thou certain thou art not king in my stead?  Always so solemn and fierce...” he teased, pressing a chaste kiss to the other’s forehead.  “I suppose thou would prefer to discuss this further when thy head is clear?”

“Yes, though I must admit that I am quite disheartened that thou asked this of me in my current condition.”

“I wanted to ask thee sometime in the next few days we have to ourselves, but thou must forgive me in mine own foggy state of mind,” the blue hedgehog laughed.  Lancelot huffed with a content smile before forcing himself to stand.  He still had some semblance of dignity, damn it, despite his aching body.

He could feel Arthur’s tender, watchful gaze on him as he waded over to the stairs and climbed out, reaching for one of the many plush towels that sat on a wooden shelf, and as expected he soon heard his king exit the bath as well.

“How queer- thy quills resemble mine when wet,” Arthur commented idly, padding over behind him while hastily drying himself.  “It must be fate.”   He began to affectionately dry them with a towel, knowing full-well that the black hedgehog would have absolutely none of that.

“Do not be ridiculous,” Lancelot scoffed playfully, tiredly pulling the towel from the other’s hands and fussing with his waterlogged quills himself.  “‘Tis but a paltry coincidence.”

“Thou doth vex me still,” Arthur chided mockingly, a devilish grin creeping across his face.  “I was merely suggesting that we make quite a handsome matching set.”   

A less-exhausted Arthur would have pinned the other against the wall to coax more of that teasingly quarrelsome nature that he so adored out of his knight, but upon seeing that the other was moments from falling asleep where he stood, he decided to spare him for now.

As an exceptionally skilled knight, Lancelot could easily guess his king’s next move.  However, he was far too weary to defend himself or even facetiously demand his release from his brutish captor once it happened. The towel carelessly flung to the side and forgotten, he was once again scooped up in the blue hedgehog’s arms and carried off to bed.  Being mollycoddled such as this would certainly be the death of him...

Hours later, the blue hedgehog holding him begins to stir slightly.  The knight resettles himself in his king’s arms without a second thought, burying his face in the other’s familiar peach chest fur.

“Good morning, love,” Arthur sighs dreamily, nosing through the black hedgehog’s messy quills.  Lancelot grunts softly in response. Used to his knight’s stoic and reserved demeanor, Arthur slips a finger under the black hedgehog’s chin and lifts it up, pressing a soft, sentimental kiss to his lips before running his hands up his lover’s back.

Lancelot closes his eyes and relents to the blue hedgehog’s petting.  He’d never voice it, but he felt safe in his king’s arms. Years ago, such intimacy had felt foreign to him- even after he’d confessed his feelings, he hadn’t understood why Arthur would constantly touch him and stroke his fur when they were alone, but as time went on, he noticed that the blue hedgehog would no longer pull at his own quills and fur in times of stress.  

The claw marks on the king’s arms that used to worry Lancelot so very much had faded, and Arthur had stopped pulling anxiously at the cuffs of his robes and gloves.  It did not take a genius to put two and two together, and Lancelot swallowed his pride and conceded graciously.

The knight stretched his back and legs and resettled, unused to remaining in bed for this long.  For once, no one was pounding on the king’s chamber door, demanding Arthur’s immediate attention at sunrise and inadvertently forcing Lancelot to shamefully scurry half-awake to his own, rarely-used bed in the adjacent room as the king stalled for time.

It could always be like this, the black-quilled hedgehog thought to himself.  He could almost picture it- a simple, practical cottage in the countryside, a small vegetable garden with a few chickens, perhaps a goat, and their horses kept safe in a small paddock.  They could travel together whenever and wherever they pleased, and actively protect the common folk without having nosy servants and squires tagging along.

The blue hedgehog could be free from the restraints and stressors of the crown, and Lancelot would no longer have to worry about the king’s smile ever fading.

“Arthur?” the black hedgehog murmurs.

“Mmmm?”

“Where do we go from here?” he asked, rolling onto his back.

“I have crafted a plan- naturally I do not intend to just abscond with thee in the middle of the night without choosing someone to lead in my stead, fun as that would be,” the king yawns plaintively.

“Thou?  Making a plan?” Lancelot scoffs.

“Oh hush.  ‘Tis no chore to plan a daring escape with thee!” the blue hedgehog replies jovially, ruffling the other’s quills before getting up.  “‘Tis but a grand new adventure for us- one where we end up far off in the countryside with an entire kingdom none the wiser as to what happened to their king and his sworn sword.”  

Arthur throws open the heavy canopy shielding their bed from the sun streaming in their shared bedchamber through the window.  Lancelot attempts to retreat back under the heavy blankets for the sake of his retinas, but the king beats him to the punch, casting aside the quilt and grasping his lover’s hand.  The black-quilled hedgehog acquiesces, and allows himself to be pulled to his feet before making his way towards the looking glass in the corner to fuss with his muddled quills.

“I hath conferred with Lady Nimue about an assured test of character,” the blue hedgehog begins, pulling his leather tunic over his quills.  “I do not wish to leave the kingdom in the hands of someone wicked and corrupt.”

“Dost the enchantress know of thine intentions?” Lancelot asks, finished with his own dressing- simple, as a day around the castle did not require heavy armor, and he approaches his companion, offering him a crimson red cloak intricately embroidered with fine gold thread.  For royalty, Arthur dressed rather simply and preferred his clothing to be practical over rather than ostentatious, for which Lancelot was secretly grateful- how could one take anyone with an ugly damned codpiece peeking through their doublet seriously?

“I am certain she hath some idea- she doth possess some level of clairvoyance,” Arthur replies, graciously accepting the cloak and pulling it over his shoulders before reaching down to put on a pair of leather boots.  “Not perfect , mind thee, but-”

“‘Some level,’” Lancelot scoffs.  “Nimue may be a skilled enchantress, though ne’er an augur.  I myself have slipped under her nose many times, and I am most certain she would not have sent me to serve thee if she knew what became of me.  What on Earth possessed thee to believe that confiding in the biggest gossip in Camelot was such a marvelous idea?”

“She is a dear friend, and I trust her judgement and confidentiality.  Thou would find it wise to make a trusted friend of thine own to confide in, Lancelot,” the king teases.

“‘Tis not my duty to trust and confide in others, Arthur,” the black hedgehog sighs, sinking to kneel before his king and taking the other’s hand in his own.  “My role is to protect thee from those who wish thou dead.”

“Thou art quite a beautiful sight on thy knees, Lancelot,” the king jests, “though I suspect that thou dost not kneel for the reasons I want.”

“I kneel in reverence and devotion to thee,” replies his knight, overlooking the other’s vulgar comment.  “If anything were to happen to-”

“Lancelot,” Arthur sighs, looking to reassure his knight.  He sinks to his own knees and wraps his arms gently around the black hedgehog’s neck before whispering softly “the only thing thou must worry about now is which weapons thou wish to take with thee, and indulging in the privileges of thy knighthood before we take our leave.”  Pulling back slightly, he adds, “If thou wishes to please me, then I wish for thee to enjoy these last few moons whilst thou can- because we shall never return, and I do not wish to listen to thy groveling about how much thou prefers the cooking here to mine own.”

“I shall complain regardless- surely thou art aware of that,” Lancelot retorts, causing one of his sharp canines to playfully show itself.  Arthur smiles and fondly touches his nose to the other’s, before pulling them both to their feet.

That evening, far off into the Deep Woods of Camelot, two knights are nearing their destination far behind schedule.

“Sir Percival!  Dost thou ever tire?” calls a white-quilled hedgehog to his companion several paces ahead of him.  The lavender cat sighs tiredly and turns to face him, trying to conceal her annoyance.

“Thou mustn’t complain so, Galahad.  We should have arrived at the lake yesterday, and we have little sunlight left.  Would thou prefer we stopped and made camp?”  

The hedgehog looks around at the eerily glowing trees surrounding them.  Lady Nimue’s lake was not far off now, as the forest surrounding it took a supernatural sea-green glow to it that only seemed to become brighter the closer they got.

“I am unsure,” he says, setting down his traveling pack.  As their quest was the closest to Camelot, they did not require the horses and squires that had accompanied Lamorak and Gawain to the village, only bringing with them supplies for a few days’ journey.  Lifting his visor from his face to rub tiredly at his nose, he adds, “if we are truly close to the lake, then there is no point in stopping now.” 

“I agree,” Percival replies shortly.  “Come along.”

“Shall Lady Nimue discuss the artifact she hath discovered as soon as we arrive?” he asks, trying to match his stride with the other knight’s.

“I do not believe so- knowing her ladyship’s hospitality, she will not hear of it until we have had a long night’s rest from our journey and food in our bellies the next morning,” Percival replies fondly.  

Lady Nimue, though most known for her wisdom and unmatched magical abilities, was a kind, congenial soul.  How strange, the knights often wondered to themselves, that it was the enchantress herself who sent the dour and sullen Lancelot to join the Knights of the Round Table.  Regardless, it more privilege than chore to pay her a visit in regards to something important, and the king’s insistence that Percival make the journey to see her regularly was a luxury she was quite grateful for, though she could not openly express to the king why that truly was.

As the pair continue onwards, the tangled knots of thorny vines begin to subside and the turquoise glow in the trees becomes brighter.   The air takes on a more humid quality, and fireflies begin to dot the darkening sky. Crickets chirp faintly around them as the sun truly begins to set over the horizon.  Sure enough, just as the bridge leading to her home appears, a rosy pink hedgehog wearing a ruffled blue gown and sitting at a small, ornate table sipping tea could be faintly seen.  She notices the travelers and hastily sets down her delicate china cup before jumping up to greet the pair.

“Sir Percival!  Sir Galahad!” she cries out, waving excitedly.  “Thou hast finally arrived!”

“My lady, we deeply appreciate thou waiting so late for our approach,” hums Percival, bowing deeply for the Lady of the Lake.  She lifts her visor, revealing golden eyes that shine brightly at the sight of the beaming pink hedgehog.

“Oh ‘twas no trouble at all!  Come, come- I have arranged thy sleeping quarters for the evening,” the pink hedgehog adds, gathering her skirts and gesturing to the bridge on the riverbank.  “We shall discuss the matter of thy visit at sunrise.  I am certain thou art exhausted.”

“Your grace,” the white hedgehog bows before embarking and begins with a sheepish grin while rubbing at his nose, “I must apologize for our late arrival...”

“I saw what happened in my reflecting pool!  How kind of you, Galahad, to offer aid to all creatures in need- thy charity and pure heart will prove to be thy greatest strength!”  She follows behind the two but keeps close to Percival, whose balletic strides pair gracefully with her tall stature.

“Unfortunately it seemed all creatures great and small on the path from Camelot to here were in need of thine aid, Galahad,” huffs the lavender cat with a ghost of a smile, her tail swishing in mock irritation.  “All manners of creatures- a doe in a shrub to a rabbit in a snare…”

“The fish in the riverbank was certainly my favorite!” Nimue titters merrily.

“It needed assistance moving upstream!” groans Galahad, who was quickly becoming flustered.  “I merely stepped in to give it a gentle push!”

“There was no need for thee to literally step into the water in a full suit of armor to manhandle a fish,” Percival sighs wearily, “particularly when thou could have simply used thy magic to safely levitate the fish from a distance.  Thou art lucky thou did not accidentally kill the poor thing!”  The white hedgehog tugs at his quills, embarrassed as the two laugh at his misfortune.  

It is not long until they reach the cottage in the middle of the lake, whose glistening pond-stone walls are home to all manner of freshwater plants- bright fuschia-colored water lilies and hyacinth in particular stand out amongst the varied green foliage.  The grey stone bridge gives way to a simple pebble pathway lit by the light of differently colored fireflies, and as the party comes closer to the door the pink hedgehog scurries ahead to unlatch it.

“Thy quarters are upstairs once more, Galahad!” she says, snapping her fingers to light a turquoise flame in a lantern hanging above the cozy parlor.  “Percival, I am afraid thou must share with me again tonight.”

“I hope thou dost not mind, Percival,” Galahad says apologetically, “but ‘tis most inappropriate for me to stay in the same room overnight with a lady to whom I am not wed.”  His expression is unfittingly stern for his youthful face; both the cat and the pink hedgehog are forced to restrain themselves from erupting in a fit of laughter.

“‘Tis indeed!” returns Nimue, giving a sly grin to Percival, whose ivory-furred muzzle was quickly turning scarlet.  “Most inappropriate…”

“Thou needn’t be concerned, Galahad,” the cat replies, hastily turning away.  “We wish thee pleasant dreams.”  Galahad nods gratefully and makes his way upstairs.

“Thou art terrible,” Percival huffs once the door clicks shut.  Her eyes remain fixed on the door, as if her traveling companion would emerge at any second.  Nimue scoffs, her jade eyes sparkling with mischief. She tenderly takes the knight’s hand in her own and smiles.

“I swear upon thee, Percie, thou doth worry far too much.  One should be grateful that Arthur sends him to accompany thee rather than one of the other knights!  Galahad is so very trusting...” she sighs.

“Even so, there has to be some reason why the king has no misgivings about sending me at all every time we need to speak with thee.”

“Oh midons, Arthur owes me a favor anyway!  I would certainly say that sending my favorite knight to visit whenever he needs information is an even trade.”

“Beg pardon?” Percival asks, knitting her brow.  An even trade-?

“Thee and Galahad hath more in common than thou would believe,” the hedgehog giggles.  “Ne'er mind it, sweet Percie- thou hast had quite a long trip, and lugging around all that armor cannot feel very good.”

Percival can feel her cheeks flush once more and she allows Nimue to firmly tug her along to her bedroom.  The sound of the heels of her greaves clicking against the stone echoes through the otherwise-silent cottage, making the noise even more conspicuous to the cat.  She wished that the king was not so stringent on ensuring everyone had a questing partner, though she knew that it was merely to ensure the safety of his knights.  

Regardless, Percival longed for the chance to visit with the Lady of the Lake on her own someday, though she could never think of an excuse as to why she might need to make the trip alone.  Yes, being truthful and remaining faithful to thy pledged word was one of the most important tenets of chivalric code, but she was well aware that her relationship with Nimue was breaking several others.

The knight removes her rapier and its scabbard and carefully places it upon her host’s dressing table.  Nimue silently closes the door behind them and shuts the latch as the knight moves to remove her gauntlets and greaves.  The hedgehog steps behind her to aid her in removing her helmet- how awful it was, Nimue often teased, that to protect her beautiful face from harm it must be hidden away.  The knight unties the golden band holding her hair, letting the locks fall to her shoulders, and rolls her neck to ease the tension that had been carried there during the trip.  

As Percival fusses with the rest of her armor and unfastens her chausses, the enchantress scurries over to the silver wash bin hidden behind an ornate wooden screen.  With a snap of her fingers the basin is filled with steaming hot water, and another snap adds bundles of dried lavender and scoops of epsom salts.

“Cinnamon or rose tea?” she asks her knight, turning to reach for the set on the shelf.

“Cinnamon, please,” the cat murmurs softly.  She casts aside her purple linen tunic and rolls down her hosen before striding over to the water, staring thoughtfully at her naked reflection below.  Nimue returns with her tea and stands with her before pressing a soft kiss to Percival’s arm.  

The cat smiles fondly at this, at how cozy and comforting this feels to be beside her and in her care, before the hedgehog sees something that causes her to gasp in shock, nearly dropping the cup and saucer in her hands.

“Midons!” the hedgehog cries out.  “When did this happen?” she asks, examining the bandage across Percival’s right bicep.  She strokes the cloth with her thumb and finds that it hides a deep cut under her fur.

“Now who worries too much, dear heart?” Percival replies, nuzzling the other gently.  “‘Tis nothing serious, love- thou will see that it is nearly healed.”

“At least it seems properly cared for,” the enchantress huffs, setting aside the cup and saucer.  “But of course, I can do far better!”  

From her vast collection of homemade tinctures and lotions she selects a vial, peels back the bandage, and applies a generous helping of something grassy-smelling over the wound, instantly erasing all traces of injury.

The cat pauses and stares.  I might never become used to that.   She shakes it off and eases herself into the water, feeling the aches in her strained and tired muscles melt away.

“Nimue dear, thou doth spoil me so…”

“As thee deserves, my cynamome,” the enchantress giggles.  “Allow me to take care of thee...”

The enchantress bustles back over to her cupboards filled with homemade compounds and picks a bottle containing a clear, viscous solution, handing it to the cat with instructions to wash her face with it before turning to poke through her collection once more.  Percival dutifully scrubs at her muzzle with it while Nimue sets several jars onto a small end table that has appeared behind the tub. Rinsing clean, Nimue hands her a new jar, which the knight quickly opens- this one filled with something thick and red.

“Scrub thy face with this,” the enchantress explains, “but leave it on for a bit while I wash thy hair.”  Upon closer inspection it smells quite sweet, and the cat can see several strawberry seeds in the mixture.  As Percival scoops a small amount of the scrub onto her fingers and works the sweet-smelling concoction into her skin, Nimue wets her charge’s long head of hair and kneads something that smells of rosemary and mint through it.

“Now then, how was thy trip?” Nimue asks chattily.

“Oh sweet Chaos… ” Percival sighs, now reaching for the familiar jar of burnt sugar-smelling body wash.

The enchantress bursts out in a fit of giggles at the reaction of the usually so-serious knight.  No-nonsense Percival was strict and concise, and did not desire to waste her time putzing around Camelot with Galahad in tow when she had to someplace to be.

“I was starting to worry a bit- thou will forgive me for watching over thee and Galahad on thy journey.  At least I got to see my favorite knight’s famous rapier skills in action!” the enchantress exclaims as she works the lather through the knight’s hair.

Percival is taken aback by the enchantress’s wanton praise.  If that was all it took to impress The Lady of the Lake…

“When did thee receive that lovely new blade?” Nimue asks, nodding towards the fine weapon in its garnet and diamond-encrusted hilt.

“Sometime last week- most of us received new arms, though I am not so sure if I prefer this one to my prized Laevatein,” replies the knight idly as she washes the strawberry potion off her face.

“Oh sweeting, if thou art displeased with it, I could craft thee one.” 

“Thou could do that?” 

“But of course!  Thou dost know of Arondight, Sir Lancelot’s blade?” the enchantress says, rinsing the lather out of her charge’s hair.

“‘Tis said to be the finest sword ever crafted!  Wait, thou made it?” Percival asks incredulously, to which Nimue nods with excitement.

“‘Twas made from the stars themselves, and ‘twill ne’er lose its edge.  Could my dear Percie use something similar?” she grins delightedly.

“Dear heart, I could not possibly ask thee-” murmurs a very humble Percival, astonished by the enchantress’s charity.

“Nonsense!  I shall delight in crafting my love something most joyous!”

Now clean, Percival steps from the bath and is taken aback when she steps on something soft- her foot was no longer wet, and was now wrapped in a soft, plush shoe of some sort.  With another hand wave from Nimue, the longer fur on her head is dried and woven together in an intricate braid. The hedgehog takes Percival’s hand and leads her out of the tub, the enchantress’s magic adding both a gossamer robe trimmed with lace around the cat’s lithe frame and a slipper to her other foot, and Nimue stands on her toes to press kisses on her lover’s soft lips.

A spark lights inside the knight’s chest and soon her entire body felt as if it were aflame.

She carefully embraced the enchantress, gently resting her chin on the hedgehog’s head as they withdrew from the kiss, and she began to run her fingers through the other’s short quills.  Nimue lets out a contented sigh, and for the first time in a long while, Percival felt whole- safe, even. Content.

She feels her lover’s warm breath against the lingerie, causing a satisfied purr to rumble through her throat.  Nimue giggles softly, nuzzling against the soft, lavender fur between the other’s breasts.

“Won’t thou purr for me more, Percie?” the pink hedgehog asks, a strong hint of lust underneath her sweet words.

Yes.  Chaos, yes.

Now feeling bold, Percival gently cups Nimue’s cheek and gazes lovingly down into her mischievous jade eyes.

“How fitting it is that thou is wrapped in such pretty fabric,” Percival murmurs, her free hand stroking the cloth ribbon underneath her lover’s chin.  “Much like a beautiful gift…”

“Shall I take it, then, that thou will unwrap me?”

The knight huffs, twisting the fabric between her fingers, and pulls before reaching for the pearl buttons underneath.  She leans down a touch more for another kiss and deftly unclasps each button before reaching the dreaded panniers.

“Dear heart, thou might need to assist me,” she admits with a soft chuckle.  “Armor I am used to, thy pretty ribbons and lace and petticoats I am not.”  Nimue laughs at this, and at once her ornate dress has found its way across the room, leaving the enchantress’s body completely bare, save for her stockings.  Percival quite liked the stockings.

“Oh Percie, thee looks quite a sight in ribbons and lace too- how scandalous!” she says jovially, cupping the knight’s breasts.  “Thou leaves nothing to mine imagination!”

“And what dost thou have to imagine?” Percival scoffs, cupping the other’s chin and trying to maintain composure as the hedgehog runs her thumbs over her knight’s sensitive nipples.  “Thou hast seen every inch of me by this point.”

“And I intend to see it all again!” Nimue returns with a sly grin, pulling the other towards her plush bed.

“And what, dear heart, is the point of dressing me in pretty things just to undress me again moments later?” the cat asks teasingly, knowing full-well what the answer is.

“Sweeting, thou know I do so adore seeing thee in such finery!”

Now several moons into their relationship, Percival at least felt much more confident, though her natural shy and reserved nature still lingered.  Their affair had started suddenly- the two had been alone together in the hedgehog’s bedchamber, with Nimue insisting that Percival try on a dress she had specifically made for her.  The knight rarely got the chance to wear such fine, feminine clothing, and instead usually opted for the simple tunic and hosen that went under her fine silver armor, but the enchantress had insisted-

“Oh Percie dear!  This cloth would match thine eyes so beautifully, and this bodice would fit thy slender frame so well!  Please do try it! Just let me see!”

It truly was a gorgeous gown, made of rich, luxurious golden silk.  The bodice was paired with a long golden skirt made up of many panels and embroidered ornately with an even darker golden thread that shimmered in the light.  The cat stared at the fine fabric in her arms, feeling that she had no business wearing such a pretty thing, but the way Nimue’s eyes sparkled with excitement, and how she had made it just for her…

“As thee wish,” she replied.  

The hedgehog smiled, and conjured up a wooden screen in the corner of the room for the other to change behind.

“Call for me when thou needs me to assist with thy bodice!” the enchantress had said, before tossing over something lacy and white.  “Put these on first,” she added, “thy best dress demands good undergarments!”

Laying the dress on the padded bench behind the screen, the knight stared in shock at these new garments.  They appeared to be very, very short braies, but were sheer, silken, and also very finely embroidered, paired with a lovely chemise that just reached the tops of her thighs.  She already felt bashful sharing a bed with the hedgehog, and it certainly did not help that Nimue insisted on holding the other close during the night, but now, slipping on and pulling her long tail through these gauzy, lacy things-

“My lady, did thou say thou shalt lace my bodice?” the cat asked hesitantly as she pulled the chemise over her ears.

“But of course!  ‘Tis the only way to get a proper fit.  Do not worry, cynamome. I am the only one here.  I promise thee I will be gentle.”

Behind the screen Percival fussed with the bodice, feeling it harden her nipples as it rubbed up against them and only worsened her current predicament.  Both her ears and tail twitched in frustration and embarrassment as her bust, though small, still spilled over the top- she could not get the blasted thing closed, or even loosely tied together.  

The sleeves were not helping this situation, due to the fact that the fabric draped over her hands and essentially reached the floor.  The braies were even worse, as the soft white cloth rubbed teasingly against her clit with the slightest movement. The chiffon material was becoming more transparent by her wetness, and she was most certain the enchantress could smell her arousal if she came any closer to the trembling knight.

“Percie, dear- art thou all right?” the enchantress asked, peeking around the corner.  

“Nimue!” shrieked the cat, her flame magic erupting at her fingertips in surprise as she attempted to cover herself with her hands.

“Oh midons, thou art so dramatic- ‘tis nothing I hath ne’er seen before.  Hold still and allow me to assist-”  

The enchantress directed her in a businesslike fashion and placed her hands on the knight’s slim waist.  Percival flushed scarlet beneath her fur, paralyzed and praying that the other could not tell how aroused she was.  Nimue could feel the tremble in the cat’s hands as she gently moved them to the ties of the bodice. 

“It’s all right, dear heart,” she added in a gentle, reassuring tone.

Starting from the bottom, Nimue began the lacing with practiced hands.  Internally, Percival was melting- the pink hedgehog’s hands were firm yet gentle and moved with a deftness that could rival those of any skilled knight.  Occasionally, she would have to pause, press a firm hand to the other’s back, and pull the ties with the other hand- maintaining a constant pressure on the laces, and aiming to be firm, but not brutal.

Reaching the end, the enchantress tied off her handiwork with an elegant bow.  Stepping back to admire the cat, she summoned a mirror so Percival could look upon herself as well.  

The knight gasped- the neckline was far lower than expected, and a thin edging of lace was all that kept her from being considered indecent.  The gown as a whole, however, was exquisite- the yellow hue contrasted against her lavender-colored fur perfectly, and the fit of the bodice made it appear as if it were painted onto her.  Nimue, however, stood back with furrowed brows.

“No, no, this won’t do- I know I could craft a better skirt for thee,” she murmured, reaching to loosen the ties on the bodice.  “Take that off and let me take thy measurements once more-”

Gazing into the mirror, the knight looked into the reflection of the enchantress, who nodded encouragingly and kneeled to assist her with the long skirt.  After a hard swallow, Percival knelt too, her hands over the other’s, and the two pulled the garment over her head and let it pool onto the floor. Percival stood tall once more as the hedgehog summoned her measuring utensils from thin air.  Now dressed only in the sheer chemise and braies, Percival let her mind wander to distract herself from Nimue’s deft hands.

Kneeling once more, the enchantress admired how well the lingerie complemented the other’s figure, and realized how close the other’s cute, firm bottom was to her face.  Looking back into the mirror and through the translucent fabric of the chemise, she realized that the braies were soaked with Percival’s juices, and could see the outline of her mound and the beginning of her lips peeking out.

So Percival wanted her just as badly? she realized.  The thought made her giddy with excitement, though she kept her voice level as she stood to speak.

“What hast thou so worked up, cynamome?  Something tells me it is not the dress…”

Percival remained silent, completely frozen, save for her long tail swishing slowly.  The other strode to face her, and strangely, she had noticed that Nimue’s gaze on her was not horrified, as she had feared.  It seemed almost... expectant… 

Slowly, the enchantress brought her hands up to the knight’s bust, and Percival trembled slightly at the feeling of Nimue cupping her breasts through the thin fabric.  The touch, tentative yet caressing at once, felt so heavenly that Percival could barely think. She leaned into the other’s body, allowing the other to pull her down to the padded bench.

“Nimue,” Percival murmured breathlessly as the enchantress lightly caressed her face, “w-we can’t... ‘tis forbidden…”

“Shhh… do not fret, sweeting.”   Holding the cat by the chin, Nimue leaned forward, looking deeply into her eyes.  “Kiss me.”   The knight obliged, even being so bold as to slip her tongue over the other’s lips, asking for entrance.  

However, anything past that made the knight feel much more undignified, and the lavender cat felt very much out of her element.  Percival was unfamiliar with how to communicate to the enchantress exactly what she wanted when the hedgehog’s hands travelled below her navel, yet her body ached and burned for it anyway.

After their first attempt at lovemaking, she now had a new reason to feel grateful for her separate quarters from the other knights, as it took a lot of self-experimentation to make herself feel as lightheaded as the enchantress had, and to also return the favor to her lover in the future.

The results were… less than optimal.

She adored the sight of the enchantress’s pretty manicured hands gently slipping between her legs and touching her in ways she herself had rarely done, and trying to replicate it while alone on her own mattress in the drafty knights’ quarters was next to impossible.  Nimue’s scent- strangely aquatic yet pleasantly so, and somehow crossed with a sweet, musky vanilla, was both intoxicating and addictive, as was the ache in her chest caused by the gaze of the hedgehog’s intense jade-colored eyes.

Furthermore, other aspects of physical intimacy Percival simply could not practice on herself.   A surge of pride swelled in the knight’s chest the first time she had kneeled between the other’s soft, round thighs and lapped away at the sweet, slick skin hidden inside, causing the enchantress to squeal and moan with pleasure while grasping the fur between Percival’s ears.  The knight committed her partner’s disoriented mewls and her heavenly taste to memory, and vowed to make it happen again as often as possible. 

Presently, Nimue tugs gently at the ribbon holding the robe closed, allowing the fabric to fall open and reveal Percival’s gossamer white stomach fur.  The hedgehog runs her fingers through it delicately before grasping the other’s hand and bringing it to her lips, planting a firm, sensuous kiss upon it.

Within seconds Percival finds herself on her back, pressed against the enchantress's many pillows, and straddled by the other as the two kiss each other slowly.  Nimue returns her hands to the other’s breasts, cupping each one gently before pulling down to lick and suck at Percival’s sensitive nipples as the cat runs her fingers through the hedgehog’s quills.

“Thy bust is so small and cute, my knight,” Nimue whispers hoarsely, pulling back to touch once more.  “They seem to be made to fit in my hands.” 

“Nimue-” the cat whimpers.

“Yes, Midons?”

“Nimue, please…”

“Please what, my dear Percie?  If thou dost not say anything, I cannot give thee what thou wants.”

Percival could only pant with arousal.  Her body burned with pleasure and her mind was already quite foggy, but she despised when Nimue would take the lead and forget about herself.  Grasping the other by the waist, she deftly rolls both of them over so that the now-giggling hedgehog is on her back.  

Her knee between the other’s thighs, she leans down to nuzzle into the other’s neck and plant gentle kisses along her collarbone as her fingers travel downwards over the once-hidden peach fur on her stomach.  Nimue’s playful laughs morph into pleased gasps, which turn into soft squeals once Percival’s fingers slip in between the lips of her mound and become slick with her juices.

“Oh... Percival… th-thou art getting ahead of thyself...” the hedgehog whimpers and sighs breathlessly as a finger ghosts over her clit.  “I w-wish to spoil my gallant knight first… I had something in mind...”

“And what would that be, my lady?”

“I w-wish thee to sit upon my face,” she replies with a grin.  Percival’s brow knits in confusion.

“Thou art not serious, dear heart?” asks the knight.

“Oh but I am!  Come, it will be great fun~” Nimue exclaims softly, scooting herself down before sitting up slightly to pull the other on top of her more.

“Art thou certain… this will not harm thee…?” the cat asked hesitantly.  Truth be told, she was curious about the idea…

“Percie, I promise thee- I am not made of glass!”

Moving with trepidation and using her tail for balance, Percival moves to fulfill the enchantress’s wishes.  The other gently grasps her thighs, her fingers sinking into the skin under her fur slightly, and assists with her moving, before reaching to playfully stroke between the other’s legs with a free hand and causing the other to gasp in surprise.

“Thou art already so very wet- I thought I had dried thee once thou left the washtub?” the hedgehog teases before pulling the other down.  Percival claws at the bed’s frame with one hand for stability, the other resting over her navel as she settles on top of the other.  Nimue keeps a firm grip on her thighs while licking her way between the other’s lips, and peppers the other’s miserably swollen clit with open-mouthed kisses. 

The knight lets out a sudden, sensuous groan, loud enough to cause Nimue to giggle and whisper, “Sweeting, if thou dost not wish to be caught, I suggest thee quiet down!  There are some things that will not even fool Galahad...”

Her cheeks flushed scarlet, Percival bites down onto her knuckle to muffle her noises and settles herself down onto the other as Nimue grasps at her thighs.  She can hear and feel the enchantress inhale before she begins to bury her face obscenely between the lips of her mound.  

How on earth dost she come up with these things? she wonders to herself, trying in vain to distract herself as her lover’s tongue quickly finds a steady rhythm.  A sharp gasp escapes her as the hedgehog gently runs her fingers over the underside of her tail, causing the culprit to smile wickedly as she slurps more rigorously at the other’s sensitive clit.  

Desperate for something- anything to ground herself, Percival claws at the headboard and curls her toes as she bashfully grasps at the other’s quills with her free hand.  She had to admit, she was quite envious of the hedgehog’s confidence and ability to approach any situation thrown at her with enthusiasm and a smile.

The cat rolls her hips to match the rhythm of the other’s tongue, and the enchantress hums with satisfaction at the other’s eagerness to participate.  Coaxing the steadfast knight out of her comfort zone could be a challenge sometimes, but the hedgehog delighted in turning the other into a puddle with a few teasing touches and strokes.  Her pussy tastes like heaven, and the enchantress wanted more than anything to get the other off as hard as she possibly could.  

She maintains an even pace on the other’s overstimulated clit, not wanting to risk throwing off progress completely and leaving them both frustrated and miserable.  Based on the speed of the other’s grinding on her face and the faint whimpers escaping her muffled mouth, she couldn’t possibly be too far off from-

“Ohhhhh CHAOS-! ” the other groans sharply before covering her mouth completely with her hand as she comes undone.  The shiver starts at her core, but travels quickly through her tail and the rest of her body as the wave of pleasure crashes over her head.  

With a few more slow, stuttering grinds over the other’s skilled tongue, Percival slowly comes back down to Earth.  Her tail curls in satisfaction as the haze of her afterglow settles in, and with a contented sigh climbs back down onto the pallet.  Cupping Nimue’s soaked face, she kisses her deeply and relishes her scent and taste on the enchantress’s lips.

“See, midons?” the hedgehog laughs tiredly as she pulls back for air.  “Not a scratch on me!”  Percival huffs with a smile and turns her attention to her lover’s neck, slowly trailing down to her own dripping wet mound.

“Dear heart, why doth thou spoil me yet neglect thyself so?” she whispers before lightly running her fingers between the slick lips.  “‘Tis not fair to thee…” 

It is now Nimue’s turn to muffle her lustful cries as Percival teasingly circles the hedgehog’s swollen clit with her thumb.  The knight presses soft kisses to the insides of her lightly-furred thighs before resting her head upon one, praying quietly that if she might die at this moment, that it would be from being smothered betwixt them.  She relishes in the feeling of Nimue’s muscles quaking with pleasure before slowly running her tongue over her clit and slipping two fingers inside her.

The enchantress’s breath hitches, and Percival feels her companion firmly grasp a fistful of her hair.  The knight sighs and finds a comfortable yet persistent pace to lap at her partner’s sweet skin and matches the rhythm with her thrusting fingers, sliding them teasingly behind her clit and earning a pleased coo from her lover.  Her ears twitch slightly at the other’s indecent cries, and Percival studies her reactions intensively.

“Percie-” Nimue gasps.  She pushes her long bangs out of her face and intently watches the other eat her out.  “F-fuuuuck… please... do not stop...” she whimpers softly.

Percival continues on, absolutely worshiping the other’s body.  She delights in the disoriented mewls from the other as her fingers press over the back of Nimue’s clit as she begins to suck, and sure enough, it’s enough to set her off.  The hedgehog squeezes Percival’s head in place with her thighs as she loses herself in the sensations, and the knight hungrily continues on as the grip on her hair tightens for a moment and lets go completely.

“Oh dearest, thy kitten’s tongue is far too skilled at that…” Nimue whispers dreamily once she is capable of speech again.  She sits up to kiss Percival’s nose before kissing her mouth deeply.  Percival blushes and returns her kisses fervently, and pulls the other gently into her arms.  Nimue smiles, settling comfortably into the crook of the knight’s arm, and presses several more kisses to her jaw as she lets the haze of her afterglow take over.

“Nimue?”

“Yes, midons?”

“I love thee.”

Chapter Text

Percival wakes to the smell of something savory cooking downstairs.  She dresses quickly in her linen tunic and hosen, which seem to have been washed overnight, and finds her pink-quilled companion in her kitchen fussing with a stewing pottage in a cauldron with a wooden spurtle.  Several freshly-baked loaves of bread sit on her dining table, which had place settings for three- one of which was already occupied by Galahad, who was at present sipping some ale from a pewter tankard. The knights nod in friendly acknowledgement before a pink ear twitches in the cat’s direction.

“Oh good morning, Sir Percival!” she smiles, turning to greet her.  “I trust thou slept quite well last night.  I am just about finished here- have a seat and some wine and I shall at last get to why I hath summoned thee!”

As Percival joins her white-quilled travelling companion at the table, the enchantress leaves the spurtle to stir itself as she summons the wooden bowls to her side, and as they hang in the air she directs the contents of her cauldron to fill them before they return to her guests.

Percival and Galahad break bread and begin their breakfast.  The pottage their hostess has prepared is a harmonious mix of shredded chicken, vegetables, and grains, and Nimue has truly outdone herself despite such simple ingredients.

“Thy king has asked me about a test of character,” she begins as she busies herself with refilling the knights’ drinks.

“A test of character?” asks Galahad, perplexed.  “His Majesty told us of thy discovery of a great artifact.”

“And there is!  There is a grail, said to be filled with the waters of Chaos himself, but it can only be seen by those who prove thy chivalry and role as a knight to be greater than all else.  Chaos himself will ne’er reveal himself to just anybody,” the enchantress adds with a merry chuckle.

“Did His Majesty reveal why he requires such a test?” asks Percival, her ears perked with curiosity and her tail swishing slowly.

“O Percival- I am not at liberty to say,” she returns almost teasingly.  “Thy king has asked for utmost privacy in the matter.”

“Perhaps His Lordship needs to know which of his knights is most trustworthy,” offers Galahad, captivated, “so he may know which of us can he can rely on most, perhaps for an even greater quest than this!”

Percival was quite intrigued- His Highness was usually quite open and talkative.  It was not at all like him to keep secrets from his knights; what on earth could possibly require such secrecy and trust?

“I must admit,” the enchantress continues with a sly smile, reattracting Percival’s attention, “though it is thy duty to report my findings to the other knights and to the king himself, I suspect that thy king sent ye specifically to me to hear of this firsthand...”

Taking the bait, both the cat’s and the white hedgehog’s eyes widen with interest.

“What dost this grail look like?” 

“Where might we find it?” 

“How will we know-”

“Now now!” cries Nimue in mock scandal, waving her hand at the pair of knights, “I could not possibly say!  It has no single set location- some say ‘tis only revealed after an act of great atonement!”

“‘Atonement’ as in ‘reparation’ and ‘redemption’ milady?” asks the cat, “or such as the experience of unity with Mobians and Chaos himself?”

“Both,” the enchantress replies.  “Thou must prove thy faith and give restitution for thy sins, whatever they may be.  We hath all stumbled at some point or another.”

Percival reflects quietly to herself as Galahad rambles excitedly to their hostess.  What a strange peripeteia- she came to the enchantress’s cottage solely to visit with her lover, to delight in her touch and indulge in her company, if only for a brief moment.  The quest itself had merely been a means to an end. But now…

“My sweet Percie,” Nimue had laughed softly the first time she had straddled Percival on her impossibly plush bed, her normally light, bell-like voice tantalizingly husky with lust, “‘tis not a sin if thou only use thy tongue...”

True, there was a… strange caveat with Chaosian sects along those lines, though if the usage of tools was what made their coupling a sin, then they had far passed that point, and Nimue had crafted quite the collection of utensils in the meantime.

“Percival?  Art thou all right?”

Percival looks up from her thoughts to see the enchantress’s eyes clouded with worry, and quietly feels ashamed of herself. 

“Y-yes of course, milady,” she stutters, blinking.  “I apologize for my distraction.  Please, do continue.”

Regretfully, the time had soon come to return to Camelot and report to the king.  Percival, dressed and packed, stands beside her lover outside as Galahad hurriedly packs his things.

Both the knight and enchantress keep their eyes on the cottage, careful not to give themselves away as they huddle close with Percival’s callused, worn hands held tenderly in Nimue’s soft and well-manicured grasp.

“Percie dear, before thou goes-” the hedgehog whispers quickly, slipping her a bundle wrapped in pink linen that smells of ginger and other spices.  Percival takes the package graciously- freshly baked gingerbread, no doubt- and smiles.

“Many thanks, dear heart,” the knight sighs softly, “though I do wish I could remain here by thy side for just a bit longer.  I hath only just arrived, and yet my duty already beckons me to return to Camelot...”

“Ne’er mind it, midons,” the enchantress replies with a gentle smile.  “I wish thee a pleasant and safe journey home- thou will come visit me many times more, surely.  Though I must ask thee something-”

“Anything at all, my lady,” the cat returns with curiosity sparking in her golden gaze.

The normally chatty enchantress strangely seems unable to form words, which further interests the knight.  Nimue furrows her brow and thinks to herself quietly before asking-

“What exactly are thy plans for the future, my knight?”

“My lady?”

“His Majesty swore me to secrecy, my love,” she says regrettably, shaking her head before lowering her voice with a faraway look in her eyes.  “I do wish I could provide thee with more detail, but this quest for the Grail is not quite as it seems-”

“Nimue, dear-”

“Thou art to search for it,” the pink hedgehog says with firm purpose in her voice, reaffirming her grasp of the knight’s hands, “but what thou art to do with the power of Chaos himself if thou discovers it is up to thee- ‘twill bring forth a grand new era for Camelot if used correctly.  Regrettably, that is all I am at liberty to say-”

“I apologize for my tardiness, ladies!” calls the white hedgehog from Nimue’s doorway, causing the cat and other hedgehog to quickly lift their heads towards him.  Sir Galahad hurriedly collects his travelling pack and jogs over to the huddled women. He bows hastily for the enchantress and smiles grandly.  “Thank thee ever so much for thy hospitality.  We shall make haste back to Camelot to alert his highness and the rest of the Round Table of the quest at once.”

Percival nods and gives Nimue’s hands a firm squeeze before withdrawing and taking a low bow of her own.

“Fare thee well, dear Lady of the Lake.  ‘Til we meet again.”  She stands tall to behold her secret partner once more as Galahad begins to cross the bridge, and Percival turns stiffly to follow.  The weight of her armor suddenly feels like the weight of the world upon her, though she shoves her muddled thoughts down as far as they will go- ‘twas no time for sentimentality, she thought, and soon sets forth on her several days’ journey back to Camelot.

Back home, where a single, empty pallet awaited her return.

“Fare thee well, my knight,” the Lady replies as a small tear rolls down her cheek.

Despite the pressing nature of the quest at hand, Galahad still managed to find numerous ways to dawdle during their trip home, and to drive Percival to her wit’s end.  This time, however, she felt as though every move was being scrutinized…

It was not as if she had previously felt the need to pass by anyone in need of aid- she was renowned across the kingdom for her bravery and largesse to the poor, having grown up impoverished and fairly defenseless herself.

Her father had been killed by thieves when she was still a kitten, and because of the young girl’s then-unpredictable fire magic, her well-meaning mother had raised her alone in the woods until her own death, just before Percival’s fifteenth year.  The scrawny teenager, now more comfortable and in control of her powers, had lived alone until the day a unit of knights passed through her wood. Struck by their heroic deeds and noble code of honor, left behind her lonely home to travel to the famed King Arthur the Hedgehog’s court.

Here, the reserved grimalkin carved out a name for herself with her sorcery and fine rapier skills, clawing her way through the ranks quickly.  Though she often had a difficult time connecting with the other knights- most of which, including the king himself, having larger-than-life personalities, she quickly became fond of her new home and role.

This new quest posed a challenge, however- one that caused the normally proud and dauntless knight to second guess everything.

Percival was not devoutly religious, though the first two laws of the chivalric code were to believe all that the church taught and to observe all its directions, and to defend those teachings with her life.

If this grand test of character was to see Chaos himself by seeking redemption…

Would her knighthood, the only source of stability she had ever known, be in jeopardy if she were to continue her affair with the enchantress?

When they finally arrive, the snowy white hedgehog excitedly uses his telekinetic magic to throw open the throne room doors as Percival follows close behind, carrying herself with poise and pride.  Despite her anxieties, she had a reputation to maintain. She holds her head high and keeps her gaze focused on her king, whose brilliant cobalt fur contrasts sharply against the rich crimson cloth that decorates most of the hall.

Arthur, sitting atop his throne with Lancelot lingering close by in full armor, looks up from his current conversation to see his returning knights hastily enter the grand room.  His familiar grin spreads across his muzzle, and various members of the court turn to stare at the noble cat and hedgehog, chattering excitedly amongst themselves.

“Your Highness,” calls Percival as she takes the lead, “‘tis my duty to inform thee that we return with news of a quest from the Lady of the Lake.”  The peasant dog the king was speaking with gives a small nod to the king before making way for the knights, and Percival and Galahad kneel before their king as he rises from his throne.

“I apologize for this abrupt interruption,” Arthur announces to his court with a slight chuckle, “but I am afraid that we must reconvene tomorrow.  Those who have traveled far to meet with me may speak with the castle workers to arrange overnight accommodations.”

The noisy room clears shortly, soon leaving only the king and his three knights.  Lancelot quietly comes closer as the king takes a seat and reaches for his teacup.

“Now then,” the blue-quilled hedgehog begins as Percival and Galahad stand, “what ‘grand quest’ hath Nimue put forth?”

Excitedly, the returning knights recount what the enchantress had shared with them a few days prior, though as they continue on, the king seems strangely… bewildered, if Percival had to put a word to it.  Glancing towards the black-quilled hedgehog standing to his side, she sees that he wears a similar expression.

Percival and Galahad recount more of the quest to Arthur and Lancelot, both of whom look noticeably less excited as they continue.  How strange , the lavender cat reflects.  How is it that they seem almost disappointed?

And why in Chaos’s name is Lancelot so perturbed?  He himself could very well be the Champion of the Grail , Percival absentmindedly thinks to herself as Galahad passionately rambles on, graciously picking up where Percival had left off.  He is a model example of a knight- logical, valiant, no attachments besides his duty to-

“Your Highness, if I may?” interrupts the black-quilled hedgehog with an annoyed shake of his head, turning to his king.

“Speak freely, Lancelot.”

“Thou art certain this ‘grail’ truly exists,” the black quill hedgehog petulantly asks the other knights, “and that the enchantress is not merely sending us to do foolish busy work purely in jest?”  

Percival’s eyes widen at this flagrant disrespect of her lover, and she can feel her fur standing on end.  Secrecy be damned-

“How dare thee imply such things from her?” she retorts sharply, glaring into Lancelot’s cold garnet eyes.

“If thou art concerned about the validity of Nimue’s claims then I shall meet with her myself,” sighs Arthur with shut eyes as he tiredly pinches the bridge of his muzzle.

… Hath we somehow failed our king? Percival wonders.  She turns to Galahad, who too wears a confused expression, though his is paired with flattened ears, as the white-quilled hedgehog loathed any sort of argument.

After a long exhale, the king sets aside his tea and turns to address his two returning knights once more.

“Hath ye just now returned?” he asks, tiredly.

“Yes sire,” Galahad replies, with both him and Percival giving a short nod.

“I shall address the rest of my knights once Gawain and Lamorak return in a few weeks’ time,” he returns with a small wave, shaking his head.  “Ye may be excused for the rest of the evening.  Thy salaries should be in thy chambers, and I believe that the kitchens should be finished preparing supper.  Ye art dismissed.”

“We humbly accept thy generosity, Your Grace,” says Percival with a low bow.  She rises to her feet with a quick glare back at Lancelot and turns quickly with Galahad close behind.

Once the heavy doors are shut and the two hedgehogs are alone in the throne room, Lancelot relaxes his stance and glances at his king, who is draped languidly on his back across his throne and rubbing his temples.

“Well that certainly was a waste of everyone’s time,” the black-quilled knight sniffs curtly.  Arthur sighs and runs a hand through his quills before reaching for his tea.

“I am sure ‘tis but a minor setback-”

“A minor setback?  What are we to do now?  Wait around for the others to look for a fucking cup?”

“I-” the king begins, before cutting himself off with an irritated sigh.  “A cup , Nimue?” Arthur asks bitterly, staring intently at his tea.  As if on queue, a miniature version of the pink hedgehog miraculously pokes her head out of the steaming tea and huffs.

“Thou says this as if the Grail were merely any common drinkware, Arthur,” she retorts, fussing with her skirts, which remain remarkably dry if not a bit ruffled.  No body of liquid was safe from a visit from the Lady of the Lake, champion eavesdropper and giver of swords, if she had something to say.   “Most cups do not contain the essence of Chaos Himself.”  Lancelot looms behind his king, narrowing his eyes before speaking.

“My lady, dost thou have anything more to add to thy fetch quest, or hast thou arrived to bestow upon us a lovely new steak knife to use at supper?”

“The Grail shall only reveal itself to those worthy of seeing Chaos,” she replies, choosing to ignore his fractious comment about her gifts of choice.  “If thou wishes to find someone who can lead based on divine right, then Chaos himself can choose thy successor.”

“Successor, milord?” asks a young woman’s voice at the far end of the hall.  Nimue disappears back into the teacup with a small splash as both the king and his knight look up in surprise at the new speaker and the room falls deathly silent.  Merlina, the Royal Wizard, bows before her king. Human-like creatures were few and far between in Camelot- Merlina was not Mobian like the king and the rest of his court, but instead seemed to be a cross between human and the typical species of townsfolk, who possessed pointed ears and cat-like markings across her cheeks.

“Please forgive my tardiness, as well as mine abrupt intrusion, Your Majesty,” the wizard begins timidly as she returns upright, clutching the tall staff that seems to dwarf her completely.  She pulls back the hood of her dark purple and pink cloak before her king, and quickly smooths her mulberry-colored hair back into its heavy braid before continuing.  “I hath arrived as thou requested to discuss the health spell for the kingdom.  Pardon my curiosity, but what was this about finding a successor?”

“Ah!  Merlina- thou must know about my notorious inability to find a wife,” the famously charismatic king replies affably, setting his cup on a small table to his right.  “‘Tis all anyone talks about anymore!”   Lancelot keeps his eyes trained on the wizard like a hawk, studying her expressions acutely.  Just how much had she heard? he wonders.

Merlina’s gaze softens slightly though her tone remains tentative.  She rolls on the balls of her feet slightly, looking unsure of how to continue.

“The people do love a good wedding, your highness,” she responds kindly.  “I suppose they art merely looking for a chance to celebrate their love of their noble, kind-hearted king, and hope that he too can find a suitable queen to bring Camelot into an era more glorious than e’er before.”

“As do I!  Though one must wonder how any suitable maiden would get a chance to know me personally, given how Lancelot is practically attached at my hip,” he adds with a laugh.  Lancelot clenches his jaw, suppressing the urge to narrow his eyes at his king, and says nothing.

“His supine temperament reflects well against thine own choleric.  It makes him a fine statistician and protector, though he would certainly put off any worthy suitor.  But why discuss succession now, milord? Thou wert quite well at thy last visit to the doctor, and thou art but thirty years- surely thou hast at least another twenty-”

“So it seems, though I still must prepare for the future.  I fear I am not immortal!”

“But Your Majesty,” Merlina replies eagerly, “I could certainly find a way to ward off any illness that could harm our beloved king!  Thy reign could possibly last for centuries!”

The words cut deep and quite clearly hit a nerve, as Arthur’s typically-brilliant smile quickly fell from his face.

“Merlina, I swear thy sense of humor is far greater than any jester could hope to master...” he begins with a nervous laugh.

“Milord?” she asks, confused by her king’s sudden change in demeanor.  She glances over to Lancelot, who is presently watching His Lordship with a tinge of worry in his eyes.

“Centuries?   Surely my subjects will be thoroughly sick of me in a few years’ time, let alone literal hundreds of years!”

“My king, thou hast provided hope and freedom to scores of people and hast made peace between peoples who hath warred for generations!  Thy rule has truly transformed Camelot into a world of legend!”

“And what good is a world that goes on forever?  Merlina, please, I am afraid we must reschedule our discussion for a later time, for there are more pressing matters at hand.  Please enjoy the rest of thine evening.”

Falteringly, the wizard excuses herself, and once more Nimue silently peeks her head over the edge of the teacup.  Before she can speak, Lancelot cuts in.

“If we are quite finished here, I think I shall take my leave and retire for the evening,” he says with a curt nod towards the two of them before making his exit.

“Six years and he seems not to hath changed at all,” Nimue comments dryly about the departing knight.

“Thou would be surprised- I hath seen him give a smile or two.”

“Only in thy direction, Arthur?”

The king huffs with a smile, though it soon drops and he holds the teacup closer to speak in a hushed tone.

“Nimue, I sought thy guidance because fifteen years ago thou simply handed me a sword from thy lake and proclaimed me king.  Why not do the same with another?”

“Because the last man I proclaimed king is not happy in his position,” she pouts teasingly, poking his nose.  “He would rather run off with his favorite knight-”

“A knight thou sent to me!”

“Because thou were lonesome!” the enchantress huffs in mock scandal.  “Thou knows I much prefer wielding Cupid’s bow than the sword of the monarchy, which is why I decided to outsource this one!”

Her grin reaches her ears, but Arthur appears unmoved.

“Thou art deathly earnest about this Grail business?” he asks.

“Quite,” she returns sternly.  “I promise I could not have put together a finer fetch-quest.  If someone is worthy of thy throne, then Chaos himself can be the one to tell them once thee and thy Lancelot are but long gone.”

“Unfortunately there is still quite a bit of planning on our part,” Arthur sighs.  “When to leave, where to go, what to take with-”

“Ah!  But is that not the fun part of it?”

“Believe me, if I could just pick up and leave tonight without having to tie up every single loose end I would.”

“Fret not, Arthur- not far off in time I see a content blue hedgehog far off in the countryside, free to run all across creation as he wishes at dawn and to rest his head upon his lover’s chest at dusk, and I swear to thee, I will do everything in my power to protect that future.”

“... Of course, if thou are still not convinced of the quest I hath put forth, thou could always send Sir Percival to me ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᶜᵉʳᵗᵃᶦⁿ⁻” the pink hedgehog trails off, causing the abdicating king to snort.

“Thou may see as much of Percival as thee wish.  As long as I am king, I can promise thee that.”

“Bless thee,” she says warmly, and disappears back into the cup.  Arthur tosses the rest of his tea into a nearby plant, not wanting to finish it, and tiredly takes his leave.

After a long, terse journey up the stairs, Arthur retires to his desk in his chambers.  Beside a stack of parchment, Lancelot has left his partner a serving of a sort of chicken pie from the dining hall, but the dour knight himself is nowhere to be found.  The wooden door leading to the black-quilled hedgehog’s own private chambers is shut, and though he prefers his own bed, Arthur desperately wishes to join his companion under a mountain of blankets to shield against the bite of the winter cold, but for now the warmth of the crackling fire will have to suffice.

The king runs both hands over his face in exhaustion and pours himself a glass of red wine before having a seat.  He begins to read over the documents as he has his supper, a comfort food made from shredded roasted chicken and vegetables stewed together, with a biscuit crust baked on top.  

Out of everything, he was certain he’d miss this part of his duties the least.  The task of direct counsel at least had the decency to involve actively meeting with his subjects and getting to talk with them and genuinely help them.

He scrapes the rest of the vegetables out of his dish and chews quietly while thumbing through the stack of papers- a treaty here, a charter there, the usual sort of-

Wait, is that a letter? Arthur wonders, reaching for a creamy white envelope sealed with a lovely scarlet wax.  He deftly slices it open with a claw and to his surprise finds an invitation written in beautiful script inside…

“Lancelot-”

…

“Lancelot, please-”

Lancelot cracks open one eye, adjusts to the darkness and finds the familiar outline of his lover, wrapped in a blanket and kneeling at his bedside, gently calling his name and squeezing his shoulder.

“Hmmm…” he replies groggily.  He had not quite been asleep, moreso resting quietly and waiting for his partner to inevitably join him.

“‘Tis quite cold tonight,” the blue hedgehog says with a smile.

“So it is,” Lancelot yawns quietly, moving to make what room he could for the other.  The blue-quilled hedgehog smiles softly and joins his partner in his small bed, draping the blanket he had been wearing across his shoulders over the two of them before Lancelot speaks quietly.  

“‘What good is a world that goes on forever?’  Thou art not known for being esoteric- what else could thou hath meant by that?”

“Merlina knows not of our plans, Lancelot,” Arthur replies, nuzzling his nose tiredly behind his lover’s ear as he settles in.  “I swear to thee we are safe.”

“Arthur, if we are to get away with this, we must be far more careful before we leave.”

“We will succeed, Lancelot- Nimue swore that to me.”

Lancelot sighs heavily, frustrated yet stubborn.  The baseless predictions of Lady Chaos in a Cup were the last thing he wanted to hear.

“Tell me my knight, why dost thou sleep here whilst I work?” Arthur asks, changing the subject whilst idly running his hand over his lover’s side.

“I do not wish to distract thee,” he murmurs.  “For all thy strengths, thou hast the attention span of a child.”

“Thy pretty face is such a distraction,” the blue-quilled hedgehog replies with a smirk, playfully crawling over to hover over his partner and stroking his muzzle.  “But the larger bed is just as much thine as it is my own...”

“I still value some semblance of privacy.”

“Ah- space to brood and work on thy disapproving glares?” Arthur teases, sticking out his tongue.

“Prithee, how hath we survived for so long under the rule of a king who sticks his tongue out as such?” returns the knight after a sigh.  “‘Tis most uncouth-“

“Nonsense.  Thou hast seen me be far more uncouth,” the blue hedgehog laughs, rolling over to suggestively straddle his pillow with his tail in the air.  Lancelot rolls his eyes and turns over.

“With as many times as thou has rolled thine eyes at me, ‘tis a wonder that they hath not rolled out of thy head,” Arthur calls.

“Forgive me, my lord, but spending the day listening to idle prattle, not to mention that damned ‘quest’ has worn my patience quite thin.”

“Thou says this as if thou had any to begin with.  I am afraid that I must hold counsel again tomorrow, though I do not believe thy presence will be needed- I would much rather thou spent the day on something far less dull.  Perhaps thou could get in some practice?”

“Practice?  Of what sort?” responds the groggy, black-quilled hedgehog.

“I hath just received word that there is to be a faire in celebration of a noble family’s wedding in a few weeks’ time, and I am hoping that my favorite champion, the famed and most handsome Sir Lancelot, will make a surprise appearance at the joust!”

“Thou doth flatter me,” Lancelot scoffs with a ghost of a smile before rolling back to his side.

“And I hath received exclusive word that he may be retiring soon,” Arthur continues, “and I do wish to see the finest champion of our age compete at least one last time...”

“Of course,” he adds softly, nestling closer towards his partner and wrapping an arm around his waist, “‘tis not like there art not faires in the countryside, and he is forced to hide his face away under a helmet anyway.  It simply means he can no longer remove it gracefully at the end and reveal his stately face and somber yet proud eyes to the crowd…”

“If thou art quite finished waxing poetic,” the knight purrs, lifting the king’s hand to his lips and laying a kiss upon it, “I would very much like to get some sleep, so that I may guarantee one last jousting victory in the name of my king.”

Arthur smiles softly and settles comfortably in his lover’s quills.  He wraps an arm around the other’s chest before whispering softly,

“I swear to thee, I will find us a way out if it is the last thing I do.”