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It was a stupid bet. Mordred was drunk, and Gawaine was even drunker, saying Mordred couldn’t disguise himself as a kitchen maid and steal wine from the cellar.
Galahad wasn’t a betting man, nor was he a drinking man, but he knew his friends couldn’t be stopped once they had egged eachother on like that, so he held his tongue. He would just make Mordred return the bottle when he got back.
Only, when he saw Mordred, he couldn’t quite find the words to scold him.
Mordred wore a simple brown dress and a wide grin, and he was more stunning than any woman who had begged for Galahad’s hand before.
As the dress came off and Mordred took a swig of the wine, Galahad mourned the only woman he had ever found truly beautiful.