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Duty always came first before anything else. Every knight gave their heart and soul for the king, obeying without question. Honor surrounded each of them, glory was what others saw, and prestige was the mark of being the elite of the entire kingdom—overwhelming forces whose individual power could rival armies and beasts alike.
Training was what they dedicated themselves to the most, striving every day to surpass their limits, to be more than efficient, to live for duty—that was what truly mattered. But the king did not want war machines; he wanted companions. So he ordered each one of them to have the freedom to clear their minds and enjoy themselves after training. He knew that his loyal warriors would dedicate themselves only to duty if he didn’t stop them.
They were individualistic, but sometimes the knights shared their free time with one another—Gawain dragging Lancelot to a tavern (often getting him into one fight or another), or, in this case, her and Galahad.
There had always been mutual respect between them. During training, they improved together quickly, in admirable synchronization, each one advising the other on how to improve. But neither felt that training was their favorite activity together.
It was the simple company of a pleasant conversation, in the living forest, where they shared their likes and dislikes, ideas and dreams. More than once, she had the joy of hearing the angelic voice of Galahad. She felt that such a sweet melody could soothe even the wildest beast. He had told her, with a tone of embarrassment, that they were songs from his childhood. She, on the other hand, had developed a taste for drawing, capturing the beautiful sights the forest offered—even secretly sketching her companion. When he asked curiously, she lied. It was a small secret she would take to her grave; after all, it was hard not to draw him when he looked like a statue fused with nature itself.
His company had always been different from the others. Every knight, even the king, radiated a feeling or an idea—Gawain embodied strength in its purest form, Lamorak possessed a peculiar arrogance, Lancelot was power incarnate like a fierce lightning bolt, and the king exuded a sense of freedom and trust that made the entire kingdom adore him. She had even heard others say that her own swordsmanship reflected unmatched discipline… and Galahad—he was different.
Galahad emanated an unparalleled calm—from his posture and his voice to his gaze. Since his origins, he had been surrounded by mysticism. He sat upon a lethal chair that would bring death to anyone unworthy of the glory of obtaining the Holy Grail, yet he had passed through it with serenity, always acting with purity. He loved everyone, within and beyond the kingdom, always gazing at the sky with admiration through his golden eyes, always seeking equality for all, offering his heart and showing his true self without fear of judgment. That was Galahad—purity in flesh and bone.
Or at least, that was what everyone else saw—a knight to look up to, an idea, a perfect mold. But she saw more than that. Since the day they met by mere chance in this very forest, they had not stopped seeing each other. There, she had seen a clumsy young man with simple thoughts, a dreamer with noble ideals. His laughter was far from elegant, echoing throughout the forest, and he showed an adorable curiosity for everything around him, along with an infectious innocence.
It was strange to see that, especially after hearing his story told by his own lips… because, after all, Galahad was a bastard.
A child born from deceit, growing up without the love of his parents, abandoned by his father and orphaned by his mother’s death, raised in a convent by his aunt. From his very origins, he carried an indelible stain, a guilt he neither asked for nor deserved.
However, his circumstances never crushed him. There was never resentment toward Lancelot—not from their first meeting, nor up to the present. Of course, neither of them spoke as father and son; they simply treated each other as companions. No one wanted to say anything about it—it was taboo. Even the king, who always spoke with freedom, thought twice before mentioning it. Galahad could have easily built a life of vengeance toward his progenitor, consumed by blinding rage and resentment, but not a trace of that was ever seen in his gaze.
Yet there was one flaw in this knight—and in her—a feeling that surpassed even Galahad’s perfect purity. And just like him, her unmatched discipline was overcome. Like a sudden charge, they were both struck.
The curiosity to learn more about one another became admiration. Admiration turned into friendship. And friendship turned into… love.
They were knights trained to face every threat. She had always thought that such a feeling was something only civilians—the ones they protected—had the right to experience. But it simply came, and it never left.
Neither of them liked being dominated by their emotions; their knightly pride still burned strong. Like any other time of rest between them, a pleasant talk surrounded by the soft sounds and beauty of the forest, she remembered being as direct as an arrow when confessing her feelings to him. It had been the first time she’d seen the noble Galahad as red as a tomato and trembling slightly. The silence felt eternal until it was broken—by the hedgehog’s confession as well.
A secret, intimate and precious, where every training session remained the same, every mission unchanged—they continued to be, in everyone’s eyes, admirable knights. Only in these moments of rest could they express without fear or doubt what they felt. Every moment was remembered and as valuable as the finest diamond.
This was one of those moments too.
"Percival… Percival," soft whispers could be heard. "Are you asleep?"
"Mmmm?"
"I just wanted to know. Sorry if I bothered you… it’s just that you didn’t say anything for a while."
"I was just thinking…"
Lying on top of the hedgehog, her head resting on his soft white fur, the albino’s arms wrapped around her affectionately. Both were wearing their casual clothes—their armor was far too uncomfortable to sleep in. It had become a bad habit for her to fall asleep on his chest; it was a temptation too hard to resist. It was soft and warm, and she could even hear his heartbeat pounding strongly.
A particular sound caught the hedgehog’s attention—one that always enchanted him. The feline tended to make it whenever she was calm. Percival was purring.
"Purrrr."
"What was that?" the feline asked, confused, while still resting her head on his fur.
"That’s how your purr sounds."
"I don’t purr," she denied with embarrassment, her tail swaying faster from side to side.
However, the purring continued. Neither of them moved, enjoying each other’s closeness. The warmth was comforting, the peace complete. Little by little, the feline felt sleep taking over.
"You’re the perfect pillow, you know that?"
"Me? A pillow?"
"Yes, you’re Galahad the Pillow."
Feeling the hedgehog’s heartbeat quicken, she smiled.
"If it comes from you, that’s a title more than worthy," he replied softly with a smile.
That heartbeat was enchanting. No matter how hard the hedgehog tried to appear calm, his heart betrayed him. It was surprising how relaxing those beats could be.
And before falling into a deep sleep, she whispered her last words.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
And sleep finally took her.
.
.
.
.
.
.
From a considerable distance, two hedgehogs were watching the whole scene—it was King Arthur and his loyal knight Lancelot. One wore an amused smile while the other merely looked indifferent, arms crossed.
"Seems I’m quite the Cupid, huh?" the king said cheerfully.
"If you say so," Lancelot replied. "They really are idiots."
"Let them enjoy it," said Arthur. "After all, soon we’ll begin the quest for the Holy Grail. I doubt anything bad will happen."
However, the king’s words fell on deaf ears. The only thing left was a fixed stare at the albino hedgehog. It was hard to tell whether it was understanding, empathy, or disappointment—but something inside him whispered that the coming quest would not end as positively as his king believed.