♠︎ Shadow - Lancelot ♠︎ ³

The rain fell heavily on the woods surrounding Camelot. The rumble of a distant battle was barely distinguishable above the thunder. Broken branches and mud bore witness to the violent clash that had taken place there. Among the trees lay a knight. His black armor was covered in dirt and deep sword wounds. His cloak was torn in several places, while his sword remained stuck in the ground a few feet away. Sir Lancelot, considered one of the greatest knights of the Round Table, lay motionless, his breathing shallow, his face hidden beneath tufts of black, rain-soaked hair.

The forest remained silent...

Until soft footsteps broke the stillness. They weren't the heavy treads of a soldier, nor the trot of a horse. They were light, elegant...almost as if the one walking barely touched the earth. A figure appeared from the mist. He wore fine, light-colored garments, made of fabrics too delicate to belong to someone traveling alone through those woods. A long cloak rested on his shoulders, and silver ornaments reflected the little light that filtered through the treetops. He carried no visible weapons, nor did he seem afraid.

There was something strange about that person. It wasn't just their refined appearance, befitting someone born into nobility. It was the serenity with which they observed the world. The wind seemed to subside around them, and even the forest animals remained calm in their presence.

He knelt beside the fallen knight. Without uttering a word, he carefully removed some branches and wiped the blood trickling down Lancelot's forehead with a small white cloth.

(Continue the story as you like and delete this)