Eudaemonia

Chapter 1

Lancelot Du Lac. Truthfully, nobody completely understood the mysterious ebony hedgehog. To be frank, he was brash, and rather aggressive. Friendly competition with him was deadly on the best of days. The man never slept. A dark silhouette could always be seen in the dim light of the training yards. He never stopped.

Lancelot couldn't stop. He downright refused. He'd destroy anyone, and anything that obstructed his path. He would be the best there ever was. He'd prove himself worthy. And as the knight felt the blade of his sword slice through another throat, he was certain of this fact. Hushed gasps of horror fell on deaf ears. He had a reputation to uphold. He sheathed his blade, carelessly walking over to the sidelines. His peers stepped aside as he walked by.

"Lancelot." a familiar voice called. The knight paid it no mind, but Perceval knew he was listening. The feline sat down at his side. "Lancelot. I know you hear my voice." The ebony grumbled, an ear flicking toward his companion. "Did you really have to kill that boy-? He couldn't have been older than ten and three years." Lancelot moved to exit, and Perceval pinned him by the foot, quickly flipping up his visor. The hedgehog grumbled in petty disapproval. "He challenged me. It was his choice to die." His friend sighed, a disappointed expression upon her face.

"I am unsure what has gotten into you lately, but this is not the Lancelot I know. You want to succeed, I understand that! Your relentless pursuit of betterment is admirable, however-" Lancelot cut her off, abruptly standing. "You know nothing about me, Perceval. I merely elected to keep your secret. Something so insignificant does not make us anything more than comrades. Good day." The feline grumbled, clenching her jaw. "You cannot continue taking your wrath out on your inferiors. We all know you're upset about the marriag-''

Lancelot immediately spun on his heel, glowering over her with a threatening snarl. "Do not speak of that to me. The Prince's personal affairs are none of our concern." Perceval rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "You cannot possibly believe Gawain and I are oblivious. You look at His Majesty in a much more than friendly way." Lancelot guffawed. "I haven't the first idea what you are talking about." Percival laughed, thumbing away a small droplet of blood from Lancelot's cheek. "You are a fascinating individual, Lancelot." The ebony averted his gaze.

Lancelot quietly sighed, trekking back through the familiar marsh to his childhood home. It was Friday. He always spent Friday evenings with his Mother. With a quiet snap, he pulled off his helmet, and shook out his quills. What did Perceval know anyways..? She'd never once finished off an opponent. Others called it honorable. Lancelot called it cowardly. Young or not, that foolish boy shouldn't have made an attempt on Lancelot's name. He had long since finished allowing himself to be walked all over. He would never again be made a fool of. With a quiet click, he opened the door to his home.

The Knight hastily removed his outerwear, leaving his protective gauntlets, sword, helmet, chestplate, and boots by the entry. He quietly padded around in socked feet, ebony ears flicking about. There was a quiet rustle in another room. "Lancelot..? My dear? Is that you?" The male hedgehog smiled softly, approaching the sound. He took the woman's hands, nodding, and humming a quiet affirmative. Nimue's eyes softened as she gazed up at the boy. "How you've grown." Lancelot flushed, ears flattening in embarrassment as his mother pulled his face down to her height and squished his cheeks. "You glow in the light. I always knew you were blessed." A soft pink furred thumb rubbed at a fluffy ebony ear. "Now, come. You agreed to sew with me this evening!" Lancelot sighed, staring at nothing in particular with a deadpan expression. Seventeen year old boys weren't typically interested in sewing. Unfortunately for Lancelot, he simply couldn't refuse his mother.

Summer was ending. Lancelot felt the chill of a cool Autumn's morning seep through his undergloves. And the toes of his boots. He avoided wading through the marsh. It was thick with rain, and muck. Avoiding the lasting discomfort of wet dirty socks, Lancelot elected to take the more scenic route. The freeze of the air ebbed as he stepped, the morning sun peeking above the horizon and casting a glow of warmth across the valley. The leather of his boots eventually made contact with the cobble of Main Street. He feigned ignorance to the way women seemed to clutch their children closer as he passed by. As he arrived at the castle grounds, the Knight was surprised to find himself interrupted. Lancelot tensed as an armored hand landed on his shoulder, quickly spinning around on his heel. His defensive posture quickly dropped, and he respectfully bowed his head. "Sir Godfrey." The Knight nodded to Lancelot, and the hedgehog looked back upwards.