After being revived by his foster father, Diarmuid learns of his treasonous acts and decides to leave Hibernia for sure. Still longing to be a knight, he learns of a certain king that is willing to accept any kind of Knight. Camelot is quite the jou...
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Diarmuid was silently seated on a boulder, watching the knights train. It had been a few days since they encountered Sileas at the pub and Diarmuid had been pensive since. The blazing sun had tired him quickly and his training partner had suggested that they take a break since he had not once been fully into the spar, which was nothing like him. He analyzed the swift movements of Gawain, who was sparring with Jeanne.
The young lady seemed to be new to all the fighting, her moves were slower and much more hesitant. On the other hand, the male was smooth in his steps and swings; elongating them just for Jeanne to catch up.
Diarmuid's mind went back to the woman at the bar. He stilled, mind replaying his two encounters with her. There had been something off about her but he was un able to place his finger on it but it bothered him still. He rubbed his face, shutting his eyes closed for a while.
"How are you feeling?" The voice of his king caught his attention, he removed his hands from his face.
"Hello." Diarmuid mumbled, "I am..." he sighed, "doing well."
The king shot him a look, "Sounds rather convincing." He deadpanned.
Diarmuid ran a hand through his hair and following to rub his face again. "Forgive me."
Arthur went to pat his knight on the back, "Now, son, mind telling me what is making you look quite glum."
He laughed in response; light and honest, "Meaningless things. I need not worry you over them."
The blond bit his bottom lip and nearly growled, "Diarmuid, how many times must I tell you that a king is always willing to help his knights? A king's duty is to his country," he spoke, this time the phrase did not sound so forced, "and therefore his people. I wish to know and you cannot deny me that. Surely."
Diarmuid replied with a smile that he tried very much to hide, "No, surely I cannot."
"Go on, then."
He liked Arthur; he was always attentive and gentle. He was everything Diarmuid could wish for in a king.
"I have been having this odd feeling. Peculiar, really. Sileas, the young lady we met at the tavern—"
"Her." Arthur interrupted him, "Yes, I might have an inkling as to where this is going."
Diarmuid blushed, "Oh, no, no. I have no feelings for her, my king, in fact; it is rather the opposite."
The king furrowed his brows, blinking at Diarmuid before clearing his throat, "I never meant it that way. Now, what were you originally going to say?"
"Ah." He bit his lower lip, cheeks turning even darker at such a misunderstanding. "I was pondering what occurred the other day at the tavern. You see, I find it odd that she went."
