Author’s note: I ran out of winter clothes. It’s still cold so Gawain gets a comfy jumper. I know it doesn’t look medieval. I know the decorations don’t either. Fight me. 😂
To Miss Guinevere
Thank you for your discretion. Please accept this as a token of my friendship.
It is a little early, but blessed Yule.
“After careful consideration… Knight to D5.”
The two had made their way onto the ramparts, taking a much-needed break from Yule preparations. Morgana had spent all morning sending out court invitations and preparing for the upcoming masquerade. Lancelot had been saddled with a no less tedious, but much more thankless job – he had to choose which soldiers would have to work during Yule and would not get to see their family. Both tasks were rather draining. Lancelot and Morgana stretched their break for as long as possible, circling the ramparts twice as they reached the final stage of their chess game.
And the sorceress was winning.
“Tower takes pawn at B2,” Morgana said. Lancelot smiled at her, a strange expression playing on his face as they turned the corner.
“Bishop to D6.”
“Tower takes tower. Check.”
Morgana frowned, placing her hand on her chin in contemplation. Something was odd. The future Duke had been making strange moves one after another, some of them completely illogical. She couldn’t read him anymore. The sorceress could not predict what Lancelot was doing. And his moves weren’t helping him, either – Lancelot had just lost two of his pieces, one of which was very powerful, but the future Duke did not seem to care in the slightest.
Something was odd.
Morgana stopped in her tracks, cocking her head quizzically.
“What are you doing, Lancelot?”
The future Duke did not reply. Morgana was forced to look at his back as Lancelot stopped in front of her, scratching his chin as he pondered in silence. Ater a few moments of that, Lancelot finally spoke up.
“King to E2.”
“…All right, bishop takes tower. Your last tower, my lord.”
“I am well aware. Pawn to E5.”
“Really?” Morgana replied. “A pawn? I’ve got my entire army bearing down on your king, and you decide to move a pawn? Are you mocking me?”
The future Duke glanced back at her, a teasing, almost mischievous smile playing on his lips.
“Think about it, Morgana.”
Lancelot excused himself shortly after, promising to finish their game during the masquerade. He then left her on the ramparts.
Morgana did not return to castle preparations. She couldn’t focus. She didn’t want to. For the rest of the day, the sorceress was absent from court, retreating to her chambers and restlessly pondering over her chessboard. Lancelot’s words bothered her more than Morgana would ever admit. The sorceress wanted to win. She was going to win.
No matter what.
Morgana hadn’t had this much fun in months.