As Lancelot's lips brushed against mine, I felt a surge of warmth and longing spread through my body. God, how I wanted to kiss him, to feel his lips on mine, to lose myself in his embrace. But the thought of Arthur's wrath held me back, his cruel hands gripping my heart with fear.

With a shaky sigh, I took a step back from Lancelot, the kiss we almost shared never coming to fruition. A tear slipped down my cheek. How could I betray my duty to Avalon for a fleeting moment of passion? And yet, how could I deny the desire that burned so fiercely within me?

"My Queen," Lancelot uttered brokenly, with an expression of anguish, as if he had been jolted into reality. "Forgive me."

I looked into his eyes, filled with sincerity and love, and I knew that I couldn't give in to my desires. Not now, not ever.

"Forgive me, Lancelot," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I cannot."

With one last lingering glance, I slipped away, leaving behind the man who had captured my heart.

***

From that night on, I made every effort to avoid Lancelot, keeping my distance as if proximity to him would ignite the flames of desire once more. Each night, Arthur took me to his bed, his brutal touch leaving bruises on my body and soul. I tried to mask my disgust and pain with moans and false passion, fearing that if he suspected my true feelings, his wrath would be unleashed upon Avalon.

As Arthur claimed me, my thoughts often strayed to Lancelot – his tender touch, his strong arms holding me close, the way his gaze seemed to search deep within me. Each time I thought of him, a pang of guilt clasped my heart, and I'd be left torn and hollow. I almost ruined everything for a kiss!

During the day, I roamed the castle, its cold stone walls a constant reminder of the life I had left behind in Avalon. The vibrant beauty of my homeland called to me like a siren's song, making my new life in Camelot feel all the more oppressive. I longed for the freedom and magic of Avalon, where women were not shunned or belittled for their strength and abilities.

I would often sit alone onto the window seat in my chambers, my gaze lost in the distance as I sought solace in memories of Avalon, trying to escape the prison my life had become.

One morning, as I gazed out of the window, I noticed a gathering of men outside the castle gates. The Knights of the Round Table were all geared up, preparing to embark on a Royal Hunt, my husband among them. In Avalon, I would have been expected to join them, so I assumed the same custom applied here. Little did I know how wrong I was.

I quickly dressed in my hunting attire, donning a fitted green tunic and leather leggings. My blonde hair was pulled back into a tight braid and I tucked a knife into my high boots, ready for the hunt. I hurried down the stairs to join them on the patio. As I approached the gathered knights, their laughter and chatter filled the air, creating an atmosphere of camaraderie and anticipation. The sun shone brightly, casting warm rays upon the colourful group.

"Ah, look who has decided to join us!" Sir Gareth, the big blonde knight with the moustache that had caused trouble during our wedding celebration, roared with laughter as he caught sight of me. "The Queen herself, all dressed up for a hunt! How adorable!"

His mocking tone immediately grated at my nerves, but I tried to maintain my composure.

"Are the fae so barbaric that they let their women do all the hunting? Ha, I bet you couldn't even draw a bowstring back." Sir Gareth continued, drawing more laughter from the other knights.

"Are you aware that I've been to war, Sir Gareth?" I replied, refusing to be belittled by him. "If you weren't so ignorant, you would know that in Avalon, women are not excluded from hunts or war. We are just as capable as any man."

As the laughter died down, I noticed Lancelot standing silently among the knights, his piercing green eyes watching me intently. I could feel the heat of his gaze on my skin, and it took all of my willpower to resist the urge to look away.

"Perhaps we should test your skills, my Queen," Sir Gareth sneered, refusing to back down. "Let's see if you are truly as capable as you claim."

"Very well, Sir Gareth," I said, my voice firm and steady, "I challenge you to a game of skill. We shall use our bows and arrows to hit a target far away. The one who makes the most difficult shot shall be the winner. If I win, I shall join you on the hunt. If you win, I shall remain behind at the castle."

"Ha!" Sir Gareth laughed, looking around at his fellow knights for support. "You have yourself a deal, my Queen."

"My king, do you approve?" I asked, turning to my husband.

"Of course," he replied, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Let us see how skilled our Queen truly is."

"Wonderful," I said, determined to prove myself in front of these men who thought so little of me. But as I prepared myself, I couldn't help but wonder if Lancelot, who stood apart from the others, watching me intently, would be impressed by my skill.

"Set the targets, Mordred," Sir Gareth ordered, smirking as he turned to one of the other Knights of the Round Table.

Mordred, a tall and lean young man with dark hair and mysterious grey-blue eyes, hesitated for a moment before complying. He seemed like a bit of a loner, not quite fitting in with the boisterous group of knights that surrounded him. As he positioned the targets, I could feel his gaze lingering on me, as if trying to decipher what lay beneath my confident exterior.

"Shall we begin, my Queen?" Sir Gareth asked mockingly, taking his position with the bow and arrows. "Or would you like to admit defeat already?"

"Hardly," I retorted, my annoyance flaring at his arrogance. "You may go first, Sir Gareth. I wouldn't want to spare you the taste of defeat."

"Bold words, my Queen," he sneered, drawing back his bowstring. "Let's see if you can back them up."

Sir Gareth's arrow soared through the air, whistling as it went. It struck the target with a resounding thud, embedding itself firmly within the bullseye. The knights erupted in cheers and applause, their laughter ringing in my ears. I caught Arthur's approving smile from the corner of my eye, fuelling my determination to prove myself.

"See, my Queen?" Sir Gareth gloated, his arrogance on full display. "There's no need for you to even try. Why don't you just go make yourself a handkerchief to cry on?"

I clenched my fists, suppressing the urge to lash out at him. Instead, I took a deep breath and calmly replied, "If you're quite finished, Sir Gareth, I'll take my turn now."

With a disdainful snort, he stepped aside, allowing me access to the bow and arrow. As I positioned myself, I couldn't help but feel the weight of their eyes upon me, judging me before I'd even taken my shot.

"Here we go," I muttered under my breath, steadying my nerves.

In one swift motion, I untied the silk belt from around my waist and looped it over my head, covering my eyes. The knights in the room made audible gasps of surprise, and I grinned, savouring their astonishment.

"By the gods, she's gone mad," Sir Gareth laughed, his voice dripping with contempt. "There's no way you can make that shot, my Queen!"

"Watch me," I retorted, blocking out the sound of their snickering.

Without taking any time to aim, I drew back the bowstring and released the arrow. Silence fell over the crowd as it arced gracefully through the air, guided by instinct alone.

The arrow found its mark, splitting Sir Gareth's own projectile clean in half. The bullseye quivered under the force of the impact, and for a moment, no one spoke. Then, slowly but surely, laughter began to bubble up among the knights. They pointed and chuckled at Sir Gareth, whose face had turned an impressive shade of crimson.

"Seems I won't be needing that handkerchief after all," I said with a triumphant grin, removing the silk blindfold from my eyes. "Would you like to borrow one from me instead?" The satisfaction coursing through me was intoxicating.

Sir Gareth glowered in silence, his pride clearly wounded by my unexpected victory. I held my head high, basking in the knowledge that I had proven myself in front of these men who had doubted me – men who thought they could intimidate me into submission.

Amidst the jeering knights stood Lancelot, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my heart flutter. Was he smiling at me? I wondered if he was impressed by what he saw but quickly shook the thought away. I had to push him out of my mind.

"Looks like I'll be joining you on the hunt," I declared, my voice ringing with an air of triumph. The laughter continued to echo around me as the knights roared at Sir Gareth's defeat.

"No way!" he spat, his face contorted in anger. "I can do that too! No one bests me, especially not a woman!"

"By all means, Sir Gareth," I replied, smirking as I offered him my silk belt. "Give it your best shot."

He snatched the blindfold from my hand and tied it tightly around his head, his movements jerky and tense. A hush fell over the crowd as he took a deep breath and aimed his bow at the target.

"Watch and learn, your majesty," he sneered before releasing the arrow.

Sir Gareth's arrow flew wildly off course, embedding itself into a tree far to the left of where we stood. A wave of laughter erupted once more from the knights, their amusement at Sir Gareth's humiliation clear for all to see.

"Perhaps you should stick to jesting, Sir Gareth," I said, unable to keep the glee from my voice.

His face flushed red with fury, and he tore the blindfold from his eyes. "You cheated!" he accused, his voice shaking with rage. "You used your fae magic to guide your arrow! This wasn't a fair contest!"

"Sir Gareth, you accuse me unjustly," I replied, my own anger flaring up at his insinuation. "I am proud of my fae heritage, but I did not use any magic today. Everyone here saw that my victory was earned through skill with the bow alone."

The tension in the air grew thick as our heated exchange continued, but before either of us could utter another word, Lancelot stepped forward. His eyes met mine for a brief moment, and I felt my breath catch in my throat.

"Enough," he said calmly, addressing both Sir Gareth and myself. "The Queen won fair and square, as all here can attest. Now let us prepare for the hunt."

"Fine," Sir Gareth spat, his face red with anger and embarrassment. "If you think you're so much better than the rest of us, why don't you try taking a shot, Lancelot? You're supposed to be the best archer among us."

Lancelot hesitated, clearly not eager to participate in this growing spectacle. The other knights, however, egged him on, shouting encouragements and challenges. He shook his head, trying to refuse, but King Arthur's commanding voice cut through the noise.

"Go ahead, Lancelot. Let's see what you can do."

With a reluctant nod, Lancelot approached me, his green eyes filled with a mixture of determination and concern. I couldn't help but feel my heart race at his proximity, remembering that night in the infirmary when we'd almost shared a forbidden kiss.

"Would you mind blindfolding me with your belt, my Queen?" he asked, his voice soft and low, sending shivers down my spine.

"Of course," I replied, feeling my cheeks grow warm as I carefully placed my silk belt over his eyes. His hair was soft between my fingers as I gently moved it out of the way, and I had to resist the urge to linger, to let my hands explore more of him.

"Thank you," he murmured, taking a deep breath.

With the silk belt securely covering Lancelot's eyes, I watched as he stepped forward, positioning himself expertly with the bow and arrow in hand.

As Lancelot raised the bow, I was entranced by his perfect posture. Every inch of him radiated confidence and control – from the firm set of his jaw to the way his legs anchored him to the ground. It was as if he were an extension of the bow itself, a living embodiment of the deadly grace it promised.

My heart raced as I watched him draw back the string. The muscles in his shoulders and back rippled beneath his shirt, their strength evident even through the fabric. The sight stirred something deep within me, a longing I had tried so desperately to suppress. But in that moment, I knew there was no denying it any longer: I wanted Lancelot – all of him – more than anything else in the world.

"Whenever you're ready," I whispered, my voice quivering.

"Let's see what fate has in store for us, then," Lancelot murmured, his breath heavy with determination.