"Fuck," I stammered, scrambling off Lancelot's body and hastily attempting to smooth down my dishevelled clothing. Even as I did so, the warmth of his touch lingered on my skin, and I couldn't help but ache for the intimacy we had shared mere moments ago.

The thundering of hooves echoed through the forest as the Knights of the Round Table approached the scene, their armoured forms gleaming in the dappled sunlight. As they neared, I could see the shock and concern etched on their faces at the sight of Lancelot and me, covered in blood from the slain unicorn.

"By the gods, Lancelot!" Sir Bedivere exclaimed, dismounting his horse with haste. "What manner of beast have you slain?"

"An uncommonly ferocious unicorn," Lancelot replied, his voice steady despite our harrowing encounter. His piercing green eyes met mine briefly, and a wave of guilt and fear washed over me as I recalled our stolen kiss moments before.

King Arthur, tall and imposing, dismounted his horse and strode toward us. Surprisingly, he extended a hand to help me up – the first kind gesture he'd shown since our marriage. Was he trying to be nice in front of his men? My heart raced as I hesitated, then reluctantly took his hand, unable to meet his gaze.

As I stood, my wounded leg protested with a sharp jolt of pain. I winced, struggling not to let it show.

"Sir Lancelot, your bravery is commendable," King Arthur said, turning his attention to Lancelot and clapping him on the shoulder. "You've saved Queen Guinevere's life, and for that, you have my gratitude."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Lancelot replied, bowing his head. I looked away, hoping Arthur wouldn't sense the turmoil within me.

"Come, let us return the trophy to Camelot," Sir Bedivere declared, gesturing toward the fallen unicorn. With Sir Gareth's assistance, he proceeded to decapitate the creature, intending to bring its head back to the castle. The value of a unicorn horn was not lost on them.

Arthur looked over at my horse, lifeless on the ground, his white skin stained red.

"I see your horse has been killed," Arthur announced. He reached out a strong arm and gestured for me to approach. As I obeyed I winced again at the pain in my leg. "You will ride with me. Can you manage?"

"Y-yes, my King," I stammered, unsure of how to respond to this sudden display of concern from my husband.

"Very well." He hoisted me onto his horse before mounting behind me, his strong arms holding me in place.

The ride back to Camelot was torturous, each bump and jostle sending fresh waves of pain through my injured leg. I tried to focus on anything but the proximity of Arthur's body and the lingering scent of Lancelot's skin as we journeyed back. All the while, my gaze avoided Lancelot's, fearing my husband could read the guilt and desire that plagued me.

***

As soon as we arrived at Camelot Castle, the mood shifted and excitement filled the air. The knights and courtiers eagerly shared their accounts of Sir Lancelot's valiant defeat of the unicorn, embellishing details as they saw fit, all while forgetting my contribution. I could hardly bear it, my chest tightening with each mention of Lancelot's name. My own emotions were a whirlwind – guilt for our stolen kiss, fear of discovery, and an undeniable longing for him that weighed heavy on my heart.

As the castle buzzed with merriment, I found myself unable to join in the celebrations. I was still covered in the unicorn's blood and dirt from our encounter, feeling both physically and emotionally filthy. With a barely audible excuse, I slipped away from the festivities, my haste carrying me through the bustling corridors towards the sanctuary of my bedchambers.

Upon opening the door, I discovered that my attendants had already prepared a bath for me. Steam rose invitingly from the water, and the scent of lavender filled the room. Grateful for the opportunity to find solace in the warmth of the water, I turned to my two female attendants who awaited my instructions.

"Thank you, both," I said softly, trying to keep my voice steady despite my inner turmoil. "Please, help me undress and clean myself."

With gentle hands, they guided me out of my soiled garments, their fingers deftly unfastening buttons and loosening laces. As I stepped into the bath, I couldn't help but sigh at the sensation of the warm water enveloping my body, soothing my aching muscles and calming my frayed nerves.

My attendants diligently washed away the grime and the blood that stained my skin, their tender ministrations providing a momentary reprieve from the chaotic thoughts swirling within me. They carefully cleaned my injured leg, mindful not to cause any further pain.

"Leave me now, please," I whispered, unable to bear their presence any longer. "I wish to be alone."

"Of course, Your Majesty," they murmured in unison, bowing their heads before exiting the room and closing the door behind them.

Finally alone, I sank deeper into the bath, allowing my thoughts to drift back to Lancelot. The memory of our shared kiss haunted me, filling me with fear and regret. What would happen if Arthur discovered our indiscretion? Would Lancelot tell him, or would he be able to keep our secret safe? The potential consequences weighed heavily on my mind. I knew I could not allow my feelings for Lancelot to jeopardise everything I held dear, but the desire that he stirred within me seemed impossible to ignore.

With a heavy sigh, I rose from the bath, droplets of water cascading down my naked form. I stepped over to the bed and the soft fabric of the sheets offered me some comfort.

Reclining on the bed, my thoughts inevitably returned to Lancelot. I couldn't help but remember the way his strong arms felt as they encircled me during our wedding dance, the warmth of his lips, his raging erection pressed against my pussy... A shiver of desire raced through me, and without conscious thought, my hands began to roam over my own body.

My fingers caressed my breasts, lingering on the sensitive peaks of my nipples. The sensation was a welcome distraction from the turmoil of my emotions, and I found myself giving in to the physical pleasure as a means of escape.

Lustful images of Lancelot filled my mind  —his firm jaw, stunningly toned physique, and tantalising strength bewitched me. I imagined his hands on my body, replacing my own as they continued their sensual exploration.

"Fuck me," I whispered, my breath hitching as my fingers slipped lower, tracing the contours of my desire-slickened folds. My heart raced with a dangerous mix of guilt and arousal, but the need for release was too great to ignore.

I moaned softly as I began to rub my clit with one, then two fingers, my wetness coating them in a slippery film. My fingertips moved faster and faster, pressing harder and harder against my clitoris as I pictured his face in my mind.

I allowed myself to succumb to the pleasure, my body writhing on the bed as I imagined Lancelot's strong arms enveloping me, his skilled touch driving me to the brink of ecstasy.

I moved the other hand lower, pushing ever closer to the entrance of my vagina. My breathing became more ragged with each passing second as waves of pleasure surged through me with increasing intensity.

I moaned in anticipation as my fingers finally breached my wetness, imagining it was Lancelot inside me. I imagined the way Lancelot would tease my entrance with the tip of his hard cock, how he would thrust deeper and deeper until I couldn't take it anymore.

With a final stroke of my clit, I came undone in a tumultuous wave of arousal and longing, feeling simultaneously relieved and deeply ashamed for succumbing to such forbidden desires, my body shuddering with the intensity of the release.

As the aftershocks subsided, I lay there, spent and ashamed. I knew that I could not continue down this path; the danger it posed was far too great. With trembling hands, I wiped away the evidence of my forbidden desires.

The afterglow of my orgasm faded and I forced myself to sit up, the cool air in my bedchambers a stark contrast to the warmth that had consumed me moments ago. Pulling my legs over the side of the bed, I shivered as the freezing stone floor met my bare feet.

"I'm a fool," I whispered to myself, berating my indulgence in lustful thoughts of Lancelot. As I reached for my dressing gown draped over the nearby chair, I couldn't help but recall the way he protected me from the unicorn. It wasn't just lust what I felt for Lancelot, it was...

"Enough!" I chastised myself, tying the belt around my waist tightly, as if it could keep my desires at bay. "I mustn't allow these feelings to control me."

My heart raced with a mix of fear and yearning, knowing full well the consequences of giving in to my attraction towards Lancelot. It would not only jeopardise my marriage to Arthur but also put the safety of Avalon and its people in peril. Resolute, I decided to keep my distance from Lancelot, no matter how much it pained me to do so.

"Your feelings don't matter, Guinevere," I thought bitterly, making my way towards the door. "You have responsibilities greater than your own happiness."

No sooner had I made this decision when a knock sounded at my door, startling me from my thoughts. With a deep breath, I composed myself and called out, "Enter."

A nervous-looking servant stepped into the room, her eyes flickering over my dishevelled appearance before quickly looking away. "Your Majesty, King Arthur has summoned you to the Throne Room. He said it was urgent."

"Did he say what it was about?" I asked, my heart pounding in my chest as my fears threatened to overwhelm me. What if Arthur had discovered our secret? Would he punish me? Had Lancelot betrayed my trust?

"No, Your Majesty," the servant replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Very well," I said, forcing a calm tone I didn't feel. "I shall be there shortly."

As the servant left and closed the door behind her, I took another deep breath, struggling to contain the panic that clawed at my insides. I hurriedly changed into a more suitable gown, all the while trying to quell the rising dread that threatened to consume me.

"Perhaps it is nothing," I told myself, gripping the edge of the vanity table for support. "Surely, Lancelot would not have told Arthur about the kiss. It must be about something else entirely."

Still, as I left my chambers and made my way through the grand corridors of Camelot towards the Throne Room, I couldn't shake the feeling that my world was about to come crashing down around me.