#dear gawain;

[liliesandthemoon]

Originally I planned for Chloe to start dating Gawain after the danchouskip (The 5 years he was away traveling with danchou), not having confessed none of them feelings for each other. But I just thought of a better plan in which one of them confess (the feelings are mutual), maybe even kiss during Gawain's flop era but knowing that's not going to work, they just move on with their lives, then Gawain gets exiled, when they are reunited then they can finally date.

[lefresne]

GAWAIN"S SON IS KIDNAPPED AND THEY LITERALLY NEVER FIND HIM OMGGGG

[longagoitwastuesday]

One thing about me is that I will stand by basically every bad deed of my favourite characters fully aware of them being bad deeds. I just don't care

[snowrosestudio]

When you go, your footprints will fill with grass. Moss shall cover your tombstone, and as the sun rises, green shall spread over all, in all its shades and hues. This verdigris will overtake your swords and your coins and your battlements and, try as you might, all you hold dear will succumb to it. Your skin, your bones. Your virtue - The Green Knight 2021

Portrait of Dev Patel in his role as Gawain in The Green Knight. Acrylic paint and embroidery floss on Cotton. 17 inches diameter.

[pajulammas]

[Chivalrous Devotion AU] Reference sheets for the knights!

Percival's off duty design was designed by @tillytilli!

The fic can be read here!

Twitter | Bluesky

More info under the cut!

Gawain:

From all the current Knights of the Round Table, 52-year-old Gawain has been by King Arthur's side the longest. In his loyalty to the king he's second only to Sir Lancelot. He is as stubborn as he is kind. He protects maidens as well as the poor and unfortunate, and he is a good friend to young knights. Gawain and Lancelot are very close. They have save each other's lives several times, and an unbreakable bond has formed between them. They always look out for each other, and they're unstoppable when fighting side by side. Lancelot trusts him so much that he was chosen first as one of Galahad's three godparents. Touched by this gesture, Gawain takes great pride in being Sir Galahad's godfather, and has grown quite fond of the young lad. However, King Arthur's sudden return has changed Lancelot's behavior. Gawain can't help but worry about his dear friend. Lancelot spends less time with his fellow knights, and instead spends every waking moment with the king. Gawain isn't sure how to feel. How will this affect their close friendship?

Percival:

At the young age of 14, Percival approached King Arthur and begged to be knighted. As knights were exclusively men and women usually only got to be knights' ladies, Percival had disguised herself as a boy to be able to reach her biggest dream: becoming a Knight of the Round Table. Arthur decided to give her a chance and let Sir Gawain take her under his wing, with Lancelot often accompanying them as well. Both of them were very impressed by Percival's skills despite her young age, and it didn't take long until she was knighted. Percival kept her gender a secret for a long time, but later in her twenties other knights found out about it. Percival was worried she wouldn't be allowed to be a knight anymore. While Gawain and Lancelot were surprised that the little lad they had been guiding was a girl instead, they were the first to defend her – they knew her skills the best. To their relief, Arthur noted that only a fool would banish a knight as good as Percival, and he is not a fool. Feeling forever in debt to the king for sparing her, Percival quickly became one of the most loyal knights, right after Lancelot and Gawain. While she may seem stoic at first, she's friendly towards other knights. When Lancelot eventually became a father, he asked Percival to be a godmother to his son Galahad. Percival agreed, wanting to be a mentor to the young boy in the way Gawain and Lancelot had been to her. She's very fond of him, and is very gentle and lenient towards him as opposed to his father's more strict approach to raising a child. While Percival has no need to hide her gender anymore, she still enjoys dressing in men's clothes and filling a role that is considered masculine. While she enjoys fighting, she's also very fond of rescuing damsels in distress. And whenever the Lady of the Lake needs the help of a knight, Percival is usually the first one to take on those missions – She's almost as loyal to Nimue as she is to Arthur.

Lamorak:

Sir Lamorak is known for his strength, speed, and fiery temper. He is competitive and rebellious, and sometimes it's difficult to tell if he's loyal to the king or not. However, he is appreciated for his charismatic personality and his habit of challenging other knights and helping them better themselves through the competitions he initiates. He and Sir Lancelot don't always see eye to eye, especially when their big egos clash often. Still, Lamorak has often helped Lancelot, who does trust him despite the hawk's rebellious attitude. He has even saved Lancelot a couple of times, so he was chosen to be Galahad's third godparent. Lamorak disagrees with Lancelot's strict upbringing. While Percival tries a more gentle approach to raising the humble Galahad, Lamorak often teaches him mischief and how to be more rebellious, much to Lancelot's chagrin.

[knightsofsomethingorother]

I asked my friend who isn't into Arthuriana for 1 sentence summaries of characters I've infodumped on him about

1- Lancelot

"A later addition to Arthurian lore (I think), he was raised under a lake by Catholic fairies and then became a devout, violent Catholic who had an affair with Guinevere."

2- Bedivere

"Your favorite knight, he had one hand (dear God, let me not be mixing up knights here) and was at the battle of Camlann with Arthur when he (Arthur) died."

3- Gawain

"The one who met and beheaded the Green Knight (upon said knight's request) and went on that whole quest where the Green Knight was going to return the blow after a year, although I really don't know all that much more about Gawain in particular--I read the Gawain and the Green Knight story when I was a kid, and hear there's a REALLY GOOD movie about it."

4- Morgan le Fay

"The Big Bad, she's some manner of magic-user (I think) and is generally scheming against Arthur and/or Camelot, although specifics escape me."

5- Merlin

"Young, hot wizard." <- said to torment me

"He's an old wizard and advisor to Arthur, much more of a Gandalf figure if anything... had something to do with the whole sword in the stone thing?" <- answer after threatened with 10,000 years prison

[starry-teacup]

Because of some cool art you made I want to dip my toe into the Mechanisms.

where do I find the story?

So I don't know how much you know about them, but the basics are:

The Mechanisms is a band in which each member has a persona. They are a crew of immortal space pirates, roaming the galaxy in search of violence, fun, and stories to tell. Each persona character can be referred to as a mechanism, as in a member of the crew, but they each also have a mechanism, a clockwork prosthetic of some sort that was installed after they each had their own tragic story and made them immortal.

When they find a good, long, juicy tragedy, they turn it into an album. They also have two anthology albums, with some songs connecting to the wider stories and some completely independent of them, and a couple containing mechanisms lore. Their last album is from the live show of their final performance.

All of these albums stand on their own, and there is no particular order you need to listen to them in. They each contain characters and places from classic stories, putting unique sci-fi spins on them all and following queer narratives. I'd say bury your gays, but honestly, it's more like bury your gays and the entire planet they lived on, along with everything they ever held dear.

here's a summary of each, stolen from the mechs blurbs themselves:

Once Upon a Time (In Space)-

This tale tells of those embroiled in the rebellion against the tyrant of New Constantinople, Old King Cole. It tells of the love of Cinders for her captured Rose, of the treatment of Rose at the hands of Cole's genetic scientists, and of the bold but savage leadership of the rebel General Snow. And it tells of the final fates of all of these.

fairy tale but make it a rebellion. their first album, contains many of their most popular songs. solid. not personally one of my favorites, but the one I'm most likely to be listening to a song from on any given day. our boy jack and pump shanty are excellent.

High Noon Over Camelot-

A tale of hope and despair aboard the Fort Galfridian, long lost to the outside world, where the chaos of centuries of solitude has been brought in check at last by the guns of the Pendragon Gang. But the visions of the mad prophet Galahad, and the schemes of the Pendragons' lieutenants Mordred and Gawain, threaten to cast the station back into anarchy. And all the while, the Sun grows hotter...

arthurian legend has just become a space westerner in which everyone rides motorcycles and a fiery death threatens them all. haven't listened to it yet, but I've heard great things. Blood and Whiskey is a banger, and Arthur, Lancelot, and Guinevere are in a polycule, something I didn't know I needed until I heard it suggested.

Ulysses Dies At Dawn-

Ulysses Dies at Dawn. That's the word on the street, at any rate, if you talk to anyone who saw what went down at Calypso's Bar the other night. Who is behind the thuggish band known as the Suits - Heracles, Ariadne and the others? What is Ulysses's secret? And what is hidden within the security of the Vault?

I'm going to be completely honest with you. I think this is no-contest their best album. It's greek mythology in noir film style, with heavy usage of blues and rock. I don't even like blues, but I love each and every song. This one is also a little easier to follow than the others. I'd recommend starting here.

The Bifrost Incident-

The Bifrost Incident. Any schoolchild could tell you about it. The fall of the old order; two hundred years of Asgardian hubris come together in a single epoch-defining event. The maiden voyage of a train through the stars, vanished without a trace...

Remember how I think the last one was the best one? Well, this is still my favorite. Norse mythology framed as a mystery on a train, with a twist completely out of left field that leaves you reeling. Thus, it is probably the most difficult to follow, or at least, it was for me. The art you liked-which wasn't mine, unfortunately, credit to the artists is on the post if you want to check those blogs out-featured variations of the narrator from this album. let's just say I'm. not so normal about them.

well. ANYWAYS. this was...probably longer than what you wanted. Or than what I should have given. I don't get asks a lot and an excuse to talk about the mechanisms is always something I am willing to abuse.

If you do end up listening to any of their music, please tell me what you think! I'd love to hear it, and it's always nice to talk about them with someone else :)

[bu4ch]

a reimagining of a piece from a few years ago that's still near & dear to my heart

inspired by the green knight (2021), dir. david lowery pieces the beheading of saint john the baptist (1869), pierre-cécile puvis de chavannes american psycho (2000), dir. mary harron [horsemen and hounds chasing fox across english countryside] (1796), anon halo from an icon cover (10/11th cent), anon forest interior with a painter, civita castellana (1825-1830), andré giroux [sir gawain and the green knight], cotton nero a.x. manuscript (14/15th cent), anon (known as the "gawain poet") kjv1611 typeface

[talesfromtheenchantedforest]

god I love 1) Gawain and Guenevere being friends 2) Guenevere being the smartest ever always and also the only one who can keep Gawain from murdering his fellow knights

And the king, who saw clearly that he [Gawain] was angry at them [the older knights], looked at the queen and said to her, "Appeal to him, my lady, I beseech you, and it is my will." "Gladly, sir," she answered. Then the queen took him by the hand and said to him, "Dear nephew, do not be angry, for anger has blinded many a man and has made the wise seem foolish for as long as the wrath lasts. Now believe me and do as I beseech you, an the king as well, for it is for the sake of your honor and worth. How well you know that this land is in sorrow and has been scourged by the Saxons! Here there are but few of you, but I'll tell you what you should think about doing: you should be faithful and love one another and help one another against all others, and if your enemies come to fall upon you, you should be hard and fierce against them, but not against those who tomorrow might give themselves to be maimed or slain for the sake of my lord, who is here, and myself. And all for one ma thing they have done in their folly, would you deprive me of them? So forgive them, dear nephew, I beg you, as does the king your uncle, who is deeply distressed by it." And Sir Gawainet looked at her and began to smile because of the speech she had given him, and he answered, "My lady, my lady, anyone who will learn from you can learn a great deal. And blessed be God for making such as you and for granting us the company of such a good and noble lady. And my lord the king may well boast that, if you live a full life, you will be the wisest lady alive — indeed, you already are, I believe! And do you know what you have won in this? You may do with me whatever you will, unless it bring shame to me or my lord the king."

— The Story of Merlin, Chapter 39, trans. Rupert T. Pickens

[muiitoloko]

Hi dear 🤗 I really enjoy your Harry Hart series 😍. I was thinking if you could write more jelaous Harry - maybe there's a rookie at Kingsman who got a crush on Bedivere and is really flirty with her and Harry can't stand that, and can't fire him because the rookie is pretty good at his job. I hope it doesn't look chaotic 😉 take care and thanks ☺️

Author's Notes: You're lucky, I had already written something like this, I just had to change some, I can't say if it's good, but I hope it's to your liking. Thank you very much for your order ❤️ and I hope you are well, please let me know if you have any other requests. 🤗

Title: Secret Messages

Summary: In the secret world of Kingsman, Arthur, also known as Harry Hart, secretly watches as the charismatic recruit Gawain captures the attention of his beloved Bedivere. Consumed by jealousy, Arthur engages in a forbidden and explicit exchange of messages with Bedivere during a mission briefing.

Pairing: Harry Hart ( Kingsman) × Fem!Reader.

Warnings: Explicit content (but not too explicit), jealousy and possessiveness.

Inside the prestigious halls of Kingsman, Harry Hart, codenamed Arthur, sat in his office, his brow furrowed in frustration. He watched through his one good eye as the new recruit, Gawain, a charismatic Londoner with striking red hair and captivating blue eyes, engaged in light banter with Bedivere.

Bedivere, the agency's highly skilled field agent, had secretly been in a relationship with Harry for some time now. Their love had blossomed in the shadows of espionage, a forbidden romance in the world of Kingsman. Harry was deeply enamored with you, but he was also fiercely possessive, especially when it came to other men, like Gawain.

Gawain had quickly made a name for himself in the agency with his remarkable skills and charming personality. But it wasn't just his talent that had caught your attention; it was his charisma, the way he effortlessly flirted with you, making you laugh and blush.

Harry couldn't bear to see your reactions to Gawain's advances. He knew you had a playful, flirtatious nature, but it was different with Gawain. You exchanged teasing remarks and knowing glances, and Harry despised every moment of it.

As he sat in his office, Harry clenched his fists, feeling a wave of jealousy wash over him. He knew he couldn't fire Gawain; the man was simply too good at his job. But that didn't stop Harry from wishing he could remove him from the equation.

He watched you from afar, Gawain and Bedivere, who seemed to have known each other for years instead of mere weeks. Your laughter echoed through the hallways, and Harry's heart twisted with jealousy and insecurity.

In a moment of frustration, Harry sighed and muttered to himself, "Bloody hell, Bedivere. Why does it have to be him?" He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples, trying to calm his racing thoughts.

Outside his office, the playful banter continued. Bedivere and Gawain seemed to be sharing some inside joke, and their camaraderie was undeniable. Harry knew that you were just being yourself, a natural flirt with a magnetic personality, but he couldn't help feeling like he was losing you to Gawain's charms.

Deep down, Harry knew he had to trust you, to have faith in your love. But the green monster of jealousy was a formidable adversary, and it clung to him like a shadow.

As he contemplated his next move, Harry couldn't help but wonder how he could compete with a man like Gawain. He was older than you, and the scar over his missing eye had always made him feel self-conscious, despite your reassurances. But Harry also knew that love had a way of transcending insecurities, and he was willing to fight for your relationship, even if it meant confronting his own demons.

During a meeting, Harry's frustration grew as he watched Bedivere and Gawain exchange playful remarks and flirtatious glances. He knew he had to remind you who you belonged to, and the idea of using your secret connection through your Kingsman glasses appealed to him.

Merlin was speaking about a crucial mission, and Harry took a moment to pretend to focus on the matter at hand. Meanwhile, he discreetly activated the private message feed within his glasses.

With a virtual keyboard appearing on the lens of his glasses, Harry began to type, his one good eye narrowing with determination:

Arthur: You know, my dear, it's hard to concentrate in this meeting when all I can think about is you.

He sent the message and watched as your eyes widened slightly, your cheeks flushing as you read it. Harry pretended not to notice your reaction as he joined the discussion.

Merlin continued briefing the agents, and Harry found a moment to send another message:

Arthur: Do you remember that day in my office, when you were on your knees?

You bit your lip, a hint of desire in your eyes as you read his message. You decided to play along:

Bedivere: Oh, I remember it very well. Such a naughty girl, wasn't I?

Harry smirked, his one eye dancing on the virtual keyboard:

Arthur: You were. And it turns me on just thinking about it. I wish I could feel your lips on me right now.

You shifted in your seat, your gaze locked on your Kingsman glasses as you typed:

Bedivere: You're a wicked man, Harry. But I like it.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle inwardly. The meeting continued, but your secret conversation escalated:

Arthur: You like it when I'm wicked, don't you, my little temptress?

Bedivere: Yes, I do. I like it very much.

Arthur: Good. Because I have a little surprise for you.

Your curiosity was piqued, and you couldn't resist:

Bedivere: Oh? What kind of surprise, Arthur?

Without a word, Harry sent a private video feed from his glasses. It displayed a recording of your intimate encounter in his office a few weeks ago. The explicit video showed you pleasing him in ways that left nothing to the imagination.

As you watched the video, your breath hitched, and your cheeks flushed crimson. You discreetly adjusted yourself in your seat, trying to maintain your composure during the meeting.

Harry continued to send you dirty messages, describing in explicit detail what he wanted to do to you once the meeting was over. You responded eagerly, your words filled with desire and longing.

Despite the serious mission being discussed, the two lovers indulged in their secret exchange, their desire growing with every message sent. Their forbidden love was a thrilling secret, one that added an electrifying edge to their dangerous world of espionage.

Meanwhile, Merlin carried on with the meeting, completely unaware of the heated exchange happening right under his nose.

After the meeting ended, Harry and Bedivere discreetly left the conference room, heading towards the Kingsman tailor shop, downstairs. The tension between them, fueled by secret messages and shared desire, was palpable. Harry's jealousy lit a possessive fire within him, and he needed to remind you who you belonged to.

Once inside the tailor shop, Harry wasted no time. He pushed Bedivere against one of the changing tables, his lips crashing down on yours in a demanding kiss. His hands roamed your body, gripping your waist with a possessiveness that left no room for doubt.

Bedivere responded eagerly, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kissed him back with equal fervor. You could taste him, his hunger for you, and it sent shivers down your spine. Harry’s hold on you was intoxicating and you loved it.

Your mouths moved hungrily against each other, your tongues dancing in a passionate tango. Harry's one good eye bore into yours, filled with a possessive intensity that left you breathless. He knew you flirted with others, but he needed to remind you that you belonged to him, and only him.

Breaking the kiss, Harry trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin. You moaned softly, your grip on him tightening. You had told him countless times that your playful flirting was just that - playful. Your heart and desires were reserved solely for Harry.

"Harry," you whispered, your voice filled with need. "You know you're the only one I want. Always."

Harry's possessive grip on you tightened, and he growled softly against your ear. "Say it again," he demanded, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

"I want only you, my King," Bedivere breathed, her words filled with sincerity.

Satisfied with your response, Harry continued to ravish you with his kisses, his hands exploring every inch of your body as if he wanted to imprint his ownership on you. Bedivere surrendered willingly, lost in the passionate whirlwind of your forbidden love.

In that moment, you both knew that despite the challenges and jealousies that came with your secret relationship, your love was a force that couldn't be denied. Harry Hart, the boss of Kingsman, and Bedivere, the charismatic field agent, were bound together by a love that defied rules and expectations, and you were willing to fight for it, no matter the cost.

[sanddef]

How Sir Lancelot met with King Arthur and Sir Gawain, and how war was decided.

1522 words

“Which of you did it?”

The hall went silent. The drab colors of a dove make the thing blend into the background. Perfectly still, break the silhouette, it becomes just another piece of noise. Gawain, in plain clothes, without his armor or family colors, was pulling off a similar effect. Like a nervous bird, he twitched in place, cocked his head. Lancelot would have thought he was nervous, that is, if his eyes weren’t so deadly focused. 

Arthur, to his credit, cleared his throat, seeming to regret taking the man with him. Tensions were high enough, what with his former champion and wife sitting across the table. “Gawain, this isn’t for-”

“I want to know,” Gawain cut him off. The fire crackled, a log fell sending a gust of embers up into the air. The damned castle just wouldn’t get warm. Lancelot had done all he could and still, the cold seemed to leak through every stone.

Was Joyous Gard ever befitting of its name? Perhaps once. Perhaps Lancelot would be too young to remember. Had Arthur ever been here in its heyday? Did he sit at Lancelot’s father’s table, share a story and good food and drink? Did Gawain? Young, reckless, brimming with energy that time hadn’t quite tempered but reshaped into something versatile and sharp. A hook that Lancelot felt in his heart now, Gawain’s eyes hadn’t left him since he had arrived. 

Lionel’s hand was on his sword. For all Lancelot’s pleading, he would not be persuaded to maintain the illusion of a peaceful meeting. Bors had conceded to him, but said he would be looking for the first sign of trouble.

“At the very least, I will protect your queen.”

Yes. A queen of very little now, but Lancelot’s queen always and forever. Lancelot and his kin finally stepped into their long-neglected kingships, and the phrase King Lancelot seemed foreign on his tongue. At the very least Arthur looked uncomfortable saying it.

“I want to know which of you killed my brothers,” Gawain repeated, was never one to back down.

“Does that really matter?” Arthur’s voice rang hollow now. The years were starting to catch up to him.

“I think it matters.” Gawain looked at Guinevere, Bors, Lionel, Lancelot. “I think my brothers were about the only thing in the world that mattered and I want to know which of you killed them. I want to know whose sword, whose hands.”

“Mine.” Lancelot spoke before Lionel could stop him, “Gawain- I’m sorry. If I had recognized them I wouldn’t have.”

“If you had recognized them it wouldn’t have mattered.” Gawain hissed, “Brave Sir Lancelot, dear agent of chivalry, my little Gareth would never raise a sword against you. I know he didn’t.”

Lancelot didn’t look at Bors, but he felt his eyes on him. The whole event was a blur, Lancelot honestly couldn't remember a thing. Bors had told him that the boy had nearly cut his arm off and Bors defended himself. This was just before he had informed him that he was dead. 

Lancelot didn’t care if he believed him. Gareth was dead regardless.

Arthur seemed to be losing hope that this diplomatic mission would do anything to prevent outright war. He let Gawain speak.

“Agravain hated you, Lancelot, I suppose you took your revenge on him. Or was it one of your kin? Indeed, I imagine neither of them have hands as unclean as yours.” Gawain’s eyes landed on Guinevere, “And all this for you, my lady. I pray to God nobody ever loves me that much.”

Guinevere looked him dead on. Lancelot hoped it was just nerves making his heart beat that way.

“You’ll turn to war, prince of Orkney? Gawain, people are going to die.” She said.

He opened his mouth to respond. Arthur stepped in, seeming relieved to get a word in edgewise, “I fail to see any other option. You kill my kin, steal my wife, I would be a fool not to respond.”

“We have nothing to offer you in recompense.” Lionel spoke up, “Everything we had was yours. Everything we have now I would rather not give up, especially if you can’t keep your nephew on a leash.”

Gawain snarled, pushing his chair back from the table, “You’re happy to say that armed, aren’t you?”

Lionel shrugged and didn't waver. Despite years of bad blood between the two men, Lionel was one of the few people Gawain could never manage to faze. Lancelot respected him for it. 

“We’re in exile.” Bors said, “Surely that’s enough. We’ll never bother you again.”

“And l just go home and tell my baby brother that our family died for nothing?” Gawain was shaking, Lancelot had never seen him so unraveled. “Damn you all. I’ll see you on the field. This doesn’t end until one of us is dead, Lancelot.”

He stormed out of the room, knocking over a chair and slamming the door as he left. Lancelot knew he wouldn’t wait for anyone, would mount Gringolet and be halfway back to Camelot in a day. He would begin rallying the troops, his golden tongue wouldn’t fail him there, and by the time Arthur returned the decision would have been made.

What a farce. War was certain the moment Guinevere was put at the stake.

Arthur just sat, looking down at the table. He hadn’t flinched when Gawain stood. He was not even particularly bothered by the way the decision had been made; waves of fate just swept him this way and that. No amount of plotting could prevent providence. The waves had delivered Mordred to safety long ago.

“Arthur, are you alright?” Guinevere asked, her face softened.

“I was just thinking how long it’s been since outright war.” Arthur said, gesturing to the empty space Gawain left behind, “How last time I was only a child. Allied with your fathers, against his. Old Bors and Ban, I pray they don’t see us now.”

“Has it really come to this?” Lancelot asked. He wasn’t expecting an answer. Hector would be finished taking inventory in an hour, the letters would be sent out, alliances made, and resources collected. Lancelot would lead his men into battle and hopefully never meet Arthur’s eyes again.

“I pray I don’t see you out there.” Arthur said, thinking the same way. “I pray if we must die, it would be a stray arrow, a squire’s javelin. I’m too old and tired to fight a former friend.”

“I don’t want to fight Gawain.” Lancelot said, thinking of the sword he had left in his room. He knew Gawain was well aware of the inscription on the hilt. Based on how he was acting, he didn’t seem to care.

“I know you love him.”

“Of course I love him.” Lancelot said, “Most of us in this room love him.”

“It’s remarkable,” Bors said, leaning back, “That you should continue loving one who hates you so grievously.”

“No amount of hate could make me stop loving him.”

The streams of Logres rushed by, interrupted by the striking of hooves. A still lake’s surface rippled. Waves at Orkney’s shore beat on. Somewhere, Rome was falling. Morgause’s two remaining sons would be deputies, and war would be at France’s borders in a matter of days. For all Lancelot knew, Mordred was already preparing.

Arthur finally stood, like an old, brittle tree, he had been hollowed out, but would quietly wait for his final storm. He looked to Guinevere, she looked back at him.

“I won’t be seeing you again.” He said, “You were a good queen.”

“But not a good wife. You were a good friend.” She replied.

Arthur smiled drily. “Lancelot, you would do well to take her advice. She knows the field well. I will miss having her as counsel.”

Once upon a time, Guinevere had been raised to be a king too. It was easy to forget until her expertise was needed.

“I have preparations to make. I’ll need to fill your seats at the table.” Arthur thought out loud, before wincing. The irony of having to take his pick from the Queen’s Knights wasn’t lost on him.

He left without another word. Seems the time for courtly pleasantries is finally over.

Bors touched Lancelot’s shoulder until he looked at him, “Do you think he hates us?”

Lionel snorted, “He has every reason to.”

“He just seemed- well he’s an odd sort.”

“It doesn’t really matter.”

“He does.” Guinevere broke in. “He’s never been the type to show it.”

“Not like Gawain.” Lionel said, “He’s going to give us trouble, that witch’s son.”

“He’s not going to poison us.” Lancelot said, “He would want to fight me.”

Bors frowned, “Even though he knows-”

“It doesn’t matter to him whether he lives or dies.” Lionel’s eyes widened in realization, “Dear lord.”

Leagues away, Gawain was riding. The scar at the back of his neck ached. It might be time to retire the sword and return to his weapon of choice; take the green axe off the mantle. To hell with what it symbolized, Gawain wanted something heavy. Besides, shame and pride mean nothing to a dead man. 

[lefresne]

Hi! Sorry for the silly questions but i would like to ask you ,what are yoy fave relationships in Arthuriana and wht^ (romantic ,platonic ,bitter enemies ,familial etch)

Have a Good day !

Hi what a fun and delightful question !! Honestly if it’s done well I can pretty much get behind anything but I do have a few relationships that really make me go crazy in the best way:

Arthur and Morgan: people who don’t understand why a woman who seemed hellbent on destroying Arthur might also be the one to comfort him as he dies just. don’t get it. Like that’s her baby brother!!!you can spend your life scheming against him and coming up with silly goofy plans to undermine him but at the end of the day that is your baby brother. When Malory has her say « dear brother why have you tarried so long away from me? » HELP???

Morgan and Guinevere: just. Fascinating relationship. In the vulgate cycle Morgan starts to suspect that Guinevere is having an affair with lancelot when she spots his ring because Morgan has the SAME RING (with minor differences) and it was also a gift from Guinevere. I’m speechless. these monks really said that morgan and guinevere exchanged love tokens at one point. « We were girls together » or however it goes. like. so true. they were girls together!!!

Gawain and Guinevere: Camelot mean girls. Agents of chaos. Having little parties and gossiping. Guinevere riding out alone to meet him in the knight of the two swords and embracing him and covering his face with kisses because she is so happy to see him…thats (platonic) love baybee!

Gawain and Lancelot: i believe they loved each other. Like I really do. I’d go as far as to call them soulmates but in a sort of fundamental way I can’t quite explain. Gawain wants to be a woman so he can be with lancelot! Gawain asks Lancelot to kill him! Gawain is DEVOTED to that man. Very compelling.

Lancelot and Guinevere: fascinated by all iterations of their relationship. It’s so complex and interesting. Like the power dynamic is so rich, especially when you think of Lancelot’s ambiguous relationship with gender. They do love each other, even when it’s difficult and it looks like they don’t. Their final parting in Malory is SO painful to read.

I think what these all have in common is that they make me reflect on the nature of love and how complicated and interesting love is, in all its forms!

Thank you for your question <3 and if anyone want to tell me all about their fave arthurian relationships they can <3

(Edit: I also forgot to put Perceval and his mother on the list!! I am obsessed with them)

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

What Else Ought There Be?

Summary: In which Gawain is one, if not the only true, silver lining in a never-ending cesspool of bodies, ale, and coin.

Pairing: Sir Gawain x prostitute!afab!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Content Warnings: PWP 18+!, Recurring Angst, Gawain Being Needy And Touch Starved, Body Worship, Oral (F Receiving), Hair Tugging, A Little Oral Fixation, Tongue Fucking, Slight Power Dynamics

A/N: Bouncing off the walls in my enclosure over him.

Tagging: @ohlookapan @ipetite69

Hold, hold my hand, dear love

Hold, hold my hand

Cold, cold the night has grown

No coin to ease my wandering

- Blome Swete Lilie Flour By Daniel Hart

A faint shriek bounced off the cold stonewalls down the hallway, followed by laughter and the creaking of an old well-used bed frame, before you closed the thick wooden door to save yourself a modicum of privacy. One might think that the whorehouses would be more empty around the sacred days of the coming of Christ, men spending their time with their actual families instead of wasting their coin and health for naked skin and ale, but that wasn’t even close to the reality of things.

The colder the winds outside grew, the more every knight and every squire bootlicking their way through the king’s high halls for a meager token of his gratitude sought warmth between an easy maiden's legs. All of them but one, a certain Sir Gawain straying from your sight for over an entire week by now, highly unlike him, the one always seeking you out for comfort and companionship at the next best opportunity opening up to him. He wouldn’t just leave you sitting here, tugging at the cloak around your shoulders to contain the fleeting warmth emitting from your skin. Not without good reason would he let you simmer in the nagging uncertainty of his whereabouts. Throughout the past nights, the landscape of your emotions had changed from confusion to anger fueled by worry and to render stuck in the valley of hollowing longing eventually.

Albeit him staying away, you weren’t lonely in the very sense of it, busy with earning your coin in the means to survive, spending your nights laying with whomever wanted to spend their time with you; relationshipless interactions, gold, and silver for bare skin and a faked climax. All these other men didn’t make you feel like he did when he was with you, not even remotely and you built up a wall of indifference to keep them out and away from your heart of hearts, to their loveless touch that searched to only satisfy them - not you. You were naught but a piece of meat for them to pass around, to each have their go at your body before you spent hours scrubbing their dirt from your thighs and tits and everywhere else they had decided they wanted to see you soiled.

A cold shiver ran down your spine as you thought about it, thought about going back out there into the fire pit and candle-lit tavern to entertain men you could hardly care any less about, passing time in the throes of alcohol, smoke, and the stench of sweat. Maybe you simply wouldn't tonight, perchance this ought to be the Christmas present from yourself to yourself, to take a night and recover, pour a big, hot tub and feel the warmth creep into every last nook and cranny and ravel in the-

You startled, back thudding against the harshly cut stones, as the door to your darkened room pushed open, the seam of a brightly mustard-colored tunic peaking through the gap before tufts of raven curls followed.

“Merry….Christmas?” The familiar voice quipped and you struggled to decide whether to pounce him to tear his eyes out or to kiss him, equal drive for both making you wince under your breath.

“Now, look what the cat dragged in.” The words slithered over your tongue in a sharp whisper, keeping Gawain to stop in the door frame for a brief moment, hesitating and quietly assessing how much damage his unprompted disappearance left in its wake.

The tall man bit down on his bottom lip, the scruff of his beard scratching along the delicate skin just like his teeth did before he eventually stepped into the damp and musty chamber, an aura of guilt following his every move.

“Would you hear me out and let me explain myself?” Dark eyes searched for yours as he stepped closer to the bed, arms crossed behind his back and brows slightly arched into an apologetic expression.

“It better be good, Gawain, or you can pay someone else to be your fool.” The way in which you had worded that stung both of you like the sharp prick of a sewing needle breaking through the first layers of skin; uncomfortable for sure, however, not severe enough to tear a wound.

At that, his shoulders dropped in defeat, the creaking of the closing door almost deafeningly shrill and distorted.

“Be assured that I did not know that I was to be sent out of town, else I would have told you, I promise.”, It rolled over his tongue in a sincere apology, “And I haven't come empty-handed, mylady.”

To finally see eye to eye with you, Gawain dropped to his knees entirely undemanded, right between your legs dangling off the bed frame, the gesture leaving you smitten, open to possible reconciliation if he kept this demeanor.

“Oh?” You couldn’t withhold a sly smile any longer for it tugged at the corners of your mouth quite restlessly.

“Dare I repeat myself? Merry Christmas.”, From crossed arms behind his back, Gawain unveiled a little package kept together by knotted cloth, keeping its contents safely stacked on top of itself, “I recall a little birdy tweeting and chirping all about mylady being particularly fond of a certain…treat.”

You exhaled heavily, eyes wanting to roll into the far back of your skull because he was so devastatingly charming that it was almost impossible to be actually mad with him for long.

“Is that so?”, You accepted his little gift, taking from his hand gently upholding the parcel for you, “Let's see.”

The very second his fingers weren't occupied with presenting the little pile of cloth and its curiosity-evoking contents, they darted out to palm at your calves first, his thumbs caressing along the muscle underneath your garments. Of course he did, always the one in unquenchable need to feel your skin close to his as soon as possible to the extent you sometimes wondered about it bordering on compulsion.

“Oh.” It jumped from your lips in positive surprise upon unwrapping the parcel, the cloth uncovering a delicate pile of pastries; green ribbons of leek in between puffy baked dough and crumbles of cheese.

That was indeed one way to apologize; culinary seduction before you could catch up to what nimble and slender fingers were doing to your legs, wandering up under layers of fabric until his palms warmed the insides of your thighs, having your breath hitching behind the root of your tongue.

“You are such a little weasel.”, He looked up with widened eyes and thick, knit-together brows, “Thinking that you can bribe me with pastry? Gawain…”

You could see it on his face, how his heart had dropped for a moment, the tender grasp at your thighs turning more intense as the worry of you just standing up and leaving had flitted through his ribcage before it all got shut down by your fingers reaching out to teasingly tug at his beard, raising his chin up high enough for him to look nowhere else than right at you.

“Just leaving me here without so much as a word? That's not nice, is it?” You led your thumb to trace the curve of his plush lips before carefully pushing past, his tongue meeting the pad of your thumb immediately as his mouth dropped agape to offer you entrance.

Gawain shook his head, agreeing with you before he tried to articulate another apology but you held his tongue down against the bottom of his jaw.

“No, no, no more words. You have to try harder than that, understand?” The question was met with a nod and a small whine rumbling free from his throat as you pulled your finger from his mouth and wiped the saliva-dampened tip on his cheek.

Without his slightly glazed-over eyes ever breaking from your gaze, Gawain bunched up the layers of your garments to reside draped around your waist before his lips started leaving a trail of kisses starting from your knee leading up your thigh.

You sensed the heat surging into your face with every new touch of his mouth against increasingly sensitive skin and your heart ached in unison; the certainty of having missed him enough to forgive him whatever had led him to stay away with the second he'd walked through that door didn't sit easy with you. He'd become important to you, perhaps too much so for this world didn't allow such a thing as permanence, especially not to someone like you.

Your breaths gradually flattened in anticipation as he inched closer with each tender peck and cheeky nip at your thigh, the immediate rise of warmly tingling arousal helping you to shush your reeling thoughts until it all went blank; the sensation of Gawain's tongue darting out to lap at your weeping cunt drowning everything else out radically.

Like a man starved from human touch for too long a time, the tender nudges of his tongue quickly turned into him burying his face amidst your legs, the bridge of his nose rubbing at your swollen clit as he pushed deeper, the dense muscle slithering inside, exploring you as if he hadn’t done it uncountable times before. It made you quiver, the way his fingers clawed into your flesh, unwilling to let you loose anytime soon.

Although he hardly admitted it out loud, Gawain needed you as much as you needed him. Both of you making each other feel less lost in a world wedged between gray-clouded skies and sopping wet hay on muddy streets.

A breathy sigh slipped from your mouth as you let your hand roam back, digging into his thick curls where your fingertips scraped over his scalp gently, coaxing a moan to spill from his chest and hum right through you.

“Don’t you ever do that again, Gawain, you hear me?” Only seconds after you’d uttered the words, you felt like biting down onto the tip of your tongue as if that would’ve made them unsaid again.

Quietly, you cursed yourself for being so helplessly fond of him but more so for showing it to him, making yourself needlessly vulnerable in a society in which you stood as an outcast already. There’d be no happy ending to this grand folly of yours for Gawain was meant to be a knight and you to end up dead in a disease-ridden ditch during a freezing cold winter's night, maybe 5 or perhaps 10 years down the road if you were lucky.

“Don’t you ever just leave again.” The words came coarse and with a sharp prickling of tears gathering at your lower lashline, emotions betraying, overwhelming as you grasped a fistful of his curls, tugging him impossibly closer to you.

Unable to properly vocalize an answer, Gawain palmed at your thighs all the harder, handling your knees onto his shoulders in a devout notion that you were in control; if you wanted to squeeze his face between your thighs, you simply could.

The thought didn’t linger too far off for a whim, a surge of anger proposing to hurt him to an equivalent his sudden absence had pained you, however, it wouldn’t have made any change for the better in the long run, quite the opposite, really. There wouldn’t be any satisfactory retribution hidden in senseless acts of violence.

Instead, you let your head loll back against the wall of stone towering behind you, eyes fluttering shut to gain back control over the threatening gush of hot tears waiting to spill free from your tear ducts. You didn’t want to cry, not right now and not in front of him either for it would only render everything even more complicated than it had gotten already.

It would’ve been ridiculous to cry now, Gawain set your whole body awash with pleasure, tongue prodding and curling inside of you as his nose caressed over your throbbing clit with each dip of his face amidst your legs; emotional dread and physical ecstasy dancing through you hand in hand, coming together to form a truly malevolent concoction.

“Don’t stop.” You mouthed into the darkened room, feeling how your lower abdomen grew more taut by the second, your insides clenching down around the nimbly moving muscle in increasingly more violent contractions.

Little embers of pleasure quickly set off an entire wildfire of blossoming bliss in the pit of your stomach, a rush of warmth rippling through your body, and you forced back a guttural whine, not wanting anybody to hear you in here because you refused to become just another voice in the never-ending cacophony of pretentious moans and play-pretend orgasms for someone else to get off to.

Gawain slowly halted in his ministrations, tongue tenderly guiding you through your release whilst lapping up the gush of wetness he’d pulled from your body. You heard him breathing heavily after he broke from you, a thoroughly dampened cheek resting against your thigh and nearly black eyes darting up at you. You squinted down at him in a half-lidded gaze, ribcage heaving heavily with a fading high.

“Oh, behold, a Christmas miracle?” You frowned at him whilst watching him roam around beneath his tunic, a little brown leather pouch emerging inside his palm moments later.

“Gawain?” You cocked your head to the side, eyeing the small thing, “What is that?”

“That’s for you but it mayhaps comes with a wee plea from yours truly.” He placed the pouch on the ruffles of your bunched-up dress, the soft yet distinct clinking of coin making your head shake immediately.

“No, no, no, no. I can’t take this. No way, Gawain.” Before you could push the pouch off your lap again, his hands darted up to cradle yours.

“I beg of you. Take it. It’s about a week's worth. Take it, please, take it and come with me for that week.”, With his spine back upright, he scooted closer, knees scruffing over the unforgiving floor until the wooden frame of the bed pushed into his torso, “I want to get away from here, with you, even if it’s just for a few days. You deserve it, we do.”

“Gawain…”

“Please. I beg of you.”

[morgana-le-dragon]

A challenge you can’t refuse

“You can’t do that.”

“I’m the queen, am I not?” Morgana grinned.

“You are, but-“

“Merlin, shut up.” She rolled her eyes, putting on her armor and grabbing her sword. “Where is he?”

“He’s downstairs.”

“Oh so he’s with everyone else?”

“Morgana, don’t do this-“

“Are you so afraid I’m gonna embarrass him?” She laughed, walking out of her chambers followed by the manservant. “He’d be offended to know you don’t trust his skills.”

“He knows I don’t trust his skills.” He laughed, following her down the stairs. “That doesn’t mean I want to see him humiliated in front of the knights.”

“Oh please, Merlin. You’d enjoy it more than me.” She grinned.

“I would, but I’m the one that will be dealt with the nastiest chores when he’s moody.”

“You’re such a whiner.” Morgana laughed, making her way out to the open yard where the sounds of swords clashing and men grunting filled the air.

They watched from afar for a moment, and when they considered the current scrimmage was about to be over they walked up to the crowd. They weren’t noticed at first, but soon enough those piercing blue eyes found his wife amongst his men, and a smile took over his face.

“Morgana! What are you doing here?” He asked and ran a hand through his disheveled blond hair.

“I’ve come to challenge you, my king.” She said in a teasing voice, stepping closer to him with a little smirk she knew he couldn’t resist. “I want to see how rusty my sword skills are.”

“Here and now?” Arthur asked, raising his eyebrows and looking at Merlin, who just shrugged.

“I warned her.”

“Come on, Arthur… you can’t be afraid of little me.” Morgana teased, looking up at ser Leon to encourage him on his usual banter with her husband.

“He’s probably too afraid that the queen will kick his ass.” The blond man promptly said, winking at her.

“I am not!” Arthur rolled his eyes. “I just don’t see the benefit in fighting you, dear.”

“You are scared.” She smirked. “I know you remember when I beat you all those years ago, but-”

“I’m not scared of you, and you never beat me.”

“Oh really…” she smiled, walking slowly around him, her teasing eyes focused on his. “Then you wouldn’t mind it to have a fun little scrimmage against me in front of everyone… I mean, you’re clearly going to beat me.”

“I would, but I don’t want the knights to see me defeating their queen with so much easiness.” He said with some arrogance, making her roll her eyes and nod at his sword.

“Pick it up.”

“No.”

“Pick it up, Arthur.”

“I wont, Morgana.”

“Coward.” She said and smirked when the knights whistled and started whispering around them. “Did you hear that, Sir Leon? Your king refuses to scrimmage against me.”

“I heard that, my lady.” He smirked, knowing full well that Morgana wanted to get under Arthur’s skin.

“Would you accept my challenge instead?” she said and walked to him, lifting her sword and pressing the tip to the man’s chest with a playful look on her face.

“I will gladly-”

“Hey, you can’t fight your queen!” Arthur said and walked next to them, smacking the back of Leon’s head with his hand.

“I’m sorry, my king… but if the queen makes a request, it is our duty to comply.” He said and Morgana laughed, looking at him with a pleased smile.

“Don’t you dare.” He said again when Morgana and Leon got in position for a swordfight, with the other knights made room for them. “You are not to fight my wife.”

“Why not?” Morgana asked and he scoffed.

“Because you’re the queen!”

“And you’re the king, which is why I asked you first.” She raised her eyebrow and he sighed, making her look around at the knights with a triumphant smirk, knowing that she had won.

“One match.” Arthur conceded.

“That’s all I ask for.” She nodded and then took a step back, feeling the weight of her sword in her hand.

“Two pieces of silver on the queen beating his royal ass.” Gawain said to Leon, who laughed.

“Oh for sure.”

“Ready, husband?” Morgana asked, watching how Arthur took his time to get ready.

“You still have time to change your mind.” He responded and she laughed, charging at him without mercy.

“Why did you do it?” Arthur asked later that night while they laid in bed.

“What?”

“Challenge me like that in front of the knights.”

“It was for fun, Arthur.” She smiled, kissing his bare chest and looking up at him. “They’re your friends and know who you are. I was only looking for some fun.”

“Well, I hope you’re happy.” He rolled his eyes and she smiled, leaning up to kiss the bruise on his jaw and the small cut on his lip.

“I am.” She whispered, cradling his jaw with her right hand. “I didn’t mean for you to trip and fall… my plan was to win fair and square.” She smiled teasingly and he scoffed.

“I guess you’re gonna have to come and challenge me again tomorrow.” He said and she smiled widely.

“Whatever my king commands.” She agreed and kissed his lips slowly.

[arthurian-texts]

There’s a scene in Chretien’s Knight of the Cart that’s absolutely crucial for how I see Gawain and Arthur’s relationship, one that probably sticks in my mind more than any other for how subtly and succinctly it captures so many complexities of their dynamic.

For context, this is right after Arthur agrees to let Guinevere go into a quite obvious trap (which ultimately leads to Guinevere’s abduction by Meleagant) with only Kay for protection, simply because he’d promised to grant whatever Kay asked. We’re told that “there was no one who was not upset” at this decision, but no one dares openly stop it or contradict Arthur - who is, after all, the king.

And it’s then that we get this crucial exchange:

No one’s grief was strong enough to prompt him to follow after her until Sir Gawain addressed the king, his uncle, in private. “Lord, you have behaved like a child, and I am astonished,” he said. “But if you heed my counsel, then while they are still near, we shall follow them, you and I, along with any others who wish to come there. As for me, I could not hold back from racing after them. It would be wrong for us not to follow them, at least until we know what will happen to the queen, and how Kay will behave.”

“Let us set off, dear nephew,” the king replied. “You have spoken courteously now. Since you have taken this matter into your hands, have the horses bridled, saddled, and led out that we may mount without delay.”

There’s always a very delicate balance Gawain is walking in how he interacts with Arthur, and you see it even in how the relationship is described here: the king, his uncle. On one hand, Arthur is Gawain’s relative, which gives him a certain leeway to treat him, if not quite as an equal, certainly much closer to it than most people could dare. But on the other hand, Arthur is the king, Gawain’s king, and questioning his authority too strongly would be considered unacceptable.

And I think you see that balance in such a fascinating way here. We’re told that everyone was unhappy with Arthur’s decision, but only Gawain dares to say so. Not only that, he basically tears into Arthur in incredibly strong terms: “You have behaved like a child, and I am astonished.” Clearly, Gawain feels confident that he’s earned the right to speak his mind to Arthur - to give him a piece of his mind, really, in this scene - and he doesn’t seem remotely afraid that there might be consequences for doing so.

But. But. Notice that crucial little detail there: in private. Gawain very pointedly waits to say anything about this until he and Arthur are alone. In public, around the other knights, Gawain doesn’t say a single word to contradict Arthur’s decision. In private, he tells him he’s acted like a child.

I’m reminded of a post I wrote a while ago about Game of Thrones, pointing out that Jon and Daenerys both make a distinction between being criticized in public and in private. Daenerys tells Jorah and Ser Barristan: “You’re both here to advise me. I value your advice. But if you ever question me in front of strangers again, you’ll be advising someone else.” And similarly after being crowned King in the North, Jon tells Sansa: “You are my sister, but I am king now. When you question my decisions in front of the other lords and ladies, you undermine me.” (Emphasis mine.) In both cases, I think the point was pretty clearly not ‘You cannot criticize me’, but rather ‘You cannot publicly undermine my authority’.

Arthur doesn’t need to tell Gawain this. Gawain knows. And I think you get a powerful sense of the trust between them from this short moment: Gawain trusts that he can speak his mind freely to Arthur without consequences, but he waits to do so until it’s just the two of them. In return, Arthur doesn’t stand on his ego but listens humbly and accepts Gawain’s criticism. I think it’s particularly fascinating that he tells Gawain he’s spoken courteously. On the face of it, “You have behaved like a child, and I am astonished” doesn’t sound remotely courteous - it sounds downright rude, in fact. And yet Arthur clearly doesn’t think so. He not only admits that Gawain is right, he endorses the way he said it as correct and praiseworthy.

I think that’s a great demonstration of how Gawain’s courtesy isn’t just a synonym for “polite”: it’s about his ability to follow social codes for correct behavior. Here, the measure of his courtesy isn’t that he always minces words, but that he understands when it is and isn’t acceptable to speak bluntly.

And I think it’s telling, too, that even when he’s basically telling Arthur off, he still addresses him formally as “Lord”. That might seem like a meaningless formality when the rest of what he’s saying seems anything but respectful, but I don’t think it is. I think it’s a constant reminder that Gawain never forgets Arthur is his king, or the respect that’s due to him, even when he’s openly questioning his decisions. He might seem harsh, but yet it's always tempered by a fundamental deference and he's careful never to overstep those lines.

He knows his place, not in the sense of being a doormat, but in the most literal sense of understanding the multiple - in some ways conflicting - roles he occupies and the expectations thereof: As Arthur's nephew, his knight, his subject, his advisor and right-hand man, arguably his friend and/or surrogate son (or brother, depending on your interpretation) as well. The fact that he manages to thread that needle so well is a testament to just how intelligent and socially adept he is, and the fact that Arthur gives him leave to speak his mind so bluntly to him in private is a huge testament to the mutual trust and respect between them.

[howaboutswords]

Such sorrow our splendid sovereign never knew,

Nor was his spirit ever sunk as by that single sight.

The good King gazed, gripped with horror,

Groaned gruesomely, wept gouts of tears,

Bent kneeling to the body, embraced it,

Cast up his visor, quickly kissed Gawain,

Looked at his eyelids, now locked fast shut,

His lips like lead and his complexion pallid,

And then, crowned king, cried aloud:

'Dear cousin and kinsman, in care I am left,

For now my glory is gone, and my great wars finished.

I hold here my hope of joy and armed success;

Wholly on him depended my heart and strength!

O my counsellor, my comfort, keeper of my heart,

Renowned king of all knights ever known under Christ!

Worthy to be king, though I wore the crown!

Throughout the wide world my wealth and my glory

Were won by Gawain, through his wisdom alone.

Alas!' cried the King, 'my grief grows now;

I am utterly undone in my own country.

Ah, dire and dreadful death, you delay too long!

Why spin out so slowly? You smother my heart!'

- Arthur mourns on finding Gawain and his troops dead in the alliterative Morte Arthure, lines 3947-3968, translated by Brian Stone.