Gawain confesses

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Before we begin, please set your Mordred's appearance. Eyes: <<cycle "$eye">> <<option "green eyes" "green">> <<option "blue eyes" "blue">> <<option "gray eyes" "gray">> <<option "brown eyes" "brown">> <<option "hazel eyes" "hazel">> <<option "violet eyes" "violet">> <<option "black eyes" "black">> <<option "amber eyes" "amber">> <</cycle>> Hair color: <<cycle "$hair">> <<option "dark brown, deep and rich and almost black." "dark brown">> <<option "chestnut brown, dark and lush." "chestnut brown">> <<option "light brown like honey." "light brown">> <<option "lush, dark blond." "dark blonde">> <<option "icy blond, cool and lush." "icy blonde">> <<option "golden blond, warm and lush." "golden blonde">> <<option "auburn, deep red." "auburn">> <<option "copper red, fiery." "copper red">> <<option "pure black like the midnight sky." "black">> <</cycle>> Hair type: <<cycle "$hair_type">> <<option "straight" "straight">> <<option "wavy" "wavy">> <<option "curly" "curly">> <<option "coily with corkscrew coils" "coilycurls">> <<option "coily and cloudlike" "coily">> <</cycle>> Complexion: <<cycle "$complexion">> <<option "ivory" "ivory">> <<option "warm beige" "warm beige">> <<option "cool beige" "cool beige">> <<option "rosy" "rosy">> <<option "tawny" "tawny">> <<option "olive" "olive">> <<option "light brown" "light brown">> <<option "sepia brown" "sepia brown">> <<option "golden brown" "golden brown">> <<option "russet brown" "russet brown">> <<option "dark brown" "dark brown">> <<option "warm black" "warm black">> <<option "cool black" "cool black">> <<option "deep black" "deep black">> <</cycle>> Mordred's agab (at this point in the story, trans Mordred is not yet out): <<cycle "$gender">> <<option "male" "male">> <<option "female" "female">> <</cycle>> [[Next, some questions about your Mordred's personality and choices|SetMordred]]

<div class="titlelettersone" style='font-size: 100%;'>Llamagirl</div>

<<set $eye = "unknown">> <<set $hair = "unknown">> <<set $gender = "unknown">> <<set $magic = 50>> <<set $swordsmanship = 0>> <<set $persuasion = 50>> <<set $intimidation = 50>> <<set $deceit = 50>> <<set $independent = 50>> <<set $pendragon_magic = "1">> <<set $water_magic = 50>> <<set $honest = 50>> <<set $confident = 50>> <<set $impulsive = 50>> <<set $calm = 50>> <<set $kind = 50>> <<set $defiant = 50>> <<set $emotional = 50>> <<set $affable = 50>> <<set $complexion = "none">> <<set $age = "a few days old">> <<set $controlled_magic = 50>> <<set $hair_type = "no">> <<set $confess to false>> <<set $confess_nervous to false>> <<set $sing to false>> <<set $gawain_confess to false>> <<set $bracelet to false>>

<<link "Stats" "stats">><</link>> <<link "Credits">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Credits"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("credits").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>>

Name: Known as Mordred Leudonus of Lothia - but more often than not called Mordred Le Fay Age: You are 12 years old. //A description of your likeness// You have $eye eyes, much like your parents, $hair $hair_type hair alike your mother's, Morgana and $complexion complexion like your father's, Arthur. <<link "« Return to game" $return>><</link>>

<a href="https://nyehilism.itch.io/twine-template/">Twine Sugarcube Template</a> <a href="https://www.motoslave.net/sugarcube/2/docs/">Sugarcube 2 Documentation</a> <a href="https://github.com/ChapelR/custom-macros-for-sugarcube-2">Chapel - custom macros collection</a> <a href="https://github.com/cyrusfirheir/cycy-wrote-custom-macros">Cycy's custom macros</a> <a href="https://unsplash.com/">Unsplash</a> for sidebar images (<a href="https://unsplash.com/photos/P8LZaU52NME">light mode</a> and <a href="https://unsplash.com/photos/pDKoVuXYKxU">dark mode</a>)

<div class="titlelettersone" style='font-size: 150%;'>The Bastard of Camelot</div>

<<silently>> <<if $gender == "male">> <<set $pgen to 0, $child to "child">> <<elseif $gender == "female">> <<set $pgen to 1, $child to "child">> <</if>> <</silently>> Was Mordred planning on confessing to Gawain, or did the latter come to share his feelings? <div class="choice">[[Mordred was planning on confessing.|NextQuestion0.1][$confess to true]]</div> <div class="choice">[[Gawain was planning on confessing.|NextQuestion][$gawain_confess to true]]</div> <div class="choice">[[They both confessed.|NextQuestion0.1][$confess to true, $gawain_confess to true]]</div>

Did Mordred buy Gawain the bracelet? <div class="choice">[[Yes.|NextQuestion1][$bracelet to true]]</div> <div class="choice">[[No.|NextQuestion1][$bracelet to false]]</div>

<<if $gawain_confess is true>> Does Mordred play the lute? <div class="choice">[[Yes.|NextQuestion2][$sing to true]]</div> <div class="choice">[[No.|NextQuestion2][$sing to false]]</div> <<else>> <<if $gawain_confess is true and $confess is true>> [[On to the story!|StartBothConfess]] <<elseif $gawain_confess is true>> [[On to the story!|StartGawainConfess]] <<else>> [[On to the story!|StartMordredConfess]] <</if>> <</if>>

That morning, Gawain woke up to one single thought buzzing on his mind: today, he was going to confess to Mordred. He leapt out of bed, feeling as light and lithe as a butterfly. Galahad, already well-awake, looked on at him in surprise from his perch by the window. "You're up early," he remarked. "And without help." The surprise was understandable. Most mornings, it was Gally who had to bid him get out of bed, an endeavor that Gawain went about drowsily and unhurriedly. But this morning wasn't just any morning. He bounded to the window and jumped up opposite him. Beyond the glass, the world was slowly stirring. The rising sun painted the sky a soft, beautiful pink and bathed everything underneath its rosy canopy in gentle light. The scenery was as if touched by magic - a place where faeries may come and play. The pink-soaked clouds looked like woolly beds, and Gawain wished he could fly up to them with Ariawen and nestle in their puffiness. Of course, he knew clouds were nothing like a mattress or fleece: they were neither sturdy or fluffy, but wet and vaporous and not a place where one might rest. They were perfect to flit through with Aria, though. Gawain grinned at his friend. "I'm too excited for sleep." Galahad did not return the smile. "Does this have anything to do with...Mordred?" "Yes!" Then Gawain hesitated, studying Gally's flinty expression. He did not approve of Gawain's affection - or rather, the focus of it. A fact he'd made abundantly clear. He'd called Mordred dangerous and dubious and untrustworthy, and someone he should have his guard up around, like him. He pleaded with Gawain to be careful, saying he feared his new //friend// might end up trying to take advantage of his sweet nature. Gawain just shook his head at all of it; he could see Gally was worried, and appreciated his concern and where it welled from, but this was a matter he simply could not agree with him on. His parents had told him how unjust a view people cast on Mordred, through no fault of ?theirs. How could Gawain then do the same cruel thing to ?them? Mordred was amazing and one day, Gally would see that too. At least for the moment, he'd mostly stopped dissuading him from the friendship or warning him to be wary. Even now, he swallowed what must have been a protestation and inquired, as gently as he did about anything else that Gawain cared about: "So you're going to confess through the poem?" He nodded enthusiastically. "Yes. And with flowers. My parent said, always bring flowers." A shadow of a smile played over Galahad lips. It faded quickly, replaced by a small furrow in his brow. Yet he still didn't voice his concerns. "I promised I'd meet Mordred around noon," Gawain continued, stalwart in his bright demeanor. "We could take a look at the fair together before that." This time, Gally's smile was more than a flitting sketch. He nodded. Gawain jumped to his feet. "Let's get ready then!" Galahad was done with preparations quickly; he moved with an efficacy he made look so effortless. Swift, but not urgent or rushed; every motion as practiced and disciplined as a sword strike. He washed his face and put on simple but elegant garments that looked as if plucked directly from an ironing board. All of Gally's clothes - worn or yet unworn - where neatly folded and stacked, while the ones Gawain had so far used at the tournament were strewn and discarded about the chamber. He loved his clothes very dearly, but he'd never been fond of //folding//. Still, he kept his fancier garbs at the bottom of the trunk, where they were well-protected. He shook out one such costume - a jerkin and cape of gleeful, sunflower yellow - and inspected it with a critical eye. It was an important ocassion, and he needed to look his best. He took out a couple more - one pumpink orange and lined with deep green buttons, the other a soft cerulean - and puzzled over them as if presented with one of those intricate riddle boxes. This matter, however, was far easier to solve. The yellow garb was the most cheerful of them all, and he especially fancied the cut of it. Galahad waited patiently as he slipped it on, combed through his fluffy brown hair and sprayed himself with a dash of perfume - lily of the valley, sweet and fresh and a delight to breath in. He was almost ready. Before they left, Gawain tenderly folded the piece of paper that'd been sitting on his bedside table and slid it in a pocket - keeping it close to his heart. Well, not literally, since it was on the opposite side of the chest, but certainly in spirit. He finished it last afternoon, seated at the table in his parents' quarters, furiously munching on butter-and-jam biscuits. It looked so innocuous a thing, yet he'd poured all his feelings into the words contained within. [[To the fair|GalahadFairConfess]]

That morning, Gawain was finally allowed to languish in bed till the gentle caress of sunshine stirred him awake. He came to slowly, twisting and stretching and tangling himself in the sheets. Through fluttering lashes he saw Galahad perched by the window, waiting for him. Past him, he saw a framed patch of clear blue sky, the kind that looked like a calm sea you might sink into and float without a care. It was the most he got to sleep into the morning since they arrived in Lothia. It wasn't even late as far as mornings went, but being a squire at a tournament required he woke up when the sun was barely rousing itself, when the shadows were still deep and the sky blushing pink. Gawain rolled out of bed and shuffled to Gally, who greeted him with a soft smile. "I thought I'd have to wake you up soon," he said as Gawain hopped onto the window seat opposite him. He told Gally the other night that he wanted to spend the morning together at the fair, as they usually did, and that afterwards he'd be meeting with Mordred. Galahad didn't like the second part of Gawain's plan, but merely pressed his lips tightly shut and made no comment. He did not approve of Gawain's new friendship. A fact he'd made abundantly clear. He'd called Mordred dangerous and dubious and untrustworthy, and someone he should have his guard up around, like him. He pleaded with Gawain to be careful, saying he feared his new //friend// might end up trying to take advantage of his sweet nature. Gawain just shook his head at all of it; he could see Gally was worried, and appreciated his concern and where it welled from, but this was a matter he simply could not agree with him on. His parents had told him how unjust a view people cast on Mordred, through no fault of ?theirs. How could Gawain then do the same cruel thing to ?them? Mordred was amazing and one day, Gally would see that too. At least for the moment, he'd mostly stopped dissuading him from the friendship or warning him to be wary. Gawain looked out the window. The fair was in full swing - dragons and humans, rendered into a bright, perpetually-flowing mass from up above, spilt and milled about the booths and tents. He squinted, hoping he might catch a glimpse of Ariawen or Callum, but the lavish expense of the festival was far too bustling and great. Gawain jumped to his feet. "Let's go then!" Galahad was done with preparations quickly; he moved with an efficacy he made look so effortless. Swift, but not urgent or rushed; every motion as practiced and disciplined as a sword strike. He washed his face and put on simple but elegant garments that looked as if plucked directly from an ironing board. All of Gally's clothes - worn or yet unworn - where neatly folded and stacked, while the ones Gawain had so far used at the tournament were strewn and discarded about the chamber. He loved his clothes very dearly, but he'd never been fond of //folding//. Still, he kept his fancier garbs at the bottom of the trunk, where they were well-protected. He shook out one such costume - a jerkin and cape of gleeful, sunflower yellow. He slipped it on, combed through his fluffy brown hair and sprayed himself with a dash of perfume - lily of the valley, sweet and fresh and a delight to breath in. Finally, he was ready to go. [[To the fair|GalahadFairNoConfess]]

The fair was in full swing. Vendors had opened up their booths, which were nicely organized by what you were seeking to buy: delicious dishes, Lothian garments or sundry trinkets to take home. Wherever you went, there was music to be had. Stages with actors playing out humorous scenes or dancers nimbly spinning in pairs. Every now and then, fire rose about the swarming sea of people, curling up towards the sky in flaming tongues, forming shapes Gawain could only half make out from where he was. That was the fireshow, which they were slowly working their way towards. Gawain drank it all in with wide-eyed enthusiasm. His mind would stray to Mordred now and again, and his gaze would sweep the crowd, hoping he might spot ?their face in the throng, but if they ever passed each other, he was none the wiser. No matter; they'd meet in a couple hours' time anyway, as promised. Gally and he were, however, successful in finding Aria and Callum. They stayed together until Gally and Callum left to meet up with their families. Mordred's dragon friend joined them instead. [[Then Gawain set off to find Mordred.|BuySweets]]

Even by the time Gawain was done, it was still to early for the fair to properly begin. The vendors were only just arriving, streaming down from carriages coming from the town; dragon performers swooped down from the sky, lounging and talking on the grass; musicians huddled together, tuning their instruments and chatting. Gawain and Galahad walked past it all to the dragons' lodge, where Ariawen and Callum were slowly rousing as well. They had breakfast in their chamber, but Gawain could barely stay still. He played with his boots' laces and gnawed at his lips and tapped his feet, feeling the weigh of the poem pressing on his chest, while his heart beat wildly with a heady mix of anticipation and anxiety. While Gally was too absorbed listening to something Otto had to recount, Gawain leant against Aria's side with a sigh. Her tail immediately wrapped around him, face whipping around to angle a questioning look his way. "I can't wait to meet up with Mordred," he whispered, resting his cheek against the dragon's smooth, cool scales. "The tension's eating at me, Aria. I should have told ?them to come earlier." "Come on, we'll grab some sweets and see a fireshow and time will fly by." Here she demonstrated how so, making a wheezing, whistling sound, accompanied by a small huff of fire. Gawain giggled. By the time they left the lodge, the fair was in full swing. Vendors had opened up their booths, which were nicely organized by what you were seeking to buy: delicious dishes, Lothian garments or sundry trinkets to take home. Wherever you went, there was music to be had. Stages with actors playing out humorous scenes or dancers nimbly spinning in pairs. Every now and then, fire rose about the swarming sea of people, curling up towards the sky in flaming tongues, forming shapes Gawain could only half make out from where he was. That was the fireshow, which they were slowly working their way towards. Ariawen had been right; Gawain was quickly lost in the glamour of it all, drinking in the celebrations with wide-eyed enthusiasm. Yet his mind would stray to Mordred now and again, and his gaze would sweep the crowd, half-hoping and half-dreading he'd find ?their face among the throng. He couldn't wait to meet up, but he'd still to buy the flowers he wanted, and there could be no proper confession without a pretty bouquet! Later, Gally and Callum left to meet up with their families while Mordred's dragon friend came to join Gawain and Aria. He stayed with the two dragons until it was time for him to find Mordred. Doubt seized him as he headed off to buy flowers. It twisted around him, with thorns most poisonous. What if Mordred didn't like him back? There were moments where he'd been so confident that ?they felt the same, by the way ?they looked at him, by the way ?they talked. But there was still a chance that he'd misinterpreted it all, that he'd seen it through eyes tinted by his own emotions. <<if $sing is true>> Yet...surely he couldn't be wrong! They sang together that love ballad in the lodge, and Mordred had seemed so delighted. ?They must have understood the tacit message he was sending...or so he hoped. He'd asked Gally his thoughts, and even he had to begrudgingly agree that Mordred seemed quite fond of being around him. //Fond//! It made Gawain titter and blush just thinking of it. <<else>> Yet...surely he coudn't be wrong! He'd sang that love ballad to Mordred in the lodge, and ?they seemed so delighted. ?They must have understood the tacit message he was sending...or so he hoped. He'd asked Gally his thoughts, and even he had to begrudgingly agree that Mordred seemed quite fond of being around him. //Fond//! It made Gawain titter and blush just thinking of it. <</if>> [[To the flower stall!]]

<<if $gawain_confess is true and $confess is true>> [[On to the story!|StartBothConfess]] <<elseif $gawain_confess is true>> [[On to the story!|StartGawainConfess]] <<else>> [[On to the story!|StartMordredConfess]] <</if>>

He'd secured the flowers, but now he was running late. Time had tricked and evaded him while he was making his decision on the flowers, but at least he was greatly satisfied with the prettily wrapped result. He held the bouquet up and straight as if it were a torch guiding his way as he ran through the crowd in a chant of excuses. He was light and swift on his feet, and small enough to easily find openings in the ever shifting mass of fair-goers. They agreed to meet by the arena, a spot that'd become familiar after days of trundling there early in the morning to fulfill their squire roles. This way, they wouldn't be doomed to wander adrift in the sea of stalls before finally reuniting. <<if $confess_nervous is true>> As Gawain sprung forth from a splintered group, he saw ?them. Standing alone, scouring the crowd, pulling taut the cords of their neckline. ?Their brow was puckered, as if ?they feared Gawain had forgotten about ?them - until ?their gaze fell on him, plowing onward with renewed energy. He stopped short of colliding into Mordred. He swayed and hands shot forwards to catch him - but he threw out an arm and balanced himself. A deft save. Gawain breathed in deeply through the nose and said: "Sorry for being late! I wanted to get you these." He proffered the bouquet, beaming at Mordred over the white, pink and yellow daisies. Sweat slicked the shift against his skin and heat spread up his neck to cradle his cheeks - though, well, that was not entirely from the effort. "I hope you like them," he added, that inkling of doubt creeping up on him again. "When I got to the stall I realized I hadn't actually asked you what flowers you like or if you even liked flowers." Dread bubbled up. "I hope you're not allergic to them!" Mordred eased all his worries with a sweet, bashful smile. "I love the flowers," ?they said, "and no, I'm not allergic to them." ?They gingerly took the bouquet from him, admiring it with sparkling eyes. They gleamed even brighter upon returning to Gawain. This, here, was his moment. "There's something I wanted to tell you - or rather, read you." <div class="choice">[[Was this a confession? Mordred waited to hear what Gawain had to say.|Chapt3GawainConfessionBothNervous1]]</div> <div class="choice">[["I have something to tell you, too, actually," Mordred said, wanting to get their confession out before they lost their courage.|Chapt3GawainConfessionBothNervous2]]</div> <div class="choice">[[Oh, had Gawain written something new he wanted to share with them? Mordred waited to hear it.|Chapt3GawainConfessionBothNervous3]]</div> <<else>> As Gawain sprung forth from a splintered group, he saw ?them. Standing alone, scouring the crowd bouncing on the balls of their feet. An excited smile lit up ?their face and bolstered Gawain to plow onward with renewed energy. He stopped short of colliding into Mordred. He swayed and hands shot forwards to catch him - but he threw out an arm and balanced himself. A deft save. He breathed in deeply through the nose and said: "Sorry for being late! I wanted to get you these." He proffered the bouquet, beaming at Mordred over the white, pink and yellow daisies. Sweat slicked the shift against his skin and heat spread up his neck to cradle his cheeks - though, well, that was not entirely from the effort. "I hope you like them," he added, that inkling of doubt creeping up on him again. "When I got to the stall I realized I hadn't actually asked you what flowers you like or if you even liked flowers." Dread bubbled up. "I hope you're not allergic to them!" Mordred eased all his worries with a sweet smile. "I love the flowers," ?they said, "and no, I'm not allergic to them." ?They gingerly took the bouquet from him, admiring it with sparkling eyes. Though they gleamed even brighter upon returning to Gawain. This, here, was his moment. "There's something I wanted to tell you - or rather, read you." <div class="choice">[[Was this a confession? Mordred waited to hear what he had to say, excited.|Chapt3GawainConfessionBothExcited1]]</div> <div class="choice">[["I have something to tell you, too, actually," Mordred said excitedly.|Chapt3GawainConfessionBothExcited2]]</div> <div class="choice">[[Oh, had Gawain written something new he wanted to share with them? Mordred waited to hear it.|Chapt3GawainConfessionBothExcited3]]</div> <</if>>

He'd secured the sweets, but now he was running late. The line to the stall had ran long, but he hoped Mordred would enjoy the gift. He held out the paper bag up as if it was a torch, guiding his way as he ran through the crowd in a chant of excuses. He was swift on his feet and small enough to easily find openings in the ever shifting mass of fair-goers. They agreed to meet by the arena, a spot that'd become familiar after days of trundling there early in the morning to fulfill their squire roles. This way, they wouldn't be doomed to wander adrift in the sea of stalls before finally reuniting. <<if $confess_nervous is true>> As Gawain sprung forth from a splintered group, he saw ?them. Standing alone, scouring the crowd, pulling taut the cords of their neckline. ?Their brow was puckered, as if ?they feared Gawain had forgotten about ?them - until ?their gaze fell on him, plowing onward with renewed energy. He stopped short of colliding into Mordred. He swayed and hands shot forwards to catch him - but he threw out an arm and balanced himself. A deft save. Gawain breathed in deeply through the nose and said: "Sorry for being late! I brought sweets. Hope these will excuse me." Sweat slicked the shift against his skin and heat spread up his neck to cradle his beaming face - he'd run as he would in training. Mordred accepted the bag of sweets with a timid smile, then dithered. ?They looked as if ?they had something to say, and wasn't quite sure how to start. [[Continue|MordredConfessNervous]] <<else>> As Gawain sprung forth from a splintered group, he saw ?them. Standing alone, scouring the crowd bouncing on the balls of their feet. An excited smile lit up ?their face and bolstered Gawain to plowing onward with renewed energy. He stopped short of colliding into Mordred. He swayed and hands shot forwards to catch him - but he threw out an arm and balanced himself. A deft save. Gawain breathed in deeply through the nose and said: "Sorry for being late! I brought sweets. Hope these will excuse me." Sweat slicked the shift against his skin and heat spread up his neck to cradle his beaming face - he'd run as he would in training. Mordred accepted the bag of sweets with an effusive smile, ?their gaze lingering warmly on Gawain. ?They looked as if ?they had something to say. [[Continue|MordredConfessConfident]] <</if>>

Was Mordred nervous or confident about confessing? <div class="choice">[[Nervous.|NextQuestion][$confess_nervous to true]]</div> <div class="choice">[[Confident.|NextQuestion][$confess_nervous to false]]</div>

Mordred nodded for Gawain to go on, eyeing him with timid curiosity. He reached underneath his cape and pulled the paper he's carried like a second heart - full of hope and tenderness and admiration. He ceremoniously unfolded and smoothed it, holding the soft parchment with both hands. He breathed in deeply, gathering his courage as anticipation skimmed over his skin and warmth pooled his cheeks. He said: "I wrote you a poem." It was not the first he'd recite; in fact, he was rather well-versed in delivering poetry to an audience, his own or otherwise. Of course, the audience had mostly been family and friends and his stage had been the carpets laid before hearths in cozy little lounge rooms. This was different: so much hinged on how his lines would now be received. His heart was like a bird in a cage: wildly beating its wings, yearning to be let out to soar the skies. It was up to Mordred whether the door opened. Yet now that he stood before Mordred, who hugged the bouquet and smiled more sweetly than any flower could be, he found not anxiety coursing through him but a breathless, electriying sort of excitement. Whatever Mordred's response, he needed to take this chance. He launched himself with confidence: //"Your company is fun, Your smile brings the sun. I feel like flying when I'm near you, So I'm asking you...//" His gaze flit up to Mordred. "Do you like me too?" Mordred hugged the flowers closer to ?their chest, dipping ?their head towards them as if to hide in the colorful sea of petals. "Yes," ?they gently replied, and Gawain was lifted off his feet by sheer joy. "Yes, I do like you too. I was planning on telling you now, actually." Gawain wondered if Mordred, too, had spent ?their morning both riding the high waves of hope and caught in the undertows of doubt. A sheepish laugh bubbled up; he felt so light, so relieved, like a bottle of sparkling wine finally uncorked. "And here I was, concerned you wouldn't reciprocate." <<if $bracelet is bracelet>> "I got something for you, too," Mordred said, producing a bracelet from ?their embroidered belt pouch. It was a dainty little thing made up of vivid beads that winked sweetly in the sunlight. He loved it. "Oh, it's so pretty. Can you help me put it on?" Gawain stuck out his arm. Mordred attentively fastened it around his wrist, a smile caught on ?their lips that looked like it had no intention to fade soon. Once the bracelet was secured, snugly fitting, he drew his arm closer to admire the beads' glimmer; it was as merry as he felt within. "Thank you. I love it." [[Continue|EnjoyFairSweethearts]] <<else>> [[Continue|EnjoyFairSweethearts]] <</if>>

Mordred wouldn't let him go on though, coyly cutting in. "I have something to tell you, too, actually." Dismay sank sharp claws in his shoulders, but he shrugged them off with a smile. "Oh, then you go on first." <<if $bracelet is true>> Mordred inhaled, long and deep before expelling the words he so longed to hear: "I like you, Gawain. I like you very much so, and more than a friend." ?They produced a bracelet from ?their embroidered belt pouch, holding it out to him. "And to show you that, I got you this." Gawain was too stunned to say anything. His gaze flitted between the bracelet and Mordred's face. ?Their $eye eyes glinted even brighter that the shiny beads. Like twin gemstones, set alight by the same inner fire that burnt in Gawain too, warm and pleasant. "And I wanted to ask you if you feel the same," Mordred said, and it was all it took for him to find his voice. "Yes! Yes I do!" <<else>> Mordred dipped ?their head towards the flowers as if to hide among the petals and inhaled, long and deep. Then ?they spoke the words Gawain so longed to hear: "I like you, Gawain. I like you very much so, and more than a friend." He was too stunned to say anything. His legs had melted underneath him but he didn't need them - he felt light, as if floating. Held aloft by sheer joy. Mordred went on: "And I wanted to ask you if you feel the same." It was all it took for Gawain to find his voice. "Yes! Yes I do!" <</if>> A chuckle bubbled up; he felt so relieved, like a bottle of sparkling wine finally uncorked. "In fact, that's what I wanted to tell you, too." He reached under his cape for the folded paper. "I suppose I don't need this now." "What's that?" He bit the inside of his cheek, heart fluttering. "A little poem I wrote for you." "I want to hear it!" His breath caught. "Really?" Mordred nodded, so Gawain happily indulged ?them. It was not the first he'd recite; in fact, he was rather well-versed in delivering poetry to an audience. Of course, the audience had mostly been family and friends and his stage had been the carpets laid before hearths in cozy little lounge rooms. He launched himself with confidence: //"Your company is fun, Your smile brings the sun. I feel like flying when I'm near you, So I'm asking you...//" He glanced up. "And here I'd ask you if you felt the same." "Which we've established I do," Mordred said and he laughed again. <<if $bracelet is true>> Gawain dipped his head towards the bracelet. "Can you help me put it on?" Mordred attentively fastened it around his wrist, a smile caught on ?their lips that looked like it had no intention to fade soon. Once the bracelet was secured, snugly fitting, he drew his arm closer to admire the beads' glimmer; it was as merry as he felt within. "Thank you. I love it." [[Continue|EnjoyFairSweethearts]] <<else>> [[Continue|EnjoyFairSweethearts]] <</if>>

Mordred nodded for him to go ahead, eyeing him with curiosity. Gawain reached underneath his cape and pulled the paper he's carried like a second heart - full of hope and tenderness. He ceremoniously unfolded and smoothed it, holding the soft parchment with both hands. He breathed in deeply, gathering his courage as anticipation skimmed over his skin and warmth pooled his cheeks. He said: "I wrote you a poem." It was not the first he'd recite; in fact, he was rather well-versed in delivering poetry to an audience. Of course, the audience had mostly been family and friends and his stage had been the carpets laid before hearths in cozy little lounge rooms. So much hinged on how his lines would now be received. His heart was like a bird in a cage: wildly beating its wings, yearning to be let out to soar the skies. It was up to Mordred whether the door opened. Yet now that he stood before Mordred, who hugged the bouquet and smiled more sweetly than any flower could be, he found not anxiety coursing through him but a breathless, electriying sort of excitement. Whatever Mordred's response, he needed to take this chance. He launched himself with confidence: //"Your company is fun, Your smile brings the sun. I feel like flying when I'm near you, So I'm asking you...//" His gaze flit up to Mordred. "Do you like me too?" Mordred hugged the flowers closer to ?their chest, dipping ?their head towards them as if to hide in the colorful sea of petals. "Yes," ?they gently replied, and Gawain was lifted off his feet by sheer joy. "Yes, I do like you too. I was planning on telling you now, actually." Gawain wondered if Mordred, too, had spent ?their morning both riding the high waves of hope and caught in the undertows of doubt. A sheepish laugh bubbled up; he felt so light, so relieved, like a bottle of sparkling wine finally uncorked. "And here I was, concerned you wouldn't reciprocate." <<if $bracelet is true>> "I got something for you, too," Mordred said, producing a bracelet from ?their embroidered belt pouch. It was a dainty little thing made up of vivid beads that winked sweetly in the sunlight. He loved it. "Oh, it's so pretty. Can you help me put it on?" Gawain stuck out his arm. Mordred attentively fastened it around his wrist, a smile caught on ?their lips that looked like it had no intention to fade soon. Once the bracelet was secured, snugly fitting, he drew his arm closer to admire the beads' glimmer; it was as merry as he felt within. "Thank you. I love it." [[Continue|EnjoyFairSweethearts]] <<else>> [[Continue|EnjoyFairSweethearts]] <</if>>

Well, there wasn't just the one flower stall; there were a handful of them, one after the other, all overflowing with choices. He'd approached eagerly - anticipation quickening his step and his heartbeat - entranced by the explosion of color. Making a decision soon proved rather overwhelming; he flitted between booths, cocking his head this and that side as if a different perspective may reveal the right choice. What would Mordred like? Horror dawned on him as he realized that he didn't know; he hadn't asked. He didn't even know if Mordred liked flowers //at all//. ?They might have even been allergic. Mordred wouldn't be swooning from the romantic gesture - but from excessive sneezing and clogged airways. Gawain shook his head to dispel the images that paraded around his mind in a lurid display. No. He needed to focus. There had been flowers on the table at the feast, and Mordred seemed to take no issue with them, so surely a bouquet would be alright. If it was up to ?their tastes was a different matter altogether. He turned his attention back to the stall he'd decided on, that bousted the most varied options. He didn't know what Mordred preferred, so he wouldn't navigate the search with that premise, since he'd only end up lost. He could speculate, but speculation was eating up the time left until their meeting. Then he'd choose based on how Mordred made him feel. It needed to be something...lively. Joyful - so colorful. But soft as well, because Mordred's smile made him melt on the inside. There were peonies in gentle powder pink, and roses in all sorts of hues from merry yellow to deep red, but none seemed suited. It all fell into place when he alighted on the daisies, that came in so many vivid shades. These were perfect. He hoped Mordred woud think the same. <<if $gawain_confess is true and $confess is true>> [[Continue|BothConfessMeet]] <<else>> [[Continue|GawainConfessesMeet]] <</if>>

He'd secured the flowers, but now he was running late. Time had tricked and evaded him while he was making his decision at the stall, but at least he was greatly satisfied with the prettily wrapped result. He held the flowers up and straight as if they were a torch, guiding his way as he ran through the crowd in a chant of excuses. He was light and swift on his feet, and small enough to easily find openings in the ever shifting mass of fair-goers. They agreed to meet by the arena, a spot that'd become familiar after days of trundling there early in the morning to fulfill their squire roles. This way, they wouldn't be doomed to wander adrift in the sea of stalls before finally reuniting. As Gawain sprung forth from a splintered group, he saw ?them. Standing alone, scouring the crowd, idly playing with the tasselled cords of their neckline. ?They was still waiting for him! Gawain plowed onward with renewed energy. He stopped short of colliding into Mordred. He swayed and hands shot forwards to catch him - but he threw out an arm and balanced himself. A deft save. Gawain breathed in deeply through the nose and said: "Sorry for being late! I wanted to get you these." He proffered the bouquet, beaming at Mordred over the white, pink and yellow daisies. Sweat slicked the shift against his skin and heat spread up his neck to cradle his cheeks - though, well, that was not entirely from the effort. "I hope you like them," he added, that inkling of doubt creeping up on him again. "When I got to the stall I realized I hadn't actually asked you what flowers you like or if you even liked flowers." Dread bubbled up. "I hope you're not allergic to them!" Mordred eased all his worries with a smile. "I love the flowers," ?they said, "and no, I'm not allergic to them." ?They gingerly took the bouquet from him, admiring it with sparkling eyes. Though they gleamed even brighter upon returning to Gawain. This, here, was his moment. "There's something I wanted to tell you - or rather, read you." <div class="choice">[[Was this a confession? Mordred waited to hear what he had to say, excited.|Chapt3GawainConfessesExcited]]</div> <div class="choice">[[Was this a confession? Mordred waited to hear what he had to say, heat flooding their face.|Chapt3GawainConfessesNervous]]</div> <div class="choice">[[Oh, had he written something new he wanted to share with them? Mordred waited to hear it.|Chapt3GawainConfessesClueless]]</div> <div class="choice">[[Oh, no. Was he confessing? Mordred needed to stop him. They liked him, but they'd rather just be friends. At least for now, especially with his imminent leave.|Chapt3GawainConfessesStopLike]]</div>

Mordred nodded eagerly for Gawain to go on. He reached underneath his cape and pulled the paper he'd carried like a second heart - full of hope and tenderness. He ceremoniously unfolded and smoothed it, holding the soft parchment with both hands. He breathed in deeply, gathering his courage as anticipation skimmed over his skin and warmth pooled his cheeks. He said: "I wrote you a poem." It was not the first he'd recite; in fact, he was rather well-versed in delivering poetry to an audience. Of course, the audience had mostly been family and friends and his stage had been the carpets laid before hearths in cozy little lounge rooms. So much hinged on how his lines would now be received. His heart was like a bird in a cage: wildly beating its wings, yearning to be let out to soar the skies. It was up to Mordred whether the door opened. Yet now that he stood before Mordred, who hugged the bouquet and smiled more sweetly than any flower could be, he found not anxiety coursing through him but a breathless, electriying sort of excitement. Whatever Mordred's response, he needed to take this chance. He launched himself with confidence: //"Your company is fun, Your smile brings the sun. I feel like flying when I'm near you, So I'm asking you...//" His gaze flit up to Mordred. "Do you like me too?" "Yes!" Mordred exclaimed, tugging the bouquet closer to ?their chest. ?Their smile split ?their face and crinkled the corner of ?their eyes. ?They went on: "I was planning on telling you now, actually." Gawain wondered if Mordred, too, had spent ?their morning both riding the high waves of hope and caught in the undertows of doubt. A sheepish laugh bubbled up; he felt so light, so relieved, like a bottle of sparkling wine finally uncorked. "And here I was, concerned you wouldn't reciprocate." <<if $bracelet is true>> "I got something for you, too," Mordred said, producing a bracelet from ?their embroidered belt pouch. It was a dainty little thing made up of vivid beads that winked sweetly in the sunlight. He loved it. "Oh, it's so pretty. Can you help me put it on?" Gawain stuck out his arm. Mordred attentively fastened it around his wrist, a smile caught on ?their lips that looked like it had no intention to fade soon. Once the bracelet was secured, snugly fitting, he drew his arm closer to admire the beads' glimmer; it was as merry as he felt within. "Thank you. I love it." [[Continue|EnjoyFairSweethearts]] <<else>> [[Continue|EnjoyFairSweethearts]] <</if>>

Mordred wouldn't let him go on though, cutting in with impatient excitement. "I have something to tell you too, actually." Dismay sank sharp claws in his shoulders, but he shrugged them off with a smile. "Oh, then you go on first." <<if $bracelet is true>> Mordred inhaled, long and deep before expelling the words he so longed to hear: "I like you, Gawain. I like you very much so, and more than a friend." ?They produced a bracelet from ?their embroidered belt pouch, holding it out to him. "And to show you that, I got you this." Gawain was too stunned to say anything. His gaze flitted between the bracelet and Mordred's face. ?Their $eye eyes glinted even brighter that the shiny beads. Like twin gemstones, set alight by the same inner fire that burnt in Gawain too, warm and pleasant. "And I wanted to ask you if you feel the same," Mordred said, and it was all it took for him to find his voice. "Yes! Yes I do!" <<else>> Mordred inhaled, long and deep before expelling the words he so longed to hear: "I like you, Gawain. I like you very much so, and more than a friend." Gawain was too stunned to say anything. His legs had melted underneath him but he didn't need them - he felt light, as if floating. Held aloft by sheer joy. Mordred went on: "And I wanted to ask you if you feel the same." It was all it took for Gawain to find his voice. "Yes! Yes I do!" <</if>> A chuckle bubbled up; he felt so relieved, like a bottle of sparkling wine finally uncorked. "In fact, that's what I wanted to tell you, too." He reached under his cape for the folded paper. "I suppose I don't need this now." "What's that?" He bit the inside of his cheek, heart fluttering. "A little poem I wrote for you." "I want to hear it!" His breath caught. "Really?" Mordred nodded, so Gawain happily indulged ?them. It was not the first he'd recited; in fact, he was rather well-versed in delivering poetry to an audience. Of course, the audience had mostly been family and friends and his stage had been the carpets laid before hearths in cozy little lounge rooms. He launched himself with confidence: //"Your company is fun, Your smile brings the sun. I feel like flying when I'm near you, So I'm asking you...//" He glanced up. "And here I'd ask you if you felt the same." "Which we've established I do," Mordred said and he laughed again. <<if $bracelet is true>> Gawain dipped his head towards the bracelet. "Can you help me put it on?" Mordred attentively fastened it around his wrist, a smile caught on ?their lips that looked like it had no intention to fade soon. Once the bracelet was secured, snugly fitting, he drew his arm closer to admire the beads' glimmer; it was as merry as he felt within . "Thank you. I love it." [[Continue|EnjoyFairSweethearts]] <<else>> [[Continue|EnjoyFairSweethearts]] <</if>>

Mordred nodded for him to go ahead, eyeing him with curiosity. Gawain reached underneath his cape and pulled the paper he's carried like a second heart - full of hope and tenderness and admiration. He ceremoniously unfolded and smoothed it, holding the soft parchment with both hands. He breathed in deeply, gathering his courage as anticipation skimmed over his skin and warmth pooled his cheeks. He said: "I wrote you a poem." It was not the first he'd recite; in fact, he was rather well-versed in delivering poetry to an audience. Of course, the audience had mostly been family and friends and his stage had been the carpets laid before hearths in cozy little lounge rooms. So much hinged on how his lines would now be received. His heart was like a bird in a cage: wildly beating its wings, yearning to be let out to soar the skies. It was up to Mordred whether the door opened. Yet now that he stood before Mordred, who hugged the bouquet and smiled more sweetly than any flower could be, he found not anxiety coursing through him but a breathless, electriying sort of excitement. Whatever Mordred's response, he needed to take this chance. He launched himself with confidence: //"Your company is fun, Your smile brings the sun. I feel like flying when I'm near you, So I'm asking you...//" His gaze flit up to Mordred. "Do you like me too?" "Yes!" Mordred exclaimed, tugging the bouquet closer to ?their chest. ?Their smile split ?their face and crinkled the corner of ?their eyes. ?They went on: "I was planning on telling you now, actually." Gawain wondered if Mordred, too, had spent ?their morning both riding the high waves of hope and caught in the undertows of doubt. A sheepish laugh bubbled up; he felt so light, so relieved, like a bottle of sparkling wine finally uncorked. "And here I was, concerned you wouldn't reciprocate." <<if $bracelet is true>> "I got something for you, too," Mordred said, producing a bracelet from ?their embroidered belt pouch. It was a dainty little thing made up of vivid beads that winked sweetly in the sunlight. He loved it. "Oh, it's so pretty. Can you help me put it on?" Gawain stuck out his arm. Mordred attentively fastened it around his wrist, a smile caught on ?their lips that looked like it had no intention to fade soon. Once the bracelet was secured, snugly fitting, he drew his arm closer to admire the beads' glimmer; it was as merry as he felt within. "Thank you. I love it." [[Continue|EnjoyFairSweethearts]] <<else>> [[Continue|EnjoyFairSweethearts]] <</if>>

Mordred nodded eagerly for Gawain to go on. He reached underneath his cape and pulled the paper he's carried like a second heart - full of hope and tenderness. He ceremoniously unfolded and smoothed it, holding the soft parchment with both hands. He breathed in deeply, gathering his courage as anticipation skimmed over his skin and warmth pooled his cheeks. He said: "I wrote you a poem." It was not the first he'd recite; in fact, he was rather well-versed in delivering poetry to an audience. Of course, the audience had mostly been family and friends and his stage had been the carpets laid before hearths in cozy little lounge rooms. So much hinged on how his lines would now be received. His heart was like a bird in a cage: wildly beating its wings, yearning to be let out to soar the skies. It was up to Mordred whether the door opened. Yet now that he stood before Mordred, who hugged the bouquet and smiled more sweetly than any flower could be, he found not anxiety coursing through him but a breathless, electriying sort of excitement. Whatever Mordred's response, he needed to take this chance. He launched himself with confidence: //"Your company is fun, Your smile brings the sun. I feel like flying when I'm near you, So I'm asking you...//" His gaze flit up to Mordred. "Do you like me too?" "Yes!" Mordred exclaimed, tugging the bouquet closer to ?their chest, almost squashing it in ?their excitement. ?Their smile split ?their face and crinkled the corners of ?their eyes. Gawain beamed; he felt so light, so relieved, like a bottle of sparkling wine finally uncorked. "I'm so happy you do! I was concerned you wouldn't reciprocate." <<if $bracelet is true>> "I got something for you, too," Mordred said, producing a bracelet from ?their embroidered belt pouch. It was a dainty little thing made up of vivid beads that winked sweetly in the sunlight. He loved it. "Oh, it's so pretty. Can you help me put it on?" Gawain stuck out his arm. Mordred attentively fastened it around his wrist, a smile caught on ?their lips that looked like it had no intention to fade soon. Once the bracelet was secured, snugly fitting, he drew his arm closer to admire the beads' glimmer; it was as merry as he felt within. "Thank you. I love it." [[Continue|EnjoyFairSweethearts]] <<else>> [[Continue|EnjoyFairSweethearts]] <</if>>

Mordred nodded for Gawain to go on, eyeing him with timid curiosity. He reached underneath his cape and pulled the paper he's carried like a second heart - full of hope and tenderness. He ceremoniously unfolded and smoothed it, holding the soft parchment with both hands. He breathed in deeply, gathering his courage as anticipation skimmed over his skin and warmth pooled his cheeks. He said: "I wrote you a poem." It was not the first he'd recite; in fact, he was rather well-versed in delivering poetry to an audience. Of course, the audience had mostly been family and friends and his stage had been the carpets laid before hearths in cozy little lounge rooms. So much hinged on how his lines would now be received. His heart was like a bird in a cage: wildly beating its wings, yearning to be let out to soar the skies. It was up to Mordred whether the door opened. Yet now that he stood before Mordred, who hugged the bouquet and smiled more sweetly than any flower could be, he found not anxiety coursing through him but a breathless, electriying sort of excitement. Whatever Mordred's response, he needed to take this chance. He launched himself with confidence: //"Your company is fun, Your smile brings the sun. I feel like flying when I'm near you, So I'm asking you...//" His gaze flit up to Mordred. "Do you like me too?" Mordred hugged the flowers closer to ?their chest, dipping ?their head towards them as if to hide in the colorful sea of petals. "Yes," ?they gently replied, and Gawain was lifted off his feet by sheer joy. "Yes, I do like you too." Gawain beamed; he felt so light, so relieved, like a bottle of sparkling wine finally uncorked. "I'm so happy you do! I was concerned you wouldn't reciprocate." <<if $bracelet is true>> "I got something for you, too," Mordred said, producing a bracelet from ?their embroidered belt pouch. It was a dainty little thing made up of vivid beads that winked sweetly in the sunlight. He loved it. "Oh, it's so pretty. Can you help me put it on?" Gawain stuck out his arm. Mordred attentively fastened it around his wrist, a smile caught on ?their lips that looked like it had no intention to fade soon. Once the bracelet was secured, snugly fitting, he drew his arm closer to admire the beads' glimmer; it was as merry as he felt within. "Thank you. I love it." [[Continue|EnjoyFairSweethearts]] <<else>> [[Continue|EnjoyFairSweethearts]] <</if>>

Mordred wouldn't let him go on though. ?They squished the bouquet against ?their chest and cut in: "I have something to tell you, too." Gawain's fingers froze just as their tips brushed against the paper in his pocket. Dismay sank sharp claws in his shoulders, but he nodded for Mordred to go on. "I just wanted to say that I'm so happy to have you as my //friend//." Gawain blinked, uncertain. Mordred had put a strange emphasis on the word. ?They went on: "And I'm so grateful for your //friendly// gift." There was no doubt left. Mordred had understood his intention and was gracious enough to stop Gawain before he could even launch himself into the confession that would only embarass the both of them. Very gentle of them, to spare Gawain the refusal that would have come. Still, it could not wash away the dismay. He pulled his hand from underneath his cape, letting it hang by his side, empty. He mustered up a smile. Even to him, it felt feeble and forced. "Yes. I'm happy to have you as my friend, too." He swallowed his disappointment and tried again to muster up a smile. It came easier this time. After all, he spoke genuinly: he was very glad to have Mordred as a friend. Yet it couldn't erase the hurt. "Should we go?" Gawain said, eager to be on the move, to smoothe over this moment and fill his mind with pleasant distractions. "Have a look around together." The more they walked and talked and took in the fair, the better he felt. He'd still feel that pang in his chest when Mordred smiled or laughed, but he pushed past it to enjoy the afternoon. [[Continue|ChamberGalahadRefusal]]

<<if $bracelet is true>> Mordred drew in a long, fortifying breath and said: "I like you, Gawain. I like you very much so, and more than a friend." ?They reached into ?their belt pouch. "And to show you that, I got you this." Gawain was too stunned to say anything. His gaze flitted between the bracelet and Mordred's face. ?Their $eye eyes glinted even brighter than the shiny beads. Like twin gemstones, set alight with hope, soft and warm. Mordred went on: "And I wanted to ask you if you feel the same." A smile caught on Gawain's lips as he still reeled with surprise. It...wasn't unpleasant though; it felt sort of exhilaring, like the dooziness after tracing loops in the air when flying. "I...I didn't expect you'd like me //this way//," he said. He studied Mordred. A small furrow creased ?their brow as ?they waited for Gawain to give his answer - but what was his answer? When he thought of Mordred, it was with fondness. A quickly-growing affection for his newfound friend. He didn't give it much consideration beyond that. But now, as he looked at matters from this new lovely angle... "But...I like you too," Gawain said, smile pulling wider. He dipped his head towards the bracelet. "Can you help me put it on?" Mordred attentively fastened it around his wrist, a smile caught on ?their lips that looked like it had no intention to fade soon. Once the bracelet was secured, snugly fitting, he drew his arm closer to admire the beads' glimmer; it was as merry as he felt within. "Thank you. I love it." <<else>> Mordred drew in a long, fortifying breath and said: "I like you, Gawain. I like you very much so, and more than a friend." Gawain was too stunned to say anything. Mordred's $eye eyes glinted like twin gemstones, set alight with hope, soft and warm. Mordred went on: "And I wanted to ask you if you feel the same." A smile caught on Gawain's lips as he still reeled with surprise. It...wasn't unpleasant though; it felt sort of exhilaring, like the dooziness after tracing loops in the air when flying. "I...I didn't expect you'd like me //this way//," he said. He studied Mordred. A small furrow creased ?their brow as ?they waited for Gawain to give his answer - but what was his answer? When he thought of Mordred, it was with fondness. A quickly-growing affection for his newfound friend. He didn't give it much consideration beyond that. But now, as he looked at matters from this new lovely angle... "But...I like you too," Gawain said, smile pulling wider. <</if>> [[Continue|EnjoyFairSweethearts]]

<<if $bracelet is true>> Mordred drew in a deep breath and said: "I like you, Gawain. I like you very much so, and more than a friend." ?They reached into ?their belt pouch. "And to show you that, I got you this." Gawain was too stunned to say anything. His gaze flitted between the bracelet and Mordred's face. ?Their $eye eyes glinted even brighter than the shiny beads. Like twin gemstones, set alight with hope, soft and warm. Mordred went on: "And I wanted to ask you if you feel the same." A smile caught on Gawain's lips as he still reeled with surprise. It...wasn't unpleasant though; it felt sort of exhilaring, like the dooziness after tracing loops in the air when flying. "I...I didn't expect you'd like me //this way//," he said. He studied Mordred. ?They looked back at him keenly as ?they waited for Gawain to give his answer - but what was his answer? When he thought of Mordred, it was with fondness. A quickly-growing affection for his newfound friend. He didn't give it much consideration beyond that. But now, as he looked at matters from this new lovely angle... "But...I like you too," Gawain said, smile pulling wider. He dipped his head towards the bracelet. "Can you help me put it on?" Mordred attentively fastened it around his wrist, a smile caught on ?their lips that looked like it had no intention to fade soon. Once the bracelet was secured, snugly fitting, he drew his arm closer to admire the beads' glimmer; it was as merry as he felt within. "Thank you. I love it." <<else>> Mordred drew in a deep breath and said: "I like you, Gawain. I like you very much so, and more than a friend." Gawain was too stunned to say anything. Mordred's $eye eyes glinted like twin gemstones, set alight with hope, soft and warm. Mordred went on: "And I wanted to ask you if you feel the same." A smile caught on Gawain's lips as he still reeled with surprise. It...wasn't unpleasant though; it felt sort of exhilaring, like the dooziness after tracing loops in the air when flying. "I...I didn't expect you'd like me //this way//," he said. He studied Mordred. ?They looked back at him keenly as ?they waited for Gawain to give his answer - but what was his answer? When he thought of Mordred, it was with fondness. A quickly-growing affection for his newfound friend. He didn't give it much consideration beyond that. But now, as he looked at matters from this new lovely angle... "But...I like you too," Gawain said, smile pulling wider. <</if>> [[Continue|EnjoyFairSweethearts]]

First, he needed to buy Mordred a gift. Despite knowing ?them for only a few days, he'd quickly come to see ?them as a friend, one he hoped to continue getting to know. So what if he was leaving for Camelot soon? No distance could ever hinder them! They'd conquer it with letters. Gawain wanted to show Mordred how much he appreciated ?their company - and what better way than with a sweet treat? He'd watched Mordred gleefully munch on pastries and biscuits and fruits at the feast, so it was sure to be a welcome gift. He'd approached the food stalls excitedly, but faltered as he got there. The sheer amount of choices overwhelmed him, as it had when he'd come by with Gally and poured over his options. Now, however, he wasn't buying just for himself, and he realized he wasn't all that certain of Mordred's preferences. When it doubt, just get a bit of everything! [[Continue|MordredConfessesMeet]]

<<elseif $gawain_confess is true>> He'd made his peace with that when he decided to confess, but it'd hurt him nonetheless. He swallowed his disapointment. Mordred was gracious enough to stop him before he could even launch himself in confess that would only embarass the both of them; very sweet/gentle of them, to spare Gawain the refusal that would have come/to give Gawain the opening to back down. Still, it could not wash away the dismay. The confession, so tenderly spoken, had now withered to ash on his tongue/had now left a sour taste on his tongue. He swallowed thickly, forcing down the rising sorrow/sorrow that rose like a bad meal resurfacing. It was comingled with [red-hot] mortification as he realized how wrong he'd been. Tears stung behind his eyes, but he resolved not to cry before them(?) does he cry?

"Let's go then!" Gawain exclaimed, bouncing on his feet. The excitement he felt could not be contained - it overflowed, teeming over his skin, making him want to skip and dance and laugh. "Have a look around the fair together." He held out his hand to Mordred, palm up. Pulse quickening as he waited. "If you want to." Mordred took his hand. It sent an electrifying wave of warmth up his arm. For a moment, ?they simply stared at ?their twined fingers - they melded so well together. Then he looked up with a grin, and tugged Mordred along through the crowd. They went about the fair, hand in hand, sharing fond smiles and gazes, talking about everything they saw and anything that came to mind. <<if $gawain_confess is true>> Gawain remembered the rosy clouds he'd seen early in the morning, and felt as if he truly was soaring among them now, high and light and cradled in their fluffiness. Incadescent with joy, his laughter louder and his smile bigger. So big it hurt his cheeks - yet he couldn't stop, just like he wouldn't let go of Mordred's hand. <<else>> Gawain felt as if he was soaring among clouds, high and light and cradled in their fluffiness. Incadescent with joy, his laughter louder and his smile bigger. So big it hurt his cheeks - yet he couldn't stop, just like he wouldn't let go of Mordred's hand. <</if>> Later when they had to part, it was with great reluctance that they did. [[Continue|ChamberHappy]]

//Oh no.// You hug the flowers tightly to your chest, crushing them as realization sets in. Is Gawain about to confess his feelings to you? It should make you happy. You should be elated to know, with certainty, that he feels the same way about you. Yet panic rises in you. You can't let this happen. Tomorrow Gawain will be off to Camelot, and who knows when he'll be back. He might soon forget about you, anyway. You'd rather hurt now than raise your hopes only to have them brutally dashed later - even if this means wounding the both of you. "I have something to tell you, too," you pipe in. He stops, hand reaching under his yellow cape. He nods, allowing you to go first, and you plough on, "I just wanted to say that I'm so happy to have you as my //friend//." You put heavy emphasis on the word, hoping it's enough to convey your intention without you actually having to spell out the hurtful words. Gawain's smile drops completely and his brow creases as it all shifts into place. He pulls his hand away from the cape, balling it loosely at his side. "Yes. I'm happy to have you as my friend, too." He attemps a smile, but it's a pale imitation of his usual radiant ones. He seems to know that, too. He swallows and tries again, this time with more success. Yet the smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Should we go? Have a look around together." As you set off leisurely between the stalls, Gawain lets you know Ariawen has met up with $dragon_name and went on their way. "I told them we'd find them later. So, what do you like best at the fair? Did you see the dragons' fire performance?" Gawain's cheerful demeanor, strained at first, turns genuine the more you chat about what each of you has seen and enjoyed so far; as it turns out, the fire show ranks second best on his list, only dethroned by a troupe of singing actors. He doesn't mention anything about Alina, and you wonder if word of it has somewhat escaped him or if he'd rather not bring up the hurtful subject, right now. You decided not to say anything for now either. You take in the various performances and talk about everything and anything. You stumble upon a magic show, and Gawain is quick to tug you in that direction. A red-headed sorcerer plays parlor tricks on an elevated platform to a rapt audience. Heavily bejeweled hands present a glass jar with flourish, every motion studied, languid, expansive. //Dramatic//. Like an actor on stage. A brilliant, charming smile stays plastered on his face, but it's doesn't look forced. It's fueled by the delight of having dozens of eyes following your every move. The long, billowy sleeves of his purple tunic sway with every move. Their cut is decisively unlike Lothian fashion, but you know the sorcerer to be Lothian. Darius Solomon, the eldest of Alina's siblings. Something flashes in the jar he brandishes, stirring relentlessly like a caged animal circling its enclosure. Eager to be let out. A fragment of lightning, glimmering a silvery white. The audience gasps as he allows it float out. But he does not let it run away - it dances in the palm of his hand, flows like water along the lenght of his arm, across his shoulders, looping over his neck to glide down his other arm and end up in his palm. The crowd claps, and he bows deep, smile wider. Smugger. Gawain too claps enthusiastically. Later, you cross paths with your dragon friends, //by accident//. In truth, $dragon_name called out to you to let you know where to find $dragon_him and Ariawen. [[At the feast|FeastNight]]

"Yes!" Mordred exclaimed, tugging the bouquet closer to ?their chest, almost squashing it in ?their excitement. ?Their smile split ?their face and crinkled the corners of ?their eyes. Gawain beamed; he felt so light, so relieved, like a bottle of sparkling wine finally uncorked. "I'm so happy you do! I was concerned you wouldn't reciprocate." <<if $bracelet is true>> "I got something for you, too," Mordred said, producing a bracelet from ?their embroidered belt pouch. It was a dainty little thing made up of vivid beads that winked sweetly in the sunlight. He loved it. "Oh, it's so pretty. Can you help me put it on?" Gawain stuck out his arm. Mordred attentively fastened it around his wrist, a smile caught on ?their lips that looked like it had no intention to fade soon. Once the bracelet was secured, snugly fitting, he drew his arm closer to admire the beads' glimmer; it was as merry as he felt within. "Thank you. I love it." [[Continue|EnjoyFairSweethearts]] <<else>> [[Continue|EnjoyFairSweethearts]] <</if>>

Mordred hugged the flowers closer to ?their chest, dipping ?their head towards them as if to hide in the colorful sea of petals. "Yes," ?they gently replied, and Gawain was lifted off his feet by sheer joy. "Yes, I do like you too." Gawain beamed; he felt so light, so relieved, like a bottle of sparkling wine finally uncorked. "I'm so happy you do! I was concerned you wouldn't reciprocate." <<if $chapt3_bracelet == "yes_tell">> "I got something for you, too," Mordred said, producing a bracelet from ?their embroidered belt pouch. It was a dainty little thing made up of vivid beads that winked sweetly in the sunlight. He loved it. "Oh, it's so pretty. Can you help me put it on?" Gawain stuck out his arm. Mordred attentively fastened it around his wrist, a smile caught on ?their lips that looked like it had no intention to fade soon. Once the bracelet was secured, snugly fitting, he drew his arm closer to admire the beads' glimmer; it was as merry as he felt within . "Thank you. I love it." <</if>> [[Continue|EnjoyFairSweethearts]]

Mordred didn't answer immediately. ?They closed ?their arms tighter around the bouquet, squishing it to ?their chest, and avoided his eye. Anxiety sunk sharp talons in his shoulders as he watched ?their troubled, somber expression, but he held on to hope with a smile. Silence crawled on; when Mordred broke it, ?they did so gently, yet it did not soften the blow. "I'd rather we just stay friends." "Oh." His confession, so tenderly spoken, had now withered to ash on his tongue. "I see. I'm sorry. I must have-I..." He swallowed thickly, forcing down the rising sorrow. His eyes stung with unshed tears, but he resolved not to burden Mordred with them. He needed to get away. His mind was quickly fogging up, a sea of tears building behind his eyes, threatening to overflow any moment. It wasn't Mordred's fault; a part of him had tried to steel him for this possibility, but it hurt nonetheless. Still, he tried to summon a feeble smile for ?them. "I understand. I'm sorry. Is it fine if I-if I meet you a little bit later?" He couldn't wait for an answer. Without another word, he took off at a dash into the crowd. Going far and fast, as if the distance could lesson the pain. Gawain ran blindly through the fair. All the color around him was a blurred mess through his watery eyes: smudges and smears surrounding him, unclear, hazy faces passing by. He dabbed furiously at his face with the back of his palm, the poem still gripped tightly in the other hand. He needed to find someone - someone who could soothe him, whether that be his parents or Aria or Gally or Arthur. Whoever he could see first was the one whose arms he'd flung himself at to air his troubles. His parents were the ones he caught sight of. They were by the food stalls, seated at a bench, heads tilted close together as they spoke and nursed tankards. The muscles in his legs screamed as he propelled himself towards them. His mother saw him first. "Gawain? What happened?" She pressed her mouth to a thin, worried line as she studied him. It quickly turned to sympathy as she understood. "Mordred..." Gawain started, choked up, "doesn't like me the same way I like ?them." His parents scooted apart to make space for him between them, and his mother offered her tankard of apple juice to him. He took a few listless sips. His throat felt too constricted to swallow anything. Gawain looked down at his hands. The letter was rumpled and damp and as pitiful a sight as him. He sniffled and stuffed it back in the pocket. "I'm sorry," his father gently said. With one hand, he rubbed soothing circles on his back. With the other, he offered him a handkerchief. For a while, all Gawain did was cry. Letting it all out. He'd had his doubts that Mordred didn't feel the same way, of course, but he'd been so overwhelmingly hopeful that ?they did. He must have misinterpreted everything. As his tears subsided, he thought of Mordred. This must be hard on ?them too - to have been put in that difficult, awkward position. He remembered ?their sad face as ?they worked ?themself up to turn him down. The pained expression as Gawain ran away. //Oh no,// he realized. He did run away, just like that. He'd promised to spend the afternoon together, and he'd ruined everything. He pillowed his head against his folded arms atop the wooden table and let out a muffled whimper as red-hot shame flooded him. "I feel awful. I promised we'd spend time together, and I abandoned ?them there. I just...I didn't feel like I could hang out after that." "It's alright," his father said, palm still splayed on his back. It was a reassuring weight. "Emotions were running high, surely, and Mordred may have needed the space as much as you. Sometimes it's best to recognize when you need to step away, to calm down and think." "Once you have," his mother continued, "you should talk things out with Mordred. To clear the air." Gawain raised his head and nodded with conviction. "I will," he said, then dithered. "Later. At the feast. I promise." The rejection had broken his heart, but even more painful would be to abandon the beginning of a lovely friendship they had. He'd find ?them there at the table, apologize for his behavior and tell ?them he still wanted to be friends, as Mordred ?themself said as ?they turned him down. Horror then struck him like lightning. Would Mordred still wish that, after what he did? After he exposed his heart and made a scene? He scraped the tip of his boot against the dirt and whispered, dejected: "I just - I just hope ?they'll still want to be my friend." His mother offered a commiserating smile and soft kiss atop his head. "That can only be found if you ask. For now, cry your tears, settle down, soften the pain with something fun. There's a lutist nearby. We can do whatever you want." They stayed a little while longer at the tables before heading to listen to the music. The lilting notes consoled him. The whole morning he'd spent hopeful and expectant - now it was much the same, wondering if Mordred would still like to be his friend, though he resolved to act far more gracious in case of a refusal this time. [[The end|End]]

Hope you enjoyed it!

Upon returning to his chamber, Gawain found Gally reading on the bed. He put the book down as soon as he entered, angling a curious look his way. Studying him, as if trying to gauge how things had went. Gawain resolved the riddle for him right away: "Mordred doesn't like me the same way I do." "I'm sorry," Gally said. The words weren't empty sympathy; they were weighed down by the troubled pucker of his mouth. "I thought you'd be relieved? Because you didn't approve of Mordred around me." "I don't like Mordred, but I hate seeing //you// sad." Gawain smiled wanly. "I know." He climbed up in bed next to Gally, resting his head against his shoulder. "It stings, but I'll be fine. And we're staying friends, for which I'm happy." By the way Galahad tensed, he could tell he didn't share the sentiment. "Give ?them a chance, Gally. Please." He sighed. The sound was weary, like old wood under great pressure. "I'll...try. For you. I won't dissuade you from being ?their friend," he added, "but don't ask me to do the same as you." It was Gawain's turn to sigh. "You don't have to. Just try be nice to ?them." There was a pause, then Galahad reluctantly said: "I'll...try." Gawain straightened up and smiled. "Let's get ready for the feast then." Gally snorted. "//You// should start maybe. I'll be done far quicker than you." "Style takes time!" Gawain protested, bumping his knee playfully. "So I should start." He went about fishing for a garb, humming to himself. [[The End|End]]

Gawain headed for his chamber with a skip in his step, feeling as if he could run through the entirety of the castle and not get tired. He wouldn't try it, though. He had an inkling his muscles and lungs would not agree with him. Back in his room, he found Galahad reading on the bed. He put the book down as soon as he entered, sending a curious look his way. Studying him, as if trying to gauge how things had went. The riddle was not hard to solve, not when Gawain carried such a wide smile on his face. Still, he threw open his arms and exclaimed: "Mordred likes me! Gally, today was //amazing//!" Galahad did his best to summon a smile for him, but it was weighed down. "I'm happy for you," he said, then angled his face downwards, pretending to be suddenly very entranced by the garment laid out on the duvet, running his fingers along the fabric. There were no creases to smooth there, only on his troubled brow, furrowed like a pair of trampled trousers. Gawain climbed up on the bed besides him, searching his face. Gally didn't look mad or disappointed, merely...sad. Slowly, the creases smoothed and he looked up. "I'm happy that you're happy, but I wish it wasn't Mordred." Gawain stuck out his bottom lip. "Please, Gally, just give ?them a chance." He sighed. The sound was weary, like old wood under great pressure. "I won't dissuade you from being ?their sweetheart," he said, "but don't ask me to be ?their friend." It was Gawain's turn to sigh. "You don't have to. Just try be nice to ?them." There was a pause, then Galahad reluctantly said: "I'll...try." Gawain straightened up and smiled. "Let's get ready for the feast then." Gally snorted. "//You// should start maybe. I'll be done far quicker than you." "Style takes time!" Gawain protested, bumping his knee playfully. "So I should start." He went about fishing for a garb, humming to himself. [[The End|End]]