Evening – Around the Campfire

The campfire crackled softly, its warm glow illuminating the small clearing where Artreus and Guinevere sat. The forest had grown quiet, with only the occasional hoot of an owl or rustling of leaves breaking the silence. Above them, the night sky stretched endlessly, shimmering with countless stars.

The delicious aroma of roasted rabbit filled the air as Artreus carefully turned the spit over the fire, ensuring the meat cooked evenly.

Guinevere rested her chin on her hands, her purple eyes watching him curiously.

"Hmm…" she hummed thoughtfully. "You're… surprisingly experienced at this. For someone so young."

Artreus rolled his eyes, but the small smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his pride.

"Tch. Obviously." he said, poking the fire with a stick. "I've been traveling with my Master, Samson, and my brothers-in-arms, Aidan and Mikael. We travel the world together."

He glanced at her before returning his focus to the food.

"My Master trained us to be the strongest warriors, to survive anywhere. We learned discipline, dedication, and commitment. Every single day, we train—nonstop."

Guinevere raised an eyebrow.

"Every single day?"

Artreus nodded firmly.

"Every. Single. Day. No exceptions. My Master doesn't believe in 'rest days' or 'taking it easy.' If we're not training, we're hunting, scouting, or tracking dangerous monsters."

He gestured toward the fire.

"If we don't stay sharp… we'll be dead the moment we let our guard down. We don't know what'll happen in the next fight. If we hesitate for even a second…"

His voice lowered slightly.

"…That could be the end."

For a brief moment, his usually confident demeanor darkened, as if memories of past battles lingered in his mind.

Guinevere watched him closely, her usual teasing fading into something more thoughtful.

"I see…" she murmured.

Most twelve-year-olds she had met were being pampered in noble houses, living carefree lives.

But Artreus?

He was trained like a warrior.

He lived on the edge of survival.

It made her wonder…

How much had he seen?

How many battles had he already fought?

She tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear, gazing at him with newfound curiosity.

"That's… a lot for someone your age."

Artreus shrugged, ripping off a piece of roasted rabbit and tossing it to her.

"Like I said, we're built different." he said, grinning.

Guinevere caught the food, shaking her head with a small smile.

"Tch. Arrogant little brat." she muttered, taking a bite.

A second later, her eyes widened.

"Wait—this is actually good?!"

Artreus smirked proudly.

"Hah! I told you, I know what I'm doing!"

Guinevere chuckled softly, shaking her head in amusement.

"Alright, alright. I'll admit it. You're impressive."

She leaned back, letting the warmth of the fire sink into her skin.

Then—her expression softened.

Her purple eyes flickered with something distant.

"You remind me of Arthur…" she said quietly.

Artreus paused, looking at her.

"My brother?"

Guinevere smiled faintly.

"That smile of yours… you remind me of him."

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Artreus said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

She stared into the dancing flames, her voice lowering into a quiet reminiscence.

"We used to go out like this six years ago… at night. Near a pond close to the castle. I used to dance there. Even when I thought no one was watching, he was there—always watching from the shadows."

Flashback Scene

The glow of fireflies lit up the night as Guinevere spun gracefully, her silver hair flowing as she danced beside the pond.

Unaware that someone was watching.

In the distance, hidden among the trees, stood Arthur, his gaze unreadable as he silently watched her beneath the moonlight.

End of Flashback

She let out a soft chuckle.

"That's how we met. He's stubborn, reckless, and careless—but also honest and kind."

Her smile faded slightly.

"The last time I saw him… he left for war. The war against Demon King Azazel and his armies."

Artreus rested his chin on his hands, thinking.

"Hmm… you sure think a lot about my brother. Looks like you spent quite a bit of time with him…"

Guinevere nodded.

"My father invited him for dinner. After all, he is the Chosen Hero of the World."

She glanced at Artreus.

"I wanted to know about him. He learned our ways of mana, as well as trained with the Knights of the Round Table. We even gave him an army for the war."

Her expression darkened slightly.

"But Arthur… didn't want me to come to the war. I wanted to be by his side…but he told me to stay."

She looked away.

"Then… I heard about your home. How it was destroyed by Demon King Abaddon and his demons. And then… Arthur went missing after his battle with the Demon King."

She looked into the fire.

"The only thing left of him… was his sword, Excalibur. It was found standing in the ground, unmoving."

Artreus sat up straight.

"Excalibur?"

Guinevere nodded.

"Yes… Excalibur was brought to Camelot from Ozamian. It was placed back in the stone, where it belongs."

She hesitated.

"I was supposed to go to Camelot… to see it for myself. The people of Camelot believe that Arthur is dead. But…"

She lowered her gaze.

"I don't know if he is…"

Artreus clenched his fists.

"He's not dead."

Guinevere looked up at him.

"My brother is not dead." Artreus said, his voice firm.

His blue eyes burned with certainty.

"Deep inside, I know he's alive."

Guinevere watched him closely before nodding.

"You still have faith in him too… I see."

She smiled softly.

"I guess… I'm not the only one."

Artreus tilted his head.

"What are you to my brother?"

Guinevere hesitated, then smiled playfully..

"Well… I'm his fiancée."

Artreus froze.

He blinked once.

Then twice.

"WAIT, WHAT?!"

He shot up, looking at her as if she just told him the sky was purple.

"You're my brother's fiancée?! Since when?!"

Guinevere smiled calmly.

"That's right. He proposed to me before he left."

Artreus stared at her.

"WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME IN THE FIRST PLACE?!"

Guinevere shrugged innocently.

"Well… you didn’t ask."

Artreus gawked at her.

"There's NO WAY my brother proposed to you."

Guinevere raised an eyebrow.

"And why is that?"

Artreus pointed at her dramatically.

"BECAUSE YOU'RE 112 YEARS OLD!"

Guinevere stared at him.

Her smile twitched.

A dangerous aura suddenly surrounded her.

"So…" she said slowly. "What exactly… do you mean by that?"

Artreus gestured at her wildly.

"What do you mean 'so'?! You're old! Why would my brother propose to an old hag like you?!"

A long silence.

Then—Guinevere smiled.

A very terrifying smile.

"Old hag, you say…?"

Before Artreus could react—

SNAP.

Guinevere grabbed his ear and twisted it.

"A-AHHH, WAIT—!! OW, OW, OW!!"

She kept smiling, but her grip tightened.

"Say that again?"

"Y-You're the most youthful and beautiful elf I've ever met!" Artreus quickly said.

Guinevere nodded, satisfied, letting go.

"Good boy."

Artreus sat there, rubbing his ear with a defeated look.

"…I hate this."

Guinevere pouted and crossed her arms.

"For your information, I'm still on the younger side. You know, elves can live up to a thousand years or more. My great-great-grandfather is 1,235 years old and still alive. So don't call me old."

Artreus sighed heavily.

"Yeah.. But you're still ancient compared to me."

Guinevere pinched his cheek.

"Wanna say that again?"

"N-NOPE! I'M GOOD!"

The two continued their playful bickering, their voices blending with the soft crackling of the fire and the distant sounds of the forest.

Above them, the stars twinkled, watching over their journey ahead.

Morning Arrival – The Town of Eldoria

The morning sun bathed the vast green fields in a golden glow as Artreus and Guinevere walked along the grassy path. The wind blew softly, making the tall grass sway like waves in the ocean. The crisp air was filled with the scent of wildflowers and fresh earth.

After spending days in the wilderness, the open path ahead gave them a sense of relief.

As they continued their journey, Artreus squinted into the distance. His eyes widened slightly before he grinned and pointed ahead.

"Look, Princess! There's a town over there."

Guinevere followed his gaze.

Beyond the rolling hills, nestled between trees and mountains, sat a small town.

Thin trails of smoke rose from chimneys, and the distant chatter of merchants and travelers echoed in the air.

Finally—civilization.

A place where they could rest, eat proper food, and—most importantly—get a map.

Artreus cheered internally.

But just as he was about to celebrate out loud, Guinevere sighed.

"Gotta get a cloak."

Artreus blinked.

"Huh? Why?"

Guinevere gave him a deadpan look.

"Artreus… I'm an elf princess with silver hair, pointed ears, and royal clothing. Do you really think we can just walk into town without drawing attention?"

Artreus paused.

Then slowly turned to look at her.

Long, flowing silver hair? Check.

Flawless pale skin? Check.

Purple eyes that glowed like freaking moonlight? Check.

Ears that screamed "I'M AN ELF"? Check.

Wearing a fancy white-and-gold dress that basically shouts "I'M ROYALTY"? Check.

…And then, as Artreus stared, his eyes slowly lowered—

Stopping at her big chest.

Artreus's brows furrowed in concentration as if deep in thought.

"Hmmm…"

Guinevere's straight-faced expression didn't change.

"Stop staring at my chest, you perv."

Artreus snapped out of it.

"I was thinking!" he defended quickly.

Guinevere narrowed her eyes.

"Liar. I can see through your eyes."

Artreus looked away immediately.

"ANYWAY—" He cleared his throat. "Maybe you have a point…"

Guinevere sighed, shaking her head.

"I'll need a hooded cloak to blend in," she said.

Artreus smirked.

"What? Afraid your adoring fans might mob you for autographs?"

Guinevere rolled her eyes.

"No, you don’t get it. I look like a lost noble elf. That might draw attention—bounty hunters, mercenaries, people who want to kidnap me."

Artreus froze.

"…Oh."

Right.

She wasn't just some noble elf girl.

She was Guinevere Elora Aragorn, Princess of Elenora—the heir of King Arathorn's bloodline.

Her existence alone was powerful enough to shift the balance of the world.

People wouldn't just recognize her.

Some would want to kill her.

Some would want to sell her.

And some would want to use her.

"…Okay, cloak it is," Artreus muttered.