A Coming Home (Pt. 1)

Galahad hefted his sword off his shoulder, thrusting it into the dirt. The sun was setting, and at long last he could see the castle. As the sun set, the castle tower was framed by the blazing orb of fire. He smiled at that. ‘Blazing? Hm! It’ll be good to see her again.’ His quest was finally over. Those three long months spent away in other lands, and he could finally see Camelot again. As Galahad stood admiring the castle, his armour reflected the final rays of sunlight, setting him shining like the sun itself.
“Well, it doesn’t appear that I’ll make it home today. Might as well make camp for the night.”
He was too far away to collect firewood, and was forced to use the spare logs he kept with him. When he had left the last kingdom, they had told him it would be daft to carry logs on his journey back, especially without a horse. But Galahad had gone anyways, and was now happy he had done so. The Titanic plains provided a great view of the rest of Camelot, but was rather... empty, the closer you got to the castle. His camp was set at the crest of one of the many hills rolling through the landscape. It stood alone from the other hills, further away. Alone. It was the perfect spot to make camp. It gave Galahad a grand view of his homeland, and made a good landmark should he get lost. Losing his way was very unlikely, with the castle clearly visible from almost everywhere in the plains, but these hills hid several pits and ravines. Galahad had no desire to fall to his doom in a dark cave, not when home was so close.

He still could not believe that he had been away for so long. It was quite a shock when he was told he would be leaving within the month. He had tried passing it on to one of the other knights; Gawain would have leapt at the chance to explore other lands, and Lancelot obeyed the King’s every whim. But the King persisted with his choice of Galahad, and so he had no other choice but to go along with things. He could still remember when the King had stopped him and Percival from sparring in the castle courtyard, giving them the news. He told them of what was to come before the official announcement, as to limit the surprise as much as possible.
“Father! Why can I not accompany him? I can fight just as well as he!” She had been quite arguing with him for several minutes now.
“I have told you already, Percival. This must be done by Galahad, and Galahad alone! King Pellinore was quite specific in his letter. Now enough, child. I shall not dispute this any longer.” He turned to Galahad. “You have the month to prepare, Galahad. Spend it how you will, but by the month’s end you must depart Camelot.”
Percival had demanded he spend all but the last week spending time with her before preparing for the journey. They did nothing more than normal, though Galahad had that month away from his usual duties as a Knight of the Table. They sparred daily, as they normally had, wearing their full suits of armour, but wielding only practice swords. Specialized, of course. A normal practice blade would have broken under the amount of strength used in their attacks. The week before Galahad left, Percival had pushed rather hard during their sparring matches.
“You’ve got... to be prepared... for anything!” She had told him before sweeping under his guard, flipping his legs over his head. He would have smashed his head on the stone had he not used his powers to keep spinning, knocking her back.

Galahad felt something... strange... Now that he gazed upon the Castle again, a strange feeling filled his heart. He could not explain what he felt, only that he needed to get to the Castle as soon as he could. He left his fire burning, grabbing his sword and setting off towards the castle again. He had walked the whole way so far, there was no reason he couldn’t walk through the night. As he moved, he could not keep his mind of Percival. Every memory he held of her played out through his mind; The two of them playing together as children. A surprise birthday party they had thrown for her, which nearly resulted in the dining hall burning to the ground. Every moment, from their time as children up to their rather short time as young adults. Similar thoughts began entering his mind from the moment he left for Camelot, growing only stronger the closer he came to the grand castle. Up until now, they had been in short fits. Now his mind raced with memories and questions about her. ‘She had hated pink as a child. Does she remember who I am? Is she waiting for me? The first time I left Camelot, she had come with me. I’ve known her for as long as I can remember. Does she keep her beauty after all this time...?’
He stopped walking, rubbing his temples. His chaotic thoughts were causing his powers to flare up, it had begun bending the metal of his armor, and threatened to tear his sword from his hands. His emotions were building up. He needed to release them before...