A long time. And although Galahad has never been one for keeping track of the days - especially here, where they mean little - he knows, with some part of him, how much has changed. It's in the way he laughs, the freedom of his movements as he gently steers and brushes the horses, the niggling thought in his head that he really should talk to Meg about some more sword practice and that Susan should be told that Mithros is eating better than he was and that he hasn't seen Alanna in far too long.
It's in the fact that when he wipes his forehead and turns to see Mordred there, it raises an easy smile and not the slightest hint of tension.
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It's in the fact that when he wipes his forehead and turns to see Mordred there, it raises an easy smile and not the slightest hint of tension.
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"Hey, pretty one."
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Not my Lord, as often, though he'll slip backwards when upset. My prince, and the emphasis shifting to the possessive with every passing day.
"Made anyone's life miserable today?"
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"Not really. Just a toy's. It spoke, though. And was evil."
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