Prince Arthur Pendragon rode hard through the sun-dappled forest, his black cloak whipping behind him like smoke. Dust and wildflowers burst beneath the hooves of his towering stallion, Bruce, who galloped with the fluid power of a beast born from war and wilderness alike. Muscles rippled beneath the horse's hide like armor forged from living iron.
They had long since left master Reinheart behind.
Arthur hadn't meant to. Not exactly. But the thought of surprising Duke Leo—riding into Castle Leo before the servants had time to light the fires or line up the honor guard—was too delicious to resist. The bastard deserved it. Let him sweat. Let him scramble. Let him answer for years of silence and rumors and backroom dealings. Let him explain where his mysterious daughter had been hiding all this time.
Arthur grinned under his cowl.
He was dressed in full wandering gear: dark travel-worn leathers, chain beneath a black tabard, the edges of his great cloak trailing in the dust. His golden hair, tied at the nape, shone faintly beneath the hood, and his icy blue eyes scanned the road ahead with the restless confidence of a hunter. Strapped to his back was Dragon Slayer, the monstrous sword he had forged with his own hands—a slab of black steel nearly his height, inscribed with crimson runes that still shimmered faintly from its last kill.
To most, he would look like a Wandering Knight in black or some old legend come to life, or even something evil and dangerous.
But inside, he was just… excited.
He was excited to meet her.
This bride. This "hidden daughter" of Duke Leo's. Beautiful, they said. Noble. Blonde. Deep blue-eyed. Apparently, she had never been seen at court. Not once. Hidden away, they claimed, for her own protection—too beautiful for public eyes.
Arthur didn't believe half of it. But still, he hoped.
He hoped for something real. Someone kind. Someone strange, even. As long as she wasn't boring.
He had been alone for so long.
Longer than anyone knew.
Years ago, in another life, he had died in fire beside his best friend. Bruce. Not the horse, but the man. The stupid, clumsy, beautiful soul who had saved him and ruined him and carried his burdens when no one else could.
He hadn't found Bruce in this life.
He'd looked.
Sailed to the Holy Sea. Spoke to priests, mystics, dream-diviners. Even fought through elven forests where arrows whispered past his ears like angry birds. He had challenged Lycans in the north, hunted monsters in the west, stood before giants in the stone valleys of the mountains. And still—no Bruce.
Maybe he had never been reborn.
Or maybe he had… somewhere else.
Arthur swallowed down the thought. Focused.
He passed a stone marker carved with the symbol of House Foster—a crumbling Oak Tree etched into granite—and slowed his horse. This was Foster's territory, one of Duke Leo's lesser vassals. The forest here was old, dense and heavy with summer heat and buzzing life.
Then he saw it.
A low wall of stone that seemed overgrown with seemingly no gate.
His brow furrowed at the sight of it, and Bruce snorted.
Then Arthur pulled back gently on the reins. Quickly, the horse came to a halt, pawing at the dirt.
What is this?
There were no records of any buildings here. Not even guard posts or patrol routes. And yet, the wall curled through the woods like a snake, draped in ivy and moss, barely holding its own weight. And through its few cracks just beyond it, he saw wild berry bushes, lavender fields, and flashes of colour that didn't belong, and behind the old overgrown cottage, he could see what looked like a lake hidden behind tall grass and other greenery.
He could also see what looked like poorly painted things made of clay.
Then he dismounted in one smooth motion, landing with a soft thud. His boots crushed down ferns and forest litter as he approached the wall. He pressed a gloved hand to the cool stone, pulled himself up and with force vaulted over it in one clean motion, and stopped.
Inside the wall, the world changed, for it wasn't a ruin or a stronghold but alive in a chaotic, improvised way, bursting with life.
Thick strawberry bushes grew in haphazard rows, some of them bearing fruit as large as his palm. Lavender rose in great purple clouds, buzzing with bees. Mint and marigold spilled out over uneven paths. And all throughout, tiny clay figures stood frozen in place—little people, malformed and sun-cracked, placed carefully among stones, sticks, and mossy altars. Some seemed like maybe once they had been well-made, but after countless repairs, their forms had changed into something not human anymore.
Flags of leather scraps fluttered on crooked branches.
A treehouse leaned precariously in the tallest oak, patched with rope, leaves, and old cloth.
And in the middle of it all stood the rooster.
It was enormous.
Almost the size of a hunting hound, feathers glossy and proud, eyes sharp. It stood on a wooden perch near a compost heap, staring at him with the cold intelligence of a hawk.
Arthur blinked. "...That's a big rooster."
The rooster blinked back.
Then, without fuss, turned its head away and began preening.
Arthur slowly relaxed his stance, letting his hand drift away from the hilt of Dragon Slayer.
He walked deeper into the strange garden, brushing past stalks of dill and spearmint. He knelt beside a strawberry bush and picked a single, absurdly large fruit.
Bit into it.
Sweet.
Sweeter than anything he'd had in Camelot.
He wiped the juice on his cloak and looked around again.
It didn't feel dangerous.
It felt... accidental. Like someone had once tried to make a home here but forgot what that meant halfway through. The layout was erratic. The clay people looked like they'd been made by a child. The walls were too tall for a garden but too weak for defense. There were no tools except some sharpened stones. No paths or human tracks.
If this belonged to Lord Foster, he had abandoned it long ago.
Arthur tilted his head.
Maybe this was an old hunting lodge, maybe a bandit camp, or some alchemist's failed project. Either way, the strawberries were good, and he was tired of trail rations.
He sat down beside a rock, pulled out his satchel, and began plucking berries into it for the trip ahead.
Castle Leo wasn't far now. Still, a few berries for the journey wouldn't hurt, and maybe his future wife would like them.
In a few hours, he'd be there. He'd call out Duke Leo in front of his household, demand to know why the promised welcome was missing, and stare him down until the man sweated. Then he'd meet the girl. This strange, hidden girl they had pledged to him, or Duke Leo had at least, as nobody else except him and a few of his servants had ever seen this girl, not even the girl's grandparents knew of her existence until recently, when Duke Leo had told them, which was strange. Still, master Reinheart had insisted that this would be an excellent opportunity to unite the houses of the Pendragon and Lionheart, plus he needed a wife eventually anyway. Even Reinheart's wife Linn Lionheart and his mother and father had agreed, seeing this as an excellent idea. Well, he didn't complain, for maybe now that bastard Leo would finally stop sending assassins to poison his food and hired blades to attack him on the road. Killing all those assasins had felt like such a waste to him, their kingdom was small as it was already and they were constantly under threat of invasion from over the sea or from the north, they needed all the people they could get and killing eachother in pointless strugless for their small kingdoms throne wasnt helping at all. Plus, he wanted to travel in peace while playing the part of the mysterious wandering Knight named Art, who helped people wherever he went and was like a legendary hero of old.
But now, on his journey towards Castle Leo, one thing was sure: he would never in his wildest of dreams have expected what would come next.
He didn't see her in the brush.
Didn't hear her blood-slicked feet creeping across the moss.
Didn't feel the rage aimed at him like a javelin ready to fly.
And so, when the wild-haired girl charged from the thicket, half-naked, bleeding, and wielding nothing but pure, unfiltered wrath, he was still thinking about politics, coming up with new technologies for his kingdom and strawberries.
And like so with a smirk on his handsome face, Arthur plucked another strawberry and bit into it, savoring the sweetness as he scanned the strange, overgrown garden. The sun was warm on his shoulders, and the gentle buzz of bees created an atmosphere almost tranquil enough to lull him into sleep.
"Perhaps a quick rest," he muttered to himself, placing his heavy sword, Dragon Slayer, carefully down into the soft earth. It sank a little up the blade, remaining upright, its dark steel gleaming dully in the sunlight. Then he stretched slowly, joints cracking pleasantly, as the weight of the weapon lifted from his shoulders. "Maybe I will have a swim in that lake I saw…"
He chuckled, imagining Duke Leo's face when he arrived early, wet-haired and dripping, fully unannounced and unapologetic, maybe even without a shirt to show off his 8-pack abs and the rest of his upper body's glory.
"Serves the bastard right," he murmured, stripping off his thick leather gloves. "Not even sending an honor guard. Well, surprise is the price you pay for disrespect."
Arthur stretched again, yawning as the peacefulness settled into his bones, a welcome break from hours in the saddle. He began unbuckling the heavy clasps of his dark cloak, contemplating the cool embrace of the nearby lake.
But behind him, unknown and unnoticed, two blue eyes burned fiercely from the shadows.
Lili had slipped quietly through the open gate of her garden, her heart hammering in her small chest. Her legs trembled slightly from adrenaline and anger, but her bare feet made no sound on the soft grass. She crept forward slowly, eyes fixed firmly on the intruder who now stood lazily stretching in the center of her sacred territory.
Her fists clenched tight. How dare he? How dare he pick her strawberries, desecrate her kingdom, and… attack her somehow? She was still furious, still confused from the strange bleeding. She couldn't explain it yet—but she knew, without a doubt, it was this rogue's doing.
And he would pay dearly.
Arthur began to whistle softly, unhooking his cloak and laying it aside on a stone. Completely unaware, completely vulnerable or so it seemed to her.
Lili's eyes widened. Now was the perfect moment. Her mind raced through memories of MMA training with Frank, her life as an undercover cop and even the military at one point, which were things she was always bad at. She even thought of cop dramas and YouTube videos she'd seen years ago, back when she was still Bruce. How did they do it again? Chokehold from behind, legs locked around the torso, apply pressure? Then it came to him, that moment when in The Lord of the Rings, Gollum jumped on Frodo's back and bit his finger off.
Yes, that was it, although maybe she wouldn't bite his fingers, just choke him a little until he said sorry.
She crouched low, muscles coiled, and without hesitation, she charged.
Arthur felt it before he saw it. A sixth sense told him something totally not dangerous was coming. He could even hear the small rustle in the bushes and rapid footsteps. His body tensed, just a little instinctively, his battle-trained senses flaring to life. He began to turn—calmly, casually, hand reaching for Dragon Slayer out of habit—but the blur of movement was faster than he anticipated.
She was on him in seconds—a flash of blonde hair, pale skin, and blood-streaked legs. Before Arthur could fully process it, the girl leaped onto his back, her slender arms snapping tight around his throat.
Arthur staggered slightly, more from shock than weight. Her strength was negligible compared to his, but her speed and agility were astounding. He caught a glimpse of her as she climbed higher up his body like a small monkey, gripping tighter, and he froze in stunned surprise.
She was breathtaking, so cute.
Her face was heart-shaped, features as delicate and precise as carved porcelain. Her eyes were deep pools of furious blue, her lips full and naturally colored in shades he'd only seen in magazines and TV commercials from another lifetime. No blemishes, no unevenness, no roughness—just impossible perfection. He'd seen beauty before, elven archers trying to kill him from the trees, Instagram models, his past life's wife, even carefully bred noblewomen, but never had he seen anything like this.
In the split second she moved behind him, Arthur forgot entirely about the sword, about danger, about pride. His teenage heart lurched painfully in his chest.
"Who… are you?" he blurted in bewildered wonder.
"Quiet, rogue!" she hissed, adjusting her grip, squeezing tighter. "Y-you're under arrest! Submit or be destroyed by my choke hold!"
Arthur nearly laughed. This tiny thing, just what was she saying, arrest him, was she serious? Still, he stood still, trying not to smile outright at her furious tone as he tried to speak. "And what exactly—"
"Stop resisting!" she snapped, frustrated by her ineffective chokehold and then she commanded. "Hold still!"
Bemused and curious, he obeyed. Arthur felt no threat, no danger from this girl. If anything, she intrigued him deeply—this wild creature with beauty that defied the medieval grime and dirt of the real world.
Lili climbed higher on his broad shoulders, wrapping her toned thighs around his neck tightly, squeezing with determination. She smelled of lake water and wildflowers—sweet, fresh, utterly enchanting.
But as the blood from her legs got onto his face, Arthur's patience quickly ran thin. He had indulged her long enough.
With an easy shrug of his powerful shoulders, Arthur tossed her neatly over him onto the soft grass below, swiftly turning and pinning her slender wrists down in a single, effortless motion. She gasped beneath him, eyes blazing with humiliation and rage, her golden hair fanning out like a halo around her flushed face.
He studied her carefully, still half-smiling. "Enough, little savage. Explain yourself. Who are you? Are you Lord Foster's daughter, perhaps? I've never heard stories of him having a pretty daughter hidden, and clearly not taught well in manners."
Lili blinked, furious tears pricking her eyes. Lord Foster's daughter? Her mind raced. Was that her father? Had he been close by all this time? No, it couldn't be. Surely this arrogant boy was messing with her. Otherwise, she would have seen her father's space armada landing on the planet already, right?
"I won't say anything to you!" she snapped defiantly, voice trembling. "Y-you will submit, rogue! Or I'll—I'll have you destroyed! This is my kingdom, y-you understand!"
Arthur chuckled lightly, arrogant amusement coloring his voice. "Your kingdom? These ruins and clay toys?" He shook his head slowly. "Just what are you, the most spoiled little princess in this kingdom, lost in your fantasies and fairytales. No discipline, no manners. Perhaps in need of a good spanking. Yes, that would help you understand your place, girl."
Lili writhed beneath him, cheeks reddening fiercely. Her pride burned white-hot. Losing like this—pinned down by some arrogant boy barely older than herself—was unacceptable. So humiliating and not cool at all.
So she lifted her chin stubbornly and yelled in defiance and an attempt at authority. "Let me go, rogue, and face justice with dignity!"
Arthur laughed openly now, utterly charmed and utterly unmoved by her demands. He leaned closer, voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "Perhaps once you learn respect, little girl. Now, tell me your name."
She turned her face away defiantly. "Not until you submit!"
He sighed dramatically, eyes sparkling with interest. "Very well. I suppose we'll do this the hard way. I'm in no rush. But you know, I have to admit that you are quite impressive, well, for a fighting little angry squirrel,"
Lili glared up at him, cheeks hot with fury, humiliation burning in her chest. Her heart hammered. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. But beneath the embarrassment, a fierce, defiant fire ignited.
"At least I d-don't look like some m-medieval goth reject who g-got lost on the way to a L-Lord of the Rings cosplay c-convention!" she snapped suddenly, voice sharp with genuine venom.
Arthur's confident smirk vanished in an instant. His icy blue eyes widened in stunned disbelief.
"A—a what convention?" he stammered, utterly thrown off guard. "How do you know about—"
But Lili didn't let him finish.
With all the righteous fury she could muster, she yanked her wrist sharply free of his loosened grip, planted her small feet firmly into the soft ground beneath her, and drove her knee upward with explosive force—straight into his groin.
The impact was immediate, merciless, and shockingly solid.
Her bare foot connected with something unexpectedly firm, warm, and... big. Her eyes widened instantly, a blush flooding her entire face, heart skipping a stunned beat at the sheer heft of what she'd just struck. The realization slammed into her mind even as Arthur collapsed to his knees, clutching himself with an agonized groan.
Oh my god. This kid is stacked. Huge balls—big dick—the works. He's practically a horse.
Her cheeks burned with sudden shame, envy, and a hot rush of embarrassment she couldn't fully understand or explain. Why did he have what she'd lost, what she'd so desperately missed since her rebirth? She blinked, dazed for a second, then quickly shook herself free of the confusing thoughts.
Arthur hunched forward, eyes squeezed shut, breathing raggedly, his normally composed face twisted in silent agony.
"W-w-welcome to m-my kingdom, bitch!" she shouted over her shoulder, voice quivering, half-triumphant and half-panicked. She scrambled back, heart pounding as she rapidly retreated.
As she sprinted toward the lake, Lili's pulse thundered in her ears, face still flushed bright red with embarrassment and lingering shock. She dove through the bushes, leaves scraping her bare legs as she moved swiftly toward her safe haven. The lake shimmered ahead, calm and blue, waiting patiently for her.
She skidded to a stop by the water's edge, mud squishing between her toes. Her trembling hands seized the reassuring weight of the Spear of Sparta, leaning proudly against a nearby rock. She lifted it into a defensive stance, gripping it tightly as she spun around, breathing heavily, eyes fierce and defiant.
"Come get me now, rogue!" she shouted into the empty air, heart racing, spear shaking slightly in her grip. "S-see how you fare against the mighty Spartan Spear of Justice!"
In the distance, Arthur slowly staggered upright, cloak disheveled, dark hood thrown back, golden hair messy and eyes watery. He leaned heavily on Dragon Slayer, face pale but still handsome even in his pain. He glared at her across the clearing, not moving, just staring silently, eyes narrowed with a mixture of disbelief, irritation, and cautious respect.
Lili stood her ground by the water's edge, chest rising and falling rapidly, wet, muddy, and bleeding—but fiercely proud. She tightened her grip on the spear, prepared to defend her kingdom at any cost.
She would not run.She would not surrender.She was the President of the United State of Lili's Lake—and nobody would take that from her.