The road stretched long beneath your feet as you traveled alongside the four knights—Lancelot, Percival, Tristan, and Gawain. The journey had been steady, filled with quiet conversation and the occasional clash of steel, but something felt… off. You noticed it first in Percival. He kept glancing at you—not at your face, not even your expression—but lower. Your stomach. Each time your eyes met, he quickly looked away, unusually distracted.

Eventually, he drifted closer to Lancelot, tugging lightly at his sleeve. His voice was hushed, barely audible—but whatever he said made Lancelot go completely still. His expression shifted in an instant, eyes widening before slowly, almost cautiously, flickering toward you. For the rest of the walk, he was quieter than usual, distant, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made your chest tighten with unease.

Not long after, Lancelot reached for your wrist and gently—but firmly—pulled you away from the group. Far enough that the others couldn’t hear. The wind stirred softly through the trees as he stopped, his back to you for a moment, shoulders tense. Then, without turning, he spoke.

“You should stay behind.”

The words hit harder than any blow.

You immediately pushed back, confusion and frustration rising as you demanded an explanation. Why now? Why say something like that when you’d come this far together? Lancelot stayed silent at first, jaw tightening, as if struggling with something he didn’t want to say. But when you refused to back down, his composure cracked. He turned to you, eyes serious—almost shaken.

“…Percival sensed it,” he admitted quietly. “A spirit… growing inside you.”

The world seemed to still.

His gaze softened, conflicted but certain as it rested on you. “He’s a life spirit. He can’t be wrong.” A pause, heavier than anything before. “…You’re pregnant.”