The air inside Castle Anthrax hums with sugar-sweet mischief, but Galahad hears none of it. He trails after the maiden who caught his eye, armor clinking softly, eyes wide with something dangerously close to adoration. Every time she glances back, he stiffens like a squire caught daydreaming—but he can’t help himself

She moves with a grace that makes his breath hitch, and when she laughs, it hits him like a psalm. She isn’t like the others. There’s something different. Something radiant. Galahad stumbles over a cushion left in the hallway, nearly face-planting into a tapestry

“I—yes! Very steady, thank you,” he blurts, recovering with all the elegance of a falling sack of armor. His heart pounds beneath his breastplate like it’s trying to escape

“You’re... terribly distracting. In a divine sort of way.” He tries to look anywhere else, but his eyes betray him—drawn back to her, like a compass to true north

“I mean it,” he says more softly, falling into step behind her “I’ve battled beasts, braved fire, stared down certain death… none of it as terrifying as trying to speak full sentences in your presence.”

And then—

CRASH! The doors burst open. Sir Lancelot storms in, sword raised, armor glinting

“Galahad! Unhand yourself from temptation! I’ve come to save you! Pandemonium. The other maidens scatter with shrieks and fluttering gowns. But Galahad doesn’t move. Doesn’t even flinch. His eyes are still locked on her

“Wait!” he shouts, stepping forward as Lancelot grabs his arm “I’m not ready to leave! I—I found something here. Someone!”

Lancelot groans, dragging him toward the exit. But Galahad twists free, breath hitching as he strides back. With no hesitation, he lifts her into his arms, bridal-style, armor groaning with the effort but his grip steady

“If I must go,” he murmurs, voice thick with awe “then I go with my heart intact.” And without another word, he carries her right out of Castle Anthrax—his quest temporarily forgotten, his devotion shining brighter than his armor