[closed/complete] Characters: Galahad [galahad] & Percival [percival] Date/Time: During the start of the peace talks. Location: Camelot. Rating: PG Warnings: None! Summary: Galahad and Percival have a chance meeting.
The meetings had just started and Galahad was already exhausted. He knew what they would entail, he knew he would have to deal with his sister and he knew that in the end it wouldn't matter. Medb and him already knew what was necessary, the one thing that could finally put and end to decades of fighting and arguing.
Yet there was the question of Babylon, and hurting them. Another necessary evil in the way to a better world. Galahad rubbed his eyes, tired and wanted very badly to allow himself to nod off a little before the meetings began again.
Probably he'd have no such luck.
Now, Percival couldn't claim to be as tired, but it had been a long day. He'd slept poorly the night before, attributing it to the trip, when really, it was the stress of being in such a troublesome position. There was no predicting how the talks would turn out, but of what he did know, he knew Medb wouldn't back down. She wasn't the type, what he knew of her.
Camelot was a beautiful region, there was no doubting that. But it just wasn't Niflheim. His heart and soul belonged to Niflheim, his home of so many years. All of his memories were there. Not being so well-travelled, he knew his homesickness could only ever be for just that -- home.
He had no say in the peace talks, but as part of Medb's retinue, he had to stick around until she was finished. By the time the first set of them were over, he needed a break for air, and he hadn't even been part of or present at the talks themselves. Everything was too tense. A part of him acknowledged that Medb would never go for peace unless she got something valuable out of it, but even then, who knew? If only he did.
Stepping out into the fresh air, Percival sighed.
Galahad had his solitude interrupted by another man, but he didn't mind. He was mentally making a note to look for Mordred later, a duel or a talk - whichever happened first, he would just like to catch up with an old friend. His hand moved to his waist, unconciously resting on where a pistol was safely tucked away in case.
No, he wouldn't go into the conference room armed, but he also wouldn't wonder about unarmed. Yes, he trusted the queen with her word, but he didn't trust the rest of the world. Things worked out in funny ways.
He cast a glance at the man who had joined him and flashed a hesitant smile, "Do you mind sharing the balcony?"
The voice startled Percival, who hadn't noticed the presence of another. A soldier was meant to be more careful. It could have been someone looking to harm him, and he wouldn't have noticed until too late. Maybe it was a result of being too tired. Too stressed out. It certainly wasn't inexperience, but he could admit it: there were better soldiers than he.
Taking a moment to look the other man over, he wondered just who he was, to dress so casually. Whose retinue was he a part of, if anyone's. Well, it didn't matter. He supposed he could find out later.
A hand came up to push the hair from his face. "I don't mind, but-- you were here before me." There was a short pause. "Is it okay?"
Galahad laughed softly and nodded, "I don't mind the company, this is more relaxed than inside." He gave a little shrug but didn't go further, it wouldn't be appropriate for a region leader to be blabbing on and on and such. His hand moved down, no longer close to the pistol.
"Are you tired from your trip?" He was making casual friendly conversation, not for too long because he'd have to go but he liked him this man and couldn't explain why.
There was no disagreeing with that. At least outside, in the cool Camelotian air, things seemed more at ease. Though the tension lingered, it was less potent here. For the other man to be able to laugh so easily -- maybe things weren't as bad as Percival had perceived.
Being the sort of person who didn't distrust or suspect others, one who always spoke honestly, he, too, laughed. Mostly at himself. "Is it obvious? I woke up with bags under my eyes this morning..." He reached up to touch his face. "I don't think they're there anymore." Ran away in the face of stress, probably.
"I'm exhausted." He admitted turning to face Percival fully, amused at his mention of bags and touching his face, "You, however, look fine." Unlike Percival, Galahad found the climate of Camelot much warmer than usual, he was uncomfortable in it, preferring always the cool air of Iriy. "Just a little tired."
"Have they started inside?" If so he'd have to go soon, but part of him didn't want to leave the stranger just yet.
And back to the matter at hand: the peace talks. Percival would've been happy to forget about them for at least five minutes, but that wasn't going to happen, it seemed. His previous smile waned. "Not yet. There's still a little time," he admitted, moving forward to lay his hands on the balcony rail.
From time to time, he wondered what war would mean for his family. Raven and his little lady would be safe in Camelot, but would Hyacinth? How would he protect his family if he was off fighting? He couldn't, was the answer. But he could make them proud -- and promise not to die.
A small smile, "There is a little time." He sighed and allowed himself to enjoy the breeze, but the sigh hadn't been melancholic, just trying to ease the tension inside. It wouldn't be peaceful for long, why had Camelot done this anyway? Unnecessary stress on everyone involved.
Galahad opened his mouth to say something else, before one of the servants in his retinue made his way quickly, "Czar, they're waiting for you." Immediately his face closed up, as if the moment with Percival had been so private that he had allowed his guards down. Instead he straightened up.
"Ah, I'll be there in a moment." he dismissed the servant with a flick of his hand.
The dumbfounded look on Percival's face said everything. Czar? Czar? This was Galahad, the Czar of Iriy -- and he hadn't even picked up on it? Suddenly feeling intensely stupid, he opened his mouth to say something, anything, and nothing came out. Not for a few seconds. Was he to show some more respect or stalk away and not give the man another minute of his time?
"You're... Galahad," was all he was able to manage. No fancy titles, no bending his knee. Just pure shock.
Galahad tensed up, he had enjoyed the brief moment of intimacy, the fact that Percival had seemed at ease with him. That was all gone now, and he turned cool brown eyes to the soldier of Niflheim. He had no idea what delegation he was with, but... well, to Galahad it didn't matter. "Yeah."
He wanted to shrug as if it were no big deal, but it was a big deal. He cleared his throat and looked away. He didn't excuse himself, the Czar never had to, he merely brushed past Percival in a polite but disinterested manner.
Galahad could never get close to people, this was why, his title.
For a moment, Percival wanted to reach out and apologize. Why? He had no idea. And if so, apologize for what? For being too casual, for not recognizing the Czar of Iriy? His mouth opened once again, but like the first time, there were no words. Just him, a gaping fish left behind. At least as far as first impressions went, he couldn't admit to being disappointed, even though he'd imagined the Czar to look a bit... older. More weathered.
I might have to fight against your army, he thought to himself, directing his thoughts toward Galahad, who was, technically speaking, the enemy. Any enemy of Niflheim was his own. Even so, he found himself frozen still as the man drifted past, unable to muster up any words or actions.