Camelot Round Table Novels & Stories

So, I force myself to look away. "Please, everyone, take a seat," Alpha Remington starts and points at the ostentatious round table in the middle of the hall, his voice strong and confident. I feel the complete opposite as I take a seat at the table, while River stands behind me, like the rest of the Betas.

David One day. One day soon, we wouldn’t be interrupted. I don't know how I was going to make that happen, but I was looking forward to it. I smiled. At least, Lucy had looked as disappointed as I felt. The morning after my date with Lucy, I found myself seated at a grand mahogany table, affectionately called the Round Table, flanked by Trent and Amos, the room heavy with anticipation. We'd gone over the state of the Blood Moon Pack financially and politically in bother the supernatural world and the human world.

A large spread of charcuterie, fruits, wines, blood carafes, and edible plants line the table for us to indulge upon. Commanders, betas, gammas, and royal guards sit in seats behind their respective leader. We take our seats and chat with the other leaders who are seated near our chairs, while we snack and drink together. There are seven chairs at the head of the table for the seven appointed council elders. Those chairs are each fitted in design for the realms upon which each elder represents.

Caitlin felt so fortunate to have found her, and couldn’t help wondering whether they had been destined to meet, whether this had all been pre-ordained. Windsor Castle. Of course. It was a place of legend, a place she had heard about only in textbooks. She was thrilled herself to be going there. The second Scarlet had mentioned it, it had felt right. And when Caleb then told her that Windsor Castle had been the seat of royalty for thousands of years, and had also been the place where King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table had actually met, she knew it was meant to be. If there were more ancient clues or relics to be found, she could think of no more appropriate place than Windsor Cas

The conference hall of Casa Del Fierro was enormous, a marble and silver cut cathedral where the flags of every pack slowly moved with the morning breeze. At its center was the round table hewn from moonstone, its top inscribed with red roses, a testament of how much Lucifer loves his mate. Allistair and Lucifer stepped in together, their auras a still storm that caused even the most veteran Alphas to sit up straight. The instant they entered, quiet radiated through the room.

“Round tables, not long ones. Easier for conversation. Decorations—flowers on each table. Keep them simple, white and blue.” Calla raised a hand. “What about the head table? Where will the alphas sit?” I groaned. “Right. Of course. Head table front and center. Enzo in the middle. Atlas and Ash next to him. Then the visiting alphas. I’ll draft out the actual names later.” Kael leaned against a pillar, pretending to supervise while doing absolutely nothing. “You’re scary when you get bossy.” “I’ll be scarier if you don’t stop standing there like decoration,” I snapped.

Aliyah was rudely interrupted by Priscilla "Leader of the round table, Norrignton, I hail you, this woman here is a con artist and I had been right all along; she was never worthy of being part of the round table" Priscilla looked on to everyone seated and watched as their face morphed into one of realization.

He looked at her intensely for a few seconds, then curiously, almost asking her what she was up to. “Camelot takes its name out of the bidding.” Kyle sighed, his eyes unmoving. “Okay, PHAT wins.” Someone said in the room.

It was where the Iron Law was forged in arrogance and enforced by fear. Today, we were replacing the iron with parchment. In the center of the room sat the Round Table—a massive slab of salvaged steel, scarred with weld marks and blast burns. It was ugly. It was functional. And around it sat a collection of beings that, a month ago, would have slaughtered each other on sight. To my left stood Rax, leaning on a scavenged rifle, representing the Nulls and the Dregs. Beside him, the scarred Sand-Eater Alpha represented the Rogue Clans, his yellow eyes darting suspiciously around the room.

Mother’s and their cubs sat at a nearby cluster, so that the warrior fathers could bounce between the tables, playing with their children and socializing with their comrades. There was a table at the back that seemed to be made up of Rogues, as they seemed less put together than the rest, and their plates were nearly empty. And on and on it went. It seemed that the closer we got to the head table on the dais at the front of the room, the higher in rank the groups became. As we passed the tables, heads turned and looked at me. Voices whispered in the silence. “Who is that?” “Is she our new Luna?”