King Arthur Of The Round Table Novels & Stories

Arthur let out, feeling something he didn't understand, and he definitely didn't want to feel like that. Was it jealous? Wasn't he supposed to be over her? He immediately brushed it off, and walked over to where his grandfather was standing. His grandfather was happily chatting with some of his friends. As soon as Christian spotted Arthur, he delightedly smiled. "Oh, there he is…. Arthur, come here, let me introduce you to some of my friends." The old man had been waiting to show off his successor to his old friends. His old friends had always mocked Christian Stark for having no heir, so it was understood that he wanted to rub it off on their faces.

I don't think it's going to be difficult, considering that Arthur also always wakes up at 1 pm so there won't be a lot of orders. But why do I feel like he's going to ask me something weird? Crap, he better don’t do that. “Arthur, you can’t do it to a patient” I smile at him, try to convince him that I will be a bad errand type. “It’s okay, only me who knows it. Plus, I can keep a secret” he winks. “Asshole, go away!” I answer immediately. His laughter filled the room, he must be happy that he successfully teases me. What a jerk. Arthur opened the plastic bag and took out one orange from there, he slowly peeled the skin and cleaned it before handing one to me.

Carl only recognized some: "When I was young, father told me about King Arthur's Round Table. But I thought it was merely a legend!" "How do you know it is The Round Table?" Asked Claude, testing the boy's knowledge. "The Round Table is a table of the Old World. A table of African wood, decorated with Asian Jewels and made by the hand of a European Carpenter. And I see the African Blackwood, the Afghan Spinals and Chinese Peridots, and a handsome Byzantine carpentry.” “I am amazed…” That reply described Claude’s opinion perfectly. He never met such a well-cultivated young man. He was not wrong when he thought that this child is special:

Well, Arthur is the god of war, and his father is Andrew; his mother is a fae, so he is a hybrid. “Maeve invited me over to judge you all in the duel,” he said, smiling at him. Our relationship was actually rocky before, but we became friends during a war we fought together. “Okay,” he said, patting his back, and he left. He walked over to us. “Kate is such a nutcase,” he said, taking his seat opposite Ario. “You heard everything?” he asked. “Sure. She has something up her sleeves; I will keep a good eye on her,” he said, taking the bow of grapes on the table.

We gather around him and the edges of the spell, forming an arch-shaped wall of bodies--Arthur and Embyr to my right, Devona to my left, standing slightly in front of me, keeping one eye on the spell, and one eye on the door. “This man was once Sir Gareth, a loyal knight and mage of the Round Table,” Devona explains. “When I was blamed for your original deaths, they cursed me and my men into birds and then made me watch as they hunted my soldiers for sport. “The paladin knights of the Round Table faced a much worse fate. Once they discovered that their king and queen were dead, they came to Avalon with spells and swords ready for war. I was unable to intervene, as my sentence had already bee

Kael asked as he wrapped his arm around Luna to keep her from falling. “Yes,” Arth replied. “Now go.” After watching Kael take Luna through the crowds, Arth turned around and made his way towards their table. “… and that’s it! I helped our King overthrow his mad uncle and reclaim his rightful crown,” Robert tapped his chest proudly, chatting with the two ladies, “So in other words, he would not reach this point to where he is now without me.” Arth cleared his throat as he took his seat at the table. “Oh, Your Highness, it’s you!” Robert’s pitch went higher than normal.

"Arthur? You’re early. I have the lamb almost—" The words died. Arthur stood at the head of the long table, his golden Alpha aura suffocating the air in the room. But he wasn't alone. Beside him stood a man draped in silk and arrogance—Leopold. The "Lost Prince" of the North. The man Arthur had mourned for a decade. The pack council sat in the shadows, their faces like stone. "Arthur?" Phineas’s voice cracked. He moved forward, reaching for his mate’s hand.

Wolves were whispering, elders were standing, some rushing out in fear. Arthur, King of the West, chuckled darkly. “I guess the Red Moon isn’t as peaceful as we all thought.” Rowan’s gaze snapped to him. “Watch your tongue before I twist it out,” he said in a low growl that made the candles flicker. Arthur smirked. “Oh, I’m just surprised. Didn’t know murderers were welcome here.” “Leave, Arthur,” Rowan snarled, his eyes glowing gold. “Before I make you.”

Elaine could hear Andrew’s footsteps fall in time with hers as he caught up to her; it only took a few long strides. When they first entered the academy, they had been practically the same height, but it had been a lifetime since the scrawny strangers had first dueled. Andrew was taller and seemingly stronger, but Elaine still had her unceasing strength of will, quick wit, and skill in combat. They were the best at the Artharian Royal Academy, the single most important school in the entire kingdom of Artharia- at least to all who went there. Unlike what many may initially assume, the school was not for the children of the nobility, but, instead, it was the place in which their protectors wer

He is incensed and almost on the verge of shifting. "You pride yourself in diligence, boy. I bet you never saw this one coming. How do you like the present I gifted you in the dead of the night?" I have never seen this side of Arthur and I am not ashamed to say it scares me a little bit. His aura is so strong that if I had been an ordinary wolf, I am certain that I would have recoiled from pain. No wonder he is a warrior. After the growl, Arthur smashes my table made of oak wood and it disintegrates into smithereens.