Lancelot-grail Novels & Stories

“Is there anything else?” Grace thought for a few seconds before shaking her head. “That’s all, Alpha.” “Then you may go,” he ordered, then added to Draken, “Give her a reward of two thousand gold coins.” Joy immediately lit up Grace’s face. She bowed respectfully to Raven, then followed Draken out. Now alone in the room, Raven stared at the closed door, his eyes heavy with sorrow. Grace’s words echoed in his mind like accusations. What had really happened during that erased part of his memory? Could it be that, in those brief two months, he had found his mate... and then left her behind and disappeared without a word?

Lirien's words a bridge of convecition that spanned the chasm of doubt, leaving everyone quite astonished. Eryndor knew well that she was decoying to trap the men among them who were working for Arinthal. A ray of hope sprout as one of them stepped forward, his voice grinned with inquiry, "How have you come to know?" Lirien's eyes lit up with triumph – it was him, the Arinthal agent. "I saw him handing a map to Arinthal" Lirien exclaimed.

“Apologies but it might be a good idea to bring Lancelot home before the others find him first.” “That is,” Gareth agrees, “If they haven’t found him first.” “Has anyone even seen Lancelot?” Kaydence asks the group. “Hasn’t he been missing since Guinevere’s betrayal?” “He was never part of Mab’s order,” Bors confirms. “She only had 10 of us. Kay and Lancelot were lost during the battle, so she could not curse them at the same time she took all of us. I hate to be the one to say this but we need to use the beacon. We need to bring Lancelot back to us.” The knights begin to debate around us, discussing the benefits and potential pitfalls of using this option.

he dominantly ordered. They started to rummage the area again under the light of the seven moons. Only Goddess Haliya knows how his heart is being torn into pieces whenever his men come without her. Andrea hang on in there. I'm coming for you. He can't help himself but cry. Doesn't suit him to cry as a crown prince, but he can't help himself. His heart is aching thinking that things might have gone hard for Andrea. He took out the letter that she left for him and read it again under the moonlight.

I managed a small smile, though my own cup remained untouched beside my plate. Then the conversation shifted, braided easily from one voice to another, like threads of different colors weaving into the same tapestry. Lyselle leaned forward, her bracelets chiming softly, and spoke of the mountain peaks veined with glowing crystal, a wonder that revealed itself only during the winter solstice. "You must see it," Auroth cut in eagerly, his grin boyish despite his noble bearing. "Both of you. Once the crown is on your head, Luna, it will be your right. No solstice will feel complete without it."

A part of her recognized him, and for reasons she couldn’t explain, it hadn’t felt like a betrayal to save him. “Why are you in my forest?” Lia asked, her voice sharp. “You’re far from home, pureblood.” His gaze flickered to the satchel lying beside him. He reached for it with slow, deliberate movements. “I came for the Heart of the Greykin.” Lia’s eyes widened, her heart skipping a beat. The **Heart**. The mythic artifact that had haunted her people’s legends for centuries. It was said to have the power to break the curse of the Greyskin—though no one truly knew where it was.

I didn't like him. The next time I saw Sir Lancelot I asked him about my mum and Larry. He agreed with me. He said that Larry sounded like the kind of man who deserved to be put to the sword. So I reminded him that he had said he would help me if ever I needed help, or if ever I came across a maiden in distress, and this seemed to fit both descriptions. I know my mother was a bit old to be a maiden, but Sir Lancelot said that that didn't matter and it was definitely a case for putting to the sword. But he couldn't use Excalibur because that was a special sacred sword. He would need an ordinary sword for Larry. I had a look in the kitchen and found a small sword, about nine or ten inches long

Lennon poured me a glass of water from the jug situated on my bedside table. He helped me by holding the glass as I gulped down the water. It burned my dry throat, but the thirst beat the burning sensation I was feeling. As I composed myself I gathered the courage and asked the question that would either relieve me or break me down in an infinite amount of tiny pieces. "Doctor, did my baby make it?", I ask, my eyes glued to Noah. His pupils dilated when hearing these words leave my mouth. He was not a man for many expressions. Hard and stone faced to many, but I can read his eyes and the pain twirling in his dark sea coloured irises gave me the answer that I know will keep me broken for eter

I looked at Hayden amazed. "WOAH" I whispered out loud. "The legend says that whenever James held this sword, he first washed it in the water of the Lapis patera so his conquest would be just, fair and everlasting" I walked towards the stone bowl and dipped the sword in the water. The blade shimmered and glowed in the water. I took it out from the water and placed it back inside the scabbard and strapped it. I covered it with my sweatshirt and looked around watching other weapons that had the names of other families engraved on them. I walked towards the exit and placed my hands on the wall. The wall opened and we walked on the other side, in the basement and the wall behind us turned solid.

The air around her shimmered with raw energy, her green eyes glowing with an ethereal light as she whispered the ancient incantation that would seal Arthur's fate. "Vinculum cordis et animae, te libera a tenebris" – The bond of heart and soul, release you from darkness. As the final syllable left her lips, a surge of brilliant light erupted from her outstretched hand, arcing through the air like a bolt of lightning as it struck Arthur squarely in the chest. He let out a gut-wrenching scream, his body writhing in agony as the dark magic within him was ripped away, leaving only the man he had once been.