Private A Visit at Camelot

[Guinevere Cavello]

Location: Naboo Villa - Camalot
​

The afternoon light slanted in through the tall arched windows of Camelot, turning the pale stone of the Naboo villa warm and honeyed. Princess Guinevere sat before her vanity, drawing the ivory brush through her hair in long, measured strokes, one hundred, as her governess had taught her, though today she had long since lost count. Each pass of the bristles smoothed her golden hair and did nothing to quiet the restless flutter in her chest.

A member of the Abrantes family was coming to call. Elian, she reminded herself, the name bringing with it a small, treacherous smile. They had not truly spoken since their academy days, stolen conversations between lessons and laughter shared in hallways where no one important was meant to notice. He had been familiar once, easy in a way so few people were anymore. The thought of seeing him again filled her with a bright, fragile excitement she dared not let show.

She set the brush down, fingers lingering at the nape of her neck. There would be no secret walk through the gardens, no private conversation beneath the flowering trees. She was forbidden from being alone with a man, especially now. Every glance, every word would be observed, weighed, and reported. Her family had made that abundantly clear. A princess did not belong to herself, and a bride least of all.

The reminder settled heavily in her mind. Just days past her eighteenth birthday, and already her future had been spoken for in careful negotiations and sealed smiles. She swallowed, her reflection staring back at her with eyes that looked far older than she felt. Beauty, she had been told, was her duty. Grace her armor. Silence her shield.

Somewhere beyond her door, footsteps echoed faintly through the villa. Guinevere straightened, smoothing her dress, heart lifting and sinking all at once. She waited, poised, practiced, and achingm for the inevitable knock, for the words that would tell her Elian had arrived, and for the moment when anticipation and dread would finally meet.

A few moments latter that knock arrived and one of her handmaidens came in. It would be this woman who would chaperone her visit today. "My Lady, your guest has arrived."

"Thank you Taza."

She stepped down the stairs into the large waiting chamber where her light green eyes finally fell onto her old friend. "Elian!" She rushed forward to take his hand, her excitement getting the better of her. "It's so nice to see you again."

Tags: Elian Abrantes​

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Guinevere Cavello
​

Elian's surprise hit first, quick and bright, and his happiness followed right behind it like it had been waiting for permission. It had been far too long, and the moment Guinevere rushed toward him with that familiar spark in her eyes, the years between them shrank into something laughably small.

For a heartbeat he was back at the academy, her a few years ahead, him always one circuit away from blowing them up, and somehow she would end up saving him. They had been ridiculous together, the kind of silly that made even dull corridors feel like an adventure. The memory tugged a grin out of him before he could stop it.

"Guinevere!" he said, and the name came out warmer than any title ever could. Elian bowed and gave her a small teasing smile. "Milady..."

He reached for her hand on instinct, fingers lifting as if the motion had been written into his bones. Then he caught himself, feeling the weight of the room, the eyes, the rules that lived in the air like perfume. His hand hovered, and he let it drop with a tiny, theatrical surrender, like he was conceding to an invisible referee.

"Oh, come on," Elian said with a soft laugh, sly and easy, and then he closed the distance before anyone could turn his hesitation into a story. "Bring it in."

He wrapped her in a quick, friendly hug, firm enough to be real, brief enough to be safe, then stepped back with that same familiar grin, as if he had just stolen something harmless and gotten away with it.

His gaze flicked over her face, taking in the little changes, the poise, the polish, and the way excitement and restraint seemed to be sharing space behind her eyes. He kept his tone light, but there was something genuine under it, the kind he did not bother hiding from her.

"When did you get back?" he asked, eyebrows lifting as though the answer might explain why the galaxy had finally decided to be kind enough to put her in front of him again.

 

[Guinevere Cavello]

​

Guinevere laughed softly as his voice reached her, the sound catching in her chest before she could stop it. For a moment, she forgot the marble floors, the open doors, the way every breath in Camelot seemed to carry expectations. There was only Elian. She dipped into a practiced curtsy at his bow, though the corners of her mouth betrayed her, her eyes bright with mischief she rarely allowed herself anymore.

His instinctive reach for her hand did not go unnoticed. Her fingers twitched in response before she remembered herself, before the rules snapped back into place. She felt them both register it, the pause, the invisible line drawn between them, and it sent a strange, aching warmth through her chest. When he laughed and pulled her into a hug instead, she startled only for a fraction of a second before returning it, just as briefly, just as carefully.

"Ahem." The reminder from behind her sounded from Tavis moments before they both broke away. Too short. Too careful. Still… real. This was part of what she loved about Elian. He broke the rules to make others happy and he didn't walk on eggshells around her the way others did.

When he stepped back, she studied him in return, eyes softening as she took in the familiar grin, the way time had sharpened him without dulling whatever spark had always lived there. It was comforting in a way she hadn't realized she needed.

"Not long," she answered, smoothing her hands together at her waist, posture instinctively perfect. "My family returned to Naboo for the season. Camelot feels… quieter than I remember." Her gaze flicked meaningfully toward the open space around them, the unseen audience that never truly left her side.

Then, a little more gently, "I heard you'd be passing through, and I hoped I might catch you before the galaxy stole you away again." A pause, a smile that was all warmth and restraint. "It really has been far too long."

She tilted her head, curiosity slipping through the cracks of propriety. "What about you? Still one circuit away from disaster, or have you learned to behave at last?"



Elian Abrantes

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Guinevere Cavello
​

Elian's shoulders eased the moment her laugh reached him, because it sounded like the Guinevere he remembered, not the princess the villa expected her to be. He caught the curtsy, the mischief in her eyes, and for a breath he forgot there were doors left open on purpose and people standing where they could overhear everything that mattered.

The sharp little "ahem" snapped reality back into place.

Elian's mouth quirked as he glanced over her shoulder, amused more than chastened. A quiet chuckle slipped out of him, the kind that said he knew exactly what line he had drifted toward and that he had enjoyed the trespass anyway.

"I forgot myself for a few seconds," he admitted, voice light, gaze returning to her with that familiar, sly warmth.

Her question about behaving earned him a broader grin, like she had tossed him a favorite game.

"I have learned to behave the way a tooka creature would learn to be brave if you tossed it in water," Elian said, a hand lifting in an exaggerated, helpless gesture. "It thrashes at first, looks offended by the concept, and then eventually figures out which direction keeps it from drowning."

His eyes brightened, and the grin turned sharper at the edges.

"I am getting better at choosing which disasters are worth the risk," he added. "That is the closest thing to maturity I can promise anyone."

He let his gaze drift around the chamber for a moment, taking in the polished silence, the too perfect calm, the way even the sunlight seemed to behave.

"Since you've been gone, Camelot's gone monastery quiet," he said, tone dropping into something a little more honest. "I kept expecting someone to hand me a vow of silence at the door."

His attention came back to her, and his expression softened in a way that did not ask permission.

"I hope they at least let you have a little bit of fun every now and again," Elian said, careful not to sound like he was criticizing her world while still making it clear he saw it. "It reminds me of the academy sometimes. The rules. The watching. The way you learned to smile like it was armor."

Then, as if to chase away anything too heavy, he leaned into the memory she had offered him.

"We had so many laughs there," he said, and the words carried genuine fondness. "You realize, if we caused that much trouble back then, we should be considered a public safety hazard now."

He gave a soft, almost boyish giggle at the thought, the sound quick and bright before he caught himself.

"Imagine the laughs we could get into now," he murmured, and for a second it sounded like an invitation to a life she was not allowed to want out loud.

Elian shifted his weight, glancing once, briefly, toward the open doors and the chaperone's ever-present reminder, then back to Guinevere as if he was making a decision in real time about what could be offered safely.

"Do you want to go for a walk," he asked, and then he hesitated, the corner of his mouth lifting as he searched for an option that fit inside the cage without calling it one, "Or, whatever you want to do?"

He chuckled under his breath, as if the vagueness itself was a joke the room did not deserve to understand.

 

[Guinevere Cavello]

​

She laughed easily as he spoke of his journey into maturity, the years between them folding away with every familiar cadence of his voice. From the corner of her awareness, she could feel the faint, twittering disapproval radiating from her handmaiden, but she ignored it. Elian was a welcome change of pace in Camelot, one she hadn't realized she'd been craving.

He was right, of course. The estate was far too quiet. Her mother was elsewhere, likely lost at the bottom of a bottle, and her father and elder brother were deep in conservation work in the recently devastated Tapani system. For most of the year, Camelot was left to servants and echoes.

So when he invited her to take a walk, a genuine smile curved her lips.

In her mind's eye, she could already see it: the villa gardens bathed in afternoon light, the scent of flowers heavy in the air, and perhaps, if fortune favored her, a chance to give her chaperone the slip. Did she dare even attempt it? She knew Elian would. And somehow, that knowledge made her braver. If nothing else, it would be a relief to step beyond the reach of listening ears.

"Yes," she said softly. "Let's take a walk."

She slipped her arm through his, and together they descended the front steps toward the outer grounds. Taza huffed in quiet irritation but made no protest. After all, assisting high-heeled, elaborately dressed noblewomen down staircases was considered a solemn and unavoidable duty of noblemen.

The moment they stepped outside, Camelot came alive.

Rare blossoms bloomed in carefully tended beds, their colors vivid against the stone paths, while exotic birds flitted and sang overhead, all of it preserved, protected, and cherished. It was beauty shaped by intention, a living testament to her family's legacy.

"Tell me," she asked as they walked at an unhurried pace, "how is your family?"

A few steps behind them, Taza lingered, careful not to intrude, yet determined to keep them within her line of sight.



Elian Abrantes

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Guinevere Cavello
​

Elian offered his arm without thinking, and the moment Guinevere slipped hers through it, something in his chest settled into a steadier rhythm. He kept his posture easy, his pace unhurried, like this was the most ordinary thing in the galaxy, even though he could feel the chaperone behind them like a second shadow.

Outside, the gardens did most of the talking at first. The air smelled like clean water and sweet blooms, and the afternoon light turned every pale path into gold. Elian let his gaze sweep across the grounds with a low, appreciative hum, because Naboo did this to him every time; it reminded him the galaxy could still be gentle if people stopped trying to break it.

He glanced down at Guinevere when she asked about his family, and his expression warmed in a way that did not feel practiced.

"They are…loud, relentless, and impossible," Elian said, and the fondness in his voice undercut the complaint immediately. "Oh wait....that's me!" Elian gave her the gentlest of nudges, hoping to get a laugh out of her.

He tipped his head slightly, as if organizing the Abrantes clan into neat categories was a task any sane person would fail.

"Cassian is Cassian," he went on. "He looks like he is carrying half the Army and Intelligence office on his shoulders, and he still somehow finds time to show up like he promised he would. If there is a fire, he is already in it, probably dragging someone out and pretending it is no big deal."

A small smile tugged at Elian's mouth.

"Sibylla is… sharper than ever," he said, choosing his words with care, not because he feared the chaperone but because Sibylla deserved accuracy. "She is doing what she always does. Making impossible rooms listen to her. Turning chaos into something that resembles order."

He let out a quiet breath, eyes flicking briefly across the flowers, then back to Guinevere.

"And my parents," he added, softer. "They worry. They pretend they do not. They worry anyway."

Elian's tone lifted again before the moment could get too heavy, and he angled his head just enough to meet her gaze with a spark of mischief.

"As for me," he said, "I am still a work in progress. I am trying very hard to be responsible, and the universe keeps testing me with temptations like 'touch that' and 'this is probably fine.'"

His eyes slid, quick as a knife, toward Taza lingering a few steps behind. The look he gave the handmaiden was polite on the surface, but there was humor in it too, like he was acknowledging her job without granting her the satisfaction of making him nervous.

Then he looked back at Guinevere, and his voice gentled again, the teasing dimming into something more attentive.

"What about you?" Elian asked. "How are you? Like, how are you really?"

 

[Guinevere Cavello]

​

She laughed easily with Elian, as she always did. Together they wandered through the garden paths, letting the scents and quiet beauty of Naboo wash over them. It truly was a special planet. As a child, she had adored her summers at the villa, and being back now stirred a familiar warmth in her chest, a sense of belonging she hadn't realized how deeply she missed.

Behind them, Taza bristled.

Gwen sighed softly and released Elian's arm so they could walk side by side. Almost immediately, she missed the warmth of his skin against hers. Her life was a lonely one, hemmed in by rules and expectations, watched and measured at every turn. Yet simply having him here, laughing with her, speaking freely, was a small joy she refused to let be dimmed.

"I do worry for Cassian," she admitted after a moment. "He's fearless. I can only hope fate watches over him."

Elian went on to speak of Sibylla, and Gwen smiled at the accuracy of his description. That woman could move mountains with a single glance if she wished. It was intimidating, yes, but also awe-inspiring. Confidence like that left an imprint on the air.

She laughed again as he turned the conversation toward himself, grinning when he cast a knowing glance back at Taza. Elian truly was a breath of fresh air. He didn't tiptoe around uncomfortable truths or pretend nothing was amiss. He met things head-on, boldly and without apology, and that, more than anything, was why she loved spending time with him. Together, they coaxed out a mischief and freedom her life so often denied her.

When he asked how she was, her smile faltered.

She tried to keep her voice light, casual, but there was an unmistakable ache beneath it.

"My father has accepted a proposal for me," she said. "So… I suppose I'm getting married."

Behind her, Taza snorted sharply, clearly displeased that Gwen would share such information so freely. The princess ignored her chaperone.

"So," she added after a beat, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, "I guess that will be fun. A party and all."

The words rang hollow, even to her.


Elian Abrantes

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Guinevere Cavello
​

Elian's smile did not vanish, but it softened at the edges, the easy mischief giving way to something more careful as Guinevere's words settled between them. He kept his pace matched to hers, posture relaxed on the outside, yet his attention sharpened in a way that only people who knew him well would catch. He worried for her, plainly and immediately, and he refused to let that worry turn into spectacle.

He glanced back once, briefly, toward the ever-present chaperone, then returned his focus to Guinevere with a respectful steadiness, as if he were giving her permission to be honest without making her feel cornered.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Elian asked gently, voice low enough to feel private even in a garden designed for listening ears. "Or we can just talk about the fun party that will follow and pretend the rest is not sitting on your shoulders."

He let a small, sympathetic breath out through his nose, not quite a laugh, more an acknowledgement that he had heard the hollowness in her attempt at cheer.

"How much of a choice do you have in this?" he continued, careful with every word, respectful in a way that did not feel like distance. "I mean a real choice, not the kind where everyone smiles and calls it agreement."

His gaze stayed on her face, curious and intent, interested in what she truly thought rather than what she had been trained to say. Elian's expression carried no judgment, only a quiet insistence that her feelings mattered here, at least with him.

"And do you know anything about him?" Elian asked, brow lifting slightly. "What he is like, what he wants, what kind of man he is when no one is watching."

A pause, and his voice softened further.

"What do you think," he asked, "Like what you really think."

 

[Guinevere Cavello]

​

He asked how much of a choice she had in the matter, and her head dipped ever so slightly. It wasn't as if she wasn't used to the idea. She had been told since birth that this was her destiny, but hearing about it and actually living it were two very different things.

"On Avalon women are often arranged to be married. It's entirely their father's choice. We do not have the same gender norms that Naboo has."

She tried to keep her voice light, as if she was just explaining her culture to him, but deep down there was pain, which she did a good job of hiding until he asked what she knew about the man. She flinched every so slightly, turning her head just a bit so Taza could not see.

"I know his name. It's Lancel Atria and I know he is a duke. That is it, however. I'm supposed to meet him soon."

"What do you think," he asked, "Like what you really think."

She glanced sideways at him and smiled softly. Elian was so handsome and so free-spirited with that slight bad-boy attitude that it made it easy to feel even more reckless when they were together. She leaned in slightly, whispering so Taza could not hear.

"I think we should ditch our lookout and go have some real fun." Her eyes still held that sadness but there was a small light if impishness in them too.

Elian Abrantes​

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Guinevere Cavello
​

Elian's expression shifted as Guinevere spoke his name, the title, the emptiness of what she actually knew. He shook his head slowly, and for a moment the garden felt quieter than it had any right to, the sunlight suddenly irrelevant.

"I am sorry, Guin," he said, and his tone came out almost somber at first, careful and respectful and edged with something that sounded like restrained anger. "But that guy sounds like an absolute moron. Not even worth your time."

He held her gaze, as if to make sure she understood he was not mocking her situation, only the insult of it. Then the heaviness cracked, just slightly, and Elian let out a short chuckle as if he could not bear to leave her alone in that kind of silence. He bumped her gently with his arm, a small nudge that felt familiar, a reminder of academy days when a single look could turn dread into a shared joke.

"I am sorry," he added again, quieter, more sincere. "I wish there was something I could do."

And then she whispered about ditching their lookout, and Elian's mouth tilted into that sly, trouble-making smile like it had been waiting around the corner for an excuse. His eyes flicked, quick and calculating, toward the chaperone's position behind them, then back to Guinevere with a bright, conspiratorial spark.

"Alright," he murmured, keeping his voice smooth, his posture perfectly casual for anyone watching. "Where do you want to go?"

 

[Guinevere Cavello]

​

Guinevere's lips curved, small at first, like she was testing the idea before letting herself believe in it. She leaned a little closer to him, head tilted just enough that it looked like confidence rather than conspiracy, at least to anyone who might be watching.

"Somewhere that doesn't feel like a gilded cage," she murmured. "I was thinking the lakeshore. The stretch of sand past the reeds, where the water's quiet and no one asks who you are or what you're supposed to be." Her eyes softened at the thought, already halfway gone. "We could walk barefoot, just for a bit. Let the world be… normal."


Then, brighter, more mischievous, she added, "Or Theed. The markets." A quick smile flickered. "Real food, loud voices, merchants who argue with you whether you're royal or not. I miss that."

She hesitated, just a heartbeat, before lowering her voice further. "There's a break in the outer wall," she confessed, like sharing a secret she'd been holding onto for too long. "Behind the family mausoleum. Old stone, half collapsed, everyone pretends it isn't there." Her gaze lifted to his, daring. "If we time it right, we could slip out unnoticed."

Guinevere exhaled softly, fingers brushing his sleeve as if anchoring herself, and cast a glance behind her at Taza, who was further away now.

Elian Abrantes​

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Guinevere Cavello
​

Elian's eyes lit at the thought. "The lakeshore sounds amazing," he whispered, and when she mentioned Theed's markets and real food, he could not help a soft, quiet giggle. He drew in a steadying breath, letting the possibilities settle.

Then she spoke about the break in the outer wall behind the family mausoleum.

Elian's gaze snapped to hers, surprise flashing into a wicked little grin. He gave her a gentle nudge with his arm, careful to keep it looking casual to anyone watching.

"Let's do it," he murmured.

At the is next crossing path, they could split up and meet there behind the mausoleum. "I'll find you there, we can go together."

 

[Guinevere Cavello]

​

Gwen gave him a small smile and nodded. They reached a fork in the path and split up. Taza frowned, clearly wondering why they were going their separate ways, but the handler kept a respectful distance behind them as always. Gwen hurried down the path that would lead to the mausoleum. She stepped carefully over some of the thorn bushes that were blocking the way, making a mental note to ditch this stupid dress the moment she could, and eased back behind the wall. The break was there, hidden behind some bushes and plants that were meant to hide the mess until it could be fixed.

"Elian?" She whispered.

Elian Abrantes​

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Guinevere Cavello
​

The relief of finding her exactly where she promised she would be loosened something in him, and mischief slid back into its familiar place like it belonged there.

He reached out and gave her a quick, teasing squeeze at either side of her waist, gentle but surprising, the kind of touch that felt like an echo of academy shenanigans.

Elian giggled under his breath, leaning in close enough that only she would hear him. "I am sorry. I couldn't help it."

He stepped around her then, offering his hand and keeping his body angled to block her from view. "Come on," he whispered, the grin in his voice even when he kept his volume low. "Let's go."

He guided her toward the break, careful with her dress as he helped her through the narrow gap and around the stubborn brush. Once she was halfway through, he kept one steadying hand at her elbow, the other moving branches aside so they would not snap back and betray them.

As they slipped into the path beyond, Elian glanced back once, listening for any sign of pursuit, then looked to Guinevere again with bright, conspiratorial eyes.

"What's the first thing you want to do?" he asked softly, like the answer mattered more than the escape itself.

 

[Guinevere Cavello]

​

Gwen giggled when he grabbed her, both because it was ticklish and he had caught her by surprise. Together they made it through the gap in the wall, him helping her over the shrubbery. The moment they were on the other side of the wall the freedom became intoxicating.

“Let’s go down to the lakeshore.”

If the water was nice they could go swimming or walk along the sand. Anything seemed like a possibility now.

She grabbed his hand and pulled him gently in the direction of the lake, grinning at there escape.

Elian Abrantes​

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Guinevere Cavello
​

Elian let her pull him, and the grin that spread across his face felt almost uncontrollable, like he had been holding his breath for years and only now remembered how to breathe. The second the wall was behind them, the world changed. The air tasted less like polished stone and more like water and open space, and the freedom in it hit him as sharply as it hit her.

"Lakeshore," he murmured, amused warmth in his voice, as if the word itself was a promise. "Perfect."

He glanced once over his shoulder, scanning for any sign of pursuit, then turned forward again, expression brightening as the path opened toward the water. He let out a quiet laugh, then softened, eyes flicking to her grin.

"If the water's good, we swim," he added, voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "If it's cold, we walk and pretend we're not royalty and trouble and bad ideas wrapped in expensive fabric."

Elian slowed the moment the lakeshore opened up in front of them, as if the view had reached out and caught him by the collar. The water lay glass clear near the stones, shifting from pale green to a deep, calm blue farther out, and the sunlight scattered across it in bright, moving flecks.

A steep, rugged cliff rose over the shoreline, its gray face veined with shadow and capped with thick, wind tough trees, while the surrounding hills folded into one another in layered greens. The air smelled clean and alive, like water and warm grass,, the world felt wide enough to breathe in. He looked at Guinevere's face, hopefully she was happy, then back at the quiet lake, and thought that this was what freedom was supposed to feel like.

"This," he murmured, voice quiet with genuine approval, "Is exactly what you meant by normal."

 

[Guinevere Cavello]

​

"Oh, wow. It's beautiful."

The words slipped out of her before she could stop them, soft and awed, as if speaking too loudly might somehow disturb the place. Naboo really did possess a beauty all its own, gentle and effortless, the kind that didn't demand attention but quietly earned it. They walked together toward the shoreline, shoes crunching faintly against pale stone and sand, until the land dropped away into open air.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

The cliff stretched out before them, its edges softened by time and wind, draped in impossibly green grasses that swayed in slow, patient waves. Below, the water shimmered in layers of blue and green, sunlight breaking across the surface like scattered crystal. Each wave rolled in with a steady, reassuring rhythm, crashing against the rocks far beneath them and pulling back again, eternal and unhurried.

Overhead, gulls wheeled and cried, their calls sharp but not harsh, somehow perfectly at home in the soundscape. Their voices mingled with the surf and the whisper of wind, creating a harmony that felt ancient, as though this place had always sounded exactly this way.

She drew in a deep breath, the air cool and clean in her lungs, tinged faintly with salt. It felt grounding. Real.

"I've seen people cliff diving from all the way up there," she said at last, breaking the silence. She lifted a hand and pointed toward the top of the cliff, where the land rose higher and narrower, the edge looking impossibly far from the water below. Her eyes widened, equal parts amazement and disbelief. "Can you imagine that? Just… running and jumping, trusting the water to be there when you hit."

He was right. This was exactly what she needed. Something real.

Elian Abrantes​