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?"