Arthurian Monster Girls Chapter 1

	Long ago, in the kingdom of Avalon, there lived a wise king and a lovely queen. Together they ruled their people justly and fairly, and were able to broker peace between the races of man and the monsters that roamed the lands. Though achieving peace was hard and not without conflict or bloodshed, the king was able to unite the disparate factions of the land and unity was assured. The heroes of the war formed the first Knighthood of Avalon.

	Years after the treatises were signed, the queen gave birth to a little girl they named Morgan, who grew to be a smart and cunning woman. But she lacked something inside her- the need for compassion and the willingness to work for the good of others. She lusted for power, and indeed she found it.

	The old demon lord, the succubus who shaped all of monster kind into the image of monstrous women and men they are today, was not destroyed in the king’s battles as once thought. She was merely imprisoned, trapped within the scarred ruins of her castle. So Morgan struck a deal- she would take the demon lord’s title and power, and continue her work- transforming the lands into her image.

	The transformation sealed Morgan’s fate, and she took up the title of Le Fay, for the magical power that now coursed through her veins. Her reign of terror began that day, and soon she came knocking upon the old monarchs’ doors once more. In a valiant battle, the king gave his life to spare his wife, who managed to escape. Unknown to Morgan, her mother was carrying another child- one who’s destiny would have his name etched in the hallowed halls of history forever.

	This child, a baby boy, named Arthur.

---

	“HYAH!”
	The crash of wooden training swords filled the air. A freckled young man, no older than seventeen with hair like freshly mulched hay stood locked in combat with a mountain of a man, shaven head gleaming in the midday sun. Their sweat covered skin glistened in the light, and the larger of the two twirled his two practice blades as he circled around the boy, who brought up his buckler to bear. To the young Arthur, this was a test of his honor, the final proof that he was a man ready to fulfill his destiny. To the older Gawain, this was just another drill.

	“Fix your footing, lad. I could topple you with a poke at this rate!”

	Arthur gritted his teeth, shifting slightly in his one-handed stance. He favored the classic sword and shield style of combat, Gawain poured all his energy into the offense with both his wooden blades. It was a deadly dance, one Arthur had been practicing since he could first hold a stick. If he couldn’t fight, there would be no way he could bring down Morgan. So he had to work, and he had to work hard.

	With another short yell, Arthur charged the older man, ducking under his shield as Gawain’s double-handed strike skidded off the surface. He had him.

	“Gotcha!”

	A swift jab and an audible “Oof!” from the old man later, and Arthur stood, sweating and exhausted, but victorious. Gawain nursed the painfully located bruise, staggering to his feet.

	“Aye... That’s one way to do it lad. Unf- just don’t go making that a habit with our drills, understand?”

	Arthur nodded earnestly, helping the older knight to the nearby bench. Their practice ring wasn’t much- admittedly it was really a converted, unused pig pen on the farmland they lived on.

	Gawain grabbed one of the waterskins they had set aside, and drank greedily from it. Sweat poured off of him like a sinner in church; he was getting on in his years, probably quicker than normal what with him tasked with the duty of helping raise the young future king. After a drawn out swig, he cast a glance at Arthur.

	“What’s on your mind, lad? I can feel you have something to say.”

	Arthur shifted on the bench uncomfortably, sipping from his own waterskin, “Gawain ... I think I’m ready. I’m seventeen now- I’ve more than trained for this day. I think I’m ready to face her.”

	Gawain stopped drinking, slowly lowering the waterskin. He knew this day was going to come eventually. He and the boy’s mother had for years worked on forming a force to stop Morgan. They had the support of many still standing noble houses, and most of the old Knighthood had survived Morgan’s assault, even if only to remain in hiding for all these years.

	“... I’ll admit, I haven’t much left to teach you, lad. You’ve been preparing for this your whole life, and your father... He would be proud of you,” he took another gulp, “But it ain’t for me to say. Your mother’s the one in charge- your sister sits on the throne, but Igraine is still queen, by rights.”

	Arthur sighed, already knowing that was most likely the answer he would get. Gawain shook his head, and gave Arthur a pat on the shoulder, “Chin up lad- at least you’ve got my support.”

	With a smile, Arthur finished off his waterskin, “Well, better now than never.”

---

	“Absolutely not!”

	“But Mum-!”

	The deposed queen whipped a finger at her son, “Don’t you’but mum’ me. You’re still a boy, and Morgan is a full blown Demon Lord! A child of seventeen is in no way ready for that kind of threat!”

	Gawain cleared his throat as they all sat around the cottage’s dining table, “My lady, Arthur has learned all I can teach him in combat. He may be young, but the lad is capable. And we were never planning on sending him alone in the first place.”

	Igraine leveled her matronly glare at the knight. Even Gawain could not help but shrink slightly under it.

	“Sir Gawain, you know as well as I do that having Arthur confront her is too great of risk!”

	“Your ladyship, I mean this as respectfully as I can, but you and I both know that’s total shite,” Gawain gathered up his courage to confront the angered despot, “The reading and the oracle’s words were clear. It has to be him that fights Morgan.”

	Igraine kept her lips pursed in anger, before sighing and shaking her head, “Be that as it may, it’s still too soon,” she gathered the plates she was setting earlier, “End of discussion. Now, help me place the settings. Sers Lionel and Robin, along with their company are due to arrive tonight- after the mission they’ve been on they deserve a nice hot meal before reporting what they’ve found.

	At the mention of Sir Lionel’s name, Arthur perked up from his his sulk, “Is Gwen going to be here, too?”

	Igraine nodded, “Yes, Lionel’s young daughter shall be joining us.”

	Well at least having a friend over to talk to would be a small consolation. Gawain and Arthur both grabbed a stack of bowls and plates and set the large dining room table- a trunk from a monster of a tree, hewn by Gawain himself and his axes Galatine. Igraine followed after them, setting a few trays of fresh bread and placing the silverware. Soon there was a knock up on the door.

	“I’ve got it!” Arthur said, hastily placing his last bowl and rushing to the door. He composed himself a little at the foyer and opened up the door to a very familiar pair of faces.

	“Arthur!” the scruffy and ginger haired Sir Lionel greeted, patting him roughly on the shoulder. He certainly lived up to his name- an absolute lion of a man. The leaner man on his right chuckled.

	“Lionel you’re going to shake the poor lad to pieces.”

	Lionel flashed a toothy grin at his calmer companion, “Oh don’t be such a wet blanket, Robin!”

	Igraine shortly appeared behind Arthur, “Sir Lionel! Sir Robin- glad to see you both safe!”

	The matron showed them both inside, quickly followed by their small company of half a dozen knights in training. Arthur knew a few of them- like Galahad, Bors, and Lamorak. Many of them sons of the original Knights that served his father Uther, and many of them orphaned by Morgan’s uprising.

	“I trust your meeting with the Lady of Inglewood went well?” Igraine inquired as she let the young warriors in.
	Lionel coughed into his hand, “Er- yes. The centaurs of Inglewood will still lend their support whenever we make our move against Morgan.”

	Igraine nodded, “Must have also been nice for young Guinevere to have some time to spend with her mother.”

	Lionel chuckled a little, “Yes, it certainly was. Good to see her growing into a fine young centauress.”

	As if on cue, the young centauress in question stepped through the doorway, flaming red hair framing her face and flowing down her back in an intricate braid. Arthur beamed.

	“Gwen!”

	“Artie!”

	The two of them met in the foyer, exchanging greetings and “it’s been so long”-s, like the childhood friends reunited that they were. Igraine chuckled, “Children.”

	Lionel nodded, “You said it, milady. Now is that stew I smell?” He said, following his nose after the procession of knights. Igraine shook her head, and ushered the two of them to the dining room. The knights all sat about the table, yammering and helping themselves to the fresh rolls after their long ride. Igraine beckoned Gawain to help her carry the cauldron of stew over to the center of the table, giving each knight a hearty portion. It had taken her a few years, but the former queen had grown accustomed to the life of self-reliance and living off the land, with a little help from Gawain.

	As soon as the bowls were filled and Igraine took her place at the table, the group grew silent.

	“Heavenly Father, we thank you for the gifts of your bounty which we enjoy at this table. As you have provided for us in the past, so may you sustain us throughout our lives. While we enjoy your gifts, may we never forget the needy and those in want, and those already lost to us.”

	“Amen” the the knights chorused, and set upon their meals. Arthur found himself seated between Galahad and Gwen. Galahad remained quiet about the first half of the journey the knights had went on- a scouting party into the old lands of Camelot is all that he could say. Gwen interjected with stories about her rejoining her father for the second half of the journey- into the forest of Inglewood for a yearly diplomatic meeting. Those were the only times that she could really meet up with her mother- the Lady of Inglewood.

	She talked animatedly about the adventures they had on the way- navigating dark, enchanted forests and fighting off war bands of orcs and the like.

	"-And then the barbarian tries to take a stab at me, but I see it coming so wham! Right at the end of my lance!" She said, jabbing the air in front of her with her spoon, "You should've been there, Artie, it was incredible."

	Arthur frowned, picking at his meal, "Well... I probably won't be going for a while yet."

	"You mean-"

	"Mother... wasn't all that receptive to the idea of me leaving yet."

	Gwen sighed, and patted Arthur on the shoulder, "Well... maybe it's for the best?"

	Arthur didn't meet her gaze, sinking in his chair. Gwen looked to Galahad for help, but all he could do was shrug. The rest of the meal was eaten in near silence by the three, the uproar of the rest of the knights drowning out their melancholy.

	As the evening drew on, the knights had their fill and soon helped clear the table. Lady Igraine excused the younger members to get some rest, and Arthur tagged along with them into the sleeping quarters set up in the barn.

	"Loft is mine!" Lamorak crowed, hopping onto the ladder and away from the protestations of the others. As they resigned themselves to the bedrolls spread upon the hay, Gwen grabbed Arthur by the wrist and led him to the side of the barn.

	"Gwen, what are you-"

	The young boy was cut off by the centauress's kiss, melting into her embrace and entwining his tongue with hers. The kiss was short, but passionate, and Gwen gasped for air as she broke it off.

	"Gods above I've wanted to do that since the moment I stepped through that door."

	"Well you've shown admirable restraint."

	"Oh hush, you," Gwen said, lightly bopping him in the arm, and kissing him once more.

	Breaking it off after longer this time, Gwen whispered, "Arthur... do you really think you're ready to do this? To face Morgan? I mean..." she paused, delicately trying to choose her words, "You're... I worry for you. What if something happened what if it's too soon?"

	Arthur shook his head, "Gwen, I know I'm ready. Gawain said so himself, I've already learned all he has to teach me. I'm ready to make the journey to the lake and learn how I am to defeat her. I can feel it."

	Gwen looked Arthur in the eyes, seeing the resoluteness in his soul. She exhaled, nodding lightly, "If you're that confident... I have a plan."

	"A plan?"

	"Yes," she said, "Pack your sword and some travel clothes, then come back here at midnight," she kissed him once more, lightly on the lips, "It's time we take our destinies in our own hands."

	Arthur nodded, and the two parted ways. He trodded back inside. Igraine was still occupied, discussing strategy and diplomatic reports with the older knights. As Arthur headed upstairs to his room, he passed Gawain in the foyer.

	"Lad," He started, catching Arthur by the arm, "I know you're disappointed, but your mother's just looking out for you, you hear me?"

	Nodding, Arthur replied, "I know, I just..."

	Gawain nodded back, "No need for words, lad. Go on, get to bed. Wouldn't want to miss the send off in the morning."

	"Of course," Arthur said, and trudged up the stairs. He closed the door, pressing his hear to it until he heard Gawain's footsteps recede, then quietly started bundling his necessities in his bedsheet, forming it into a makeshift sack. His sword was downstairs, he'd have to grab it when he headed out.

	The darkness of night soon fell, and as the chattering of the adults grew quiet, Arthur slipped out of bed. The door made not even a squeak as he stepped out of his room, pack over his shoulder and boots in hand as to not clunk his way down the steps. He scurried around the corner, slipping into the den and making his way to the mantle. Above it, displayed proudly, was his sword; or rather, his mother's sword. The sword of the king, as far as Arthur knew, lay clenched in the cold dead hands of his father in what was certainly the ruins of the old castle Camelot.

	Gingerly, the boy lifted the sword off of it's plaque, and hooked the sheathe through his belt. He snuck back to the foyer, realizing all to late that the light of the lantern on the front porch was still burning as Gawain sat by the door, smoke wafting out of a pipe.

	Arthur tried to step back, quiet as he could- he hadn't opened the door and there was nothing he did to tip off the old knight as to his plans-

	"Lad."

	Dammit.

	Arthur hung his head, and stepped out the front door. Gawain glanced up at him from his seat on the porch, and puffed from his pipe.

	"Gawain, I know my mother doesn't think I'm ready, but I'm telling you-"

	"Listen to me for a moment, Arthur," Gawain said, cutting the boy off. It was rare that the older knight used the boy's name, the familiarity between the two being almost that of father and son. Arthur glanced up, looking Gawain in the eye, "Arthur... there are a lot of people counting on you. We can't lose you- you're the only surviving heir to the throne. If Morgan kills you, even if the rest of us win in the end, there's no one left to set the kingdom back into balance," Gawain puffed again, pensively biting down on the tip of the pipe.

	"That being said... We have to have faith in you."

	Arthur looked up, confusion written on his face, "So, you mean-"

	"Do me a favor- give your sister hell, lad."

	Gawain looked over at the young future king, grinning. Arthur smiled right back, nodding enthusiastically, "I won't let you down!"

	The older knight chuckled, and then said with a nod, "Oh- and do try and keep Guinevere safe. Wouldn't want Sir Lionel after your head when this is all over."

	Arthur coughed into his hand, "Er- yes, of course."

	Gawain laughed heartily at the boy's flustered expression, "Alright, now get your boots on and off with ya!"

	Quickly stepping into his boots, Arthur bounded off the porch and circling around to the back of the barn. Gwen stood there, donning her own saddle bags and lance strapped to her side.

	"There you are- I thought I heard talking, were you caught?"

	Arthur shook his head, "Not really- but we should probably hurry."

	Gwen nodded, then patted the back of her equine lower half, "Alright then, jump on."

	Arthur stepped up into the stirrup, and swung his leg over her saddle. He shuddered a bit, "I'm still not over how weird this is."

	"Well it's not like we'd make much with you on foot, now would we?" Gwen remarked, "Hang on to your britches."

	And with that, the two of them took off, galloping into the night. Arthur took a moment to look back at the house receding in the distance; away from the only home and family he knew. And now he was heading out into this huge, wild world with barely more than the clothes on his back and the sword at his side. He turned away, keeping his eyes on the forested trail ahead.

	'I'll make you proud, mother. I promise.'