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It hadn't been a particularly hard day's training. Arthur had been surprisingly well...cheerful. He'd taken it easy on them which was an extremely rare occurrence. Actually Elyan didn't think it had ever happened before. It made him curious but at the time he'd chosen not to question it; he didn't want to jinx it. Arthur had let them off early and he knew he wasn't the only one of the knights who was shocked about that. He could just ask Gwen, she'd probably know what on earth could make Arthur that happy and where the knights could get more of it. He chuckled to himself. It wasn't very late, the sun was just beginning to set and Elyan took a moment to appreciate the sight before heading over to their home.

Gwen had told him earlier in the day to go to their house after he finished training with Arthur and the knights. It wasn't a particularly odd request, but what had been odd was how cheerful she'd been when he'd seen her, as in more happy than usual. She had been acting similarly to the way Arthur had been which made him curious. What was going on? He'd have to ask her when he got there. He finally made it to the lower towns where the house they'd lived in since they were children was. He opened the door, without the need to knock and was about to take off his cloak when he smelt food before he finally saw it. It was chicken soup seasoned with herbs that could only be found in the forests on the border the city. It was his favourite and grabbed all his attention making him almost forget what he'd wanted to ask her...almost. "Gwen, you shouldn't have." He grinned at her. "But thank you anyway." His grin hadn't subsided, it had been a while since he'd eaten his favourite meal, and his little sister always made it just the way he liked it, the way their mother used to make it. "What is this all for?" There had to be some sort of special occasion.

Elyan rarely intentionally got into fights. Well not quite rarely, but he didn't do it often. Well not anymore that is. He remembered Gwen used to always have to 'save him' when he was younger either way she still always thought it was his fault; which wasn't always actually true. She wouldn't always tell his father, but when he came into their home with cuts and bruises sometimes Tom would just ask Gwen because really they all knew she was a terrible liar most of the time. This time however Elyan was completely sure it wasn't his fault at all. If it was anyone's fault, it was Maria's fault, or had her name been Mary...he couldn't even quite remember, but he was sure it had started with an M. She was the one who had shamelessly flirted with him too, despite the fact that she was married to a monster.

Elyan had been caught completely off guard by the monster of punch that hit his face. He fell to the ground from the force of it. His head already spinning from the ale he'd drank, felt dizzier than ever after the collision. He vaguely concentrated on Gwaine's horrible attempt at trying to defend him and soon enough said knight was on the floor next to him with but an 'Ow' escaping his mouth. "You asked him to apologise? Seriously?!" He kept his voice low, but couldn't help but narrow his eyes at Gwaine slightly. He sighed and chanced a look up in the general direction of the half monster half man. He still looked particularly angry and the look on his face meant he wasn't quite finished yet. He looked back at Gwaine again, already knowing a black eye was bound to appear, which would still show despite his dark complexion. Gwen was bound to notice it next time he saw her. "Do you think we could take him?" He asked. It was their only option really, but he still asked. On his own and without a weapon, Elyan knew he wouldn't have a snowballs chance. But now Gwaine was here to back him, they might have a chance to finish this once and for all. It was after all just a colossal misunderstanding.

Elyan was in his father's forge, or rather his forge now. It would no doubt take a while for him to get used to that. It was odd for him to use the tools that were once used by his father, it almost felt wrong somehow, like he had no right. But what better way to celebrate the memory of his father than open his forge up once again? His sister had been happy with the idea of him opening up the forge again, probably because no one had stepped foot in it since his father's death. A time he should have been there for her and helped her through. Their relationship had been rather tense lately and it showed no sign of getting better. He sighed; he should probably just be patient, although patience was not something Elyan was ever really good at.

He'd been getting quite a lot of customers since he opened up the forge, from people who used to go to his father. But at the moment he was planning for the blunt metal in his hands to be a sword for the prince. It would be a gift or more like a thank you for saving my life. He knew it wasn't nearly enough to thank him for what he did, but it was a start. He put the metal in the flames to make it more malleable so that Elyan could mould it into the shape he wanted. It would still take a few more days before it was ready and sharp.

Hearing a cough behind him he turned around, his attention off the sword in the flames for the moment. He listened intently as she introduced herself and smiled back at her. She already knew his name it seemed. "I heard that you had opened up the forge once again and that you are very talented." He chuckled lightly at her last comment. "Well I wouldn't say very talented," he said modestly. "But I am pretty good," he jested and smiled back at her. He was still nowhere near as good as his father though and he probably never would be.

"I would of course love to make the gift for your father." It would be his honour. "What were you planning on this gift to be exactly?" A sword, a dagger, or maybe something that was not a weapon. He was still curious to how she knew about him, but then he supposed news of his return to his sister would be all around Camelot by now. But the Lady Elenora was obviously a noble, so he wondered how the news might have gotten to her. After his revelation of how close his sister had gotten to the prince, he supposed it wasn't such an outrageous thought after all.

“What on earth are you going on about?” Weren't his words clear? There wasn't really all that much that needed to be understood. The big scary man over there wants Elyan dead. That was the most important part and Gwaine didn't really need to know why. Elyan leaned up slightly and risked looking in the man's direction. Thankfully his head had been turned the other way. Elyan could still see that unnerving murderous look in his eyes. He might be a little over dramatic about that but he wasn't exaggerating at all when he said the man wanted to kill him. He had made that very clear indeed, Elyan cringed. He sighed, why was it always him that got into these messy situations? What had he done that was so bad that he'd been cursed with the horrid ability to attract trouble. He should just never talk to girls if there was risk that they were married to men with such hot tempers.

“He doesn’t look that bad.” He creased his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes at Gwaine. "Not that bad? Look at the size of him. He's practically a monster." A slight exaggeration, but he was still really big. He sighed deciding he might as well let Gwaine know why they were now crouched on the floor. "Look, that...man basically wants my head," detached from his body. "For reasons of no fault of my own by the way. But he basically thinks...I was having a torrid affair with his wife." They were just flirting, it had been nothing more. But despite his protests when he had been in the process of legging it out of his own forge, the man hadn't believed him for some reason. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that at the time the man had been a raving lunatic. "Which isn't true by the way," he clarified. He didn't want Gwaine getting the wrong impression.

At Gwaine's shrug, Elyan merely sighed. Now what? He looked over at Gwaine when he spoke and before he could answer he was being dragged toward a bar. He knew he shouldn't, but a drink would probably do him good. After all Gwaine was buying anyway. It would be absolutely rude of him to pass up an opportunity like this. How many drinks had he already had tonight, two or three? He couldn't really remember, but he knew if he drank anymore he probably wouldn't remember the rest of the night either. Never the less he accepted the ale from Gwaine, he wasn't exactly going to turn it down. He could already begin to feel a fuzziness cloud his mind. That was never a good sign and he really didn't want to make a fool of himself.

“Well, what do you think of it all?” Elyan chuckled. He had seen this type of thing before on his travels. Heck, he'd been a part of it. But after the recent circumstances and coming back to Camelot, he'd finally decided to be responsible for both himself and Gwen. After he'd let her down so much before, he really didn't want to disappoint her again. So it had been quite a while since he'd been in a place like this, and even longer since he'd danced quite like the people he and Gwaine were watching now. "It's incredible," he said without really thinking. He watched a scrawny little man attempt to lift a girl about twice his size and he couldn't help but laugh at the fact that after the failed attempt she'd decided to lift him up in the same manner. "It's been a while," he let his voice trail off.

He began looking around the room with a light smile when his face suddenly dropped. Was that...NO! He grabbed Gwaine's arm and ducked down with wide eyes. "Shh," he whispered at Gwaine. Elyan turned around and stared at the very large and very scary man at the opposite side of the room with a drink in his hand. He stayed down.

Elyan didn't think Gwen really liked the idea of servants waiting on her hand and foot. She had of course been in that position once, which he knew she was most definitely not ashamed about. It just gave her perspective that none of the others nobles had, not even Arthur. She had been born and raised on the other side so she understood them like no other. It's what made her such a great queen and why Elyan was so proud of her. He chuckled at her words of how it was odd for Gwen as queen to not have many servants. "Well the fact that she is queen is quite unusual and remarkable in itself," he smiled at her. He chuckled at her next words. "Can't say I don't agree," he teased. Some ladies needed maids to do even menial tasks for them, simply because they couldn't do it themselves. He doubted the Lady Caitrin was like that, she seemed like a pretty strong women even in her current state.

Elyan still felt bad for making her feel so uncomfortable. Judging by the way she was breathing she almost looked ill. He did not think the thought of magic could make someone so...well flustered for fail of a better word. As she spoke on about Mercia's stance on magic he closed his eyes for a moment in realisation. Ah, so it was not that she despised magic. "Oh right, no it was I who brought up the subject anyway, and you needn't worry about what you say here," he smiled weakly at her, he wasn't going to throw her in the dungeons just for speaking about sorcery. "I mean it's not like you actually have magic," he chuckled disbelievingly. He knew Camelot was not a particularly good place to even speak of such a thing and to be honest Elyan wasn't quite sure of what he thought of magic, since it had been a big part of the reason his father died. But after the recent somewhat agreement with the druids, which he had sort of been a part of and would not be forgetting any time soon, maybe Camelot's views on magic were relaxing under Arthur's rule.

“Only if it is not too much trouble?” He smiled and shook his head at her inquiry. "No, not at all. I'll only be a moment." He got up from the bench and began walking towards the well. It wasn't a long walk but he still hastened his pace to get there, Caitrin did look rather ill. Once he finally got there he found a pitcher by the well and poured some water until it was full. The water was rather cold since it was night but he hoped she wouldn't mind. He made his way back to the gardens again and all but jogged toward her with the pitcher in hand. "Here." he handed the water to her for her to take. "It's a bit cold though," he said apologetically, maybe pregnant women were only meant to have warm water; he really had no idea about this kind of stuff. "If you want it warmed I can heat it down in the kitchen for you, it's really no trouble."

He smiled at Caitrin when she mentioned that she didn't much like gardening either. That was something they had in common. He probably didn't like it because he just didn't have the patience for it. He wouldn't be able to care for one flower until it bloomed let alone a whole garden. Gwen was so much more patient than him. “I suppose she’ll have servants to tend the gardens now for her?” He chuckled at that. "I don't think so, she'd let them help maybe but she wouldn't let them do it for her." Gwen loved flowers, so she would want to tend to them herself. "She likes to do most things herself, so I doubt she'll be using many servants at all." Gwen was a very independent person, she'd always been the one that cooked and cleaned at home for him and his father. He doubted she'd be that different just because she was now queen.

When he watched her reaction he instantly regretted his words. Magic was a very unspoken subject; practically forbiddon. He had been foolish to speak of it to her. “I’m sorry if I offended you sir.” He shook his head, hating the formality now in her tone. "No, no of course not." As she continued he realised he must have offended her, and also the way she was brought up. He kicked himself inwardly and silently sighed. He was such an idiot. "That's...that's not what I meant," he sighed. He'd just said the first thing that had popped into his head and didn't think. "I'm sorry if I offended you for speaking about such a thing." He saw her getting increasingly uncomfortable and felt even worse and guiltier for not shutting his mouth when he should have. She was a noble for goodness sake; she probably despised magic like most of the nobles in court usually did. That was no doubt the reason to way she was getting so uncomfortable, it was his fault. “I don’t think anything will settle this one tonight.” He sighed and half smiled at her, just stopping himself from saying 'I'm sorry it's probably my fault for not keeping my stupid mouth shut.' He was afraid that she might in pain and yet there was nothing he could do about it. "Would you like some water?" He had no idea if it would help. "I could quickly run down to the well and get some," he offered.

The knights of Camelot where the most noble army across the lands, Elyan and he was sure almost everybody knew that. He refused though, to be the weak link in the chain. He wouldn't let all of Camelot down by having any sort of weakness. That's why he was so fiercely loyal to her, she was his home and he would protect Camelot like anyone else would protect their home. It was his duty as a citizen of Camelot. He knew Iwan probably thought his less than noble blood was a weakness but obviously Elyan didn't believe that for a second. Having noble blood and having a noble heart were completely different things and he honestly believed only the latter should really be important in choosing knights. After all the many of the knights who fought by Arthur's side weren't nobles and yet they were willing to die for him. So wasn't this one rule that could just be overlooked, after everything? Maybe not to Iwan, it seemed, and many others too. In time, he thought, in time they'd come round and understand.

He grinned when Iwan mentioned their next destination. "Of course, a couple of the weapons in there are my handiwork," he said with a proud face. A couple of the knights, mostly the people he had fought with against Morgana, had requested he make their weapons rather than the royal blacksmith. It had been a huge honour of course and now they kept a couple of the weapons he made in the armoury. He used to sneak in there as a child and admire the art of the weapons, they weren't as good as his fathers of course though, he thought with a chuckle. Oh the amount of times he'd get in trouble for hiding behind a rack of silver swords. But that never stopped him from returning to get another look. He used to smile at the thought of his weapons being in the royal armoury, and now they were he could hardly believe it. He had, though, forgotten to mention that he was a blacksmith to Sir Iwan after being so caught up in the pride he felt at achieving the honour of having his handiwork on display in the armoury.