Gawain, Mordred, gorse
It was nowhere they had ever been, an unfamiliar British coast, on the way to somewhere else. But the air was sweet with the scent of gorse, salt with the sea breeze, harsh with the damp cold, and Gawain looked back and laughed, for no reason. For once Mordred did, too.
Gawain, Clarissant, headland
When Gawain sees her it
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