Sir Kay Pendragon

Kay has been more than my brother. He has been my steward, my sword, and my shield. He was the first to kneel when I formed the Round Table, the first to swear an oath of loyalty, and the first to raise a blade in my name. - King Arthur Pendragon

A Letter from King Arthur to Lady Guinevere of Averonne

Written on the Eve of Their Wedding

March 23rd, 1147
My Dearest Guinevere, By the time you read this, you will be preparing for a day that will change both our lives forever. Tomorrow, before all of Camelot and the eyes of heaven, you shall become my queen. But before you take my hand at the altar, there is a matter close to my heart that I feel compelled to address—a matter not of court or kingdom, but of family.
I wish to speak to you of Kay.
It is no secret that Kay, my elder brother by circumstance and Lord High Steward of Camelot, is a figure who inspires… mixed impressions. You have likely heard the stories. Perhaps some noble has whispered to you of his boorish behavior in his youth or his legendary laziness. Perhaps they have laughed at the tale of how, when I first pulled Excalibur from the stone, Kay tried to claim credit for the act and only confessed the truth when threatened by Nimue herself. These stories are not untrue, but they are incomplete.
Kay is, without question, a flawed man. He can be sharp-tongued and quick to anger, and his patience is as short as his stride is long. Yet to focus only on his faults is to misunderstand him entirely. For if there is one truth I hold dear, it is this: Kay Corinth—Kay Pendragon—is the most loyal soul I have ever known.
There was a time, long ago, when Kay could not bear the idea of being overshadowed by me. He was raised to believe himself my superior, the heir to the house of Corinth and the favored son of my foster father, Sir Ector. As a boy, Kay often treated me not as a brother but as a servant, forcing me to labor in his place while he enjoyed the comforts of youth. Yet even in those days, I saw something in him—something that, I believe, not even he saw in himself.
The day I pulled Excalibur from the stone, Kay tried to take the glory for himself, yes. But it is what happened after that I wish for you to understand. When Nimue’s voice cut through the air like thunder, demanding the truth, Kay could have lied again. He could have clung to his claim, and I, being no one of note, would have had no power to contradict him. But Kay relented. He spoke my name. He told the court that I—not he—was the one destined to be king. And when I was crowned, he did not flee in shame or resentment, though perhaps he wished to. He stood beside me. He knelt before me.
And when I offered him a place at my table—a chance to be more than the boy he was—he took it. He took it, Guinevere, and he has never once looked back.
From that moment, Kay has been more than my brother. He has been my steward, my sword, and my shield. He was the first to kneel when I formed the Round Table, the first to swear an oath of loyalty, and the first to raise a blade in my name. When I marched on the Saxons, it was Kay who rode by my side, rallying the troops with words sharper than any weapon. When I sought the Holy Grail, leaving Camelot without its king, it was Kay who sat the throne in my place. He has never wavered, Guinevere. Not once.
And yet, for all his strength and steadfastness, Kay is a man of quiet love. He does not speak of it openly, nor does he wear his affections on his sleeve as others do. But I know him. I see it in the way he tends to the smallest details of court life, ensuring that not a single guest at our feasts leaves unsatisfied. I see it in the way he looks to me in battle, his eyes always scanning the horizon, searching for any threat that might harm me. I see it in the way he speaks of you.
Yes, Guinevere, Kay speaks of you often. He is skeptical of most—wary of those who seek to win my favor with sweet words and half-truths—but you… you, he admires. He has seen your courage, your grace, and your strength of will, and I know that he already loves you as a sister, though he would never say it aloud.
When we are wed tomorrow, Kay will be the one to place the crown upon your head. It is a tradition, yes, but it is also a gesture of trust. For to Kay, no crown is merely a symbol; it is a burden, a duty, and a promise. That he will crown you is his way of saying, I will guard you as I guard my king.
Do not fear his bluntness, my love. Do not mistake his roughness for cruelty or his silence for indifference. He may not say it, but I know Kay. He will love you as fiercely as he loves me, and that is no small thing. For Kay’s love is the kind that endures.
In the years to come, you may hear many unkind things said of him, for he is a man who carries his faults openly and his virtues quietly. But when you see him, when you look past the gruff exterior and the heavy step, you will see what I see: a man who would lay down his life for the people he loves without hesitation.
You will see my brother.
I cannot promise you a perfect marriage, Guinevere. I am a flawed man myself, and I suspect we will have our share of trials. But I can promise you this: in Kay, you will always have an ally. A protector. A friend.
Tomorrow, when the bells ring and you walk down that aisle, you will not only gain a husband. You will gain a family. And of all the gifts I could give you, this is the one I hope you treasure most.
Yours always, Arthur

Date of Birth

September 12th

Year of Birth

1118 EM 41 Years old