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The bright morning sun shone down as the clash of steel upon steel could be heard echoing around the hills and flats of lower Britain every now and then cheers and encouragement could be heard as two combatants, fought to the death.

This is when Arthur was in his prime, combat, between him and one other, when his heart raced and his mind was fully focused, most people said he was a genius when it came to war, but still a smart man to control a kingdom, but most people didn't know that he kept control through his superior use of the sword, any person that sort to upset the peace he had created between the English provinces, were dealt with, anyone that sort to take his power, were beaten in single combat.

Arthur wasn't a tyrant but he believe in the good of his people, what he did was seemed fair and just. He had given them good crops, and defended their lively hoods, from attack from friend and foe alike.

But it was in the here and now that he found his prime, his opponent unleashed another barrage of quick attacks, his sword sweeping deadly arc's, but Arthur parried each without a care in the world and without breaking a sweat, before he wrong footed his opponent, and bringing his sword down quickly the flat of the blade hitting the man across the side of his head, sending him reeling to the ground.

Arthur took a step back lazily swinging Caledfwlch lazily in one hand, what had started as a contest had turned into a game. The Saxon got up and charged back at Arthur swinging his sword in a upwards Arc, which was easily caught with his shield, before forcefully kicking the man in the chest forcing him to the ground once more.

Arthur took a step forward, and placed his sword tip on the man's cheek, before cutting down, he would not kill this man, he was young and foolish, and would get his chance to prove himself in the coming battle, most people thought Arthur was soft for letting defeated foes live but that wasn't the case. If a man showed bravery before him, and determination he would show them up they were mostly young bigheaded nobles looking for honor.

Arthur would knock them down a few pegs and they would run back to there lines with there tail between there legs, but this one was different, given the chance to life, Arthur turned and began to walk back to his lines. The young Saxon noble got to his knees then his feet sword in hand he charged at Arthur’s undefended back, looking to kill the bane of the Saxon's, but his face, with the look of heroics soon turned to that of shock, as Arthur spun, his shield sending the nobles sword spinning through the air, before the blade of Caledfwlch was forced through his chest.

The boy thumped into Arthur's shoulder, looking down he could just see the hilt of Arthur's sword, and then he heard the whisper in his ear

"I gave you a second chance, you should have taken it"

With that Arthur pulled his Sword free and turned walking back through his lines as the Saxon line roared with revenge and began to charge towards the defensive circle of the Britons.

The young Saxon feel to his knees, blood draining from him, the last thing he saw was Arthur’s back as it disappeared through the gap in the shield wall, then his vision went black, as his lifeless body fell to the floor.

Lancelot was endeared by Alanna’s humility and the sweet blush on her cheeks. He treasured the praise she in turn spoke in favor of him. Instead of humbly discounting his deeds in front of Master Nathan, Lancelot gazed steadily and lovingly upon Alanna as she looked upon him. As he did so, he was admiring her features as much as she was admiring his.

Then she mentioned the dragon he had slain, and his humility caught up to him, especially since Adaline entered the room. He looked away from Alanna and met the unreadable eyes of Master Nathan and the curious look from Lady Adaline. He smiled modestly. “It was an adolescent dragon, after all. And a broken lance can be even sharper than a whole lance.” Of course, Lancelot knew that the deed had been very impressive, for he had come very close to losing life and limb. Alanna was not exaggerating when she spoke of the dragon spreading disease on his breath. It was either the grace of God or a blessing from the fey—that had kept him immune. And even before that, he had passed through plague-ridden villages and stayed in full health. The same went for his companions. Indeed, the Black Death had been the most frightening thing that Lancelot had seen, having come from the utopian Lake, where there was no disease at all.

However, he was so hungry that even the thought of pestilence could not dissuade him from having his fill of the food given him. But, as soon as Nathan posed his questions, Lancelot set down his partially-eaten capon leg, and chewed the meat slowly, using this time to hurriedly gather his thoughts. Why did he regard Alanna differently than other men, Nathan asked? The truthful answer rang like a bell in Lancelot’s heart—because he was deeply in love with Alanna of Greensbury. But was there perhaps a more appropriate way to answer in face of Alanna’s sister and steward?

When he finally swallowed, he reached for his tankard and drank of the ale, while lending Alanna support with his eyes as she answered her difficult question first. Master Nathan was questioning her on a life choice that was so intrinsic to her being; Lancelot could very well understand why Alanna was quiet and nervous as she attempted to voice a part of her that was so often misunderstood by men.

And when she alluded to the deaths of her father, mother and brothers, Lancelot showed her all the sympathy he could by the manner in which he grasped her hand and returned her squeeze. He nodded solemnly after she concluded. There are so few ladies like Alanna—that was what Lancelot thought with admiration as she voiced her will to honor her father’s name and challenge injustice in the most direct of ways.

Was Alanna satisfied with Nathan’s gruff response? Lancelot was not; but soon enough the steward had cleared his throat and urged the young ladies to fatten themselves in hopes of procuring husbands. And directly after that brief transition, Nathan pursued Lancelot to answer the question he had first posed. Why did he approve of Alanna as he did? And by extension, how could he possibly call himself a chivalrous man when he allowed a lady to risk her life by engaging in duties reserved for knights? Or perhaps, the real question Nathan was asking was... why had Lancelot found it fit to ride by Alanna’s side for two whole years? One had to admit, it was very rare to come upon an unmarried young man and woman who were such good friends that they constantly remained in each other’s company for years on end. It was, in fact, quite improper, especially regarding their difference in stations, and the matter that they both had places where they belonged: Alanna to Greensbury, and Lancelot to the Lake, and, his long-procrastinated journey to Camelot.

Lancelot’s heart had quickened at the casual mention of the ladies finding husbands. He did not believe for an instant that Alanna needed any enhancing to her form—but such would be an inappropriate matter to argue with Master Nathan. But the thought of Alanna even needing a husband was a point of interest to Lancelot. He was still holding Alanna’s hand, and his fingers had so moved that he felt the slim ring that adorned her finger. As far as he knew, she had never once taken it off. Although it had not been his original intention in giving it to her, the ring was very much like...

He knew what he must do, and this was the moment he should do it. Without any hint to Alanna, Lancelot suddenly stood up from the bench, prompting Alanna to stand up with him. His grasp on Alanna’s hand was still intact, but now visible to the two people who sat facing them. He was purposeful in doing this, and placed his other hand on Alanna’s to further strengthen the bond between them.

“Master Nathan, Lady Adaline,” Lancelot addressed them with all sincerity and affection for Alanna evident in his strong visage. “I will be candid as to my regard for your kinswoman. I have told you, Master Nathan, of how I approve of Alanna’s will to actively face peril, and indeed, I support her because she truly has the ability to do so, and... beyond my acknowledgement of her prowess, we are of such compatible dispositions, that I had easily befriended her when we first met.” He filled his lungs with much-needed air, and after a heartfelt glance at Alanna, he continued:

“In truth, my regard for Lady Alanna has long exceeded that of mere friendship. We have shared a chaste love... a true love, and we have held fast to our pure love for near two years, having endured all manner of tests and trials. We have promised faithfulness to each other—Alanna by gifting me with her mother’s pendant, and I long ago gave her a ring given me by my foster mother... which, if I may be bold enough, would like to further renew with a commitment I have not yet proposed...”

If she was any other lady, he would not be willing to marry her. He would not give up a life of adventurous peril-seeking and questing and combating—to stay at home and humor a wife. It would be unfair for him to marry, for the sake of his wife, who he would have to leave behind for months—even years—on end. But Alanna of Greensbury was the only lady who he could marry, and still treat with the constancy and attention that is so needed from a good husband.

But such was not a new thought to Lancelot, and he had mentioned it to Alanna before. Yes, marriage was something him and Alanna wanted for the future. But it had always remained something of the future, which had kept Lancelot from formally asking it of his ladylove. But it now occurred to Lancelot, and it was largely because he was in the company of Alanna’s family—that marriage no longer had to be something so distant. He had known and loved her for two years, and it may be years longer before they were married—if that was how long it entailed for him to be knighted, and procure a household. But why should they not be betrothed now, and make it known to all that they had such intentions?

His eyes were now fully devoted to Alanna as he dropped to one knee. He shifted his hold on her hand so that the gold ring on her finger was in the most prominent display. Then he bowed his head and kissed the ring with the utmost delicacy. He still clasped her hand in both of his, and looked up at her with unbridled admiration. “Alanna... That is, I now ask you to be my betrothed... I ask that, once I have been knighted, I ask... Alanna of Greensbury, will you marry me?”

Juliana gratefully accepted Lionel’s arm as he helped her off the horse. The adrenaline rush of trying to escape had long since worn off with their rescue by the gallant almost-knights. She did not reply to Lionel’s pity pledge at the moment, for she’d rather not have to think upon it at the moment. She’d been responsible for her sister and her self’s wellbeing the past few days, it was nice to have a break from the gripping fear that had engulfed her (but carefully hidden from Mary). The fact she was dead tired influenced that factor as well, and if she was this tired, she couldn’t imagine how exhausted Mary was. The poor girl wasn’t at all used to riding like she was, but gallantly refused to complain. She couldn’t be more proud of her baby sister.

She then turned her attention back to Lionel as he spoke of their friend’s hospitality, and smiled. She marveled at what a kind and generous man he was, gentle as well. His kind soothing ouch showed no ill intent. It was nothing at all like the loathsome groping hands of Sir Harold. He’d only caught her alone once while her father was still alive, and managed to escape relatively unscathed, other than a few disgusting improper touches to her breast and arse. Mary had not been so lucky. Her dear sister had suffered a much worse assault than she, and though the pig hasn’t managed to deflower her poor sister, she still welled up in tears at the mere sight of him. It was another reason she wished to keep the topic off Harold, for she’d seen her sister cringe as she and Lionel discussed their situation.

Indeed Mary had cringe at the name of that horrible man, and she was instantly mad at herself for doing so. It had been months ago that she’d been cornered like a mouse in her sewing room and violated, and she still was so deeply affected! Self pity did nothing to change the situation, she knew this, but it still didn’t change her inner turmoil about their situation. At least she’d not gone misty eyed; she didn’t wish to embarrass her sister thusly. When Kantus asked of her condition, she gave a quick smile of reassurance that she was fine, though she wasn’t. In truth she was rather sore and tender, but there was from the days of has riding, so there was little he could do. No since in burdening the kind man.

“We thank you kindly for your hospitality kind Sir. Your dedication to the code is truly great and honorable. Perhaps we might talk upon this subject later in private?” Juliana said kindly, but her eyes darted slightly to Mary at the end.

Alanna's face had grown warm once again as Lancelot gently tugged her up...and revealed their intertwined hands. Perhaps he had grown weary of pretending to be mere companions already? In truth, she had grown weary of the watered down relationship the moment it had been suggested, but still...they had already confessed to traveling together for two years (and it was then that it struck her that mentioning his cousins and Kantus might have made the confession seem less alarming), what would Nathan and Adaline think when it was added that they did, in fact, feel romantically towards one another?

Of course, Adaline's eyes widened mildly, and Nathan remained impassive. They had both been able to read, with great ease, the supposedly secret looks the two love birds shared. And even as Alanna blushed more deeply while Lancelot began to recall their vows and their great affection, Adaline merely flushed discreetly as any young lady would in the presence of such emotions and Nathan tilted his head as though intrigued. It was true, they had made fast friends upon their first meeting...and their romance had followed soon after, not without difficulty, of course, and in fact it even seemed that it had been necessary for the both of them to mature as they had. If she had not loved Lancelot, Alanna would most likely still be disguising herself as a man and running around with a fine layer of muck as a peasant squire named Alan. And Lancelot...well, he would most likely still live under the rule of Vivienne...or whatever lady she deigned to hand him off to. Now, he was a handsome, dashing, strapping man with a will of his own...

Alanna, by this point, had lost track of her sister and Nathan and was focused solely on Lancelot, being lost in his visage once more. Her heart had begun to beat very quickly indeed, for he was speaking of their tokens of faithfulness that had been exchanged two years ago, and sounded almost as though he...but nay, that couldn't be what he was getting at...

When Lancelot dropped to one knee, Adaline emit a very un-ladylike squeak, and Nathan's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Both of them made a silent ruckus as Adaline flapped her hands helplessly in front of her face as though it were herself the marvelous knight were kneeling before, and Nathan gaped and opened and closed his large hands as though grasping for some idea of just when this change had occurred. But neither of them were as shocked as Alanna, who was merely grateful that her suddenly jelly legs did not collapse beneath her. Her heart had ceased abusing her ribs, and for a moment ceased beating all together. Her lips parted and no sound came out, her eyes had grown to the size of goose eggs and her stomach plummeted to the lowest regions it could reach. They had discussed the matter of marriage before, and agreed that it was a pleasurable fancy...and surely there could be no man for her save Lancelot...and yet..!

daughterofdon wrote:His eyes were now fully devoted to Alanna as he dropped to one knee. He shifted his hold on her hand so that the gold ring on her finger was in the most prominent display. Then he bowed his head and kissed the ring with the utmost delicacy. He still clasped her hand in both of his, and looked up at her with unbridled admiration. “Alanna... That is, I now ask you to be my betrothed... I ask that, once I have been knighted, I ask... Alanna of Greensbury, will you marry me?”

And yet, how could she possibly refuse? Her adoration for Lancelot was complete, and grew nearly painfully more expansive each day. And with his eyes seeking hers so lovingly, and with such devotion.

"Yes! Yes, of course I will! Oh, Lancelot!" Alanna finally cried, grasping his hands in return before dropping to her knees and smothering him in kisses.

Adaline was weeping politely, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a kerchief, and Nathan was, shockingly enough, weeping as well. In a single day he had not only discovered the fate of one of the girls he had doted on as a niece, but had found her to be betrothed to an honorable and capable man.

Lancelot could not imagine Alanna rejecting him, but there were the moments of silence that followed after his question, through which he hardly breathed at all. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Adaline and Nathan making shocked gestures with their hands, as Alanna looked down at him with wide eyes and lips parted in a futile attempt to form words.

Then the affirmative words came to her, and Lancelot was sighing, smiling and laughing with the greatest of joy and relief. He was near delusional, for it sounded to him like the room was filled with the chorus of heavenly hosts—when really the only noise that was being made was that of kisses and joyous weeping. Lancelot himself had tears falling from his eyes as hugged her, planting near a dozen celebratory kisses to her face.

----

Lionel was growing impatient. Clearly, Greensbury’s porter was away, and the manor was horribly under-staffed. He called out through the gate, announcing the presence of visitors, and even unsheathed his sword and clanged it on the bars. No one was coming... and it was clear that the two ladies were in grave need of rest. Juliana wanted to converse with him in private—but she needed to rest first. Mary was cringing—an expression that Lionel interpreted as fatigue and discomfort. Both ladies were a bit pink—no doubt from exertion and being unprotected in the sun.

He would not tolerate waiting any longer. Determinedly, Lionel stomped to Clarric’s side and loosened his cousin’s lance from the saddle. It was the lance that Lancelot had been gifted from Merlin, and it was discovered that the lance was charmed so that it would come back together after it was broken. Clarric turned his broad head to Lionel and whinnied warningly.

But Lionel paid no heed, and carried the blue lance away with him, as he mounted his own steed. He told everyone to move out of the way, as he trotted his horse to a spot some dozens of yards away from the gate. Then, holding the lance out as if to joust, Lionel charged at the gate and broke its latch cleanly when he struck it with Lancelot’s lance.

After tethering his horse once more and returning the lance, Lionel took Juliana’s arm again and led her through the open gate. He was very smug with what he had done. He would have been humiliated enough to hide his face if he had failed to open the gate with his brute force.

“I’m sure Alanna’s household will understand why I have broken the gate. It iz a shame to keep weary ladies waiting and wilting in ze sun,” Lionel said to Juliana, to excuse their unwelcomed entrance. Expecting the others to follow him, Lionel went directly inside the manor, and strode the old halls, paying not nearly as much attention to the details. He was looking for any occupants of the house, so as to procure a guest chamber for the ladies.

But he found no one, until he eventually made his way to the dining hall. He burst through the door and gasped at what he saw before him: Lancelot and Alanna were kneeling on the floor and kissing each other, as two strangers looked upon them sobbingly. The first thing Lionel did was to turn to the lady on his arm and turn her away from the scene. “Please avert your eyes, milady. This iz my kinsman’s affair.” He had a mind to escort Juliana back out of the hall, but his presence had already been observed by Lancelot. He let go of Juliana’s arm and took a step forward, eyeing Lancelot with a puzzled expression.

“Lionel!” Lancelot called forth after breaking a kiss with his betrothed, darting up to his feet and bringing Alanna up with him. He still clasped her hands, but he now remembered the presence of Adaline and Nathan—and now the sudden entrance of the rest of his travelling party—and some unknown ladies!

Lancelot briefly left Alanna’s side to round up Lionel, Bors and Kantus and brought them before Adaline and Nathan. His arms were around their shoulders and his face was still wet with tears. “These are my dear cousins, Lionel and Bors of Gannes—and my prized friend, Kantus Griffale. All three had been travelling with Alanna and I, and they can testify to our chastity. They all hope to become knights as well, and are of the greatest repute.”

Likewise, he introduced his kin to Alanna’s kin. “My friends, here before you are Master Nathan, the honorable steward of Greensbury manor, and Lady Adaline, Alanna’s sister. I have just proposed to Alanna, with her family as witnesses, and she has accepted... once I am knighted, we are to be wed!”

Then he went about hugging and kissing everyone. First he fraternally embraced his cousins, then Kantus, then rounded the table and wrapped his arms around Adaline, in an embrace that was both respectable and warm. “I am to be your brother-in-law, Lady Adaline! I have only known you for an hour, and already you are as dear to me as a sister!” He placed a soft kiss on her cheek, and then smiled brightly and released her. Hopefully he had not overstepped his boundary by hugging and kissing her—but he was so happy that he could not help himself.

It had taken Lancelot long enough to propose to Alanna—that was what Lionel thought. But he was surprised that his cousin had chosen to do so in front of Alanna’s family—almost immediately after meeting them, and after they hadn’t seen Alanna for twelve years. But Lancelot had always been like that; acting out on his emotions at the most dramatic moment imaginable.

But, to show his approval, Lionel turned to Alanna and smiled. Of course, his smile was not nearly ecstatic as Lancelot’s, but it was still an appropriate expression of happiness nonetheless. He had always liked Alanna, even if she did not always behave like a lady. She was kind and reasonable—and charming and pretty in her own unique way—and that was enough for Lionel to approve of her as a wife for his revered cousin.

“Congratulations, Alanna. Bors and I will happily welcome you into our clan,” Lionel spoke as her future cousin-in-law, giving her a friendly hug and kiss to both her cheeks.

Next Lancelot turned to Nathan, and his gaze softened when he beheld the old steward with tears in his stern eyes. “Master Nathan—I hope that you will bless my engagement with Alanna. Please do not be o’erhasty to judge me, milord. I mean to treat Alanna with all the love and honor that is due to her. Such things are what I have prized most in life: love, honor and truth.” After he said this, he reached out and shook Nathan’s massive hand. After a moment of hesitation, he gave the burly steward a hug as well—and gesture that was full of more respect than warmth.

After separating himself from Master Nathan, Lancelot glanced inquisitively at Juliana and Mary. Lionel saw, and stepped forth to introduce the ladies to his overjoyed cousin.

“Zis iz Lady Juliana and Lady Mary of Oakford. While you were with Alanna, we rescued them from a group of foul brigands. We took them here to the chateau, for they are need of rest. Their father has died, and their home has been usurped by a wicked overlord,” Lionel explained to Lancelot. “Ladies, this iz my cousin, Lancelot du Lac.”

“I see. Well met, ladies. You have my sympathy,” Lancelot nodded with the concern appropriate to a knight who hears of ladies in peril. He bowed his head to Juliana and Mary. “We will duly assist you, miladies. But for now you must excuse me, for I have just been engaged to my beloved, and I am overwhelmed with excitement!”

With a last bow to the ladies after hurriedly meeting them, Lancelot turned away and sought out Alanna, his intended. He scooped her into his arms and gave her one last adoring kiss. Thereafter, he restrained himself from kissing her so much in front of their families, but he still stood close to her and looked down at her in rapture.

“My betrothed,” he smiled longingly. “Ah, Alanna... this is a special day! Let us spend more time in Greensbury; as much time as you want. But soon after, I wish for us to take the King’s Road all the way to Camelot, so that I may finally be knighted... and thereafter, I will bring you honor as a husband, for you will be a dame. And eventually, if the Lord wills it, we will have the children we both so wish for."

Alanna returned Lancelot's adoring smile, brushing her tears away as she listened to his happy proposals. To think that at last, they were officially announced with intentions to spend a lifetime together! He spoke of rushing towards his knighthood, and their wedding, and children...and she eagerly agreed with all of it, any of it, her elation such that she could hardly think of a disagreeable thing coming from his mouth. Lionel and Bors had greeted her with pleasure when they learned of her joining their family, and truth be told she was thrilled that they would be her cousins as well. Not nearly as much as she was about how they would become so, but the happiness was there all the same. And being wrapped up in Lancelot's arms and utterly lost in his embrace, Alanna was not at first even bothered with the fact that Bors, Kantus and Lionel had somehow managed to make it into the manor without an escort, and with two strangers accompanying them as well.

"Aye, my lord, let us celebrate and make merry! To Camelot, to Camelot, let us away the moment you feel the need! I long to provide for you as an honorable wife, peasant, dame, duchess, or however you will have me!" Alanna breathed happily, taking his hand and pressing her cheek into it. And she kissed him once more, just for good measure.

Bors had been appalled by Lionel's abrupt manner of breaking into the chateau, particularly since they knew someone that lived there! But now they were inside, and a whirlwind of activity had taken place. Alanna and Lancelot were engaged, apparently, and Alanna's sister was weeping, and there was a burly elderly man who seemed to be in a strained emotional fit about the whole ordeal. But as confusing as the whole matter was, Bors congratulated and hugged and kissed his dear cousin and his future cousin just the same, and cordially greeted Lady Adaline while constantly glancing back over at the two ladies that had been rescued to be sure they didn't swoon from all of the excitement. Most ladies (excluding Alanna) had a tendency to do such things.

"P-p-please forgive me! I-I am in such a state, w-w-where are my m-manners?" Adaline gasped, dabbing rather uselessly at her still-streaming eyes. It was unbecoming of a lady to weep so much in a single day, and her kerchief was nearly soaked through, but she had experienced quite a lot of emotional trials in such a very short time. But she was still a hostess, and there was etiquette that needed following! "Sirs Lionel, Bors, and Kantus, welcome to Greensbury. It is indeed a delight to make the acquaintances of my future brother's cousins and friends. And Ladies Mary and Juliana, welcome as well. My, but you look to be in great need of rest! Please, allow me to call a page to take you to rooms where you may rest..."

And soon, a handful of young boys had bustled up in a great confusion, ready to guide the busy party to the few guest rooms within the manor. Lancelot, Kantus, Bors and Lionel would be spread throughout the rooms of Alanna's brothers. Alanna would be put up in the room she had occupied as a girl. And the two sisters who had been cast from their homes would be settled into the most pleasing guest rooms there were.

Such excitement for just one day!

Lionel had been chided for breaking the gate, and to prove himself honorable, he went about personally fixing it. But what did he know of metal-working? He would have to employ a blacksmith. And being of wealthy origins, he happened to possess a pouch of gold coins that would serve as adequate payment.

But before leaving the manor, he strode through the halls and halted at the door of the guest chamber in which Juliana was residing. He collected himself a moment before knocking. He tried to relax his brows, when he realized that they had been weighing sternly upon his eyes, giving him a perpetual frown that was not at all handsome. A day had passed, and after sitting next to Juliana during the meals in the dining hall, and speaking lightly with her during the subsequent celebratory gatherings... he internally recognized that he was infatuated with her. It was an important matter for young Lionel, for other than his brief bout of puppy love for Mennah two years ago, he did not fall so readily for ladies. He admired their beauty, but he did not long for their company as he now did for Lady Juliana of Oakford.

It had to be, also, that he had seen Lancelot and Alanna so blissful, and wished for something like that for himself.

He knocked on the door, and announced as amiably as he could: “Lady Juliana, it iz I, Lionel.” He paused for a moment, and struggled with what to say. “I... I will be going out into the village today, to visit the blacksmith’s forge. Might you need anything in town? Or... would you like to accompany me, so we might discuss ze matter with Oakford?”

His greatest priority was to speak with her, for he still didn’t know enough about Lord Harold and how formidable he was. But along with attending to these formal matters, he would be pleased just to walk arm in arm with her and admire the color of her hair in the sunlight. And feeling the weightiness of his pocket, he had the sudden urge to buy her anything she wanted. He was a prince after all—he could afford to spoil ladies.

Roryn figured as much. If Maraud was going to transport them to Rozeshire, then he had no objections, "Very well, then. If you can take us there, then we'll go." he said, not bothering to debate over Mabuz, because he assumed they were all going. Mabuz deserved to visit Mennah just as much as any others. What was done was done, and Armand didn't seem the kind of fellow to hold a grudge for two years, anyway.

"We'll have to do something about that deer back home. We'll store what we've carved and let the wolves have the rest of it. There's always more to hunt in these parts." he said, then added, "So we'll pack our things and leave as soon as we're ready. Dear, are you certain Mennah will not mind unexpected guests?""

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Before anyone had arrived in Greensbury, Semya had used his superior shape-shifting skills to appear as a boy, wearing simple clothing that appeared to be from Greensbury. He separated himself from the others and just wandered around on his own, closely examining anything that interested him, which was just about everything.

________________________________________________________________________________

That boy wasn't from Greensbury, and Darmus knew it. The old smithy knew everyone in Greensbury, and he didn't know that boy, "Where'd the laddy g'it those clothes? Cause he not from around 'ere!" he said outloud with his cranky scottish accent. Darmus' family originally hailed from Scotland, but had migrated to England a long time ago, but the accent gave them away.

"Probably stole 'em, he did! If I were 'is dad I'd pop 'em one good for stealn'!" he grunted as he went back to work. No matter, maybe he purchased the clothes? Either way, Darmus had a load of work to get done and just standing around wasn't gonna get it done.

Lancelot was blissful indeed. His lengthy journeying had been fulfilling, but taxing, and he had been deprived of the comforts he had grown up with. Bathing, for example—the surface folk did not bathe but every several months. While Lancelot was so accustomed to daily bathing that he could not give up the habit, he had to make do with washing in rivers. And so, now that he was staying in a manor, he finally had a suitable bath. He shaved his face. It was not common for knights and the men of Logres to do so, but it was how Lancelot had been taught, living among fey men who imitated the Romans.

But besides the fact that he was clean-shaven and wearing a fresh pair of braies and chausses—he was officially engaged to Alanna. He didn’t have much time alone with her, and it seemed appropriate that it should be so. He imagined the great worth he would feel, standing in front of the church and knowing that he was a chaste knight, and Alanna was a pure lady; knowing that he had conquered all his impulses to be a hedonist.

Besides, the visit to Greensbury and the spur-of-the-moment engagement was meant to be a social affair, and it was best that they spent as much time with Alanna’s family as possible. That first night, they all feasted together in the dining hall. By the end of the feast, Lancelot was in the best of spirits and fairly flushed with drink. It was he who suggested that they have an impromptu dance—after all, they had eight youths among them: four ladies and four squires. Most of the time they could be dancing went to gathering musicians, but late in the evening, they had time enough for two dances. Lancelot and Alanna were doubtless the least practiced of the pairs, but by the end of it, he was full of even more love for his fiancée.

----

The next day, Lancelot was out in the orchards with Alanna and Adaline. He liked to see the sisters together, and was amazed at how much they could get along after being separated for more than a decade. Did they even remember much about each other? Was Adaline resentful that Alanna had left? Such questions were still mysterious to Lancelot.

But it was not his business to ask, so he enjoyed the pleasantness of the afternoon instead, and walked on cheerfully, holding Alanna’s hand. It was such a warm day, that it was fit to wear but a thin tunic. Attached to his belt there was hanging a pouch, which held a small glass ball. He knew a hand-full of magical-minded people he could speak to through the ball—Mennah, Maraud, Balthazar, Merlin, Morgan le Fay, Saturnus... even Vivienne, who he had not seen nor heard from since he left the Lake. He untied the pouched and held it contemplatively in his free hand.

He didn’t want to use it in front of Adaline, though. She was a respectable lady, and a Christian no doubt, and surely she would not think highly of him if he used pagan magic. Still, he would be insincere if he did not inform her of his upbringing...

“Lady Adaline,” he addressed her, his voice hinting that he was to confess something of importance. “I have mentioned that I hail from a place called the Lake, but I have not described to you the nature of my childhood home. It may be hard for you to believe, but I was in fact raised by the Lady of the Lake, in a fairy realm.” It sounded completely incredulous... Lancelot turned to Alanna to request confirmation. “Alanna can assure you that it is true what I say, for she paid a visit to the fey and the Lake.”

He continued, looking at Adaline. “I was not born there, though. You see, I was born in a kingdom across the channel called Benoic, and my father was King there.” He then explained how Vivienne had whisked him away when Benoic was under siege, after his father died and his mother went mad. But he heard, from his cousins, that his mother Helaine was still alive, and that one day he wished to journey to Benoic and meet her.

“But I tell you all this, Lady Adaline, so that you will know the truth of my origins. I was not raised in a Christian manner, and I only hope that you will still approve of me to join your family when I marry your sister.”

“Mennah will love to have us visit; we’ll surprise her,” Maraud assured Roryn lightly. They returned to the cabin and gathered what they might need. Maraud dressed in one of her lovelier gowns, and dressed Aurora her best as well. The deer was taken care of; all was settled to leave.

Maraud stepped out of the wood home, carrying her daughter in one arm and the mosaiced vase in the other. She had several magical items with her—her crystal orb, a vial of dragon’s blood, a pouch of healing herbs, and Ralcia’s fire-resistant charm. She had pinned a charm she had made herself to Aurora’s clothes—a charm that protected her from plague, which so many children died from. Maraud always took that precaution when taking Aurora to a populated place—which she did quite rarely.

Mabuz came forth after arming himself with bow, quiver of arrows, buckler, sword, and a dagger. “Mabuz! You look like you’re ready for battle,” Maraud remarked. “We are only going to Rozeshire. Dear me!”

“I wish only to be prepared, Maraud,” Mabuz told her. “Roryn has taught me well, and I would be grieved if my skills were in need and I had not thought to bring my weapons.”

Maraud said nothing more. Indeed, Mabuz was sounding more and more like Roryn. Which was not bad at all... Maraud turned to her dear woodsman and handed him his daughter to hold, who had been reaching out to him.

“Now, we are all ready to leave,” Maraud announced, taking Roryn’s hand. “To Rozeshire!” she said, and they disappeared by the will of her magic. Even though she had not cast the spell for a long while, it still worked—although their re-entrance was not ideal. They found themselves standing in the middle of a prickly rose bush. Maraud winced as she disentangled herself from the large plant, and was quite upset to have a small hole torn into her dress. Aurora cried when she was poked by a thorn.

Mabuz got out first, but not without a painful scratch to his cheek. He helped to pull Maraud out, who had a lock of her hair caught on a branch. Maraud released her frustration in a terse exhalation, and then looked back to be sure Roryn and Aurora had managed through.

“Don’t cry, my sweet! Oh, you poor dear. Mummy is so very sorry,” Maraud cooed to her sniffling daughter.

As Maraud smoothed her frazzled lock of hair, she turned round and observed that they were situated on a hillock, at the edge of Landoline forest. In the distance, nestled within a protective curtain wall, was a fine town and castle, abnormally abundant in greenery... Rozeshire.

Kantus aided Mary in dismounting from his steed before tying off Lamina to one of the metal rings, though slightly disappointed he could not personally see to the stabling and feeding of Lamina right away, he decided that her grazing while they introduced themselves to Alanna's family was suitable enough. Though growing impatient with their wait as Lionel attempted to gather the attention of someone to open the doors, he found himself cringing at the thought of Lionel breaking the door, and though Kantus supported getting the new woman rest as soon as possible, shattering the lock on the door with Lancelot's magic lance seemed a little too abrasive, even for Kantus, though he did nothing to stop Lionel and his unbreakable determination.

When the door was smashed open, Kantus walked inside behind Lionel, though he chose to ignore Lionel's example,and not take the arm of Marry, instead merely making sure she was alright. Kantus gazed about the manor, observing all of its intricacies and beauties. The last time Kantus had been in a manor was at Lancelot's lake, and this paled in comparison to the Lake's beauties. Having nothing other than the lake to compare a manor too, Kantus found the manor slightly lacking, less interesting and enthralling as the lake. However,this did not prevent Kantus from enjoying the manor and its apparel, for they were clearly more wealthy than his own family, and so his eyes found plenty pf entertainment.

After walking through a few halls and opening a few doors, they eventually came upon Lancelot and Alanna, both in tears and kissing each other rather tenderly. Kantus wasn't completely shocked, but he was rather surprised, for though he knew the two loved each other, he knew they were very careful about showing it. What was surprising was not only were they kissing, but they were doing so in front of two strangers! Something Kantus and Alanna had never done before! Immediately Lancelot broke the kiss, and made his way over to the group, introducing them all to Alanna's kin, to which Kantus greeted his friend's family, one a beautiful young woman named Adaline, and the other a strong, sturdy looking man named Nathan.

'Lancelot is getting married?!?!?' Kantus thought as Lancelot made his grand announcement. Kantus was overjoyed, and greatly pleased for his two friends, though he did find himself sorely disappointed that he missed the proposal. "Indeed, their chastity can be confirmed,Lancelot is among the most honourable of men to ever exist, I attest to that with my full heart and soul" Kantus confirmed after Lancelot assured Nathan and Adaline of their chastity. It was true, and Kantus would do everything he could to aid his friends in their new and wonderful engagement. Kantus couldn't contain his warm smile as he heartfully returned Lancelot's kissing embrace before observing the same from all others.

After the heartfelt banquet, Kantus aided Lancelot in every way he could in finding musicians to play for the celebratory dance. Indeed it would be an eve full of grand fun, it could go no other way with the wonder of the upcoming events and love blissfully singing in the air. When the musicians gathered late into the night, Kantus danced both dances gleefully, and celebrated with all the energy he had, supporting Lancelot and Alanna in their new affair and step up in their relationship, and drank much ale, becoming fairly tipsy by the time of the dances.

After the dances, Kantus was shown to his quarters, ware he fell into a deep slumber, aided by the drink, food, and celebration of the night prior.

Alanna had been glowing nearly constantly since the moment Lancelot dropped onto one knee and kissed the ring he had given her two years ago. It struck her that being so happy so consistently should have been tiring upon the soul, and yet she felt fresher and more delighted with the small things in life (mostly in the way they complimented whatever Lancelot was doing that the moment) with each passing moment. And being with Adaline and Nathan and all of the citizens of Greensbury again, though it admittedly paled in comparison to the pleasure she felt from simply holding her intended's hand, only caused to further her joy. And though there was the strain of years past settled between herself and her younger sister, the fact that each had only the other as a living relative made the lost time seem almost dismissible. But that didn't stop them from taking each moment possible to catch up. Though it was difficult to explain to an outsider from the situation...the sisters' bond was unique, and strengthened by their differences. They both gave their utmost to bring honor to their family's name, they simply did it in different fashions.

And now, as the sisters and Lancelot strolled along (Alanna and Adaline having linked their arms, and Alanna happily grasping Lancelot's hand) through the lovely orchards of Greensbury with the scent of orange and apple and pear blossoms breezing along through their hair and clothes, both women were content. Adaline had been telling humorous stories of some of the less noble suitors that had arrived seeking after her, and how even some of them had left when they realized that the manor was not even large enough to have a proper moat. It was not the sort of thing all women might have giggled at, but Adaline had seen enough suitors to find humor in the situation. And Alanna was merely pleased that her sister had not been dealt a foul husband who would throw a fit upon discovering a lack of muck surrounding his future home. But after several long moments of pleasant walking and talking, Lancelot eased into the topic of his heritage...

Alanna worried her lip, but did nothing to stop him. She, and her family, were indeed practicing Christians. Just as Lancelot was. But just like Lancelot, Alanna had adopted a unique view on certain aspects of Christianity...such as the acceptance of magical abilities, like the speaking crystal he now held in his free hand. And the existence of certain fey, and the possibility that a boy raised among them could develop into a remarkable and completely worth-while man. What her younger sibling would think of all this, she could only guess.

Adaline had slowed her walk to a complete stop, and was staring at Lancelot with somewhat widened eyes. She considered crossing herself, but this would have seemed rude, and she really could not decide at first whether or not it would be appropriate. Finally, she looked to Alanna with further widening of her large brown eyes. "My dear sister, is this all true?"

Alanna squeezed Lancelot's hand supportively, and lifted her chin as though in defiance of the stunned look on Adaline's sweet face. "Aye, dear sis. 'Tis all true, and I accept it all as a part of the man I love more dearly than the beat of mine own heart."

Adaline blinked at the firmness in Alanna's voice, and looked between the two of them uncertainly. It was quite lot to take in at once...and for a moment, she began to wonder if perhaps Alanna were not truly in love with this Sir Lancelot, but in fact was under some sort of spell! But she thought back over the past couple of days, and the tooth-decaying sweetness that had emanated from the couple each time they spoke privily with one another. Surely, that was no spell. Either that, or Lancelot was a remarkable wizard, and was so powerful that there was no helping the matter anyhow. So she blinked again, pressing one hand to her cheek in surprise.

"Sir Lancelot! You are the son of...but oh my, I have heard of the tragedy at Benoic! You were thought...that was before my birth, of course, but my goodness, you are the missing prince that so many gossip about! Why then...does this mean that my sister shall be a queen?"

Now Alanna blinked in surprise. She hadn't thought of that. "Is that all you can think to ask, Adaline?"

As predicted by Mennah, within the hour of Ralcia being informed of the plans, the entirety of Rozeshire’s populous was informed. It was met with many cheers from the man, many giving congratulations to Armand, and decisive nods from old housewives say took him long enough’. Needless to say all in Rozeshire was merry. Ralcia wasted no time diving into the preparations, a task Mennah found a might intimidating, but well worth the reward. At least Ralcia knew what she was doing. When she had a spar moment, she walked over to her crystal ball she kept in her room and took the cloth off. She’d gotten quite good at crystal magic, learning much from them. It also helped to have Ralcia as a tutor. She’d first invited Balthazar, for she knew he had a crystal and the message was quickly received. Balthazar gave warm regards and best wishes, promising to be in attendance.

Next she did the more difficult of the invitations. To Lancelot, Alanna and their party. It was rather difficult to contact someone when they didn’t have a crystal ball, or didn’t know their location. It was however doable with much practice and being familiar with the person. Concentrating on the faces of her friends, her reflection appeared in a wine goblet next to Lancelot and Alanna. She smiled an waved when she saw the faces of her two friends.

“Lancelot Alanna!” She said merrily, happy to see them.


Juliana had retired to her room with Mary long ago. Mary was sound asleep on her bed, exhausted no doubt, and doubted she’d be waking any time soon. She was a bit startled when she heard a knock on the door, but was reassured when she heard Lionel’s voice. She quickly opened the door and gave him a beaming smile.

“Yes we do need to discuss our situation in more detail. I wished to speak in private so as to not upset Mary. She’s been such a brave girl through this whole ordeal, that I didn’t want to upset her thusly. You see she was…” Juliana took a deep breath then and closed the door. Lionel had saved them, so he’d need to know. “Harold was never good at keeping his hands to himself even when our father was alive. He was, and still is, very powerful in our region, so if he wised to visit and dine at our estate, our hospitality is all but a ransom. A few in appropriate touches could be over looked, but what he did to Mary could not. She’d been repairing clothes in the sewing room next to her bed chamber, and Harold slipped in. We managed to hear her screams before he could deflower her, but it’s still not easy for her to talk about. From there our father could no longer overlook Harold’s actions, even to help keep our people from war. He threw Harold and his men from our estate, as was his right, and banned them from ever returning. Naturally Harold was furious, but with Arthur still at court, there was nothing he could do without gaining Arthur’s wrath. However a month ago father died in a hunting accident, and with Arthur now gone on his new campaign against the Saxons, there was nothing stopping him from taking over. It’s more an act of revenge than anything else.” Juliana said looking up at him with sad eyes.

Lancelot had chuckled lightly at Adaline’s stories of past suitors—mostly because she was laughing herself. But he also felt sympathetically for her, that she would even have to associate with such men. He hoped that she found a noble husband eventually. How could they pass up such a sweet and lovely lady as Adaline? Simply because she didn’t have a moat?

But that conversation passed, and now Adaline had stopped walking and was staring at him after Lancelot disclosed his origins. His Adam’s apple dipped as he swallowed uncomfortably, holding Alanna’s hand ever so tighter. Perhaps he had been foolish in telling her, and he should have paid heed to Alanna worrying her lip. But, alas, what he had said could not be detracted. He endured the stunned look on Adaline’s face... and found solace when Alanna voiced her support of him—in the most passionate of language. “Alanna,” he breathed in awe, looking upon her with eyes made even darker with the tenderness they expressed. He thanked her by raising her hand to his lips and kissing it softly.

He turned his attention back to Adaline when she blurted suddenly about her familiarity with his story. “Heavens! Is it so?” he gasped, so surprised that he dropped Alanna’s hand, and now pressed both his hands (one still holding the orb), to his head. “You have heard of my family’s tragedy? I... I have been gossiped about? But how in the world...?”

Lancelot did not know how well-known Benoic was, nor did he know that his father had fought by a teenage King Arthur’s side in the war against the Eleven Kings. And so, it struck him that it would be highly improbable for a lady in a small village in central Britain to know anything about the goings-on in a far-away kingdom in France. And to hear that many people had heard of him and discussed what had happened to the only son of King Ban and Queen Helaine... filled Lancelot with the strangest sensations. He had not even known that he was a prince but late in his life, and these folks in Greensbury had known all along! How strange the world was!

Then, he was further stunned by Adaline’s last inquiry. If he is the heir to King Ban... will Alanna become a queen when she marries him? He lowered his hands from his head and considered this question in earnest. Queen Alanna of Benoic—he could accept that, and he even believed Alanna to be deserving of a true crown to top her golden hair... but could he accept being called King Galahad? Nay; he only wanted to be called Sir Lancelot.

“Well... I suppose Alanna would only become a queen if I accept the crown. But you see, Benoic is ruled by the usurper, King Claudas. I would have to overrun him to inherit my father’s kingdom. Such would be a great goal of mine, but it is not my aspiration to become a king, Lady Adaline. I want to be first and foremost... a knight.”

Most any man would want to be a king as opposed to a knight, but Lancelot was raised with such a desire for knighthood and only knighthood, that he could not imagine himself being a king. At least, that was how he felt in his youth.

At that moment, causing a distraction, there came a chipper female voice, originating from the crystal ball he held. “That sounds like Mennah,” Lancelot said in surprise as he slipped the small orb out of its pouch and held it before him. As he had guessed, there was Mennah’s pretty face reflected in the glass.

“How now, Mennah!” Lancelot greeted. “Just a moment, if you please.” He turned back to Adaline, covering the glass with his hand. “Lady Adaline, I hope you will forgive my use of this magic glass. It is the only way that Alanna and I can speak with our good friend, Lady Mennah of Rozeshire. It is truly a wondrous object, and I can assure you that there is no evil in it.”

He uncovered his hand from the crystal, and turned his gaze back upon it. “How do you fair, Mennah? You look to be in the greatest of spirits!” In truth, she appeared positively radiant. And he couldn’t help but notice that every time he saw her, she looked prettier and prettier. “How is Ralcia, your cousin? How is Sir Armand?” The last he had known, they were happily courting each other. “We are all in Greensbury right now. I have the most exciting news to tell you...” He grinned widely at Alanna and drew her closer to him so that Mennah could see the both of them.

Alanna was embarrassed by Adaline's question, and relieved that Lancelot did not feel affronted by it as well. Imagine her, as a queen! A woman who rode and fought like a man. It was unthinkable. But those were simply the thoughts of a common young woman, as Adaline was, so she did not dwell on the matter. In fact, Adaline seemed more curious about Lancelot's surprise that he had been heard of in the world outside of Benoic. Indeed, who had not heard of the missing prince? It was a true tragedy! But perhaps he wished to remain subtle with his person, and did not wish for fame? But her thoughts were interrupted by a very surprising thing: a voice, accompanied by a face, suddenly coming out from the glass ball Lancelot held. He apologized for the use of...magic, and Adaline twisted her fingers with concern as she watched. But he swore it to be benign...so she made no protest to its use.

Alanna beamed as Lancelot drew her close and she was able to see Mennah's face again, for the first time in quite a while. But less time than it might have been, had they not been in possession of the remarkable crystal. Either way, she was pleased to see her halfling friend. And even more so now that they had such exciting news to share! Happily settling her arms around Lancelot's middle and resting her head against his shoulder (and enjoying his rugged scent while in such close proximity), she grinned at Mennah with all the gaiety that could ever be expected of a single woman. "Mennah, Lancelot and I have become engaged!"

Lionel easily returned Juliana’s smile when she opened the door. How charming of her, that she would not only smile, but beam at him upon greeting. However, once she spoke, and her words turned into an account of Lord Harold and his wickedness, Lionel’s smile was aptly replaced by a deep frown, and his brows were sitting so low and furrowed that they shadowed his eyes.

By the time she finished speaking, an ire had grown in him. Lord Harold had molested Lady Mary. Lionel was too genteel to ask, but from Juliana’s words and the stricken look in her face, he could gather that she had been a victim of his ‘inappropriate touches’ as well.

He could have damned Lord Harold, and called him a base pig or the son of a mongrel—but Lionel was in such a state that no curse seemed potent enough. Lord Harold had dared to defile a damsel, dared to lay his filthy hands on a maiden. Lionel felt debased even to hear of such a happening from a lady’s lips. He had lowered his eyes with a cool rage when Juliana spoke of it. Poor Mary—no wonder the lady was as skittish as a doe!

“I will do whatever I can to bring you and your sister justice, Lady Juliana,” he vowed, breathing heavily with conviction. “I know very well the plight of having one’s home usurped by a man of great power and no principles. But I will not have you and Lady Mary be driven away from your home as Bors and I have been driven from ours. But if Lord Harold iz as powerful as you claim, then I doubt that I myself, as one knight, will have force enough to crush him.”

And here, Lionel was seeing through his rage, and being realistic. “I am willing to die in face of Lord Harold—have no doubt, Lady Juliana. It iz the honor of a knight to perish in battle. But, if I truly wish to stop Lord Harold, I will have to petition High King Arthur. That iz where I will fight—among King Arthur’s lists. That iz how we may defeat Harold for good.”

He realized, that in his fierce passion, he had placed his hands on Juliana’s shoulders. In shame, he retracted his hands and clasped them behind his back. After he mumbled an apology, he continued to voice his concerns. “But where shall you go, Lady Juliana? If you are wanted by Harold, I would not trust you to travel unescorted. What you must do... you must come with me and my kinsmen to Camelot. Within Camelot’s walls, that iz the only place that you will be safe enough while your village iz purged of that monster Lord Harold. And Camelot iz where I will petition King Arthur.”

The Saxon battle line charged up the hill in a great wave, forward they came; English men braced them selves for the impact of the wave. Then it hit, everything went quiet then sound rushed back as men could be heard yelling there war cries, hacking away over those in front to get at there hated enemy.

Atop the hill Arthur watched looking around at the battle line, but it had held, like a wave on a cliff it had held, maybe it had moved back with the motion of the charge but it had held. The Britons battle line had been well placed Saxons had to hold the shields higher than normal, meaning that those behind could not attack as easily, if the shields were lowered then the English could kill with ease.

Soon the hill side was covered in dead and dieing Saxon’s, the green grass had now been trampled and had turned to mud mixed with blood, and this made the ground deadly, soon the Saxon line was breaking, and they began to die in greater numbers, before they retreated back down the hill.

Arthur stood at the top of the hill, and watched them retreat, even though they had killed a great deal, still plenty more remained, this was going to be a long day indeed. Turning to Durfel Arthur spoke

"What’s the damage report how many men did we lose"

Durfel Quick discussed this with a few knights around him then returned his answer

"Twenty five dead, and 30 badly injured, my lord"

Arthur turned back to the Saxons as they began to bang there shields and chant there war crys, they were psyching them selves up for another charge, the hill still covered with there dead. The Britons stood there in silence ready to face the Saxon lines again.

Then with a almighty roar the Saxons came again charging forward, up they came slamming home, forcing there shields against there enemies, then they broke through, they had forced more men into one spot than before and over came the English defense's then they came through and began to attack the English on equal ground, men were dropping like fly's from both sides. Then came the retaliation, Arthur crashed into the side of the Saxon’s with great force. The dragon banner held high behind him, followed by the fifty men, he forced back the Saxon’s back through the hole they had created, with his sword Caledfwlch cutting swathes through the enemy with every strike. Soon the Saxon's were in retreat, and this time the English followed all around the hill they charged down, with Arthur at there head, they cut down the Saxon's that had pillaged and burnt there villages.

Half an hour had passed since the Saxon rout and Arthur could be seen walking through the dead and dieing, as those around him pillaged the body's of rings and gold, even weapons and armour, if they were better quality than what they already owned. He soon came to a stop before durfel and the Knights of the Round Table that had accompined him here.

"Once then men are rested, we will return to Camelot, the Saxon's will not return to are lands till next summer, there plan to destroy me has failed, and now we can go about the harvest and the rebuilding of my people's lives"

The answer that came back was said as one "Yes my Lord your"

With that each man turned to get his men sorted and ready to move out again only Durfel remained

"My lord I have the final count of are dead" he spoke lightly.

"Go ahead, how many did we lose?" came Arthur’s solemn reply, he knew they had lost many good men, and that there families would be well compensated for there lose.

"We lost in total around two hundred and fifty men, and about one hundred are badly injured, my lord" came Durfels reply

"Make sure there families are compensated for the lives of these brave men" Arthur said before turning to look out over British country side, oh how he longed for a time of peace, were there land would not be torn apart by battle, were he could bring up his two son's so that they may never need to see the sites of war and the distress they caused to the common folk.

Morgon sat visibley somber in the dimly lit sitting room with a bottle of wine she'd had braught up from the cellar. It wasn't a very good year and the bitterness tinged the roof of her mouth and tongue. It didn't seem to matter though. Languishing her finger around the base which held her crystle in the center of the table, there suddenly came a loud crack from behind her.

Fortunately she knew who it was, as he had written earlier to say he was comming. Merlin stood with his hands at his sides. He too looked a bit paler, knowing nothing of why he came. He just felt he needed to tie a few things up with Morgan before the day was through.

Merlin had been working breathlessly for the sake of Aurthur's kingdom, assisting in any way he could; he could tell, even without magic insight that Morgan felt foresaken.
"Greetings my Lady, and how are you this blustery afternoon?" His sardonic humer failed to amuse even himself, instead he took a chair accross from Morgan and looked down at her crystal.

"It is, isn't it. I hadn't much cared to notice." Morgan said in a bored drawl and glanced at his hands,. They'd become rough and spidery from either age or work, either way, she couldn't remember a time when she'd seen his hands up close. Something strange in the ordinary. An amusing thought.

Vivienne had left the Lake for the first time in two years. Before that, she had felt literally water-logged... bogged down with depression and wallowing in the empty nest she now found herself in. Where were her children? She had driven them all away. Where were five of the most admirable citizens of the Lake? Banished by her own hand. Where was her one true love? Gone to pursue a woman who cared nothing for him. Of course, despite these pains, she was resilient enough that she could still function and govern her under-water domain. But she did so with an utter lack of verve.... and the Lake folk mourned for the unhappy state of their Lady.

Ultimately, it was the arrival of a newcomer to the Lake that brightened Vivienne’s outlook. Her name was Niniane, and it was revealed that she was Vivienne’s half-sister, for they shared the same mother: a certain mysterious nymph. Niniane’s father was a knight, which made her a halfling, and immediately reminded Vivienne of another halfling she had known two years ago: Mennah of Rozeshire. Niniane was Mennah’s senior by a couple centuries, but Vivienne’s junior by a near millennium.

Vivienne was immediately drawn to the fact that Niniane was far different from Lancelot. Vivienne still missed and loved her foster child, but she also spited him. He had not visited her at all, and from what she assumed, he had completely forgotten about her and the Lake. He also had neglected their plans for him to journey to Camelot. She kept tabs on his whereabouts, based on which rivers and ponds he crossed, and noticed that he went virtually all over Britain, except for Camelot.

And so, resenting the dark-haired knight she had trained, Vivienne was eager to accept this bright, blond-haired, blue-eyed half-nymph into her life. She had wondrous plans for the beautiful Niniane, and was keen on her half-sister to become her successor once she passed on to Avalon. Her life suddenly became much fuller now that she had a new protégé.

And now she was optimistic enough to leave the Lake, and make a journey to Camelot to introduce Lady Niniane to King Arthur’s court... just as she had wished to do with Lancelot. She had not been to Camelot for over twenty years, even though she had long been a supporter of Arthur’s reign. And so, there was much pomp when it was known that the famed Lady of the Lake was paying a visit to fair Camelot.

Arthur had not yet returned from his campaign against the Saxons. Before Vivienne met with the Queen, she requested to be shown to Morgan le Fay’s chamber, for she had been sent word that Arthur’s half-sister wished to meet with her. Vivienne smiled her lovely, ethereal smile as Sir Kay the seneschal led her into the castle, past curious ladies, gawking servants and bowing knights. It was the kind of admiration and respect that Vivienne lived for, and a much needed elixir for her bruised ego.

“Thank you, Sir Kay,” she turned to him once he had led her and Niniane to the door of Morgan’s chamber. Her aloof acknowledgement and fairy charm was enough to make even the notoriously grumpy seneschal blush beneath his beard.

Once bid entrance to the room, Vivienne entered with a newfound regality. Her shining white gown of samite gave light to the dim room, where Merlin and Morgan were seen sitting at a table, on which sat Morgan’s crystal ball. Vivienne said nothing a moment, and simply stood and gave her magical peers time to acknowledge her appearance. She had taken much care to look her most stunning, having battled with the onset of old-age for the duration of her depression. Her hair was artificially pitch black, falling in loosely-curled tresses, framed only by a slim silver diadem that circled her forehead. Her face was mature and elusively beautiful and telling of her fey blood only with the softest of greens to her shimmery complexion. However, like her hair and buxom figure, it was quite dishonest in its lack of age.

“Queen Morgan... Master Merlin. How charming it is to see you both again. Camelot is in the finest of states, I have seen,” Vivienne spoke in a voice to augment her womanly charms. She stepped further into the room, and brought Niniane forward to introduce her. “Please, do allow me to introduce my half-sister, Lady Niniane.”

Morgan's eyes lifted from her crystal to Ninlane; seeming to darken a little, she nodded politely. "Please..." She muttered, gesturing to a pair of chairs directly behind those of Merlin and herself. "How wonderful it is to see you again, my lady. It has been far too long and I think of our one and seemingly only true conversation often." She looked directly into Viviennes eyes, her bright and astonishing figure made Morgan surpress a moan, feeling her own age setting in like a dying day. "How have you been feeling my lady; you look as though you have the sun around your neck."

All of this was said with a most morose undertone, to which Merlin clicked his tongue. "My dear lady; surely you can not still brood about sitting in the room of..." he tried to find a way of putting it that would not offend or detract from her. "... of your half-brother."

"Oh," Morgan pressed bitterly. " by no means."