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Vivienne had been bustling around the villa, making preparations for the banquet and feast. She insisted that Lancelot accompany her wherever she went, and so he was present when she perceived Merlin’s greeting. And as her magic vision confirmed, Merlin… and Guinevere… were waiting for her at the surface.

She sucked in her breath with delight. She could not have planned it better to have both Merlin and the Queen present for Lancelot’s eighteenth birthday! All they would be missing was the High King himself! How come she had not foreseen it? But never mind that—they were here, and she was close to squealing in excitement.

“Oh, my dear, my dear! You will be so happy! I have a marvelous surprise for you,” Vivienne turned to her ward and hugged him happily. “Quick—put on your robe and meet me in the reception hall!” But before she let him dash off, she quickly neatened his hair. “You still didn’t have those scars healed? Darling, if you keep them long enough, it will be too late to heal them! Well, bother, there’s not enough time now. Just put on your robe, my dear!” Then she lifted her skirts and bustled out of the room, soon vanishing by means of magic.

She appeared at the bottom of the mound, allowing her to have a marvelous appearance as she emerged from her enchanted waters. In a vision of pure, ethereal beauty, the Lady of the Lake came forth, glittering in the late-morning sun as the droplets rolled off her like those on a swan’s back. She stood in the water a moment, beaming at the sight before her. Then she spread out her arms in welcome.

“A royal procession, come to grace my enchanted Lake on such a fine summer’s day!” Vivienne gushed, stepping closer to the waiting Queen. “I greet thee most heartily. Merlin, my good friend, the lovely ladies of court, the brave Sir Guiomar of Cameliard… and the lady I am most thrilled to finally make the acquaintance of—High Queen Guinevere.”

She gave Alanna a thorough look-over with her eyes, and was utterly pleased by what she saw. Such beauty, such splendor!

“Please, come forth and step upon my enchanted waters--and you will soon find yourself entering my fair realm,” Vivienne invited pleasantly.

---

Lancelot knew very well what Vivienne was so excited about—but the arrival of Alanna as the Queen still gave him uneasiness in his middle. It didn’t help that his mother thought that he had eyes for a married woman… and the fact that Vivienne seemed to approve of it, for she had mentioned the incident at other times, with a sly smile that made Lancelot clam up hopelessly. He vowed to himself that he would show the Queen not the slightest bit of romantic attention… if he could help it.

But he was also as excited as Vivienne, for he longed to see Alanna again after being separated from her for a day. And how beautiful she had looked in the orb... he feared his eyes may betray him when he looked upon her queenly guise.

He donned his robe and went straight to the reception hall, where he sat and waited with his new greyhounds. They were very well-behaved dogs, but not very affectionate at all. To abate his nerves, he bowed his head and prayed that this whole business would turn out well.

Alanna simply nodded to Merlin, already deeply immersed in her role as Guinevere. She gazed upon the entire world with a certain calmness that was almost cool, her carefully moistened lips resting in a neutral position that was neither frown nor smile. Her eyes were only slightly more than half opened, furthering the look that was nearing disinterest that the High Queen seemed to always carry. She had done her marveling over the beauty that the fey had unveiled upon her, and now was careful not to admire any of the lovely silk and ornaments that made up her costume, as though she wore such fineries every day. She was also careful never to turn her head or her body more than a fraction. For whatever reason, Guinevere had a knack for wonderful posture that included facing fully forward or away from whatever it was she was looking at. And while it was more convenient to lean forward and even slouch a bit when she rode the palfrey, she was careful to keep her spine straight and her legs--set at a most uncomfortable side-saddle position--daintily crossed beneath the beautiful skirt. Her velvety hands held gingerly onto the reigns of her steed, and her breaths were subtle and shallow to the point that it almost seemed that she didn't breath at all. She was as much like Guinevere as ever she could be, and now was the time to test just how talented she was with pretending to be the queen...

When the lake drew into view, Alanna's already baited breath caught in her throat and her heart rate increased. She wondered for hardly the first time what Vivienne would do if she discovered this little ruse...and decided for hardly the first time that she would surely curse, slaughter, maim, drown, and otherwise rue any and all she discovered to be a part of it. But it was far too late to pull back now, and besides...Lancelot was waiting. And she would be remiss to ignore him on his birthday.

As Vivienne appeared, Alanna managed to maintain her gentle, aloof, delicate appearance. She allowed the corners of her lips to lift just the tiniest bit in greeting, and nodded her head just a touch. It appeared that the lady of the lake...was fooled! And beyond that, Vivienne showed herself with all the elegance in the world...and looked upon Alanna with such approval, such good cheer, as she had never imagined possible. It was a strange and pleasant difference, and she found it amusing that a woman who had done nothing to aid Vivienne before would have such affection offered to her simply by appearing unannounced at the Lady's home. She allowed herself to imagine, just for a moment, that the introduction was her first...and that the light in Vivienne's eyes was in fact gratitude for the role Alanna had played in freeing her. Alanna's heart warmed at the thought, and the entire charade suddenly became much easier. Now, she could only thrill at the thought of seeing Lancelot again...though she reminded herself of the necessary lack of love that she must show to him at their second first meeting.

"My thanks, Lady Vivienne of the enchanted lake," Gwenhwyfar's voice breezed out from Alanna's lips as they moved forward into the lake. "Such hospitality."

As they moved once more beneath the lake's surface, Alanna kept her stoic expression in tact. The first time she had made the trip, on the back of Sir Quinn's charger, she had been in awe. And the experience was still marvelous. But Gwenhwyfar never startled, from what Alanna had seen. So she merely flashed a peaceful smile, and turned her eyes enough to gaze upon Lancelot's childhood home. "Why, Lady Vivienne...you reign over such a beauteous villa. And what delightful gardens. How proud you must be, to dwell in such a lovely estate."

-----

Armand was once more on his feet. He was far less pale than he had been the day before, and was now properly dressed and no longer covered in the remnants of blood. The fey had, for the most part, kept away from him out of fear of Vivienne's wrath should they even suggest he be healed. The loyalty to the lady was touching, at least. As for the knight, he still felt the pain in his throat and on his arm...but he was far more sure that he would survive. After a certain point, most wounds became dependent merely on the injured party to protect them from infection and the like...so if he could manage that, with clean bandages and boiling water, then perhaps he would yet live. As a mute.

The loss of his voice was troublesome...deeply troublesome. There was much more to such a loss than he had initially figured...he could no longer give his rallying speeches, which had earned him his name. He could no longer offer so much as his name to strangers. He could not issue challenges, or accept them verbally. He had yet experienced a reason to laugh, so he did not know for certain whether or not he could even do that. He could not offer compliments to ladies, as he had become so capable of doing. He could not profess love.

And with this, his mind immediately would switch back over to his half-fey friend. He had not seen her since she had appeared and then disappeared from his room the day before, and he was not even certain that she was still in the lake. Armand wasn't even sure of why HE was in the lake! By all counts, he should have gathered his belongings and Addane and left the instant he was able. But he did not want to leave without at least bidding farewell (somehow) to Lancelot, who had sprouted from an unbelievable (in the sense that he did not believe in him) champion to an unbelievable (in the sense that he was an admirable fellow) champion since they had met. And he would have liked to offer thanks and farewell (somehow) to Kantus, as well. And perhaps even Alanna, though this one was far less necessary. They had agreed to agree with one another until Vivienne was freed. Now she was free, but Alan was no longer a man, and thus Armand was at a loss for what to do with the situation.

And then there was Mennah. Armand wasn't certain what to do with that situation, either. His deep caring for his friend had been rekindled immediately upon their re-acquaintance, and he did not wish to cease seeing her so suddenly. Or ever, truly. But their former friendship had changed, somehow. Armand was no stranger to women, and the various purposes they had in the life of knight...but sweet, stubborn Mennah was a different matter. He saw her in a different light than that he viewed any other female, and the delightfully painful burn in his chest whenever they spoke lately suggested that it was for a reason other than the fact that they had once fallen out of apple trees together. But between dueling Mabuz (the foul spiggot) and nearly being beheaded, there had been little time to think on the situation. And now, even if he had her at his side, they couldn't exactly discuss it, either. At the very least, he wished to tell her that his recent misfortune was no fault of her own.

With a flustered sigh, Armand continued on through the halls of the villa towards what he hoped would be the gardens. Perhaps Mennah would be there, studying? Not knowing what he would do if she was, he poked his head out the window to look...and his jaw dropped, nearly touching the rough kerchief he had tied around his throat to cover the bandages. He couldn't possibly be seeing what he was seeing!

Roryn had shown reluctance, even when taking the potion. Was this to be his way of life? Posing as the very thing he used to long for? There was no possible way to be a knight now. Pretending to be one was obviously frowned upon by all the Orders, especially Arthur's.

But, Roryn had to remember that he had more to think about than his own wants and needs. Accordng to Merlin, Maraud was pregnant. So now, he had to also think of his child on top and above all else.

He'd never even heard of Guiomar until he was impersenating the man. Among Arthur's knights, Gawain and Bors were the most well known and respected by Roryn.

Roryn didn't enjoy wearing the squire's armor. Even if it was transformed, wearing the armor nearly made Roryn more pre-occupied with fashbacks of his eary years than with playing the role assigned to him. He got a bad feeling that something was going to go wrong, and it would be his fault.

He followed Merlin and the ladies to the Lake and remained silent. He knew very little about Guiomar, so somehow, trying to be him seemed impossible. To top it off, if Vivienne found out, he may as well dig his own grave. In his own opinion, Roryn thought this was a foolish idea, and that Alanna would have been better off posing as Ralcia. At least then he would have been personally acknowledged at the banquet, not some knight that had absalutely nothing to do with Vivienne's rescue.

Lady Vivienne seemed overjoyed that the "Queen" and her "Procession" had come. He sighed as he re-entered the Lake. That feeling that something was going to botch up was still lingering in the back of his mind.

Out of nowhere, Roryn suddenly thought of Mabuz. It was unfair. According to Mabuz, he had been virtually ignored by Vivienne in favor of Lancelot. And even though it was Mabuz who had dealt the killing blow to Mab, and was the one who helped Vivienne out of the mirror, she still put Lancelot on a pedestal. This entire banquet was for Lancelot's "honor", even though Mabuz truly deserved the credit. Mabuz risked his life to save his mother. What was his reward? Banishment. It sort of reminded Roryn of when he killed Rowan. He had done so with the good of his lord in mind, but his reward was numerous accusations of murder and then his exile into the woodlands.

When Mennah left theroom, Kantus re-entered, and soon Armand had asked Kantus to stitch his wound. Kantus was not particularly good a sowing, but he did know how to stitch ripped clothing from when he was a peasant. Nodding, Kantus went to work.

After a while he managed to get his hands on some needle and thread, and then stitched Armand's neck to the best of his abilities as Armand stitched his own arm. With this complete, Armand stood, and promptly collapsed. Kantus took no hesitation in carefully returning Armand to his bed and ensuring the wounds had not re-opened, which luckily, they hadn't.

Kantus watched over Armand for a while, and when he was sure Armand was not going to test his strength again, Kantus went to his quarters to sleep. Upon waking, he went straight to Armands quarters to continue keeping watch.

Once Vivienne had her guests successfully past her barrier, she and Merlin greeted each other with a kiss per cheek—as they were quite familiar with each other, being both staunch supporters of Arthur and honorary members of the magical community. Then she turned back to Alanna and smiled with her chin held high.

“Yes, I am very proud of my estate,” Vivienne agreed with Alanna’s compliment. “I am so delighted by your admiration, High Queen. I assume you have been traveling, and decided to finally pay my realm a visit?”

“Yes, milady, the High Queen had been visiting Beale Valet as of late, and Master Merlin directed us to your Lake, as the famed dwelling place of Excalibur,” Maraud’s lady answered Vivienne’s question. Maraud was conflicted with her disguise, for she very much wished she could greet her good friend Vivienne as herself… and compliment her efforts to salvage her black hair color—for it was a great relief to see it returned. But she continued in her role, and had to suffer through Vivienne’s indifference to her.

Word spread among the fey that the Queen had entered the Lake—the real Queen Guinevere this time. Not another Lady Etain… the name had earned a great notoriety among the fey. And in fact, it was even being adopted as an offensive term for a dishonest person… more specifically, a peasant human dressing as a nobleperson to gain the respect of the fey. That type of person was a ‘Lady Etain’.

They dropped whatever they were doing and rushed out of their rooms, pouring into the courtyard to greet the Queen. They didn’t flood her or cry out to her, for that would have been disrespectful. Instead, they gathered around the fountain and inbetween the columns, showing their enthusiasm with their smiles and appraising her with their eyes. Then someone had the idea to bring Guinevere flowers, and soon they were all giving her their best blossoms for her to hold in her arms.

The palfreys had been put away, and now Vivienne led the procession past the portico, into the villa. Then, at the peak of her excitement, she brought them into the reception hall. Lancelot was waiting there with the two greyhounds, Saturnus and a few of Vivienne’s advisors. There were more fey gathering inside the large hall, all eager to behold Lancelot make his acquaintance with the real Queen.

Lancelot felt his head rush and his cheeks flush immediately as Alanna entered. There had been so much anticipation for that moment—he felt overwhelmed. And what was especially unexpected… what that he felt like he was actually meeting the Queen. Alanna was nearly unrecognizable. He had believed she was the Queen once before (not long ago, actually, but it seemed distant in time), and he remembered that incident clearly. This was completely different… this was the summation of hours of effort and planning; not a simple misunderstanding over a woman trying to take a bath.

He took notice of everything she had changed about herself… not only in dress and whatever was put on her skin—but her presentation of herself, and the expression on her face. Such composure… and self-possession. Seeing that she was able to reign in her emotions gave Lancelot some ability to do so himself… for Alanna was in a more stressful situation than he was. He was expected to be no one other than himself (as he had always had the luxury of), and he already had the love of Vivienne, and the familiarity with the Lake. Alanna had no such ease, and so Lancelot put forth all of his effort to compose himself as any decent knight would when meeting the Queen—for Alanna’s sake. And with the help of some self-imposed compartmentalization, he was able to.

Vivienne ordered one of her servants to relieve the Queen of the flowers that had been given her. Then Vivienne took one of Alanna’s hands and led her to where Lancelot stood. He was too afraid that he would give hint of his love if he met her eyes, so he focused on her nostrils instead.

“Your Highness, please allow me to introduce you to my ward… Lancelot,” Vivienne said, making her first public announcement that revealed Lancelot’s name… even though everyone already knew it, thanks to Mabuz. “Today Lancelot comes of his eighteenth year, and it is our hope that he is accepted at Camelot, as a knight of the Round Table.” She didn’t mention the fact that she had seen Lancelot talking to Guinevere through the crystal orb… but it was ever present by the knowing glint in her eyes.

“Your majesty. I am honored to make your acquaintance,” Lancelot said duly, bowing before her and kissing her hand. His lips lingered on her hand for a second or two, for he was amazed by the softness of her skin. Before she had calluses… but now her skin rivaled the silkiness of his own Lady Vivienne… in fact, surpassed it, since Alanna had youth that Vivienne lacked.

Then, when he rose, he unintentionally met Alanna’s heavily-lidded eyes—and he was flooded with all the automatic physical responses of a man in love. But fortunately, Merlin stepped forward—otherwise, Lancelot wouldn’t have been able to take his eyes off Alanna.

“I believe I have not yet met young Lancelot,” Merlin said amiably.

“Oh, yes, of course. Lancelot, this is Merlin,” Vivienne introduced, lacking the full enthusiasm she had when introducing her ward to the Queen.

“Master Merlin,” Lancelot greeted, regaining his breath and a normal heartbeat. He bowed and appraised the old magician respectfully. “It is a pleasure—I’ve heard a great deal about you, sir.”

“Yes, well, I’m glad to hear that my reputation has reached the ears of such a strapping young knight,” Merlin smiled. “And since I hear it is your birthday, I have come bearing a gift…” He took off his hat and reached inside it. “And what better gift for Lancelot… than a lance?” He slowly drew out a long, blue lance from the hat, and presented it to the squire. Lancelot’s eyes widened at the act of magic, and then glistened with admiration for the weapon. He thanked him heartily as he accepted the lance and excitedly ran his hand up and down its polished surface.

“Like giving a dog to a bone, is it not?” Merlin quipped softly to Vivienne. The Lady of the Lake replied with a mildly-amused snort.

Alanna's heart quivered in her chest as she made her way smoothly through the semi-familiar halls of the villa, doing her best to show surprise at every nook and cranny while at the same time keeping up her calm facade. She offered polite, wistful smiles to all of the adoring fey, remembering how quickly they had turned their attentions to scorn when it had been revealed that she wasn't Guinevere the first time. It was much easier not to be thrilled with their devotion than it was with Vivienne. And though she accepted their floral gifts with dignity, she still remembered the uncomfortable lining of threats that had existed beneath their offers to Etain.

Finally, after many dainty steps and peaceful smiles, they stepped into the reception hall that Alanna had first entered as a messy stable boy. And there was Lancelot.

Though she managed to keep her cheeks from flushing and her feet from fleeing over with the intent of casting her body into his arms, Alanna's heart skipped several beats. She gazed upon her beloved with a polite air, but admired every bit of him that she could without gawking. He now wore a robe, clearly he had been expected to look presentable for the 'special' guest. His face still bore the scars from his battle with the wolf, which only served to remind Alanna of his bravery. At his side were two stiff greyhounds, fine beasts whose sleek appearance somehow seemed to age him in comparison. He was every bit as handsome as she had ever imagined a man could be, and the thought that he was in any way her own made her feel as though a ray of the sun had begun bouncing around in her heart. It was pleasant, and very difficult to hide. Particularly when he kissed her hand and finally met her eyes.

"And I yours, Sir Lancelot. Many happy returns." She breathed in reply to his greeting, the corners of her mouth lifting once more. For the betterment of all involved, Merlin stepped in.

As the magician revealed his gift to dear Lancelot, Alanna's mouth curved into Guinevere's impressed smile. Quiet and delicate, smooth but wide enough to reveal that she was pleased with what had happened. While Alanna would have laughed and delighted over the trick, and eagerly examined the lance alongside her lord, Guinevere was much more self-composed and did not seem to have much of an interest in war tools...but then again, very few ladies did!

"I do wish I had known, I might have brought a token for your birthday as well, Sir Lancelot," Alanna offered with humble apology in her voice. She looked to Vivienne and smiled, tucking her hands gingerly into her large sleeves. "I hope that my arrival is not an interruption to your celebration?"

But just then, she noticed something out of the corner of her eyes. A dark haired head, with piercing blue eyes, staring in shock from between two of the more eager fey leaning from an open window nearby. She knew who it was, and was surprised to see him up and about when he had been so grievously injured. And he was standing amidst the crowd almost as a cast-off. At that moment, Alanna felt her hearstrings tugged upon. She felt genuinely sorry for her former enemy, and decided in a moment of either weakness or selflessness to show pity...and do him a favor.

"Why, Sir Armand the Bold! Whatever are you doing here?" She asked, allowing her brows to slider forward just the tiniest bit in a show of confusion. Not enough for her forehead to wrinkle, but enough to show the tip of her emotion. She lifted a single smooth hand, beckoning to the young knight (who looked as though his heart had suddenly stopped) and calling softly, "Will you not come and meet your queen?"

Armand's face immediately vanished from the group of fey. And almost instantaneously, he appeared in the vast room where Lancelot had supposedly just met the queen, and was before her and on one knee with his dark head bowed before she could even finish her summons.

Lancelot looked up from his new lance when Alanna apologized for not having a gift of her own to give him. Vivienne also looked to the Queen when she worried that she had caused an interruption. Both were about to reply that no gift was needed and that her presence was greatly appreciated—but they were interrupted when Alanna turned her attention to Sir Armand.

Vivienne crossed her arms and eyed the injured knight testily. Perhaps she would have been better served to banish him… but she generally refrained from banishing knights (unless they greatly wronged her, as Iweret had done). There would be outrage among the lady fey if Vivienne banished such a handsome knight—for whatever reason. And Vivienne had not forgotten that Armand had assisted on the quest to save her… and he was very handsome… Her posture softened some when she caught sight of his blue eyes.

Lancelot was very glad to see the bold knight out of bed. And while he didn’t feel the smug satisfaction he had expected when seeing Armand bow down to a woman he had spited… he was instead overcome with sympathy for his friend, and was pleased to see him honored—if not by the true Queen, at least by a queen at heart.

When he looked up from beholding the kneeling Armand, Lancelot saw more of his friends—Mennah and… Balthazar! He set aside his lance and rushed over to them. “Mennah! You look lovely,” he complimented, noticing that she had done something different with her hair, and was wearing an agreeable gown. Then he turned to Balthazar and nearly laughed with delight. He never thought he would be so glad to see a man whose natural form was a dragon.

“My good Lord Balthazar,” Lancelot greeted merrily, shaking Balthazar’s hand. “I can’t thank you enough for the orb you gave us. It worked splendidly, and now I have my mother back because of it!”

Vivienne, hearing herself being spoken of, gravitated towards Lancelot. As soon as she saw Balthazar, she was quite smitten. She found his red eyes to be especially alluring. “Oh, you must be Balthazar the dragon,” she said silkily, passing her eyes over him with interest. “I heard your lady mistress passed on… I’m very sorry.” But clearly by the tone of her voice, she was not sorry at all.

Lancelot cleared his throat, quite embarrassed by his mother’s obvious attraction to his dragon acquaintance. “Mother—what time will we begin the feast?”

Vivienne turned back to her son to reply to him. “Oh, perhaps not for an hour, my dear. It is yet early, and the food is still being prepared. Say! Why don’t you have a go with that lance Merlin gave you, and impress our guests with some rounds with the tilting rings? Perhaps you can have a contest with Sir Guiomar!” She glanced at Roryn excitedly.

That sounded quite appealing to Lancelot, for he was eager to use his lance. And he had not titled for a week almost! He grabbed hold of his lance, and then addressed everyone in the hall: “Come out to the field, and I will demonstrate the use of my new lance!” He met eyes with the disguised Roryn, but didn’t repeat Vivienne’s idea for a challenge. He didn’t know if Roryn was practiced with jousting, and it may embarrass him if he wasn’t.

Lancelot left the hall with his lance in hand and the fey followed him out. Vivienne stayed, and caught Alanna’s hand before she could leave. “Your Highness, while Lancelot readies himself, will you not accompany me for a private word?” She smiled as she gestured for Alanna to follow her down a hallway, away from the others.

Roryn swallowed. Wonderful! Now he was expected to joust against Lancelot? This was not good. Roryn was horrible in a joust. He hated lances and spears, believing they were too sluggish to be of any real combat value.

But... was Guiomar supposed to be skilled at the joust? He didn't know, and he hadn't the foggiest idea how he was going to get out of this mess, "Milady..." he began, "...er, perhaps Lancelot should joust against one of his own level? I fear I may unintentionally harm him... or worse." he said, silently praying his excuse was good enough.

He couldn't help but continue to glance to Maraud, as if pleading for some kind of solution for the predicament. It wasn't that he was afraid for his own safetly. He simply did not know if Guiomar was supposed to be skilled with a lance, and if he was proven to be terrible at using one, it could ruin the entire ploy.

Lady Morgan's caravan came to stand meters from the lakes barrier. Morgan exited the palanquin once again and raised her hands to the invisible force that would dnown anyone unwelcome. She muttered something like an incantatta and returnned her gaze to the servants and guards.

"I fear," she began as though she were explaining something rater complext to those who weren't familiar. "that the hole I'v made is only big enough for myself. I shall have to go on my own and you are passionately asked to remain here."

The caravan bowed with a unified; "Yes, Madame Le Fay." and retreated to a distance nearer the pananquin. Morgan prostrated herself and entered the lake with a leap. Her forest green skirts fluttering about her as she did so.

As soon as she was out of ear shot, a servant muttered. "A hole big only enough for herself, why does this not surprise me?" The comment was met with laughter from the rest.

Morgan landed in the realm in a slightly lavorous position; straightening herself up, she proceded through the court yards and into the reception hall. Her mannor was that of a composed dignitary who might have been slightly nervous about dying, but under a thick shield of confidence.

Alanna turned to follow Lancelot and Vivienne as they approached...a very beautiful Mennah and a very fetching Balthazar?! Were she not so devoted to her disguise, Alanna would have laughed and run to greet her two friends. But instead, she merely flashed a softly interested smile towards them and watched Vivienne flirting with Balthazar. How amusing! It seemed the lonely dragon would have fine company indeed.

When Vivienne suggested that Lancelot and Guinevere's knightly companion joust, Alanna was eager to join the crowd and watch. But just as they were all filing out to cheer on the gallant young man, and Alanna gliding along with the fey, she felt a slender hand grab hold of her own. She turned her brown eyes, full of innocent confusion, to find Vivienne stalling her. Her first thought was that perhaps Vivienne had not been fooled, and that she was now going to punish Alanna outside of the sight of the others! But the she realized that Vivienne, who had banished her own son in front of a great audience (according to the banished son and witnesses) would not be likely to try a quiet vengeance against someone who had tried to fool her. So perhaps she simply wished to gossip about the goings-on at Camelot? Or request a special word in for Lancelot?

Alanna felt confident in either of these two possible scenarios. She had learned of the most recent dealings at court, and could inform Vivienne of what was actually happening rather than depending on her ability to fabricate details. And even if she couldn't whisper sweet pleas into the king's ear, she could still honestly promise to put in a good word for her beloved Lancelot.

"Of course, Lady Vivienne. With the greatest of pleasure." She replied with the muted sweet smile of a dignitary. So she allowed Vivienne to lead her by the hand through the beautiful halls of the villa. With all of the fey so eager to watch Lancelot use his new lance, the halls were relatively void of life save for the two elegant ladies. Now would perhaps be the greatest test for Alanna's disguise.

"How may I be of service to you, Lady Vivienne?" Alanna asked in her best accent, issued with a whispery delicacy that Guinevere seemed to favor when speaking with new acquaintances.

Armand had, despite his oaths of fealty to Vivienne, remained bowed down and trembling before his queen. She was in the villa! Beneath the lake! How had she come so far from Camelot without a proper escort of a dozen knights, at least? Why had she come so far without an escort? Or had she brought one, and they were simply not following her around into reception halls? Armand's eyes grew wide as he thought of meeting a dozen of his fellow knights, in his current state. Shamefully defeated and void of his ability to speak. The horror!

But the churning of his stomach ceased when he heard Lancelot call out to Mennah. She was there, in the hall? And Balthazar as well? Armand lifted his steel eyes quickly, scanning for Lancelot and the woman he was speaking to. And then he froze.

Lancelot described Mennah as 'lovely' at that moment, but Armand was quite certain that the word was an insult compared to the truth. He had seen many women on his travels, and seen them in various states. He had seen marvels made by man's hands, by God's hands, and even experienced marvels that were a product of neither. But never had his eyes, so unworthy, he felt, been graced with such beauty. The previously quiet burn in his chest flared into a blazing inferno that could not be ignored, and he suddenly found himself grateful that he had an excuse to be at a loss for words.

Was that really his child hood friend, standing there like a messenger from God Himself, taking up every bit of light available in the hall and casting all others--Armand himself included--in darkness? Maddening as it seemed, it must have been.

As the crowd dissipated and headed off to watch Lancelot perform, Armand tried desperately to weave his way through them and reach Mennah. But he was unsuccessful, and was soon one of the last ones in the hall. Deeply frustrated, he wondered on whether it would be best to try and follow her out onto the field or to wait for a more quiet moment to meet with her. Before he could decide, however, yet another strange thing happened. A stunning (barely a sneeze next to Mennah, of course) woman strode into the hall as though it were her personal abode. Armand turned and faced the stranger, arching one thick brow as he wondered how such a creature had escaped his attention before. Obviously, he could offer no greeting, so he merely stared.