eachdraidh | [ Video; Both Courts ]

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[ Video; Both Courts ]

[ This video feed is focused mostly on a Lancelot's dog, so all that is really seen of him is his hands holding her still. She's terribly curious about it, but he's restraining her from licking it or chewing it.

His voice is distinctly tired, and anyone who is paying attention will notice that you can just about see a line of red, raw skin on his wrists -- leather guards covering how heavy the damage might be. ]

Is anyone good with names? I'm afraid my friend here has gone too long without one. She's brave, curious but cautious, much cleverer than I am...

[ She's also turning to nudge his hands. He lifts one gently and pets at her ears. She squirms a little, shakes her head -- then makes a quiet, high-pitched sound and...

... hiccups a tiny fireball. The dog's ears flatten back, perhaps unhappy or apologetic (maybe embarrassed, it wasn't very elegant) but Lancelot just huffs amusement and strokes her again. ]

Forgive me, I almost forgot, it seems these -- [ He reaches out of the frame and his hand comes back holding a small, blue feather. ] -- have some kind of magic in them. It appears it does not discriminate in who it grants it to.

[ Which means he now has a small, magically inclined dog. ]

Thank you for your time.

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[ On the one hand, this is a terrible idea.

Morgana ripped the veil, deceived Camelot and Arthur and --

He's pretty sure Arthur would lose his mind if he knew what was happening.

On the other, they do not have to fight here. The courts may wish them enemies but there is no Camelot. For all he knows she might not even be aware Arthur is here. ]

I will turn towards Mair. Meet me part way.

[ He hesitates. ]

Not because I fear you, but some natives to the courts -- they can sense your allegiance even if you wish no quarrel. I do not belong in Mair, I might raise an alarm and cause you trouble.

[ how foolish, he should fear her after all she has done. but truly she does not know what he remembers and what he does not, he may not even experienced the veil tearing or her sister's immortal army taking over camelot. ]

Very well. [ with that her locket goes dark. the time between her last words and her appearance is not long, her horse is saddled before she even reaches the stables. and finding him is no arduous task. she is before him not long after, on the other side of the river.

her raven crows again (turning invisible once more) and flies for her, landing upon her shoulder. ]

Edited 2014-09-22 20:36 (UTC)

[ Lancelot is holding a soft conversation with a ferryman as she rides up. His face is furrowed with exhaustion, marked with cuts and bruises and his wrists are raw under the leather guards from squirming in their bindings. His dog looks up as soon as it senses her approaching, eyes sharp as it watches. After a moment it sidesteps closer to Lancelot, head down and ears flicking back warily.

He looks over and for a moment he just watches her.

She is still Lady Morgana, but equally she has betrayed Camelot. She has turned on it in anger, but it is an anger he does not fully understand. Anger at Uther? Yes. Uther enacted the laws that made her and her people suffer. He was cruel and at times unjust. He feared what he did not understand. Arthur, though? Arthur may not fully be able to accept things as quickly as he could but Arthur was working toward slowly righting wrongs. Surely he was learning? Surely she could see that?

Perhaps not fast enough for her. Perhaps not well enough.

Here, though, what can Morgana do? Killing him would do her little good. Perhaps it is curiosity, perhaps it is naïvety, but Lancelot wants to know. He hands the reins of his horse to the ferryman, watches him steady the animal as the craft dips and wobbles under its weight before scooping up his dog and stepping on.

He may as well make the crossing. If Morgana wished to find him it seems she could anyway, her birds could track him even if he turned now and left. What point is there in running when he could simply walk to his fate and listen?

The craft is pushed away from the bank slowly and Lancelot glances back long enough to check he isn't being watched, to study the slowly shrink sight of the other bank before he turns curious eyes back to Morgana. When the ferry is close enough he jumps clear carelessly, takes the reins of his horse and lets it splash off the planks of the craft and up onto the bank.

His dog jumps clear and hops to catch up, hanging by his feet and regarding Morgana warily -- unsure if she should be defending him from her or greeting her. ]

[ seeing him she can only think of the lake, of the coin she threw into it and the man who emerged. he had been a near blank slate, uncertain of who she was or where he had been but placing himself at her command. it had pleased her as much as it saddened her. but there is more life in him now, cautious of her as he should be.

lancelot has always been noble but he has never been a fool, he knows of the things she has done, the look on his face tells her that much.

( part of her wished that she had been fooled, that he was dead as he should have been. but he isn't, he is alive and somewhere it has seeded a foolish hope in her. )

she keeps atop her horse, head held high as if she was regarding nothing more than a speck of dirt. it would not foolish of her if she revealed her intentions or what flit about her mind, she rather have his caution than his pity. ]

You look more poorly than I thought.

I will survive, that is all that matters.

[ The puppy twitches her ears unhappily, stalks forward a step to stand between them. ]

Why did you ask me here?

[ Lancelot has been burned already. He wishes it to be so that here, so far from home, their quarrels are put aside but he fears it is not so. He fears his trust will be broken again. ]

Your wounds will fester if not seen to. [ morgana seems to utterly ignore the puppy as she moves between them, her gaze focused solely on lancelot, the canine may as well not exist. ] Not even you will make it back to Caer Glaem without treatment, your strength will falter in the end.

[ she does not answer him out right, mostly she ignores his question entirely. ]

I have kept them clean.

[ As best he can.

Answer the question. ]

[ no. she doesn't want to! ]

Does it matter? [ it really shouldn't! lets not poke at her motivations, lets just accept them and trust she is totally not up to something devious. ] I have not come to kill you, nor do I have any desire to.

Forgive me, but you wish for something, Lady Morgana, or you would not have called me here. I am tired, I have no desire to fight or play games. So, please. Tell me what it is you desire if not my life.

Nothing. [ she lies and lies poorly, she wants something from him though she cannot voice the truth. too much lays in her mind looking upon him, there is a sadness she cannot place and anger she does not entirely understand. ( he should have fought harder, if he had then gwen would not have stolen the life that was rightly hers. ) ]

I am offering you aid and my protection, and as you have said you are tired. Are you so foolish as to refuse?

Aid?

[ He tilts his head. She never said that directly, only that she wished to meet him. ]

Aid with what?

Your wounds. [ it is telling, too telling for her likes but the words cannot be taken back. ]

[ It is. Lancelot regards her a moment, gaze calm but curious as he looks up at where she sits.

She is still the Morgana who ripped the veil asunder. Who took Camelot. Who raged against Arthur.

Yet Arthur, he thinks, Arthur would not want her harmed truly. Not if there was another way. Not if she could be helped.

Neither would Lancelot want such a thing.

He inclines his head in acceptance after a moment, reaches down to scoop up his puppy. She wiggles in distress, wanting to be on her feet where she can defend him, but he holds her steady. ]

And what of my friend. Is she invited too?

[ Important. ]

[ morgana blinks her gaze flitting to the dog as if this was the first time ever seeing her, wiggling against him in desire to be on the ground. though to do what she does not know. ]

She would follow you regardless of what I say. [ it hardly matters, no one would question why morgana brings a man and his dog into mair. they fear her as much as they respect her, having been witnessed to her magics defending the city from the shadows. ]

Bring her.

She would, but I thought it polite to ask.

[ He smiles a little, although it's tired, and gently lifts the dog up toward his horse. She hops onto it, steadies herself and looks over at him warily before seeming to settle as he climbs up behind her. His movements are slow, and he winces every time his arms are straightened from having them bent for so long, but he can still hold the reins of his horse. He can still ride.

Giving the puppy as reassuring ear-rub he looks back up at her -- and now they are closer in level, too. Now she seems less to tower over him, less a thing to be wary of and more simply a person. ]

Lead on, then.

[ morgana clicks her tongue, turning her horse around and kicking the mare into a walk. she looks back at him only briefly to ensure that he is following.

( this is a mistake. )

she leads him away from the river and towards mair, the ride mostly uneventful, as she had expected when they reach the gates the guards do not look twice at the lady morgana and her companion. back straighten and eyes stare forward, avoiding her out of fear and respect. the city is lively with trade though they do not linger long, pushing through until the bustle is behind them and the castle in front. ]

Mair has changed hands many times, though I imagine you knew that. It's people only hold the side of their lord out of necessity.

So I have heard.

[ Lancelot's eyes dart around uncertainly as they ride through, watching the behaviour of the guards and the citizens -- alert for any sign he has been detected.

(This is definitely a mistake.)

He lets out a slow breath, wets his lips as they approach the castle. Well, too late to take back the mistake now. ]

You prefer it here to the stronghold?

[ there will be less eyes once inside, less quick glances by the braver of the lot. she well be happier then, perhaps the questioning of her intentions will cease. ]

I prefer to keep my allies close. [ and she does not consider the monarchs her allies.

as they grow closer a young man appears outside the stables, ready to see to their horses. ]

[ Lady dog hops down as their horses come to a stop, staying close by regardless -- ears pricked curiously as she takes in the stables. Lancelot shifts in his saddle, swings himself out and flinches as he slides off -- rubs distractedly at his arms as he watches the horse being taken. The puppy looks from him to Morgana uncertainly, unsure she likes this. Lancelot shares her uncertainty, and yet... ]

If you are bringing me here, then, do you hope to make an ally of me?

[ she sees him flinch and tries to suppress her own, hands curling up into fits so fight her knuckles turn white. the pain remains even after so many months of freedom. ]

Would you believe me if I said you already were, once?

[ He swallows once, wets his lips as he waits for the pain in his arms to subside and considers her. ]

We were not at odds while you made Camelot your home peacefully.

[ Does she mean that? ]

[ that answer tells her much, he has no memory of returning from the dead, no memory of what she had him do to drive a wedge between her brother and gwen. she turns on her heel and begins for the large doors. ]

No, we weren't.

[ Lancelot cannot easily tell the meaning of this answer. Is this confirmation that is what she meant, or was there something he missed? He drops his eyes to the dog, close by his feet, and they exchange a look before he follows her. His eyes are down, trying to act the placid guest or prisoner, but the flit over the surroundings in his peripheral vision -- trying to gauge everything in case he has to escape or return here one day. The guards, the way they are armed, the entrances and exits.

He will follow where she leads, though, without protest. ]

[ later she will urge ganondorf to change the guard placement and patrols once lancelot is far from this place, for now she leads him straight to her quarters, keeping them from straying too close to anything vital.

as they walk a servant joins them, the conversation with morgana is quick and the plainly dressed woman skitters off to do her job. for the rest of the time she remains silent, her glances to him rare save for the raven who keeps a close eye on lancelot. she does not speak until they reach her quarters, a lavished room much grander than her own had been in camelot, morgana points towards a chair nearby an already lit fire.

( off further lays aithusa, curled up asleep. the dragon does not seem to notice the pair or at least does not stir if she does. ) ]

Sit down.

[ He slows as he enters her room, taking in the sleeping form of the dragon and the already lit fire. For a moment he just stares, at a loss, then the puppy nudges his leg and he refocuses -- walks to the fire and shifts to shrug free of his hauberk. He inhales sharply at the pain the movement shoots through him, takes a moment to recover as he drops the mail aside and starts to loosen his gambeson and wrist guards. She wants to inspect his wounds, after all. He can facilitate that. ]

Do you miss it?

[ His voice is quiet as he drops the leather cuffs, revealing wrists raw from writhing in bindings. ]

Camelot.

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