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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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.

[ with the door closed she follows after him towards the table, moving for the water and cloth that had been left there as per her instructions. ]

Miss it? [ camelot was her home for so long, once she could think of it and feel warm and safe, now she only feels anger and bitterness. ] No, I do not miss it.

It is no longer a home to you, I suppose.

[ His breathing is a little heavy from pain, even as he schools his features -- flicks his eyes over the cloth and water before lifting them to hers. ]

Forgive me for asking, then. I fear I do not understand all that came between you.

[ tending to morgause taught her much, it equipped her with skills that she would not had if she remained lady of camelot. it allows her to tend to lancelot now, taking the cloth to his wounds with warm water. no good healing them if the risk of infection is not seen to first. ]

You were gone from Camelot for many years. [ she does not expect him to know, nor to understand. he was fed only part of a story and denied the rest. ] I was thrown from my home by the hand of a friend, he poisoned me.

How could I consider it home when he still lives?

Poisoned?

[ Lancelot knows he does not have all the information, yet even this feels like there must be more to it. He tenses a little as his wounds are mopped, swallowing back a flinch and trying to focus on her words. ]

Who?

[ No-one in Camelot would have reason, that he can imagine. Lady Morgana was well enough liked, before. She was no threat as an heir. So why, then? ]

[ her hand comes to a stop, the debate that rages in her mind lasts but a moment. ]

Merlin.

[ Lancelot lifts his eyes from his wrists in surprise, studies her face a moment. He feels as if his heart has shattered into a thousand, tiny, irrecoverable pieces. ]

No.

[ Yet the quiet of his voice says there is doubt, still, because why would she lie about this? Why pick Merlin? What reason has she? Lancelot is missing too many pieces of this story, there are too many gaps. ]

Why? What reason had he?

[ After she left Camelot -- when she turned on it, that was something else, yet before? Unless she sought Arthur's death then, too? ]

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