As she led Lancelot to her chambers, Elaine wondered if the boiling cauldron she suffered for five years was only one facet of Morgan le Fay's punishment. Cook her sense out, erode her hope day by day, then- just as it was lost, allow one knight to save her; One handsome, young knight whose unknown skill was stealing hearts.
She regretted her last night in Camelot, the sendoff feast, where she watched Lancelot gaze upon his Queen as the unobtainable prize. What possessed her to think that by assuming Guinevere's guise that he would love her instead? She wished he'd refused, but his ale-weakened restraint buckled. Why didn't she stop him?
She'd overestimated her stamina, and fainted, reversing her appearance to the woman Lancelot now despised. Perhaps he spared her not out of mercy, but out of cruelty- she now had to live as a sullied maiden, even if seldom few knew her to be one.
Nearing the door, a cold knife thrusted into her heart- what if he's come to kill us?
The knife shifting as she did, Elaine opened the door to her bedchamber.
Lancelot didn't realize he had expectations for a mother's room until he entered Elaine's- it was very much like the guest chambers he was staying in for now. Elaine crossed the room and leaned over the bed, cooing. Ice arrows halted his advance- the first after many battle-hardened years. What sort of curse hung over the air of this castle and its family to make his nerves throb and muscles tighten?
"It's all right…" she soothed the bundle, lifting it into her arms. She turned around and Lancelot felt his legs brace- Ease! She unfolded the fabric and gave a warm smile to it. "There's someone who wants to see you."
All he could focus on was the little face blinking away sleep. A great axe cleaved his chest in two- the mother was more prominent, but staring long enough he could see himself staring up at him. The infant had striking fur that shone like a white blade in the sun, and bright sunflower-petal eyes. His skin wasn't as fair as Elaine's, and his cheeks drowned in a snowy mane around his neck. The baby cooed at Lancelot.
"This is Sir Lancelot," Elaine said, offering the infant a closer look- or was it an offering to take him? Before he knew it the little bundle was in his arms, and a warm lightness filled his chest. Holding the child was just like holding Arondight when he was given it…
"Hello…" he whispered. As if knowing the hard, proud reputation of the knight before him, the infant laughed. The great Sir Lancelot- reduced to a meek facsimile! King Arthur's court would roar in laughter- but Lancelot pushed the thought of them out of his mind with a smile at the baby. The child's smile grew, and the warmth spread to the knight's cheeks.
"What's his name?" he wondered, offering the newborn a finger- the infant's mouth stretched in awe and then widened in a toothless laugh.
Elaine hummed, "I…I haven't given him one yet." She hadn't? Well, wasn't it a father's duty to…
"May I… offer a suggestion?" he managed, focusing on the baby. It was an old name, and only Nimue would know… she didn't leave the Lake often. "Across my travels… I came across a name of a prince of a forgotten land... For some reason, I think the name would suit him…"
"That name was Galahad." And once… that was my name, too.
"Galahad?" Elaine echoed, looking at the white baby. "Galahad… I…I think that suits him fine," he could hear her mouth smile. "Thank you, Sir Lancelot."
Thank you, Sir Lancelot… He could hear fire crackling, felt the cool night breeze brush past him, and he saw the girl he swore to find and return to her father, fire dancing in her wonder-filled eyes… After she left, the face always resurfaced…
"That's not a curse, Lancelot," Lady Nimue had laughed when he explained. "What you're describing is love."
"But I care nothing for this woman,"he'd growled- "It has to be some sort of enchantment."
Nimue hummed, still smiling, "If you don't want to believe it, then perhaps you should throw yourself into your knightly tasks. Grieving over this will only drive you mad." Lancelot's fellow knights would unknowingly rue the day he followed that advice- even King Arthur had treaded carefully around him.
"You seem even more hot-blooded than Gawain these days, Lancelot- is something bothering you?" the king once asked in private. He had only started to say the last word when Lancelot huffed, "No," a hair too quick.
His Majesty hummed, rubbing his nose. "Ohh… does this have to do with E-"
"Nothing whatsoever, sire, you're imagining things," he growled and sulked away, the frustration stinging his cheeks. Whether or not it was visible was another matter entirely- but there was no doubt that after that conversation King Arthur had told the rest of the knights what Lancelot had been so worked up over- but for the wrong reasons. He avoided conversations steered towards Corbenic not because he was embarrassed, but because he was livid- and half a year later, when King Pelles attended a feast without his daughter, his fellow knights were surprised that Lancelot smirked at the state of the absent Elaine's health. Then once King Pelles left, Lancelot's attitude shifted yet again- much to their confusion.
"Lancelot? Are you all right?" Elaine's voice brought Lancelot's vision back to the little hedgehog in his arms, beaming up at him and then gurgling towards his mother. She was hovering next to Lancelot and her hand lay on his shoulder. Her eyes were dark and cloudy- and they weighed on his chest with every moment he stared back at them.
He squeezed his eyes shut as he turned back to the baby. "Forgive me… I… I didn't sleep very well last night." Her hand lifted from his shoulder with the lightness a butterfly taking off. "It's my own fault- my horse is probably in a worse state than I am."
Mirroring Lancelot's fatigue, the infant yawned, wrinkling his nose and sniffling. Elaine picked up the baby and held him close to her. "You'd better go and get some rest," she suggested, stroking the head of her son. "Galahad will still be here when you wake up."
Galahad… He couldn't remember being called that, or even imagine himself being called that now, but ever since he saw that name, knowing it was once the only name he ever had, the name tugged at his heart like a child that longed to be remembered. Remember me…
"So… you're all right with me staying here and seeing him?" he wondered, meeting her gaze, still clouded.
She hummed a little and nodded, "I… It's fine, yes." She soothed the bundle, then, "You'd better go before Briselda comes back."
Lancelot wanted to thank her but his hesitation would have wasted the time he had to go back to his room.
Once Lancelot left, Elaine sat down on her bed with Galahad in her arms, the baby nestled against her. The nine months of being locked away- not out of spite or in torturous conditions, and the pains that came with them, they had all been pushed away once he took his first breath. In only four days she'd forgotten the nightmares of Lancelot's blade cutting her throat- which had grown more horrid once she realized she was with child- but having him appear so suddenly threatened them to resurface.
She quieted herself by soothing Galahad, who slept unaware. Calm down- your father would never let him near you if he thought Lancelot meant you any harm. And Lancelot wouldn't harm any child, let alone his own. The way he had smiled down at him, the sincere pride and wonder, filled her with warm relief- she had made him happy without any underhandedness…
Three knocks preceded "Lady Elaine? May I come in?" With her approval, Briselda entered with a smile. "You're up earlier than I thought you'd be, milady. Did the baby wake you?"
"Earlier, but he's calmed down now," she cooed as Briselda hovered over her and Galahad.
"Still the 'ealthiest babe I've ever seen, milady," the dust-gray hedgehog giggled at the sleeping infant. "'ave you thought of any names yet?"
She hummed, considering her words carefully. "Maybe… I'm sure I'll have one by tomorrow."
"Lot of buzz about the 'alls," Briselda confided, "you won't believe who's 'ere in Corbenic." Elaine feigned curiosity to appease her midwife's spirited nature. Her grin threatened to split her muzzle in half before she finally spilled, "Sir Lancelot! 'e's 'ere, in the castle, right now!"
As if recognizing the name, Galahad began laughing and fidgeting- bouncing him, Elaine maintained her façade. "Lancelot? Here? Why?"
"I dunno yet, ma'am, 'e's still asleep." A devilish grin accompanied the glint in Briselda's purple eyes, "May'aps to court a certain young lady?"
The thought of it still reddened her cheeks even though it was now unlikely. "Sir Lancelot's not the kind of knight to concern himself with such things, Briselda," she mumbled, watching Galahad squirm in her arms.
"Why else would 'e come all the way 'ere?"
"My father may have sent for him," she admitted, attending to her son. "He's always offering a reward to him, for all he's done for Corbenic."
"And for you," Briselda added. "From what I've 'eard, you two got along splendidly."
"That was a long time ago, Briselda, and before- before all this happened," she managed, petting Galahad for strength. "I'm sure he's saved countless maidens between then and now."
"Not that I've 'eard of. You shouldn't think of yourself so lowly, milady."
"Even so, I'm in no state to be courted," she sighed as Galahad gurgled. "Can't parade around as something I'm not, Briselda." The last time I did that, he almost killed me for it.