So, I think lots of you have been awaiting this moment. This specific part of the story is probably going to take a few chapters, 6 being the minimum. Unfortunately, I'm going to be very busy editing my first French novel since it is supposed to be published this year so I might be a little late in updates. All in all, it is great news for me!
Hey Koba, thanks for approving. The ketchup addiction was my husband's idea. He's a black box of ideas: p I didn't know you had studied archaeology; I have a friend who used to roam the world to dig with a toothbrush as well. Sadly, he is stuck in Yemen at the moment. A prayer for him!
Frances was still slumbering when unusual light filtered behind her eyelids. In any ordinary setting, being awakened by the sun would have meant that morning was upon them. But here, deep down in the 21st level of the base, there was no reason whatsoever for any kind of light to replace her alarm clock … unless it was an emergency.
Kristan was awake in less time than it took to blink, pointing to the necklace that rested on the bed stand. Its bluish waves were growing in intensity, plunging the darkened room into an ocean of aquatic tendrils.
Frances gasped, her eyes squinting against the assaulting brightness as her brain ran a thousand miles a minute.
— "Little fairy, is that what I think it is?"
She had been so ready to step through the gate to hunt the SanGraal that it never occurred to her that the next travel would snatch her right beforehand. Nodding to Kristan, she took a moment to contemplate his stunned expression. The light waves painted him against the shadow of the room, his bare chest illuminated by thousands of blue lines, his cheekbones even more prominent. His usually impassive gaze seemed entranced by the necklace, his memory recalling the day she had appeared right under his eyes … well, Tristan's eyes.
— "What should we do?" he eventually asked, his voice slightly hesitant.
Frances shook out of her contemplation.
— "Heed its call. Prepare ourselves"
And with a quick kiss to Kristan's exposed shoulder – how she longed to linger in his warm embrace! – the young woman jumped out of bed to retrieve the usual mission bag.
— "But the Sangraal … we're supposed to depart in two hours."
Frances paused, her tongue darting between her lips as she exited her mental list of indispensables – antibiotics, gauze, disinfectants. Had she forgotten to mention the rules of travels through the Valar's device? Sliding a look to Kristan who was sitting on the bed, looking a little lost, she nodded slowly.
— "We'll be back at the same moment we disappear, more or less. It doesn't matter"
— "What if we get killed?"
The comment was akin to a slap in the face. Eyes wide, she breathed out slowly to get rid of the tension that crept up her spine. Always level-headed, Kristan had, once more, found the right questions to ask. Dropping her bag, she knelt beside him, resting her cheek upon his upper thigh, eyebrows scrunched together. How much control had the Valar on the device? They'd never lead her astray, but what if Kristan was right and they never made it back?
Would SG1 manage on their own? As Kristan's hand landed on her neck, massaging the stress away, a surge of hope suddenly washed over her. Yes. SG1 had seen such odds, and most of the time without her. They would manage; they could do anything, especially with Daniel being such … a weird character now. Lifting her face to Kristan's troubled gaze, another idea popped into her mind.
— "What if it gives us the key to our research?"
Silence greeted her words. Neither disapproving nor enthusiastic, for he couldn't afford to delve into the implications of her idea.
— "Maybe you should stay there…", she ventured.
Fire flared behind his grey irises, his fingers suddenly tightening in her hair as he growled.
— "I dare you to finish that sentence elskede."
Eyes wide, Frances's breath caught in her throat when he descended upon her like an angel of wrath, capturing her lips in a dizzying kiss.
— "Never apart, remember?"
Frances could only nod, words stuck behind her swollen lips.
The sweet smell of coffee filled his nostrils as he lifted his third mug to his lips. Barely an hour and a half before SG1 passed the gate, and the quest for the grail started. No pressure. The frantic archaeologist couldn't help but take notes, assembling papers in fear of forgetting a piece of information that could save any of his teammates, or the quest.
A gentle knock at the door distracted him from the much needed caffeinated beverage and Daniel lifted his eyes to the door … eyebrows scrunching in confusion.
— "OK, uh, are you supposed to wear that?"
Frances and Kristan stood by the door, clad in leather armour and medieval garb, swords at the ready, bow across their backs, a long cloak attached at their necks. No bulletproof vest, no BDU and nothing remotely military standard.
Frances addressed him a contrite smile, as if ill at ease.
— "Er. We came to drop a word on your desk, you know, since mobile phones don't work down here. We…"
— "Didn't expect to find you here so early," finished Kristan.
The archaeologist stood, suddenly suspicious. All right, it was 6:30 in the morning, but he really wanted to be ready for this mission. Them, on the other hand… Burying his hands into the pockets of his battle pants – which was what they were supposed to wear – Daniel eyed them warily.
— "So what was this word about?"
Frances steeled her spine, the movement familiar to him.
— "The Valar are calling. If we don't make it, you'll know where we ended… Well, sort of"
Wide blue eyes filled with excitation, then ire replaced it with a fire he rarely displayed.
— "You're travelling? Now? NOW?"
— "We'll be back less than a minute after we are gone, Daniel. Unless we don't get back at all. Plenty of time before the mission."
Huffing, the archaeologist leaned his hips on his desk, arms crossed defensively. Of all times, they chose to get into a perilous situation right now!
— "Where are you going? Back to King Arthur?"
Frances bit her lip; she knew how treacherous those travels could be.
— "I have no way of knowing. But if it is, indeed, the case, maybe I can get some info from Merlin."
Daniel froze for a second, just the necessary time for his brain to wrap his mind around all implications and jump on his feet.
— "OK, let me join you."
— "No!"
Frances' cry stopped the archaeologist dead in his tracks; he gave her an inquisitive look. The young woman seemed to deflate, drawing strength from the man that stood by her side like a silent watcher.
— "Daniel, I don't want to throw you into that mess as well. You have no training with a blade, you can end up in a full-scale battle. No, it is bad enough that Kristan won't leave my side, I don't want to put you in more danger than you are already."
— "As if it could be worse than that quest with Adria and the Ori at our tail."
The look she addressed him broke his heart. There was so much sadness oozing out of those chocolate pools that her angst hit him like a freight train. All right, perhaps he had underestimated how gruesome medieval battles could be. She had reached for Kristan's hand, and the tall knight stepped forward providing silent support but leaving the decision to her. She was the Keeper of Time; he deferred to her opinion. Daniel couldn't help but envy their easy relationship, how attuned they were to each other's feelings. Would he ever find someone like this again?
In the end, Frances took a deep breath before her features changed to the mask he'd come to know well.
— "Daniel. If something happens to you there and we don't make it back, earth is doomed."
— "Bah. I died eight times, remember? I can always ascend."
This time, Frances rolled her eyes.
— "Cats have nine lives. The next one is final, Daniel."
Her man didn't seem so surprised, she'd probably filled him in about his dying habits. Truth be told, he knew he was being unreasonable, putting himself at risk now. But if there was a little chance that he might talk to Myrrdin, he was bound to take it. What if he could discover the place where the grail was held, and the way to get it without being fried to a crisp by a dragon or whatever other traps? Not that he didn't trust Frances, but he still was the most knowledgeable archaeologist and King Arthur expert of the lot.
The young woman seemed to mull over the idea, and it was somehow unsettling that, for once, she would be the one to decide rather than him. The apprentice becoming the master, in a way. It was a first; to meet Frances as the Keeper of Time. And when at last she spoke, her words caused him to think, hard.
— "You could be shot by an arrow, fall from a cliff, killed within a second. And we don't know where we are going. It could be a parallel dimension with nothing to do with King Arthur, Daniel. I've never been twice in the same place … unless by mistake."
— "But you believe it can happen, right? Else you wouldn't be going. I'll take my chances"
The young woman sighed.
— "Jack is going to kill me."
Daniel smiled; he knew he had won. The young woman glare at him before she starting listing the material he would need.
— "All right, so we don't know what's the season. Take your bulletproof vest and keep it hidden, and…"
Many, many instructions later, a few run-ins in the cafeteria to gather supplies, a change of clothes and a trip to his own supplied of pharmacy, Daniel was ready to meet the past. Or so he hoped. The three of them closed his office door and stood solemnly by his desk. His clock read 7:33 am.
Frances pulled at the chain that hung over her neck, exposing the gem that sent ripples of blue waves across their faces. The tendril's dance was fascinating, and Daniel's heart peaked in excitation, his blood rushing through his veins; he was about to complete his first travel through space and time without a Stargate! The archaeologist superimposed his hand over that of Kristan who had done the same with Frances. The young woman exhaled once, then closed her fingers around the gem.
— "OK, there we go," she whispered.
A blinding blue light spread from the gem to the whole room, causing Daniel to close his eyes. A thousand ants seemed to crawl upon his skin, vibrations reverberated in his bones as the magic of the necklace filled him whole. For a moment, Daniel wondered if he was still standing, the weightless sensation throwing him off guard. Then it all settled down, and he opened his eyes cautiously. He was standing in his office. Alone.
Damn it!
When Kristan and Frances appeared in a very nondescript forest, her first thought was to look for Daniel. Kristan, for his part, seemed a little stunned by the unusual sensations.
— "Where the hell is that archaeologist!" Frances hissed.
The former knight's gaze roamed the forest, looking for any sign that another might have crossed the blue portal with them. It felt weird, to be the one appearing like this when he clearly remembered Tristan's puzzled thoughts the day he had seen Frances materialise in a flash of blue light.
— "Perhaps he didn't cross at all."
Puzzled, Frances took a second to calm down before her mind started running at full speed. Kristan noticed the moment her quick mind had found something inconsistent, for her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
— "Why did it work for you, then?"
Her relief was hidden behind worry over her friend, yet it clearly shone in her warm irises. Despite her protest, Frances was glad to have him by her side. How she'd done this on her own so many times before puzzled him. There was nothing he detested more than the unknown. For the moment, though, finding out what happened to Daniel Jackson was a priority.
— "I don't know. I was in direct contact with you…"
— "So was he, I held his other hand"
Kristan's tongue passer over his lips in a nervous gesture as he discarded the explanation.
— "Is it possible that Daniel was misplaced along the way?"
The young woman huffed, pacing over the leaves littered ground as she threw her hands in the air.
— "How would I know? I've never crossed with someone before! And I don't know if I ever landed in another place that was the plan since…"
Then she lifted her eyes to the sky and raised her voice.
— "SINCE I AM NOT PRIVY TO THE PLAN."
The noise caused Kristan to wince. His scout's ways kicking in, he strode to the young woman and pulled her into his arms. The effect was immediate as she deflated against him.
— "Shh, little fairy. We don't know who lurks around. Enemies or friends, right?"
— "Right, sorry," came her muffled voice from his chest. "I'm just worried for Daniel, he's always getting in trouble."
— "From what you have told me, he tends to survive."
An unladylike snort escaped Frances, his smooth voice failing to appease her fears.
— "Tends to, yes. Because we move our asses to save his. This is the reason why. Else he dies, another habit of his."
Kristan lifted a hand to caress the side of her cheek, his eyes observing the surroundings intensely.
— "It is no use worrying over this. Come, elsekde, we need to find out where we are."
And so the couple started walking, covering quite a distance before they found a stream to mark a pause. The forest covered many miles, and they had no way of knowing if they walked in the right direction to emerge since the trees that could be climbed didn't reach the top – of course Frances had tried. How glad she was for Kristan's presence, a silent shadow by her side, trying to read the ground and make sense of the geography with her. Travelling with a companion was new to her, but it reduced the burden incredibly well.
The sun was still high in the sky, the weather not as harsh as expected. Spring, from the vibrant colours that greeted them. Fresh green leaves not entirely formed, violets growing in the shadows, primroses scattered over the clearings and plenty of buds not yet hatched. In the silent, deserted forest where only a few animals seemed to graze, the scenery would have been ideal for a romantic moment. There were no enemies in sight, no threats to be seen … yet. Kristan and Frances progressed silently, only speaking when they found a place, in higher ground, to swallow bread and tasteless cheese from the SGC's mess. Bow and arrows at their feet, they both relished in the peaceful environment. Still … they could be anywhere in the world, in any universe, at any time, and in any parallel dimension. Not a clue in sight to determine the date and time.
Until the sound of hooves echoed in the distance, bringing the answer to their questions. At once, both Kristan and Frances jumped on their feet, bow at the ready. As the clip clop approached, they backed away from the stream. Kristan pointed a large trunk with his chin.
— "Hide behind that tree"
Frances nodded. Even if she was the Keeper of Time, Kristan had more 'past' experience with ambushes in the middle of the forest. As she concealed herself behind a tree, the young woman searched for her man. Only the tip of his arrow poked out from another trunk. Frances stuck her back to her own hideout, trying to rein the harsh beatings of her heart in her chest. According to her past experiences, the first people she met when on a mission were usually the ones she was supposed to help. But there were no rules to time and space travel, so she wasn't about to jeopardise her life on a whim. Whomever emerged – the hooves were definitely coming that way – could be a threat. And now that Kristan was there, she wouldn't take any chances.
A gentle neigh echoed in the forest, as if coaxing them to come out of their hiding. But despite the sound of hooves shuffling the grass around, no voices could be heard. Slowly, Frances turned around, risking a glance at the stream area. Her eyes widened, puzzled, at the sight of a tall warhorse. Dark mane falling upon its back, a robe of grey and white that could have been drawn by a graphic designer such was the pattern and great dark eyes darting about nervously. Frances gasped. This horse…
Her eyes caught a movement uphill and she turned abruptly. Kristan stood in the open, face blank, his eyes drawn upon the magnificent beast. The animal spotted him and nervously approached until both mount and knight faced each other, frozen under the dancing light that filtered through the branches. Sensing no threat around, Frances approached Kristan and the beast cautiously, her bow still clutched. The knight turned his head; his eyes shone with an incredible gleam, as if tears struggled not to pour over his face.
— "I don't remember her name," he whispered.
Frances nodded. Neither did she.
— "You never told me."
Kristan's lips quirked up, his expression incredulous as he lifted a hand to greet the animal. His mare, his faithful companion that had led him from Sarmatia to Briton and seen his death on the battlefield was there, greeting him like an old friend. Stroking its coat, his smooth voice speaking in soothing tones, Kristan ran his hand alongside the giant warhorse's belly. There he found the scar from Badon's Hill battle; the spear that had pierced her side and caused her to throw them off.
— "Well, at least it confirms where we are now."
Frances' voice, so close, told him he had tuned the rest of the world for a moment of reminiscence. Of reacquaintance. Dropping a kiss to the muzzle's side, Kristan looked at his horse with a fond smile.
— "Will you take us, home?" he asked.
The mare neighed and they both picked up their stuff to follow the animal out of the forest and God knew where to. His mare was an old animal now; its teeth were more prominent, its gait less graceful than it used to be. Many years had probably passed since the battle of Badon Hill. Still, the animal was saddled lightly, which meant someone was taking care of her. Someone who failed at showing themselves. Frances remained silent by his side as they walked and he was grateful for her consideration.
Being in Briton, finding the horse of his past self brought such turmoil upon his soul. He had abandoned the idea of ever meeting his brothers again, and now that the possibility seemed at hand, he wondered how things would turn out. He wasn't the same man as Tristan was; his Sarmatian language forgotten, his old ways just as well. The knights would find him changed. Or worse, they might reject him for fear of sorcery. Tristan was dead and buried after all. As for him, he didn't really know who he was anymore, or who he wanted to be. A knight of old, or a modern man?
They walked for a long while, a few hours at least, his hand in contact with the animal's flank. Its smell, its warmth, its softness below his fingers were reassuring, reminding of a past life he thought he would have rather forgotten. But the solace that washed through his veins at the simple presence of his mare told him otherwise. No, Tristan wasn't dead; he never really died. And if he was, now, a modern man, the past knight lived inside his soul for better or worse. Better to accept him than to reject his old, twisted heart. If he couldn't accept himself, how could he expect his brothers to welcome him?
And what about his brother and sister, those that has seen him raised in Denmark? Were they less important than his Sarmatian brothers in arms? His mother, than had borne him, nursed him, loved him, raised him in the 21st century? How did she fit in that scheme? Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Kristan's eyes found Frances. She snatched his hand, bestowing a simple kiss upon his knuckles to provide support. If coming back here was an ordeal for her, she could imagine easily how difficult it would be, for him, to make sense of it all. The former knight addressed her a lopsided smile. As long as she was there, his little fairy, his elskede … the Keeper of Time … they would manage.
When they emerged from the forest, the sun was plunging to the horizon. Rolling hills greeted them, much gentler than the landscapes of northern Briton. Green grass, a few fields and large trees adorned the slopes, contrasting with the sky blues, pink and fluffy white clouds. And to the right, maybe ten kilometres away, stood a pointed butte with defensive walls and a large city nested inside. A tall, wide castle dominated it, flags of white and red flowing in the breeze, the dark rocks tainted with orange hues. It was magnificent, standing out against the darkening sky like a beacon of light; a symbol of strength. From there, Kristan couldn't hope to distinguish the blazon; he would know soon enough. Frances's sharp intake of breath told him she recognised the place. Face white, the young woman met his eyes.
— "Camelot"
Kristan frowned, recalling a huge castle with rounded turrets.
— "But we've already been to Camelot."
Frances shook her head.
— "Earth Camelot. We are in Glastonbury"
