A/N: A twisted retelling of the fairytale. Thanks again to 29pieces for beta reading! And to everyone who read and reviewed my last Merlin one shot. ^_^
"The Lady of Shalott"
The forest was dappled with green and gold as the Knights of the Round Table rode beneath its eaves. They had just finished escorting a visiting king and princess back to the border of their own kingdom and were now headed back to Camelot. It came as a relief, too; after the princess failed to win Prince Arthur's heart—it was spoken for already—she and her father had spent the long journey trying to tempt one of the knights into courting her. They had been flattered, of course, but marriage wasn't exactly on any of their minds at the moment.
And then there'd been that awkward moment where four of them had to admit they didn't come from noble houses, which of course had proven a bit scandalous for the royals. Really, it was better for everyone they had parted ways.
"Leon could have won her hand," Elyan commented as they stopped to water their horses at a stream. "Then you'd be the next king in line!"
"I'm happy where I am, thank you," the only noble-born knight among them replied, dismounting to give his horse a rest. "If I'm going to marry a girl, she'll be from Camelot."
Percival's lips quirked with intrigue at that. "Oh? You have your eye on someone already? Who?"
Leon shook his head. "No one."
"Are you hiding her from us?" Gwaine accused. "Why?"
Leon snorted. "No one in their right mind would let you anywhere near a girl they were interested in."
Gwaine pressed a hand against his heart in mock affront.
Lancelot shook his head in silent amusement.
"He has a point," Elyan said. "I know you flirted with Gwen the instant you met her."
Gwaine's brows rose sharply. "She tell you that?" He smirked smugly. "So I made an impression."
"That's one way of putting it," Percival teased.
Lancelot wasn't surprised to learn Gwaine had flirted with Gwen. She was a very alluring woman. But she was the one Arthur's heart was spoken for, and none of the knights would even think of coming between that.
The bantering continued and turned to a little roughhousing, but Lancelot tuned it out, distracted by a faint reflection in the water. He stepped toward the edge of the bank and peered in. The stream was flowing swiftly, so it could have been a trick of the light, but he thought he could see a face shimmering beneath the surface.
Then Gwaine suddenly tripped and went splashing into the stream, and the splattering of water not only disturbed the odd reflection but also startled one of the horses into fleeing into the woods.
Elyan and Percival stood on the bank, laughing uproariously as water streamed down Gwaine's face and turned his normally bouncy hair into a flat, limp mop.
Gwaine scowled as he sat waist deep in the stream. "Oh, very nice. Who's gonna get my horse?"
"I will," Lancelot offered and strode off after the animal. The trail of broken twigs was easy to follow, though he was surprised at just how far the beast had bolted over such a minor disturbance. The knights' horses were usually better trained than that.
Lancelot eventually exited the tree canopy into a small clearing at the base of a large cliff face. He drew to a stop, taking in the odd curvatures and notches in the rock; it looked like an ancient tower had once stood here and been half swallowed by the earth. There was even what appeared to be a window at the top, and Lancelot thought he saw a flash of light reflecting from inside.
Gwaine's horse was standing off to the side, ears flicking irritably. Lancelot made his way over and took hold of the bridle, running his other hand over the animal's neck.
"I feel your pain," he commiserated, then turned a curious eye over the rock face. There didn't seem to be an entrance to the tower anywhere, which was a shame; it would have been interesting for them to explore.
He started to lead the horse back when a soft susurration on the air made him freeze.
"Wait."
Lancelot whirled, scanning the area, but nothing moved, not even a blade of grass. "Hello?" he called warily. He glanced at the horse again, which didn't seem disturbed by anything.
"Help me."
Lancelot turned in another quick circle as the whisper slithered past his ear. "Where are you?"
"The tower."
He backed up several steps and craned his neck to look up at the top of the tower and open window. But nothing moved. Still, something was here…
"Who are you?" he asked next.
The voice, feminine in quality, fluttered across the air. "A prisoner."
Okay, time to call for the others. But just as Lancelot turned away again, he heard something creak and groan, and he spun back toward the cliff face. Some of the vines covering the rock were parting like a curtain, revealing a glint of light on glass. He left the horse where it was standing and moved closer. There was a mirror wedged into the rock, like a whole panel of granite had somehow melted and formed a reflective mirror.
Lancelot slowly reached out a hand to touch the shimmering surface. There was a flash of light, and suddenly it was dark. He blinked in stunned surprise as he found himself staring at a full-length mirror gilded in gold. The interior of a room was also reflected in its pane, and Lancelot whirled in alarm and confusion. Circular walls formed what looked like the inside of a tower, draped in numerous tapestries from floor to ceiling. A single arched window on one side let in the only light, and despite the mirrors of all sizes also dispersed around the room, they somehow did not catch the illumination to reflect it throughout the entire space.
Lancelot went to the window and looked out. Gwaine's horse was still down below. He was in the tower, though he had no idea how he'd gotten there. He turned to face the room again, his eyes gradually adjusting to the dimness.
Movement caught his attention in the back, and he stiffened as a woman stepped out from the shadows, her long tresses and velvety gown peeling away from the darkness like vaporous mist.
"Hello," she said.
Lancelot eyed her warily. "Are you the one who called for help?"
"Yes." She glided toward him, roving her gaze up and down with an almost lustful eye. "I saw you riding from afar and simply had to meet you. But please, come away from the window."
Lancelot furrowed his brow at her casual demeanor as he slowly moved toward her. "I thought you said you were a prisoner here."
"I am. I am trapped within this tower, cursed to only view the world through mirrors and to never look upon it myself." She half turned and waved a hand at an oval mirror mounted on the wall above a loom. It shimmered, then morphed into a scene of Lancelot's friends still at the stream. Gwaine was standing on the bank, wringing his soaked shirt out while Elyan and Percival continued to snicker at him.
Lancelot was suddenly wary of magic being involved, and he wished Merlin happened to be on this journey with them. "How can I set you free?" he asked.
She gave him a simpering moue. "That would take far more power than you have at your disposal."
His frown deepened. "But you called for my help."
She stalked closer. "As I said, you were very pleasing to the eye. Tell me, what is your name?" She stretched out a hand to trail her fingers across his arm, up his shoulder and around his back. He shifted in sudden discomfort.
"Lancelot," he replied stiffly, starting to scan the room for an exit. His instincts were beginning to doubt this woman's claims.
"Mm, Sir Lancelot," she purred, running a finger down his cloak. "A knight of Camelot."
Lancelot swiftly stepped away from her. "If I cannot free you, then perhaps I should go and find someone who can."
Though, he was suddenly wondering if there was perhaps a good reason for her to be locked away in this tower…
He swept his gaze around, trying to see past the shadows clinging to the edges of the tower for a door or stairway. His eye caught on something else, though. Each of the mirrors in the room were only foggily reflecting the contents of the tower, and each one was reflecting something different in their centers. Lancelot flicked a look around in search of their counterparts, but there were no fixtures in the room for the mirrors to be reflecting, almost as though the items themselves were inside the glass… Lancelot stilled as he focused on them. Several species of birds and small animals gazed back out at him, like stuffed carcasses encased in glass, eyes frozen open.
The woman he thought was a damsel in distress was now gazing at him with a predatory glint. Lancelot pivoted sharply and strode toward the back of the tower, but he was met with only more tapestries and mirrors containing petrified specimens.
The woman tutted. "There's no way out."
Lancelot yanked down one of the tapestries, only to find solid rock wall behind it. He turned sharply, going rigid as the woman was suddenly standing right there, lips curving upward.
"I'm going to enjoy gazing upon you for eternity."
Lancelot shot a hand to his sword, but a puff of displaced air from behind had him casting a quick look over his shoulder. He saw a large mirror suddenly erected at his back just as the woman pushed him against it. There was a flash of blinding light, and then Lancelot found himself suspended in a frozen void, unable to move or speak or blink. He couldn't breathe, his lungs and chest paralyzed like the rest of him. His body couldn't even spasm under the pressure compressing from without and within.
Blackness folded around him like liquid shadow, but he could see straight ahead through a pane of glass.
The sorceress ran her fingers down the other side of the transparent surface with a satisfied smile.
.o.0.o.
Leon shook his head to himself as Gwaine continued to scowl over his dunking and Elyan and Percival saw no end to their amusement over it. Gwaine lunged and slapped his wet tunic in Elyan's face, making him reel back and nearly fall into the stream himself.
"Knock it off," Leon finally told them. "Gwaine, put your shirt on. We need to get going."
Percival craned his neck around the area. "Where'd Lancelot get to?"
Leon frowned, realizing he'd been gone a long time.
"Maybe Gwaine's horse is being as pig-headed as its rider," Elyan joked.
Gwaine made a dirty face at him.
Leon let out a long-suffering sigh and turned to head in the direction Lancelot had gone when Gwaine's horse meandered back toward them through the trees. Leon had only a brief second of relief before he noticed the beast was alone.
The knights exchanged looks of concern and then quickly gathered up their things and retrieved their horses. Leon took Lancelot's horse's reins along with his own, and they all followed the tracks of Gwaine's steed back through the forest.
"Lancelot!" he called.
"Oy, Lancelot!" Gwaine echoed.
There was no answer.
They eventually came to the base of a cliff and what looked like some ruins built into the rock. There was still no sign of Lancelot.
"I don't like this," Percival said. "He wouldn't just wander off."
Leon agreed, and with a nod to the others, they tethered their horses to some bushes and then split up to scour the area, shouts for Lancelot overlapping each other in their growing urgency. They searched for a good twenty minutes before regrouping at the clearing.
"What do we do?" Elyan asked. "There's no trace of him."
"He couldn't have just vanished into thin air," Gwaine pointed out.
Leon flicked a nervous look around, not entirely sure about that statement. Magic, after all, was capable of some strange things. And yet the woods were quiet and seemingly undisturbed. Leon's gaze drifted up to the ancient tower.
"You think Lancelot found a way inside?" Percival asked, following his line of sight.
Leon didn't think Lancelot would go exploring without telling them, but it was a place to look.
He went to search the base of the cliff for an entrance, the others following behind and spreading out.
"Look at this!" Elyan called.
Leon and Gwaine were closest and hurried over to what looked like a mirror set into the rock.
"Weird, don't you think?" Elyan said.
Gwaine huffed. "Yes, but it doesn't help us find a way inside."
"Over here might!" Percival shouted from several yards down.
They all made their way over, and while he had found a gap in the rock, it was definitely not wide enough for a grown man to fit through.
Gwaine scowled in growing aggravation. "Lancelot didn't go that way. We should go back and search the woods."
That was the more logical route, but Leon was getting a niggling feeling.
"He might have found another way in," he reasoned. "We should look around inside while we're here."
Percival shrugged and drew his sword, and the rest of them backed up as he began to hack at the rock. It didn't take much to widen the gap enough for them to squeeze through one at a time.
The shaft on the other side was filled with wispy cobwebs and some empty sconces on the walls. Enough light was spilling in behind them that they didn't need torches, though. Leon ventured down the straight passage.
"It really doesn't look like Lancelot came in here," Elyan said, following.
Leon stopped at a juncture that opened into a winding staircase. "It won't hurt to look around," he insisted. No, there wasn't any evidence that Lancelot had come this way, but Leon had enough experience to know that strange disappearances and creepy ruins were probably not a coincidence.
He headed up the stairs, the others trailing behind. It was obvious this was the tower they'd seen from outside, and it soon became very dark in the passage, but Leon kept going. They climbed a long way until they finally reached the top—which was a dead end.
Gwaine rolled his eyes. "Well, that was a waste."
Leon studied the rock closely. No one built a staircase to nothing, and the top of the tower was visible from outside. "There's a seam here…"
"Again, unless Lancelot scaled the place from the outside, he didn't come this way," Gwaine groused.
Leon ignored him and picked at the grooves in the stone. Percival shuffled closer and attempted to help, but the rock wasn't going to budge for them. Elyan sighed and drew his sword, adding its leverage to the mix. There was a faint cracking sound, and Leon drew his sword to use as well. More rock split, and then a heavy slab of it was swinging inward, and the knights nearly went sprawling over the threshold.
Leon stumbled as he righted himself and blinked in disbelief at the large room filled with tapestries and mirrors, not a single one covered in dust or cobwebs. And there was a woman sitting at a loom, though she leaped to her feet at their intrusion.
"How did you get in here?" she demanded sharply.
Leon straightened smartly and opened his mouth to apologize, but then Elyan gasped.
"Lancelot?"
Leon followed Elyan's shocked gaze to his left and toward a mirror situated halfway into the room. There was an image of Lancelot in its reflection, standing frozen and unmoving. Leon automatically jerked his gaze to the opposite end of the room, expecting to find the solid form of the knight. But there was nothing there. He whipped his eyes back to the mirror, his mind awhirl with horror. He wasn't entirely sure what he was seeing, but he knew it was wrong.
He turned to the woman, sword still in hand. "Release him."
Her eyes were cold as she stalked the length of the room toward the mirror. Leon tensed as she reached out to touch its frame.
"He belongs to me now."
"Like hell," Gwaine snarled and surged forward, having drawn his sword as well.
The woman flung her arm out and Gwaine went flying across the room and slamming into the far wall. The mirrors hanging there rattled from the impact as he dropped to the floor.
"This is rather fortuitous," the sorceress mused. "Now I can have a whole troop of knights to adorn my walls." She turned toward Percival, lips curving upward. "How strong and gallant you look, Sir Knight. Tell me, what is your name?"
Percival's eyes hardened as he reached for the hilt of his sword. There was a puff of smoke behind him and a mirror appeared out of thin air. The witch grinned and stretched out a palm toward him.
"Percival!" Elyan charged forward and tackled him to the floor.
Leon leaped after them and swung his blade at the mirror, shattering it into pieces. He then spun toward the witch, who skittered backward with a spitting hiss. She flicked her hand, and the shards of glass on the floor went flying. Leon threw his arm up to shield his face as the pieces pelted his chainmail.
Gwaine was up on his feet and charging the woman again. Leon, Percival, and Elyan also attacked in unison. The sorceress dodged their swings, but each one in rapid succession drove her backward in the process. She finally bumped against the sill of the open window and flailed for a moment to catch herself, throwing a look over her shoulder. Her eyes blew wide and she screamed. The knights faltered at the unexpected reaction, and then the witch shattered into thousands of brittle shards like she'd been made of glass herself.
Leon gaped in shock in the wake of the ensuing silence. What on earth had just happened? He exchanged bewildered looks with the others, but it seemed as though the witch had been destroyed…though certainly by no act of their own.
They turned and crossed the room toward Lancelot. Or, at least what looked like a frozen portrait of him, an illusion painted inside glass. But Leon had the sickening feeling this was no illusion.
"How do we get him out of there?" Percival asked worriedly.
Leon didn't know, and he didn't want to admit that with the witch dead, he was worried there may not be a way to. This was magic, after all.
Elyan waved a hand in front of their friend's face. "Lancelot? Can you hear us?"
There was no response or acknowledgement, not even an eye blink, and Leon also feared their friend might be dead.
Gwaine's brows knitted together as he considered the mirror. "Should we break it?"
"We don't know if that will kill him," Percival argued.
Leon walked around the mirror, unnerved by the perceived depth within the glass when there was clearly nothing behind the flat pane. He came back around, only to stop as he noticed the other mirrors located throughout the tower. He went to examine those next and was revolted to discover each one had a different animal trapped inside. He pursed his mouth as he glanced back at Lancelot.
"We could test our theory on one of these."
Gwaine immediately came over to look at the other mirrors as well, face twisting in disgust. But he grabbed one off the wall and without further thought, smashed it on the floor. Glass shards went flying, and suddenly a raven was lying in the middle of the broken pieces, unmoving.
"Is it dead?" Percival asked stiffly.
Leon grimaced as he crouched down to poke it. Nothing happened.
"Who knows how long it's been in there," Elyan put in.
Leon frowned with sinking dread. But then the bird blinked and let out a pitiful croak. Leon reflexively jerked back as the creature tried to flap its wings weakly, flailing on the floor.
Gwaine exhaled heavily. "Right, not dead, then."
The knights exchanged grim looks as they turned back to Lancelot. Gwaine stepped forward to repeat the process but still hesitated. Squaring his jaw, he finally mustered the nerve and drove the hilt of his sword into the glass. It shattered on impact, and a fully solid Lancelot came falling out to land face down on the floor.
Leon rushed forward and dropped down next to him. Lancelot was shaking, so at least it was immediately apparent that he was alive. Gwaine crouched on his other side and gripped his shoulders, rolling him over. He was covered in dozens of small nicks from the broken glass, and when Leon reached out to help brace him, he was struck by the frigid feel of his skin.
Gwaine held him up, propped against his lap. "You all right?"
Lancelot nodded shakily, every muscle still trembling uncontrollably.
Elyan passed Leon his waterskin, which Leon tipped against's Lancelot's lips to help him drink. He took a few swallows before pulling back.
"Th-thanks," he stuttered.
"Can you stand?" Leon asked.
Lancelot's gaze flitted to the glittering black shards that remained of the witch and he gave another jerky nod.
Leon and Gwaine both helped him sit fully upright, then supported most of his weight as they heaved him up onto his feet. He was unbalanced as they stumbled their way down the long staircase and outside, and he showed no sign of recovery in that time, so Leon made a decision.
"Let's go back to the stream and make camp."
Everyone was in silent agreement as they retrieved their horses and headed back through the woods. If they thought Lancelot could have stayed in a saddle, they wouldn't have made him walk, but he was still far too wobbly and trembly, so Percival and Gwaine kept him firmly braced between them.
When they reached the stream where they had stopped earlier that day, they quickly eased him down propped against a tree and set to making camp. Leon grabbed his saddlebag from his horse and went to sit beside him. It would've been nice if Merlin were here, but Leon had enough battle experience he could tend a few minor cuts.
He reached out to soak a patch of cloth in the stream and then wrung it out before turning back to clean the nicks on Lancelot's face and hands.
Percival sat down on his other side and squeezed their friend's elbow. "What happened? How'd you get up there?"
Lancelot blinked, still half in a daze. "I followed Gwaine's horse to the cliff. I heard a voice, someone calling for help. I was going to come get you all, but then…there was a mirror in the rock. One moment I was outside, and the next I was in the tower."
"That would have saved us time getting up there," Gwaine snorted.
Lancelot's gaze took on a distant quality again, and Percival gave him a light jostle.
"What happened then?"
His brows knitted together. "The woman…she said she was cursed and imprisoned in the tower, but I could tell something was off. I tried to find a way out, but then…it all happened so fast."
He shuddered violently and Leon instinctively grasped his shoulder to keep him steady.
"I could see and hear everything," Lancelot went on, voice frayed. "But I couldn't move, like I was frozen in ice but still awake, suffocating…" He broke off with another full body shiver.
Both Leon and Percival squeezed his arms fervently, and they all shared a grim look; it sounded horrific. No wonder Lancelot was still shaken by the ordeal.
Gwaine looked down at him seriously. "The witch is dead and won't be doing that to anyone ever again."
Lancelot nodded, but it was still tremulous. Leon resumed tending his cuts, while Elyan said he'd go get wood for a fire, and Percival got up to retrieve an extra blanket from his saddlebag.
"Thank you," Lancelot whispered as the fabric was tucked around him.
Leon clasped the back of his neck. "Take your time and rest. We've got you."
Lancelot leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes, secure in the promise this brotherhood of knights would watch over him.