A/N: Thank you Guest, GuestM, Buckhunter, and SnidgetHex for reviewing!

Chapter 8

Winter began to thaw as spring arrived, but things were not brightening in the castle. The grounds, which had been dead and barren when Lancelot arrived, seemed not to be part of the seasons but the curse, as they remained drab and thorny.

Lancelot was just bringing up his and Arthur's supper when a suit of armor intercepted him, shaking his head and pointing back the other direction. Lancelot faltered, not understanding what the problem was. Then Arthur appeared coming down the hall with a knight escort of his own, mouth pressed into a tight line.

"It seems my father is requesting my presence at dinner," he said.

Oh. Lancelot looked at the two plates in his hands. "I guess I'll go back down to the kitchen for Uther's dinner and meet you up there?"

Arthur nodded stiffly, and they exchanged a taut look before going their separate ways. It had been weeks since Uther had wanted Arthur in his presence, so the abrupt change set them both on edge.

Lancelot returned his dinner to the kitchen to retrieve later and grabbed Uther's instead. He moved as quickly as he could without dropping anything as he hurried up to the east wing. Arthur and Uther were already sitting at the table, and Lancelot kept his head low as he placed their meals in front of them. The wine and goblets were in the cabinet, so Lancelot didn't have to make another trip for those. After serving both king and prince, he went to stand in the corner.

Dinner was quiet at first, save for the munching and gnashing of teeth coming from Uther. Lancelot never got used to that.

"Your birthday is approaching," Uther finally spoke. "You will be at your majority."

Arthur just nodded.

"We will have a celebration," Uther declared.

Arthur paused with a forkful of food halfway to his mouth, looking dumbfounded.

"Yes, a feast," Uther went on. He shifted his sharp gaze to Lancelot. "Make sure the great hall is decorated appropriately and the finest meats cooked."

Lancelot nodded, even though he had no idea how he was supposed to arrange all that. It was one thing to put together a small feast in Arthur's chambers, but he suspected Uther's expectations were going to be much higher. And Lancelot knew better than to ask.

"You are dismissed to begin preparations," Uther said haughtily. "You have one week."

Lancelot bowed and started to leave. He shot a regretful look at Arthur, hating to leave him alone, but neither one of them dared to object.

Lancelot wandered through the castle until he found some servants not affixed to any walls or furniture. "Hi," he said awkwardly. "The king has declared a birthday celebration for Arthur in one week. Can…can you help me with that?"

They didn't speak, but they turned and started walking away. After a moment's hesitation, Lancelot followed. They led him to a storage room with dusty banners and fancy tablecloths. This was going to be a lot of work.

He spent the next several days cleaning the old finishings and the great hall itself, thankfully with the help of those servants who had some mobility. He spoke to the servants in the kitchen again about food. They nodded when he laid out what Uther wanted, and Lancelot had to trust they'd be able to come through on the big day. They'd certainly impressed Lancelot with the Midwinter feast.

Lancelot was kept so busy with preparations that he didn't see much of Arthur, except when he came in at night to collapse onto his pallet.

Arthur gave him a remorseful look. "I feel like I should be helping."

Lancelot snorted. "I have a good idea how Uther would react to that. But thank you. Let's just hope he's satisfied when everything is done."

Arthur sighed in irritation. "My birthday should be about me, but he's going to make it about him."

Lancelot pushed himself up onto his elbow to look at his friend. "I'll be celebrating with you. Silently, of course."

Arthur smiled. "Thanks."

Things began coming together. Merlin and the dog even tried to help by fetching things for Lancelot. The servants didn't have the dexterity to hang the decorations, so Lancelot had to do that by himself, and there were a few times he had close calls with falling. But the wooden servants held the ladder steady for him until he finished.

Lancelot jumped down and surveyed everything. "What do you think?"

Merlin bobbed his head and the dog barked in approval. Then they both suddenly stiffened and scattered, and Lancelot turned to find Uther shuffling through the doors. Lancelot tensed and held his breath as the king looked around at everything.

Uther's expression was inscrutable. "Where is the music?" he demanded.

"Oh, um, it will be here," Lancelot stammered.

He had no idea how he was supposed to manage it. He thought of Guinevere, of course, but she was on the third level and he wasn't keen on trying to carry her down to the great hall. Also, he didn't think it kind to force her to play in front of the dreaded beast.

Lancelot approached Sir Leon to ask if there was another statue with a musical instrument close to the great hall that could possibly be moved. The knight bowed his head and strode away. Lancelot didn't quite know how to interpret that, but Leon returned a bit later with a whole group of knights carrying in a woman with a flute.

"Thank you," Lancelot told them, then turned to the lady. "Um, apologies for the indecorous relocation."

She didn't deign to acknowledge him. Maybe she remained dormant until she was called upon to play.

The day of Arthur's birthday arrived and Lancelot helped him dress in a fine red coat with gold embroidery. Arthur had given him a new coat to replace the one that'd been destroyed, also red. They were the Pendragon colors. Lancelot knew it was only befitting a servant of the house, but he couldn't help but feel…wanted. By one member of the royal family, at least.

Arthur looked tense as he studied himself in the mirror, tugging his coat down.

"I know it's not a proper celebration," Lancelot said tentatively. "But at least your father's acknowledging there should be a celebration."

"Right," Arthur said dully. "Well, let's go then."

They walked downstairs together, and when they entered the great hall, Lancelot was once again gifted with a look of utter amazement on Arthur's face.

"You've definitely outdone the Midwinter feast," he commented.

"I had lots more help this time," Lancelot deferred.

In addition to the decorations and wooden servants stationed in the back, suits of armor also stood in attendance along the walls. Uther was there, dressed in an ill-fitted blue coat and cape. He turned toward the door and lifted a goblet.

"Ah, my son!"

Arthur dutifully went over. Lancelot followed behind to pour him a cup of wine, then retreated to the corner. The flute player put out a lilting tune, and the table was set with a rich feast befitting a king, but Lancelot was still on edge wondering if Uther would find fault with something.

Uther raised his cup higher in a toast. "To Camelot! Our kingdom may not be much, but we are safe from the evils of the world. And always will be."

A muscle in Arthur's jaw ticked, but he reluctantly raised his goblet in turn. The two were just drinking to Uther's toast when the doors burst open with a bang, making Lancelot jump. To his shock, a woman strode inside, long brown hair pulled back around her ears in braids. She wore a simple red gown that matched the shade of her lips, and she walked in with a simpering moue.

"Hello, Uther."

"You." Uther threw down his goblet and drew himself up with a snarl.

The woman tutted. "Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

Arthur looked between them in confusion. "Father, who is this?"

"She's a sorceress," Uther spat.

Lancelot's eyes widened.

"I see your view on magic hasn't changed," the woman said. "Though, I see you also continue to use it when it suits you." She flicked her gaze at the dog cowering in the corner. She then turned to Arthur. "I am Nimueh. I'm the one your father begged to use magic so his wife could conceive a child."

Arthur's expression slackened in shock. "What?"

Lancelot remembered Merlin telling him about the curse, but Arthur hadn't known the story behind it?

"And when your mother died in childbirth, he blamed me," Nimueh went on. "Declared war on all magic." She shifted her gaze back to Uther. "Over his own selfish hypocrisy."

"She's a lying witch!" Uther snapped. "She's the one who cursed this kingdom."

"To save everyone else," she retorted. "And I gave you a chance, Uther. I gave you thirteen years to renounce your own wickedness." She lifted her chin. "But I see you never will."

She thrust her hand out suddenly, uttering a word in a strange language. Her eyes flashed gold, and Uther went flying across the room and crashing into the banquet table, smashing it to pieces. Nimueh then spun toward Arthur and spoke a different string of words, blowing him a kiss. Mist swirled through the air and hit him in the face.

"Arthur!" Lancelot shouted as the prince swayed on his feet and then went completely lax, eyes vacant.

"Guards!" Uther bellowed as he tossed broken pieces of wood and plates off of himself.

Two full-bodied suits of armor charged forward, but Nimueh waved her arm and her eyes glowed gold again. The knights instantly fell to pieces in a raucous clatter.

The sorceress stalked around Arthur, who didn't move or react, like he was in some kind of trance. Nimueh ran her fingers across his shoulder as she turned to address Uther. "I will take your son now, Uther, and make him my king. And together we will rule a world of magic while you stay here and rot."

Uther let out an animalistic roar and charged, but a spell from the witch ignited a stream of fire between her and him, driving Uther back.

Lancelot's heart was pounding in terror, but he spotted one of the broken knight's swords on the floor. Trying to push his fear aside, he lunged forward and snatched it up, charging at the sorceress.

But she whipped around too quick for him, and a flash of light in her eyes sent him flying backward to hit the floor and slide across it. The wind punched from his lungs and he lay there as pain radiated through his body. But he still had a hold of the sword, so he pushed himself up with a grunt.

The sorceress canted her head at him. "I admire your bravery," she said, then stretched out her hand and uttered an incantation.

Lancelot felt something rip through him and he screamed, back arching. The sword fell from spasming fingers. A wave of fire coursed through his muscles and bones started to snap. Lancelot's throat burned with one unending scream as his body contorted and pulsed, fabric and flesh melding into fur. His fingers burst into talons. He felt his back split open and stretch, and then his scream turned into a high-pitched screech. A wingspan snapped outward on either side as he landed with four legs on the floor. Lancelot flapped and flailed in panic and disorientation.

Uther roared and leaped through the dwindling flames, but Nimueh cast a spell that cut the rope holding up the chandelier, and it smashed down on top of Uther. She then yanked free the rest of the rope and lassoed it around Lancelot's neck. The coarse fibers dug in between feathers and pinched painfully. He shrieked and tried to reel back, but she looped it again between his beak, forcing him to heel.

And all this time, Arthur had just stood in the midst of everything, unmoving. Now Nimueh directed him to come over and climb up on Lancelot's back with her. Once mounted, she kicked Lancelot in the ribs and he lurched forward in response, wings thwacking frantically. Uther's bellow echoed behind them as they crashed through the stained glass window and into open sky.

Lancelot's mind was dizzy with sensations he could hardly concentrate on flying, but it seemed this creature's body knew how to stay in the air. They flew over a lake and he got a glimpse at his rippling reflection—half bird, half lion. A griffin. Lancelot screeched in panic, and Nimueh yanked on the rope bridle in his mouth.

She roughly directed him where to go until they reached another castle and Nimueh forced him downward to land in the courtyard. She and Arthur dismounted, Arthur still bespelled to numbly follow along.

Lancelot opened his maw to call his name, but only a bird screech came out.

Nimueh's eyes glowed amber, and the ropes morphed into chains, growing and growing until Lancelot was completely fettered and tied down.

She smirked. "Be a good pet," she said, then slipped her arm in Arthur's and took him away inside to who knew what fate.

Who knew what fate would befall either of them now.