Hey, it's been a while. My life is such a mess at the moment ! But this shall see its end, one way or another.
Lancelot was the first to step through the gate; he had accepted to supervise the building of Camelot. Whether to take his heart away from Guinevere, or to keep his mind busy, the dark knight was dedicated to the task.
And this is why, five days after their little spat, Merlin led Lancelot, Frances and Kristan through the Stargate. To do so, he led them to a room buried deep in the bowels of the fortress. Hidden double doors led to a path outside; it would ease up the process of evacuation when the time came. This set of rooms, burdened by machinery of ancient designs, had become Merlin's lair. And within the mess of trinkets and papers, plans and machines that left Lancelot bereft, stood a wall that seemed to shift beneath the eye.
"This way," Merlin said, pointing to the solid rocks.
Lancelot lifted an ironic eyebrow, adorning his best 'the looner has lost it' expression. The former ascended being ignored him, walking through the wall and… disappearing. Frances started, and Kristan's voice brushed her ear.
"King's Cross, 9 ¾ platform."
The young woman giggled, ignoring Lancelot's glare beside her as she linked her hand with her knight. The quiet humming of their joined skin always grounded her, and Frances wondered how she'd gone, all those years, without him by her side. Kristan was the air she breathed, the shoulder she cried upon, the strength she lacked, the wisdom she overlooked. His support made her stronger, his questions more acute, his regard grander.
His presence was a present, one she thanked the Gods for every day. She, that had mostly been alone and kept her own counsel – except for a little time in Japan - now had someone to share. There were no secrets between them, how exhausting it had been; to keep The Keeper of Time missions secret to The SG team, and to keep her work with the Stargate team to the others. Frances had always been a little guarded, but the need for secrecy had made an oyster out of her.
Today, she was granted the privilege to share anything that passed through her mind. Kristan always welcomed her thoughts with curiosity.
"So what ?" Lancelot asked, shaking her out of her musings.
Just as Frances lifted her hand to touch the wall, Merlin's head popped through. The young woman gave a startled squeak.
"So, do I have to send an formal invite ?" he demanded with a frown.
Kristan chuckled, and passed through, dragging Frances with him. The stone wall felt weird, just a tingle, not unlike the barrier in Avalon. Then, they were standing in the massive cave of the Antarctic Ancient outpost.
"Welcome to Terra Atlantis," Merlin said, disappearing around a set of arches with more speed than an old man should be able to.
"Wow," Kristan breathed.
Frances turned to watch him, the bitter cold kept at bay by the warmth that flooded in her veins at the sight of the scout undone. The ice reflected in his grey eyes, his awed expression so beautiful that she could have wept. Of course, he's seen the Stargate already, but in the SGC, it didn't look as majestic as in this room. The Ancient designs and engravings enhanced its foreign beauty.
"Did I just walk through a wall ?"
Frances' eyes snapped to Lancelot. He was striding, gait confident, fog forming around his mouth such was the intensity of the cold. For a moment, she thought he wasn't going to react. Then he paused, and lifted his head to take in the massive ring that throned into the room. His ire seemed to give way to puzzlement, the line of his jaw unclenching for the first time in days. She couldn't even fathom what it could be, for a knight of the fifth century, to have the technology of the ancients smashed into his face.
"I had trouble believing you," he eventually said, his expression softer.
It was Kristan who reached for him.
"You've seen nothing yet, Lance."
"Is it me, or is it really cold in here ? And where is here ?"
A voice rose from an outer chamber.
"You youngsters are all the same. Asking multiple questions when I can only answer one at the time. We're under the ice of the south pole, dolt," Merlin scolded. "Now come, we need to cross before we all freeze to death."
Frances shrugged, mouthing 'later'. Sometimes, the old magician's temper reminded her of Gandalf. How could he expect Lancelot to know about poles when the earth was still supposed to be flat ?
"Note down the address," the old man ordered.
Frances fished her mobile out, and let him punch in the symbols to the new world that would become Camelot. Behind her, she could hear Lancelot's sharp intake of breath when the DHD flared to life – magic ! Then, the gate started spinning, and locked its chevron. At this point, the dark knight was quite ready to pass out.
"Impressive, isn't it ?" Merlin snorted cockily.
Don't overdo it, old man, Frances thought. He really was annoying, sometimes, and she understood where Guinevere had inherited her ability to irritate anyone. Knowing what came next, Frances turned to Lancelot.
"Brace yourself," she stated.
Kristan landed a hand upon the knight's shoulder, hoping to distract him, if only a little, from the massive whooshing wave that exploded from the gate. It didn't work; Lancelot stumbled backwards with a yell, black eyes bigger than flying saucers, swords ready for a strike. His mouth trembled, but he couldn't form a coherent word.
Both Kristan and Frances knew better than to offer a hand to a terrified, weaponized Lancelot. The silent knight chose, instead, a pacific approach.
"Lance, this is the vortex Frances told you about. We need to pass through."
"And before tomorrow !" Merlin quipped, disappearing into the quicksilver like surface.
Lancelot shook his head, as if to check if he had gone nuts.
"This is sorcery."
"No. This is an ancient device that creates a bridge between two worlds, remember ?"
The dark knight nodded once, then twice to show his assent, but his limbs wouldn't move. Then his head shook from left to right, as if the notion was too preposterous. Frances grimaced, wondering if simpler folk would be able to cross when Lancelot, an educated man used to battlefields, felt such terror.
It took all of Kristan's coaxing to get the warrior to approach the surface. Little by little, awe replaced the terror, leaving behind a healthy amount of fear that allowed him to climb the steps. Fifteen minutes later, they surrounded Lancelot before the horizon, hoping that the sandwich of friends would allow him to cross. In the end, Frances decided to step in, but not before issuing a warning.
"Kristan, the vortex will only hold for 38 minutes. You must follow soon."
Despite being familiar with gate travel, she always found the remolecularisation pretty distasteful. But not as much as Lancelot who sunk beside her and vomited his bowels. Kristan appeared behind him, a little greenish over the edges, but otherwise fit enough. Merlin was waiting for them, leaning casually on a staff in the tall grass. Ignoring the pitiful sounds of retching, Frances took in the place with awe.
It looked so alike to the last time she'd been there – and burnt Merlin's library. Except that there was no castle, no road, and no fields. Pure, raw nature without any humans. How the ascended had found this inhabitable place was a miracle in itself, but she was glad they had.
"I like horses better," Lancelot rasped from the ground.
"Horses couldn't take you there if you rode for a thousand years, lad."
With a groan, the dark knight sat on the stone steps.
"Are we much further away than Sarmatia ?" he asked.
Merlin chuckled.
"A few thousand light years, give or take…"
Frances rolled her eyes.
"Yes, Lance. Out of reach. By the way, does the Antarctic gate accounts for space drift ?"
The old sorcerer watched her as if she'd grown two heads, then started walking in the grass. They followed without question.
"Of course it does. That's the DHD's job. I wonder how you managed to make it work with such little knowledge."
"Oh, right, I had forgotten. Sam would kill me."
"Is it the result of travel, or do they not speak Latin anymore ?" Lancelot whispered to his fellow knight.
Frances mock glared, then returned to her contemplation, trying to assess the changes with the last time she'd been here. Kristan walked by her side, his eyes taking in every plant, every ridge. The scout at work. Behind them, Lancelot stomped in the grass. Tristan always said he was hopeless at scouting – now she knew why. At last, they came into view of the ridge where the great Castle of Camelot would be built.
"There were are," Merlin stated.
Standing proudly above the forest, the hill seemed strangely… empty. Kristan's gaze was set upon the relief, probably remembering how the walls stood.
"It is so strange, to see the past and the future at the same time," he murmured.
Frances squeezed his hand; she knew how mind-blowing it could be, to remember the future.
"Welcome to my life," she snorted. "I've been in a few time loops on my own, and it takes a while to get used to."
Kristan gave her a thoughtful look, almost mournful. Perhaps recalling how that horrible Ori Priest had turned Excalibur to ashes. This was a story they had agreed not to share; no need to upset the knights with things they couldn't change.
"Trees and a hill ? That's pretty undramatic," Lancelot whined.
Frances chuckled.
"And now you sound like Jack."
"I have no idea would that guy is, but come on. I walked through a wall, froze my ass in a mountain of ice, was disintegrated through water that stood up by itself, only to take a walk in the forest ?"
This time, Frances laughed out right.
"Be thankful. This gate leads to desert that could kill you in three minutes, to ice worlds, or places where you can't breathe at all. I've seen some planets where the sun burnt skin, or volcanos had covered the whole surface. There even was a gate that opened in the ocean."
"Wow."
"Yes. So this word is pretty welcoming, considering," Kristan concluded with a smirk.
Merlin watched the surroundings with a satisfied look, and concluded.
"Yes, and the seasons much alike to the Britannic climate."
Frances nodded this time; displacing an entire population would be harsh enough. There were bound to be changes in the plants and animals – which meant leaning again all those ancestral teachings. She was glad this world would be pretty stable when it came to the weather. Unlike Vikings when they swarmed Sicily, people wouldn't feel too out of place.
"Damn. And you couldn't pick a place with better weather," Lancelot grumbled.
They climbed up the hills, and circled it all day, only retreating at night to start over the next day. And again, and again, for days in a row until Merlin stated that he had other matters to tend to, and left them to their own devices.
After a rough week, Lancelot, Frances and Kristan returned to Earth to lay out plans, and assemble a team of workers. Carpenters, builders, smiths and many others. The knight's previous experience in building Camelot showed. Frances was impressed; he thought of many details she would have overlooked, and knew his business.
The youngest artisans didn't seem to care much for Frances and Kristan, but she caught some looks nonetheless. The Keeper of Time wasn't vain enough to think they remembered her. No; most of those puzzled expressions, tainted with a bit of wariness, were directed at Kristan. The former fearsome scout.
True, without his braids and the tattoos, he wasn't so easy to recognise. But his presence seemed to permeate nonetheless. Lancelot addressed them a smirk before he started talking. Short and to the point, his words caused unrest to rise.
"Subjects of Camelot. The Seers have spoken of Saxon invasions. Within the next years, we know that Camelot will fall."
A murmur ran across the room, a wave of anguish that Lancelot quelled at once.
"The King's trusted counsellors return – Frances and Tristan - has provided us with an alternative."
And, ignoring protests and cries, Lancelot laid out the plans at their feet, asking for volunteers to set up the new city in another world. Many workers left, thinking him crazy. But there were some who trusted him. Those immediately started discussing technical issues, asking the right questions such as 'what kind of stone will it be built of ?', or 'what's the nature of the soil ?' Others enquired about seasons, riverbeds, and many, many details that Frances noted as fast as she could.
One woman, long dark mane and an air of intelligence about her, kept firing ideas and suggestions. So much that, when Lancelot dismissed the builders, she stayed behind to discuss the plans again, asking to change the well position to keep it supplied all year around. There was much back and forth between her and Lancelot, so much they seem to forget the couple still sitting at the edge of the table at the back of the room.
"What is your name ?" Frances eventually asked.
The young woman turned to her, eyes wide, and curtsied.
"Elaine, lady knight."
Startled by the title that Arthur had bestowed upon her many years ago, Frances smiled.
"You seem very knowledgeable in many matters, Elaine."
"My father is a stone mason, my lady. But my grandfather was a carpenter, and my mother a healer. I am very curious, so I have learnt from them all."
Kristan stood by her side, searching her gaze. That woman had a peculiar, brilliant mind that could be useful to building a strong, lasting fortress. Despite her youth – she probably wasn't older than twenty-five – she connected the dots with impressive efficiency.
"Perhaps you could assist Sir Lancelot with the architecture of the future city ?" Kristan suggested.
Elaine's eyes widened and she took a step back, revealing the deep green colour of her irises. Lancelot's thoughtful gaze interrogated the couple, passing from Frances to Kristan, ignoring the wave of panic that seemed to seize the young woman who, not ten minutes before, was arguing her point rather actively.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"
"It's actually a good suggestion," Lancelot stated. "Those two know so little about building that I weep at their ignorance…"
"Space drift !" Frances coughed, reminding Lancelot that her skills were of a different kind, and that he wasn't so proud when facing the Stargate. The dark knight glared at her, then turned to Elaine. The young woman was frozen on the spot, like a deer caught in headlights. Probably overwhelmed to face Arthur's right hand, a formerly dead scout and his scarlet witch whose legends trailed around the fort faster than mice produced offspring.
Lancelot's face softened then.
"Perhaps another set of eyes, and a quick mind like yours could help."
"And I'll be glad not to be project manager, for once," Frances mumbled under her breath.
Elaine nodded stiffly. Then, she darted like a rabbit about to set upon by a wolf, her feet pounding in the corridors. Lancelot's dark eyebrow rose upon his forehead.
"Damn, you frightened the poor lass."
"What, we frightened her ?"
"Yeah. Tristan with his looming over, and you with the red hair and so on."
Frances spluttered.
"What the hell ! It's not like I can change my hair colour on a whim."
"Actually…", Kristan started, feeling mischievous. Frances shushed him with a pointed look, turning back to Lancelot.
"And how is that intimidating?" she asked, braid in hand.
Lancelot's dark eyes met Kristan's grey ones. Did he remember what they used to say about the woman he had dubbed little fairy at the time ?
"You never realised that, didn't you?" he whispered, gaze still locked with the taller knight.
Flustered by the heavy silence, Frances tried to make light of it.
"Vanora's hair is red."
Lancelot's head cocked aside.
"Yeah. It's a different red. So you never told her why she stroke your fancy in the first place, Tristan ?"
Chocolate eyes searched his gaze, and Kristan felt the inner scout burst forth, remembering those glances he used to steal into the wilderness. Admiring the sunlight when it set her hair on fire. Watching them ripple, hair dyed in blood. Calling his respect. The knight's hand caressed her cheek, relishing in the softness of her skin. His long fingers brushed her hair gently, lost in reminiscence.
"I loved the blood in your hair. It spoke of the warrior within. It made me feel less tainted for the killing I had to do."
Eyes locked, the couple couldn't help but remember those stolen moments, out in the woods, when they had settled in the cold sunlight of winter. Kristan knew, now, how sweet her touch was. How beautifully those loose ringlets contrasted upon her white skin whenever he made love to her. How Tristan had dreamt of burying his hands inside, just to feel their softness.
"We used to think your hair was dyed in the blood of those you vanquished," Lancelot stated. "And even if Tristan called you a fairy, we thought you a witch."
The young woman frowned, and Kristan sensed she would have lived better without that knowledge. That people would think her a witch that could bathe in blood was disturbing enough. But to learn that it was the reason he'd been attracted to her in the first place…
"I, uh. Really ? Even in the end ?"
A cocky smile lifted Lancelot's lips. Did he remember that kiss he'd stolen ? Kristan's inner wolf rebuked at the thought; that debt was already repaid. Time to put the possessive beast to sleep.
"Well, yes. We were just lucky you were on our side."
"Is that how people still view me ?"
Lancelot remained silent, catching on how disturbed Frances was by this statement. With one meaningful look to his brother in arms – meaning clear up that mess - he sauntered out of the room. Kristan shook his head; Lancelot couldn't understand. As a fifth-century man, he'd killed people all his life. Being feared was akin to being respected. It kept you alive. The fiercer your reputation, the safer you were. But Kristan was born in modern times, and even if he understood that frame of mind, he knew Frances would have more trouble.
The former scout's tongue darted over his upper teeth, looking for the right words.
"Fear is good, little fairy."
Her eyebrow rose, sceptical, but she remained silent.
"Those who know you respect you. But if the others fear you, it will keep you safe. This is all that matters."
The young woman nodded, unsettled.
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