Author's note – I lied, no Galahad. I was frustrated that I was not able to upload any new chapters and it was slowing my process of moving on… I will write a new chapter soon and perhaps I will follow through on my promises.
Chapter 7 – Pretty Stranger
He recalled her pretty face and blue eyes but not her name. He remembered the flowers in her hair and how her red curls encircled her face in and almost delicate manner and yet he had yet to hear the sound of her voice. Now, when the only light was a dimly burning fire in the hearth and things seen no longer seemed so significant, Lucan watched as shadows danced upon the wall. It was all he could do and all that his wits could allow for he was frightened of the young girl in his midst. His eyes suddenly fell upon the banner hanging at the head of the bed – a bed that would sleep two now instead of one.
"I made that for you," a soft voice whispered from the shadows. "There is a lion – for your courage… and a laurel crown for your victories to come. There is also a cross to declare your devotion to our lord and mother. My father hopes you will carry it into battle one day. Do you like it?" Lucan starred at the banner – colours he could barely distinguish in the dark room. He lowered gaze suddenly to the girl sitting nervously on his bed, her hands clasped in her lap.
"I do like it," he forced a reply. "But you must have made it for some other man."
"No, no, my lord… only you – I made it solely for you," the girl insisted, afraid it seemed that she had insulted him. But Lucan was not angry. He smiled at her a little, as if to assure her that it was no fault of her own.
"You made it for some other man for I embody none of these ideals."
"Surely all men are the same." Lucan went to her, a desperation in his eyes. The girl gasped, almost afraid that he might strike her but he did not.
"Your name, my lady?" he asked gently.
"Elaine," the girl replied.
"Elaine," he repeated, touching her red curls and brushing them from her face. "I am Lucan." There was a silence. Lucan touched her cheek, lip and chin and wondered how this girl did not turn away from him. His hand trembled at her cheek and yet she still starred at him. But the tears filled her eyes and she began to weep. Lucan took hr into his arms like a child, soothing her by saying her name repeatedly.
"I am afraid," she confessed. "You did not choose me.. am I pleasing enough, my lord?" Lucan nodded, not really knowing what to say. Why? He wondered. There was no other way – Aranwen had gone.
"I am lucky to be given a wife so beautiful," he said kindly. "And I speak the truth.. You are truly a beauty for why else would the knights be so jealous… did you see them at the ceremony?" Morgaine is not punishing me. She only sought to take my mind away from Aranwen.
Elaine smiled finally – there was nothing but gentleness about her. Lucan found that her smile warmed him, and he smiled in return. She was the sun peaking though the dark clouds that were the days. Elaine was what he had. And he was thankful.
"Do you think… you could ever learn to love me?" he asked.
"It is my duty," Elaine whispered.
"I am not the warrior you dreamt about – I do not war with a glad heart nor do I kill for sport. I have never even fought in a real battle… I am coward! Surely you are the one who is disappointed. Have I failed to please you? If anything it is you who has the right to speak."
"In my dreams I saw but a face. I did not recognize it but I know now… it was you." Elaine breathed, pressing her hand to his cheek in a tender manner. "My ideals are not valid for they come from thoughts other than my own." He kissed her.
"What we used to know does not matter anymore," he said somberly. Aranwen, he wanted to say. Aranwen. But she was not there.
"I can only do what is expected of me." Elaine closed her eyes as Lucan easer her down onto the bed. She bit her lip in a frightened grimace.
"Do not be afraid," he told her. Aranwen. Where are you? "Elaine, Elaine."
"My husband,"Elaine said quietly. The sound of such a phrase was alien to her tongue.
"How old are you?"
"Nearly seventeen," she replied promptly. Lucan murmured a reply. Aranwen's age, he thought. Or perhaps a little older.
"A beauty at seventeen… I admire the spirit in your eyes – how I miss you," he said, leaving Elaine puzzled by his words. "I miss you."