Chapter 14: Knight in Shining Armor

"Should we tell the others?" Elena inquired her fiancé. He looked thoughtful as he thought about it, and then shrugged uncertainly.

"We might as well. They'll find out eventually. Besides, they've got a right mind to know."

She nodded in agreement and slipping her hand out of his tentatively, she reached the bar, grasping the brass handle and taking in a convenient breath as she flung the door open. All the knights were inside, as well as Arthur and Guinevere, celebrating their safe return. When they heard the door squeak open, they welcomed Elena and Lancelot inside with their mugs. Smiling, the young couple reached an open seat and smiled, Elena's hand casually lying on the table.

Guinevere was the first to notice the sparkling diamond on her friend's finger. She shrieked and dropped her mug down, splashing her drink over the counter. Arthur, startled at his wife's behavior, inquisitively stared at her.

"What is it, Guinevere?"

"Oh," She reached over and touched the ring, as though making sure it was really there. Then, she looked at Arthur with a significant glance. "Arthur, it appears that our friends here have gotten themselves engaged." She spoke this with the most casual voice she could muster, watching her husband's curiosity grow to elation. Suddenly, he advanced on his favorite knight and Elena and wrung their hands, hugged them tight. Guinevere had to laugh at his antics.

"Congratulations! Oh, of all people to be married..." he couldn't think of another word to say, but he didn't have to, because Lancelot and Elena knew what was on his mind. They both looked at each other once and then simultaneously took Arthur into their embrace together. It was gesture, not spoken words, that made a realization to them all.

They each took turns in congratulating their friends until the atmosphere was filled with festivity. Galahad raised his goblet of wine and cheered them on. For about two hours, Elena and Lancelot spent their engagement night with their friends at the bar, celebrating. Laughter and wine ran the room with revelry.

"Elena," Lancelot whispered in her ear, tightening his arms around her waist while she rested her head on his shoulders.

"What?" She asked in a singsong voice, smiling dreamily.

"I'm going to take you to somewhere absolutely magical." He replied, carefree. Elena tilted her head and swung her arms around his neck.

"You do it then. You do it Lancelot." Elena smiled. He led her out of the bar, applause ringing after them. When they at last retired away from the bar and into the gardens, Elena smiled at him, her eyes glowering brightly. She pulled him close, and kissed him. He had frozen the moment she had kissed him, and she had been for a second afraid that he would push her away - but then his hands had gone to her waist, and he had lifted her up somewhere in the back of her mind, she had been dimly aware of the other knights looking, but she couldn't care at that moment- and he was kissing her as if both their lives depended on it. His sudden explosive passionate reaction had first stunned her, and then galvanized her own response; she felt great shocks, as if of cold or heat, tearing through her nerves, burning away rational thought. They had had kisses before, sweet and gentle kisses, passionate kisses as well, but never anything quite like this - there was something messy and unguarded about the desperation of the way he clutched at her, his hands tight around her arms (the next day she wound find five bruises on the circumference of each arm, like an unfolded flower, where his fingers had been), as if he never expected to see her or touch her again.

She felt as if she were falling and there was no end to her descent. She remembered the first time she had ever kissed him and it had been like a strange miracle, all that known familiar country she had seen so often now being learned by touch: the feel of his mouth, the slight roughness of his skin, the taste of him. Kissing Lancelot, touching him, had always been like coming home to a familiar and beloved place, and she was finally here, in that familiar and wonderful home she inhabited only with him. It was like lightning, striking through her. And it was nothing like the lingering and icy kiss they had shared just a day ago. She felt the heat of his hands on her shoulders, scorching as his fingers ran down her back, burning through her dress. Her insides seemed to liquefy, transforming into to molten metal, and the heat ran through and through her, scorching her veins, turning her bones to glass.

"Don't you look pretty." Guinevere smiled brightly, lowering her cup.

"Thank you." Elena replied gently, smoothing out her periwinkle robes and adjusting the carnation that Lancelot had given her this morning. She took her seat besides Guinevere, sipping the hot cider and sighing with satisfaction.

"Excited about the wedding?" Guinevere asked, turning to Elena.

"I most certainly am. After all, I will be married to Lancelot."

"Then you'll certainly have your share of work ahead of you." Guinevere joked. Elena couldn't help the smile that was creeping out.

"Yes, I know. But I love him dearly and I will, despite the hard times that are ahead of us. Actually, I was thinking of taking a short vacation with him to Avalon."

"Really?" She seemed surprised at this idea.

"Yes. Avalon's beautiful this time around, and it'll be a nice change of air after all that's happened here. I think it'll be best for the both of us, just some time alone with each other."

"That sounds marvelous. You should discuss this over with Lancelot."

"Yes, I will later. Oh, I wanted to ask you. Do you mind if I borrowed your topaz necklace tonight? It'll match the robes I have planned to wear to the ball."

"Of course. I'll pick it up and have it delivered to your chambers after breakfast. Do you need anything else?" Guinevere asked, summoning a servant.

"No, that's fine. Thank you. Oh, I'm so excited about this ball that Arthur decided to give. It's a good way to refresh ourselves after what has happened." Elena said, finishing her meal.

"Yes. And we haven't had much balls before. I should suggest a masquerade next. That'll be more mysterious and exciting, won't it?" Guinevere laughed. "But after all these long years that I haven't been to a ball...goodness...I have not the fanciest of what I shall wear tonight! Aren't I in trouble?"

"Well, how about I help you select an outfit? We'll go to your chambers and find something suitable." Elena suggested.

"Oh, would you? That'd be so kind of you, Elena."

The dress she had chosen to wear that evening was modeled as closely as memory allowed on the dress her mother had given her to wear so many years ago- still her favorite article of clothing she had ever owned, albeit briefly. Only the color was different; a dark rich cinnamon brown instead of lilac. It had the same fitted bodice, lacing up the back, the same full skirt and wide scooped neck showing rather more of her shoulders and the top of her chest than she was generally used to. With it went sheer silk stockings and a dramatic pair of high, strappy shoes. She glanced at herself in the tiny mirror over the sink but it gave her back only a tiny part of her reflection, so, gathering up her full skirts with one hand, she went back into the bedroom.

When she came out, there was a knock on the door. She hurriedly ran to open it, and found Arthur standing on the opposite side. When he saw her, his eyes widened and then darkened, and although all he said was, "All dressed up, then?", she knew he admired the way she looked. Of course he would though. Arthur seemed to be one who noticed things like that.

"Hi," She smiled at him with bright eyes, inviting him in. He did, mechanically, and fell into a red velvet chair. She smiled again, more to herself, and went over to the larger mirror that hung over the vanity table. She looked at herself briefly, then picked up the necklace she'd been planning to wear that night, the one she borrowed from Guinevere- a topaz on the end of a silver chain- and reached to drape it around her throat. Feeling unaccountably nervous, she fumbled the clasp.

Arthur stood up. "You want help with that?"

"Oh. If you don't mind," she hesitated for a moment, then reached around and put the necklace into his hand. He looped the slender chain, bowing under the weight of the smoky topaz charm, around her throat, and paused, his hands just brushing the curve where her neck met her shoulder. She felt the tiny hairs all up and down the sides of her arms prickle as he looked at her, his eyes gone dark and serious, reminding her so much of Lancelot's own dark eyes. Suddenly she saw herself the way Lancelot saw her- the smooth curves of pale-peach skin rising from the bodice of cinnamon silk, the very dark curls of hair, so carefully arranged, looping like hyacinth tendrils around her face, her wide dark eyes, her full lower up, trembling now with nervousness. She spun around in the circle of his arms and heard the snap as he closed the clasp of the necklace, and stepped back and away from her.

"You look beautiful." He said lightly, his breathing quick. And she knew she did, maybe more beautiful than she would ever look again.

"Thanks. Are you getting dressed soon?" She asked, looking him up and down.

"I was just coming over because Guinevere wanted to ask you something. She needs you quick, it seems." Arthur smiled. "She still won't let me have a look at what she's wearing tonight."

Elena grinned, "You need not worry, Arthur. It'll be something, I can assure you. But I have to apply the finishing touches first. I'll be there shortly."

The King nodded, bowed slightly, and departed, closing the door quietly as he left. Elena looked back into the mirror, glancing at herself with amazement. She looked down at her fourth finger, at the engagement ring she had received from Lancelot, and smiled again, visions of the future popping occasionally into her mind. It seemed like her dream had finally come true after all these years of waiting and struggling. Her knight had come for her.