(Part I: Lancelot and Alayna)
Chapter 2: Ally
Ally had been impressed by Gwen very quickly upon her arrival in Camelot that spring, riding with Gwaine and Lancelot and worried over facing Arthur and Merlin. Five months later, and her opinion of her unique friend had only improved.
Gwen could roll her eyes or raise her brows at the king himself. At Merlin, a sorcerer of abilities that never failed to astound Ally. Sometimes even at the gruff and formidable court physician. And the next moment, stoop to speak to and smile at the dirtiest village urchin.
She could also face the occasional snide comment or arrogant sneer from the handful in Camelot who still mistrusted magic and Merlin, with calm and graceful humility. Ally had believed from the beginning that she could do much worse than truly befriend Gwen and emulate some of her characteristics, lacked by Ally herself.
Self-confidence with visiting royalty was one.
They'd begun tentative friendship, the three of them, their first meeting when Gwen encouraged Ally to offer a tour of the citadel, which she'd then mostly led herself, over the realization that all three of them had lost their mothers quite young. After that, making conversation had seemed to come easier, though Ally felt more comfortable as listener.
"No, our delay and uncertain timing was due entirely to my sister-in-law," Mithian answered Gwen. They were riding just ahead of Ally on the narrow forest trail; Gwen in a sturdy but attractively embroidered burgundy-orange gown over a white tunic, Mithian in a delicate gold blouse with a butternut-striped vest over matching riding skirt. Over her collarbones, was a trio of gold feathers, strung together and hanging from her neck for ornament. "We expected her to birth my brother's second child two months ago, but it seems our court physician's calculations were a bit off."
"Oh, congratulations then," Gwen said, with sincere enthusiasm. "You must be so proud – and glad. Did she have a very hard time?"
"I wasn't told," Mithian said, sounding amused, inviting Gwen to share in the humor at her own expense, an unmarried girl kept innocent of these secrets. "They both seemed fine to me, two days later when visitors were allowed."
"Now is that your eldest or middle brother?" Gwen wondered.
"Ybor, he's my middle brother. Antor is the eldest, Prince Regent because he won't let my father abdicate entirely. He has three children himself now, but there's gossip about another after the new year."
"A big family," Gwen said with satisfaction palpable to Ally, between them and Mithian's two attendants bringing up a discreet rear.
"Heaven bless them," Mithian said cheerfully. "And you? I met your brother Sir Elyan the other night…"
"That's my only family," Gwen sighed. "Just the two of us, now."
Ally made an involuntary noise of dissent – love made family, not blood, and Gwen was loved by lots of people in Camelot. But that drew the attention of both other girls over their shoulders – though not Lancelot in the vigilant lead – and questioning looks.
"I think," Ally tried to explain, "you have more brothers than just Sir Elyan."
Gwen's smile bunched her brown cheeks in realization and rueful agreement; Mithian cocked her head thoughtfully, and didn't face forward. "Do you have any brothers, Lady Ally?"
"I have a cousin," she said, instead of thinking of the little life her mother had taken with her own, so as not to pass damning magic to another child.
"That's Merlin, isn't it?" Mithian's question was mostly just for confirmation of remembered information.
The princess reined her mount in momentarily, to ride beside Ally along the path; she had a thin face and luminous eyes, smile-lines at their corners and beside her mouth, and most days Ally had trouble deciding if she was pretty, or not. The only other woman who'd ever struck her so, was Merlin's mother Hunith, who'd visited for a fortnight at the height of summer. Love and happiness gave her beauty, rather than any physical or facial feature or attribute.
Gwen smiled back at them and seemed content with the new arrangement, glancing out at the woodland scenery rather than trying to join or engage Lancelot ahead of her on the trail.
"King Arthur said, he had an important duty to see to, upon his return yesterday, and this morning I heard he was not even in the citadel," Mithian said. "Do you know what he's doing?"
"Yes," Ally said cautiously.
"But you can't tell me what," Mithian guessed, without offense. "It's just – well, we were very curious to hear that Arthur had pardoned a sorcerer – who happened to be his manservant, and someone thought executed, for a very long time. Arthur explained a bit about his thought processes, but I'm sure there's a lot behind his unshaken determination that this sorcerer is a good man. I'd just like to know what."
Ally found it easy to smile at her. "As would I, and all of us. Arthur's right, of course; Gwen could tell you some stories – and a few of the knights as well."
Mithian made a thoughtful noise. "But not all of the knights are best pleased to have magic allowed after decades of fighting against it," she said, a softly-neutral observation. "Nor yet all the nobility of Camelot?"
The glance she shot Ally from keen brown eyes made her flush, and stare at her reins. "You are right," she admitted. "There are those. My status and title gives me a certain amount of protection from most unpleasantness – and the freedom to avoid it where I expect it – but Merlin…" She sighed, and Mithian remained silently attentive. "He tries not to mind too much. One day at a time, one person at a time, and you can't win them all."
"He's teaching you magic, isn't he?" Mithian asked.
Ally nodded, shy again about revealing the depth of her wonder and admiration and excitement about magic itself, her abilities and studies, either of her two special tutors, Gaius and Merlin. Shy about boring the other girl, blurting too much in her emotion.
"I suppose there are those who aren't happy about that, either," Mithian guessed, her tone gentle irony.
Ally shrugged, her shoulders warming under her gray satin dress as the horses ambled through a patch of sunlight dappling the path. "Not surprising, really – it's a complicated thing for a person to change their mind. Everyone is different – different reasons, different ways and means – even people who refuse to consider changing."
"Such as?" Mithian said.
Again Ally balked at replying, wishing a little that Gwen was part of this conversation; she could decline specificity graciously.
"I have a reason for asking, you see," the princess went on. A bit more slowly, uncertainly, self-consciously, as if she were the one now on the brink of a confidence she wasn't sure she should indulge in, since they were members of different kingdoms. "It's not political at all, it's personal… It has been decided, my marriage to one of Arthur's men will serve to seal the alliance of Nemeth and Camelot."
If Ally had been a better rider, she might have reined her horse to a dead stop in shock. If she'd been a worse rider, she might have fallen off.
"Your – marriage?" she managed. "Arranged? To a – stranger?"
Something she herself had been mercifully spared, as her father would not have given her, with her magic to be discovered and exposed, to anyone. As isolated as her upbringing had been, she hadn't had friends to giggle over and discuss the delights of young gentlemen with – to miss as they married.
"It's quite common, after all, among those of our station," Mithian said with wry amusement for Ally's reaction.
"Yes, I know, but…" Ally didn't know whether I'm sorry would be awkward or impolite.
"It's something I agreed to," Mithian said, looping her reins casually. "Months ago, when King Uther died, and my father and brothers were discussing changes in policy, Camelot's and ours. There's no one in Nemeth I think about more than another, no one I can't live without, or especially want to live with."
"Yes, but – a stranger?" Ally said, sensitive to the knights that rode several paces behind them. Escort and protection for the princess, both wore the characteristic veil of chainmail hanging from their helmets over their faces. Impossible to tell who was who or what they were thinking; they made Ally nervous. "What if he's old or ugly or fat or smelly or mean or miserly or indifferent or –"
Mithian laughed right out loud, and Ally swallowed the second half of her protest. If it was her, she'd worry that the stranger would find fault in her person or character or habits or desires or pass-times or –
"The choice is mine," the princess explained, in a tone meant to reassure Ally. "King Arthur has given us the names of noblemen and knights who are amenable to the match, and I will choose. I can even say, none of these, never mind. I just…" Mithian sighed. "I love Nemeth, its lands and its people, but – I was excited to come here and meet new people. New possibilities."
That, Ally understood completely, though her experience held much trepidation also.
"So you see," Mithian concluded, "it would benefit me greatly to know whether my listed possibilities accept or resist magic – it is the one topic upon which my opinion is likely to differ the most from a husband I choose in Camelot, and your cousin would be likelier to realize lingering prejudices than the king."
"Yes, I agree that –" A thought struck Ally. "Oh! that means you'd likely move to Camelot permanently!"
"For a fact," Mithian said, smiling, "your court does seem to be lacking in ladies."
"We'll have a queen before long," Ally said. Even though she agreed, and Mithian had not intended the observation as a slight, she felt it incumbent on her to speak defensively. "Then she can invite and include whoever else she likes."
"Or whoever has the sense to like her?" Mithian said, with a sweet and canny lift of her brows. "Gwen, right? Arthur wouldn't say, without a betrothal, but the way he looks at her, and the way she says his name… I think she's very brave. I know what she's willing to take on, for his sake, maybe better than she does…"
They both watched Gwen's back as she rode ahead of them, unselfconsciously enjoying all the details of the outing – the woods and the weather and the ride.
"What I wouldn't give for a love like that," Mithian added wistfully.
"I hope you find it here," Ally said. "Here, or somewhere."
The princess hummed neutrally. "And you?"
"What about me?" Ally was surprised. "Who would marry me, especially now that my… magic… isn't secret any longer?"
"Sir Lancelot."
Ally stared at her friend, astonished – then found herself facing forward at the very moment Lancelot turned in his saddle to check on the three of them. He offered her a smile – personal, almost intimate, in spite of the presence of the two other girls – and she couldn't return it.
"What makes you think he…" Doesn't care about the magic at all. Was one of Merlin's first confidantes, understands and supports and applauds…
"The way he looks at you." Mithian smiled a different smile, a mischievous smile, and a dimple appeared. "And the way you say his name."
Dozens of memories washed through her mind. His arrival in Descalot, pale and bloody and half-conscious. The way she'd labored and hoped – and then he'd blinked up at her from the pillow, awake and alert, like she was an angel. His quietness, that she valued so much – in direct contrast to his companion, the likable rascal Sir Gwaine. The way he made her feel strong and confident and beautiful by the way he looked at her and spoke to her.
Was that love that she saw in him, that made him special to her? Warmth welled up in her, and her mouth wouldn't stop smiling, even as her eyes filled with tears at the sudden and exquisite pleasure.
I'm in love with him. And he might very well be in love with me.
"Only he's never said anything," she said aloud.
"Well then," Mithian said. "We'll have to see if we can't find a way to encourage him a little bit."
…..*….. …..*…. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..
The ruined castle, to Ally's eye, was a lot more ruin than castle.
Great chunks of stone had fallen from wall or tower, obscuring its original shape of structure, and littering the wide clearing Lancelot led them into – maybe once a courtyard. By Mithian's expression, she thought the same.
"Sir Lancelot," the princess called, interrupting his visual search of the area and catching his attention over his shoulder. His glance took in Ally as well, next to Mithian, as he raised his brows and smiled responsively. "You don't mean to say you spent the whole winter here with your companions?"
Gwen answered for him. "It was a lot longer than a single season, actually. About ten months altogether?"
"Yes, that's right." Lancelot dismounted, casting the reins of his horse to the ground to allow it to forage a bit; the mounts of Camelot's stable were too well-bred to wander far. Mithian swung down immediately and with ease, ignoring her two knights, and Gwen wasn't far behind her, but Lancelot came to help Ally descend from the saddle without tangling her skirt or tripping and falling.
She was aware of the rough skin of his knuckles, the veins on the backs of his hands as she covered them at her waist with her own. So strong, and so gentle. For a moment she dared to hold them in place atop her hips, enjoying the sensation - but released him before he could start to wonder.
He didn't move away from her, though he was half-turned to the two other girls, mostly focused on the princess. "Would you like to see inside, Your Highness? The main chambers are quite safe, and though I believe it lacks a quarter of an hour at least til noon, Merlin might be here already."
"Or not," Gwen said, stretching in a perfectly ladylike way. "Arthur said he was coming out here early, and he does often go looking around this part of the forest to supplement Gaius' supplies, or his own."
"I would like to see inside," Ally said, softly up to Lancelot.
His brown hair, longish and tending to curl at the end, was a bit windblown and she found herself fascinated. Wanting to touch and fix and straighten – what had gotten into her? – wanting to leave it exactly as it was.
"Then by all means," Mithian said, smiling at Ally as she gave her veiled knights a series of command-signals. They retreated with their mounts to the edge of their forest, present but not part of their group. "Lead the way, Sir Lancelot, and Lady Ally and I will follow along behind."
Lancelot glanced at Gwen, who held out her palms in emphatic refusal. "No, thank you, I've been in lots of times – I'm going to stay out here and enjoy the sun before it disappears for the winter."
"Call if you need anything," Lancelot told her, and she nodded.
"I'll keep an eye on our horses, too."
Lancelot offered his elbow to Ally, and she tucked her hand into the crook of it, enjoying as always this way of having a hold on him. He looked up toward the princess, and Ally knew without minding much that he'd offer the same courtesy to her as well. Mithian might have realized the same, for instead of waiting and accepting, she whirled and made for the doorway into the interior, leaving the two of them to follow as a couple.
Ally was a bit nervous, even with Lancelot's presence warm and strong at her side, but under the arch and into the passage – higher than she could reach, the walls just barely beyond touching both at once – it smelled faintly like horses, reminding her of the stable where she'd spent many serene hours of her childhood, and she immediately relaxed. Breaks in the shape of the passageway meant decent light, with the sun out of direct sight overhead, but Mithian had only gone a couple of paces before pausing to look through another opening that was the source of most of the light.
"This was your stable," the princess said, looking back at Lancelot.
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Then Merlin is here, already." Mithian made a sound of approval, and turned further into the passageway.
Ally craned her neck to look – a good-sized side chamber, half-sheltered with the remains of the floor that used to be above it. A grey-speckled white mare that she recognized grazed placidly, minding their arrival not a bit.
She wanted to linger and study the space and imagine Lancelot and her cousin and the others inhabiting – saddling and riding out, though they took their lives in their hands every time. Returning weary and caring for their mounts first, in the heat of summer and the blizzards of winter, because they loved their young king enough to sacrifice themselves to serve him. She wondered if Arthur thought the same, saw the same, whenever he'd come here.
But Lancelot was leading – probably intent on remaining near Mithian for her own safety – and Ally passed the stable-chamber, through the corridor into a larger, dimmer one. One of the castle's main halls, she thought. The ceiling out of sight overhead, a chimney at the opposite end that took up the middle third of the entire wall, with a hearth that more than one person could sleep on comfortably.
And the table. Round and solid and heavy, the edges notched and the surface scarred, the chairs unmatched – some backless, some repaired.
"Merlin!" Lancelot shouted, upward.
There was no answer but a brief flutter as of the wings of birds nesting out of sight at the top edges of the hall. Maybe a cascade of pebbles dislodged in avian distress.
"He'll be here," Lancelot said apologetically. "I'm afraid… there isn't much to see."
"I don't agree," Mithian said inexplicably, drawing her fingers along the curve of the table as she strolled back toward them – though her gaze wandered the room rather than checking her fingertips for dust. "It's straightforward, but rich with significance…"
Ally agreed with her. She could see Lancelot and the others in this chamber also, crouched over a cookfire, gathered around the table to eat hearty and simple or maybe sometimes scant and cold, rolled in blankets and low discussion as the coals died. She didn't believe any one of them would have voiced doubts with their chosen lifestyle or proposed new starts elsewhere.
"What's this?" Mithian's steps quickened toward a shadow on the side wall that Ally belatedly identified as another arched doorway. "Stairs?"
"There are some smaller bedchambers up there, Highness," Lancelot said. "We never cleaned or fixed much except Merlin's room, but–"
"Merlin's room?" the princess said with interest, entering the doorway. Looking up and bracing her hands on the wall, she put her foot on the first step.
"Yes, but that's not exactly safe," Lancelot cautioned, following. Ally trailed behind them. "Half the stair is missing, you see, and –"
"And if you great fellows can tromp up and down for a year, it's not going to collapse under me." The amusement in Mithian's voice floated back to Ally.
The princess didn't stop, and Lancelot was going to hover over the royal guest, and Ally did not want to be left behind. If Mithian thought she was providing opportunity for Ally and Lancelot to be alone, she didn't know Lancelot well; Ally worried that the princess might hurt herself or get into some trouble in the ruin, on her own.
"Maybe we should just –" she began, thinking of the sunny clearing and Gwen and lunch, and if Merlin was already here, then –
But Mithian inhaled in a surprised way. "Oh."
And Ally was curious, too. Lancelot reached back for her hand, guiding her to the edge of the stair, and she joined him as Mithian moved into the chamber. Illuminated, as it turned out, by a single candle in the candelabra placed on the table that took up most of the middle of the room, probably left by Merlin, but it was still too dim to see details from the corridor.
"Books," Mithian said, touching the spines of several in a row on the shelf on one wall. "And – herbs." She sniffed at a shape on the far wall that reminded Ally of the drying-frame in the physician's chamber.
"He's Gaius' apprentice," Lancelot reminded the princess.
"I think he'll take Gaius' place on the council in half a dozen years or so," Ally commented.
Mithian turning toward her was a vague suggestive swirl of candle-lit gold sleeves. "Is that what he wants to do?"
"No," Ally and Lancelot said at the same time, and when he squeezed her hand to acknowledge that, she smiled at the warmth that bubbled up inside her. "Gaius is like the father he never had. Merlin would want him never to be too old for his position."
"Arthur listened to him when he was just a manservant," Lancelot added. "He doesn't need a seat at the council table for that."
Ally went to count the books – twenty-eight, but there were scrolls and tables also – as Mithian rounded the single chair, touching various parts of the herb-rack. "What about the rest of it?" she asked then, moving past Lancelot in the doorway. "Can you get to any other part of the castle from here?"
"Perhaps, Highness, but we never used –" Lancelot began.
Ally felt a bit shivery, and followed quickly, to keep near her knight. "Maybe we should go outside again," she suggested. "Gwen will wonder about us, and Merlin will come soon, and there's lunch –"
"This passage goes on," Mithian said. "If we could squeeze past this rock –" part of the wall, or ceiling? Ally wondered. "Look, there are candle drippings here. If you all didn't come this far…"
"This is fresh," Lancelot said, stepping forward to feel where she indicated. "Maybe Merlin –"
"Hello!" Mithian called forward, trying to wedge her slender body between the chunk of masonry and the intact wall. Ally looked up and thought, possibly a person could go over the rock – into the gap it left – and continue down the passage. The princess added with mild exasperation, "Oh, I think I've torn my dress."
Ally had an idea. "I know something that might help," she said, moving next to Lancelot to place her palm against the boulder-size impediment. "Athwinan –
"I think I hear something," Mithian said.
"- thas –"
"Hello?" the princess called again. And maybe Ally heard another voice respond, far away toward the interior of the ruin, but she continued anyway.
"- heard." The rock vanished, and Mithian stumbled a bit at her sudden freedom. For a moment, all was perfect, and Ally felt happy and satisfied.
Then an ominous rumble shifted the stone under her feet, and a great puff of sharp dust blinded her and knocked her into Lancelot.
Something else knocked Lancelot into her, and then she was falling.
All was noise, and darkness, and the earth trying to swallow her – pinched tight in an enormous mighty throat, she couldn't breathe and she couldn't scream but it seemed to her like someone was roaring –
on and on and it wouldn't stop and –
For several disorienting moments she imagined that she'd fallen beneath a horse's hooves and the excited beast was kicking and trampling – she felt blows distantly, but there was no pain, only a dark dusty ache.
The unrelenting noise finally, reluctantly, retreated. Her ears rang, and the air was barely breathable – there was no room to cough, and all was black as a pit.
Or maybe she was blind. The thought induced more panic, and she tried to touch her eyes, tried to feel where-am-I.
Her hands were trapped. She coughed, and sobbed, and something – someone – moved against her.
Warm. Solid. Heavy.
"Ally? Ally!"
Lancelot's voice, and she gasped with the piercing pain of relief.
She wasn't quite prone; he wasn't quite behind her, but she squirmed and forced her hands to find him, climb his chainmail til at last her fingertips found skin at his collar.
His breath curled across the side of her face. His voice sounded naked, hoarse and desperate and the unfamiliarity of that scared her even as the fact that it was his gave her a deeper sense of security. "Oh, Ally. Are you all right? Are you hurt?"
"I don't know," she managed. "Not much?"
He tried to move; she felt one arm around her, his hand on her back, their legs entwined so it couldn't be told, where one ended and the other began. But it was an aborted attempt, as he grunted with pain – and panic threatened to flare in her chest again.
"You're hurt?" she said. "Lancelot?"
"Just… hit on the head," he answered. "What of… oh, no. The princess!"
Ally sucked in a shocked dusty breath – and as they both froze, she heard a voice. More than one? And words became clear.
"Are you all right? Sorry about –"
"No, never mind." Feminine, husky and breathless. "It's fine, you – saved my life."
"Just be still and I'll – sorry… No, you go first, so you don't have my boots in your face…"
"Merlin!" Lancelot said, and Ally's body shifted with the effort he put into raising his voice. Something in her back twinged; he swallowed a tight, miserable-sounding moan.
"Lancelot – are you two all right? Hold on, I'm –" Merlin spoke words Ally both recognized and didn't, and dust pattered in her face as stones clicked and ground together.
She gripped Lancelot, knowing because Merlin was there she was safe, but instinctively fearing another cave-in. She couldn't sense any other change, but Lancelot rolled away from her with another stifled groan, and the sounds of scraping and shuffling were nearer, unmuffled by rock.
"Lancelot?" Mithian's voice said. "Ally?"
"Yes, we're –"
"Is there anyone else?" Merlin – on Lancelot's other side, Ally guessed - interrupted rudely, but there was a strain in his voice that excused it. "Lancelot. Anyone else? Only you three?"
"Gwen was outside. And two knights of –"
"No one else in here?" Merlin demanded. Shuffling continued, and a couple of grunts of exertion. Ally could hear Mithian's panting breathing, too.
"No."
"Okay, don't…" Merlin's audible magic shifted rock again. Grinding, groaning – pebbles fell on Ally's skirt just next to her leg, and she flinched closer to Lancelot again.
Merlin gasped – growled – a shaft of sunlight pierced their tomb in the further-collapsed ruins so suddenly Ally's eyes stung, watered, blinked.
"Now, go. Go. If you can, and… hurry…"
Merlin was crouched just near Lancelot's head – blood and dust on her knight's face as he looked up toward the sorcerer – one knee down, both hands up and fingers spread as if he was trying to lift an impossible weight. His face was twisted into stark lines and planes, gray with shadow or dust.
Rough, jagged rock, only inches above them – and how much above that? Quivering, as Merlin's hands and fingers trembled.
Ally scrambled sideways – elbow, then knee – seeing the light figure of Mithian doing the same on Merlin's other side, close enough to touch. Lancelot was on his belly, rising to hands and knees – freeing one hand to guide-coax-encourage Ally.
Mithian said, hesitating, "But what about –"
"In a minute," Merlin ground out. "Last. Go, for the… love of…"
Ally's fingernails flared and ached, as she clawed her way into the shaft of sunlight. Through its agitated swirl of motes – Mithian touched her shoulder like an older sister helping a younger – and they almost pitched together down the broken stair.
"You go." Her voice trembled.
Probably Mithian guessed that she wanted to wait for Lancelot, needed to wait for him; the princess began to slide down the stairs on hands and rear, clinging to the wall.
Ally's neck clicked and stuck as she tried to look behind – Merlin's back bent, bowed, arched so slowly it was excruciating to watch. Lancelot crawled past him carefully – dark eyes enveloping Ally, then glancing back to Merlin. Through the sunlight her knight came to safety, and she stretched to take his hand, to pull him with her, after her down the stairs. Merlin rose slowly, hunched under his invisible burden, and began to shuffle back toward them.
Voices, again. More voices.
"Oh my goodness!" Gwen. "What happened? We heard this awful rumble – I thought of thunder – are you hurt? Where are –"
Overtaken by other, lower, hurried male voices. That would be Mithian's pair of guards, Ally thought, reaching the bottom of the stair and finding that her legs were too wobbly to hold her. Lancelot stepped down, trying to lift her – lurched and had to steady himself with one hand against the wall.
Gwen suddenly appeared to help him, bending to take one of Ally's arms with both hands. "Are you both okay? Lancelot, there's blood on your –"
Lancelot ignored it, one arm around Ally's back beneath hers, sliding them both along the rough stone wall, out into the main hall where the outlaws had lived. He said to Gwen, "Merlin's still –"
She followed his upward gesture, and made to take the first step.
"Guinevere." Out of sight at the top of the stair, Merlin spoke her name the way Arthur sometimes scolded her, but so sharply even Ally's nerves flinched. "Get out. Everyone. Now."
More rumbling.
A/N: Ally's pov will continue in the next chapter. Almost finished, so it should only be a couple of days til it's up…