The Lady of Shallot

Author: Hope the Ghost Writer

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog

Claim: Sir Lancelot (Shadow)

Camelot: the lively home of the Knights of the Round Table. A bustling village dotted with fruitful fields of barley and rye. In this village, there is a river that meanders and flows gracefully until it reaches a sole, isolated island with aromatic springtime flora that are beginning to bloom. This island is known as Shallott, and in its heart is a cold, stone-clad tower, where a young girl of about twelve resides. The pre-teen spends all hours of the day weaving to no end—'tis the cruel fate she's bound to. A curse keeps her from even leaving her place. She's personally never seen the outside world—and 'tis a shame. She has silky locks of gold, eyes as blue as the springtime sky, and skin without even the most insignificant blemish—yet the world cannot see her, and vice versa.

The people below acknowledge the mysterious, secluded young woman as the Lady of Shallott. As the woman works ardently, she sings a graceful, heavenly tune that soothes the hearts of all who hear it. The surface people don't grow tired of her constant singing and have come to respect it and enjoy it, seeing it as a sign of serenity.

-x-

Lancelot isn't much of a nature person, but the many stories of Shallott he's heard over the years intrigues him. Although it's customary to have all expeditions approved by his master—the Knight of the Wind—he decides to sneak away to the supposedly beautiful island. It's the first day of spring, and a beautiful one at that; he feels that it was worth whatever punishment his master may give him. (Then again, Master Sonic isn't a heartless soul like his old master, who, one could argue, never existed in the first place.)

With Arondight at his side, the red-accented, black-furred hedgehog sits patiently in a paddleboat constructed of sturdy wood. The knight of the Round Table looks up to the sky and absorbs the warm sunlight that beamed down from above. It feels soothing—yet the knight doesn't crack a smile. (Like nature, smiling isn't one of the things that Lancelot particularly enjoys.) He just folds his arms and waits as the island slowly grows closer to him.

-x-

The Lady of Shallott weaves her magical tapestry as usual, taking an occasional glance at the enchanted mirror beside her. This looking glass allows her to see the shadows of the surface people as they interact with each other and go on with their lives. It's unfortunately her only connection with the world she so longs to see. But she can never go down. Not with that damned curse binding her.

Something makes her stop weaving. In her mirror, she sees the silhouette of a most marvelous creature. He's a hedgehog adorned with armor, and he has a sword at his side. He's gracefully gliding through the field surrounding her castle, picking flowers as he does so. The knight stops in his tracks for a moment, then whistles a gentle melody before resuming his running and flora gathering. What a charming fellow! she thinks.

Intrigued, she makes a most terrible choice. The Lady steps away from her loom and waltzes towards the window behind her workstation. She peeks her head out and stares down at the mysterious hedgehog. "I must meet him," she tells herself. The Lady convinces herself that he can protect her from harms way. No curse can take her life with a guardian to protect her.

When she turns around, she glances at her mirror. Out of nowhere, it shatters and releases an ominous puff of smoke. Only the Lady knows what this means.

-x-

The sun is setting. Lancelot is sitting in his boat, which is rapidly approaching Camelot. He's surrounded with the most gorgeous flowers—all of which he picked while he was visiting Shallott. He may not show emotion, but he's excited to present his springtime gift to his fellow Knights of the Round Table—Percival and Gawain—and his master.

Deep in the back of his mind, Lancelot has this feeling that something is horribly wrong. He doesn't know what that "something" is, but this vague premonition of his is fogging up his mind—making him worry to the point where he starts to develop a headache. He tries to disregard this feeling by telling himself, "Perhaps I just need to rest."

But rest won't be enough to prepare him for what's ahead.

-x-

The sky is dark. The winds are howling. An April rain falls like the tears of the brokenhearted. The only cheerful thing is the sound of heavenly singing that can be heard from the river. Even that sound, however, has its dissonant notes, and when said note sounds, the world falls silent. It's as if an angel has fallen from Heaven.

-x-

"Everyone," a usually brave person of Camelot cries, "a boat! There's a boat! R-right here! C-come all!"

Everyone who was feasting at Camelot drops his or her meal and congregates at the riverbank, where they all discover a girl lying dead in a boat. She's dressed in a gentle, white cloth. She looks peaceful, but her death must've been anything but. What has happened here? everyone wonders in fear and concern. Has a plague hit her and killed her in her sleep? Are we all next? Nobody really shows concern for the girl herself; they're all just concerned about whether-or-not she was contagious by any chance.

The only brave one to step forward and examine the girl and her vessel any further is none other than Lancelot—not Percival nor Gawain. He kneels on one knee at the side of the boat, then examines the bow, which has the words "The Lady of Shallott" painted in a graceful script. He peers inside of the boat and notices the lady in white lying in her endless sleep. Her face looks so pristine—so youthful.

Why does he feel a connection to this unfortunate face? Lancelot has the feeling that the two of them were destined to meet somehow, but he doesn't quite understand why this was the time and place for their first encounter.

The Lady of Shallott. Why does that name haunt him so? Does this have to do with his visit to the aromatic island earlier today? Did he cause this? Is he the reason that she ended up here?

Lancelot feels that it was his duty to pay his respects. Whether or not he caused this, he is not certain. Yet, the hedgehog feels guilt, and he feels obliged to honor the young girl's premature death. He removes Arondight from its scabbard and digs it into the ground in front of him, then saying, "She has a lovely face; God, in His mercy, lend her grace."