Chapter Text
Year 1043, 7th of October
I am Lancelot du Lac, former member of the house of Robwick, knight of Camelot and right hand to King Arthur. Maid Olwen has advised that I record my thoughts and life milestones in scroll for reflection and solace. I do not yet understand how this will help, but I will not question her at this time.
It has been a week since my daughter was born. She had not been given a name at the time, but now she carries a form of the name given to my late sister. Marian is small, fragile. Even though they have not fully emerged, it is easy to see who her father is by the markings and darkened quills. Her eyes and ears have not opened to see the world yet, and I fear by the time she does, she will not have the chance to enjoy it.
Arthur has not spoken to me since her birth, but I've heard his threats declared in the prison entry hall for everyone to hear all through the morning.
I cannot put into words the gratitude I have for Olwen risking her life to bring Marian to me this afternoon. Wrapped in cloth and tucked into a basket, she was easy to hide while asleep. Olwen explained that Arthur has claimed she might live as a maid within the castle, if she is to survive infancy.
It is a miracle he has let her live this long already. Myself as well. His person has changed so drastically, this is no longer the friend I cherished for so many years…
Like many days in the middle autumn months, that day had been shrouded by grey clouds and a constant mist of cold rain. Where most people would find the weather depressing, Lancelot found it invigorating. He’d used the excuse of a good mood to convince Sir Gawain to train with him in the courtyard. Unfortunately for Gawain, Lancelot had won every contest they’d held, leaving the echidna to grumble all the way to the banquet hall. By the time dinner was served, any trace of his sour mood was gone, and he was laughing alongside the rest of the knights, praising Lancelot’s victory without a hint of resentment or irony. Lancelot couldn’t help but smile at that. Gawain had never been good at holding a grudge.
As the evening pressed on, Lancelot watched the nobles and other castle residents start to trickle out of the building and back to their quarters for a good night’s rest. He was ready for bed as well now that he’d had his fill of dinner after an exciting day. He stood up and stretched, eyes wandering the room as he prepared to head out.
His gaze rested on Queen Guinevere as she was readying to leave. She was with child, and nearing the time for delivery. In recent weeks, her days had been spent resting in the royal tower, constantly accompanied by maids and the castle’s midwife to help prepare her for the child. Conversations with the queen these days were either short, or didn’t happen at all. As Lancelot watched her getting ushered towards the doors, their eyes met.
For just a moment, Lancelot could have sworn he saw a strange expression on her usually cheery face. Her mouth turned down ever-so slightly as her brows turned upwards. But before Lancelot could understand what she might have been thinking, a maid moved between his line of sight, and the queen left the hall.
Lancelot stood by his seat, wondering what must have been going through Guinevere’s mind. Maybe something was wrong, but what could it be? If it was the baby, surely she would have told the maids. And why would she look at him in such a way? Maybe there was something she needed to say to him—
"Lance!"
Arthur’s voice broke Lancelot out of his thoughts, making the knight jump slightly. The king grinned and patted Lancelot's back, careful of his quills. "That joust today was impressive! I think you must be the only one in the castle who can match Gawain's strength and speed."
Lancelot was used to this kind of praise; he was the most accomplished knight within the castle walls after all. He still wasn’t used to how Arthur would say it though. It was always so… Earnest. And incessant. Lancelot cleared his throat and nodded, bowing his head slightly. "Thank you. It brings me great honor to know I still impress you with my skill."
The blue hedgehog let out a snort and gave Lancelot an amused grin, "Drop the formalities Lance. You are not standing before me in some throne room. There is no need to be my knight right now, just my friend like always." Lancelot looked away out of embarrassment, making Arthur chuckle and playfully swat at Lancelot's arm. "You clearly need to unwind after such an eventful day."
"My king, I—"
"Stop calling me 'king' when it's just us. How many times do I need to tell you that?" Arthur's expression turned sour, and he huffed impatiently. Lancelot stopped talking immediately, and Arthur watched for a moment before sighing dramatically. "Come on, let's go to the study hall and have some mead before I retire for the evening."
Arthur nudged his cloak out of the way and grabbed Lancelot's arm to lead him through the banquet hall and the covered walkway outside. The rain tonight was cold, bringing with it a mist that covered the grounds of the courtyard. Arthur never liked when the weather would get so dreary like this, unlike Lancelot. The darker hedgehog knew he would sleep well tonight.
The pair entered the study behind the throne room, and Arthur waved for a servant to come over, "Fetch that spiced honey mead down in the cellar, one goblet for both of us. The one I like." Lancelot had noticed the other had stopped saying 'please' some time ago. But with him being king, it's not like he really needed such humbling words anymore.
Arthur turned to his knight once the servant left towards the cellars. "Seemed like you had something you needed to say. What's on your mind?"
Lancelot's eyes lowered slightly as he thought of what to say. He remembered the odd expression Guinevere had in the banquet hall earlier, and thought about bringing it up with Arthur. But the last thing Lancelot wanted would be to worry his king. So instead, he decided it was best left unsaid. "I only wished to congratulate you. You seem to be in better spirits these past weeks, no doubt excited for your child's birth." He looked to Arthur again, now with a hint of a smile across his muzzle. "You never seemed the type to want children when we were young. I wondered what must have changed.” He paused, thinking about how to arrange his words appropriately. “Do you feel that you are ready?"
The king let out an amused puff of air through his nose at the comment. "Of course I’m ready!” Arthur held his usual confident posture and grin as he spoke. “But you're right, the idea of starting my own family was never something I thought about before becoming king. I liked being free from all of that." His eyes wandered around the well furnished room. "I suppose that after taking up the crown, a lot of things changed. Even now, I sometimes find it so strange that you and I were once sleeping in hollowed out trees and hiding from the authorities. Look at us now. King and knight of the realm, living in luxury and power!" He grinned, stopping only to take the goblet of mead handed over by his servant.
Lancelot took his own cup and smiled at Arthur. "It's only fitting that someone with a noble purpose like your own would have become king. But watching you change from a reckless child to a responsible king has been... Well, odd." He sipped his mead and cast a sly grin in Arthur's direction.
"Odd?" Arthur raised an eyebrow with a hint of his usual mischief in his eyes that Lancelot had known for years. "Just what are you trying to say?"
"Nothing." Lancelot shrugged and took another sip. "Only that the boy you once were would have never done things like sit at a table and sign papers for hours, or listen to his subjects rattle on about boring topics, and especially not take a wife." He didn’t mention that a younger Arthur would have never raised taxes or burned villages for not paying said dues. But there must have been some reason for that day many months ago. If only Lancelot could discover it...
Arthur barked out a laugh at Lancelot's comment and shook his head. "You're right. Everything that has come with the crown has been one annoyance after another. But not all of it is so bad. Documents only need a signature, people can only talk for so long, and Guinevere is as sweet as can be. She's going to give me a prince or princess soon, that's something to be happy for." He chuckled, then nudged Lancelot's arm. "And what about you? Surely some young lady has caught your attention by now?"
This question had come up in conversation a few times by now. Arthur always seemed to be under the impression that his knight must be terribly lonely without someone special in his life. Which was an incorrect assumption at this exact moment. Lancelot shook his head and took another sip of mead. "I'm afraid not. My focus is maintaining peace within your kingdom, not chasing maidens."
"Same answer as usual, hm?" Arthur chuffed, then reached over to pat Lancelot's shoulder. "Well, I suppose this sort of thing shouldn't be rushed since you don't have any obligations to produce heirs. But do not let good opportunities slip through your fingers so easily. Being my knight is your duty, but being happy is what I need to see from you. I don't want you to wake up someday and regret not doing something for yourself. You have to laugh more, enjoy everything that is good, live life ."
Lancelot studied the face of his king for a moment. He'd been given this sort of lecture from Arthur before, but the change from 'want' to 'need' was new. Over the years, Arthur had never voiced any needs outside of basic living requirements. Lancelot always saw his friend as selfless, never demanding, and willing to go with whatever anyone else wanted so long as he could have fun and find peace. So to hear him be so commanding over something as simple as Lancelot’s happiness… Well, it was strange. Lancelot decided this was not worth questioning, however, and nodded solemnly. "I will do what I can to live a happy life, if that is what you would wish for me."
Arthur nodded, apparently pleased with Lancelot's answer. "That's what I like to hear."
"Sire?" A calm voice spoke up from the door leading to the tower and kitchens.
Lancelot and Arthur turned to see who was asking for the king's attention. The maid Olwen smiled sweetly and entered the room, bowing her head and tucking her long ears behind her head before they could fall. "The queen looks to be delivering your child tonight, earlier than we expected. She is requesting your presence."
Arthur's ears perked at the news and he hurriedly set down his unfinished goblet on a nearby table. "That's wonderful news! I'll be up right away!" He turned to Lancelot with an excited grin on his face while Olwen left. "Lance, come with me. I want you to be at my side when I see my first child."
Lancelot was not one to deny whatever his king requested, but he felt hesitant. "I—I shouldn't. Other men are not allowed in—"
"I said I want you at my side, and at my side is where you will stand." Arthur grumbled, then reached out to take Lancelot's arm once again to lead him through the hall and up the stairs.
A small library high in the tower had been repurposed for Guinevere's delivery, and was now closed off from the hall with heavy drapes to maintain privacy. Several maids were entering and leaving with various supplies like cloth, warm water, and tinctures to help aid delivery. Arthur and Lancelot stopped on the stairs to wait for permission to enter.
Olwen trotted over to greet them again, then glanced at the knight at the king's side. "I am afraid the queen has requested that only her husband be present at this time. But you may be permitted to join us after the delivery."
The king didn’t look pleased at this roadblock. He let out a derisive huff, giving the maid a stern glare. “I have asked Lancelot to accompany me for my child’s birth. He is coming inside with me.”
Very few people in Arthur’s kingdom would ever dare to defy his wishes. Olwen was one of them. “I apologize,” she said, unapologetically, “But I must insist that we have as few men in here as possible unless the queen allows it herself. This is a delicate time, everything must be safe and welcoming for your heir.”
Arthur growled quietly. Lancelot glanced over at him, shocked to see Arthur’s fists clenched, and his quills bristling. For a tense moment, Lancelot worried that Arthur was about to strike Olwen. But then the moment passed. Arthur relaxed his quills, and he let out a sigh.
“Fine then,” Arthur said. He turned to Lancelot and held up a hand. “Just wait here. I will call for you.”
The king followed Olwen through the drapes, leaving Lancelot alone on the stairs. He leaned against the wall and watched out the thin window to the grounds outside. He could only see the few trees close to the tower through the darkness and the rain softly falling on the windowpane. With little to occupy his mind, Lancelot crossed his arms and closed his eyes. He had been known on occasion to fall into a light slumber while standing upright, and soon he was snoring quietly with his head tilted down as maids passed by with more supplies for the queen.
The hours passed quickly with all the hurried excitement in the tower. Other servants with overnight duties had gathered at the bottom of the stairs, eager to catch a glimpse of their new prince or princess when the time would come. Lancelot had been offered a chair to sit in by the room, and had curled onto his side to doze while he waited patiently for Arthur to either summon or dismiss him.
He was awoken by a sharp cry in the hours after midnight, and turned to stand just as Arthur poked his head out from behind the curtain.
"Lance, it's almost here, come on!"
Lancelot followed Arthur into the room, immediately noting how it was almost oppressively warm inside. Olwen and her mother were crouched at the foot of the bed Guinevere was propped up on, both giving her gentle encouragement as another maid cleared sweat from the queen's brow.
Arthur and Lancelot stood nearby, close enough for Guinevere to see them and off to the side to keep her privacy. The queen turned to look, eyelids heavy with exhaustion, but a glimmer of happiness in her expression. "Oh, you've brought Sir Lancelot too..." she said. Like in the banquet hall, her eyes were brimming with worry when she met Lancelot's gaze. Again, the knight wondered what must be wrong.
While Guinevere struggled through her labor, Arthur and Lancelot patiently waited close by. Arthur eventually moved to crouch beside the bed when Guinevere was close, holding her hand when she requested. Lancelot knew Arthur was not the type to hold anyone's hand unless dragging someone around for an adventure, so to see him extending a kind gesture was comforting to witness.
Through Guinevere's efforts and the quiet words from the maids, a small high-pitched whine was suddenly heard at the foot of the bed. There was a rush of women bringing towels and warm water, and Guinevere sank back against the pillows she had been propped against. Arthur saw a glimpse of the crying newborn before it was obscured by maids quickly working to clean, then looked back to the queen and raised her hand to quickly kiss the top. "Excellent work Guin."
Lancelot smiled as he watched Arthur give Guinevere a comforting touch. He was curious to see if she was alright, but hushed voices from the ladies caught his attention. Olwen happened to glance over to the knight, and their eyes met for just a moment. Lancelot did not like the concerned expression she gave him.
Once Arthur was sure Guinevere was fine, he got up to greet the maids, "So, do I have a new prince this morning? Let me see the little one." His head tilted curiously when the women all exchanged a worried expression between themselves. Olwen stepped forward to present the newborn hoglet, now cleaned and crying for Arthur to see.
"It is a girl..." Olwen said.
Lancelot watched as Arthur began to quietly study the newborn. He expected his friend to be more excited over his new heir, but the king was uncharacteristically silent. Arthur turned, and walked over to Lancelot.
The knight looked curiously at the little one as Arthur approached, excited to see who she took after in coloration. He looked up at Arthur to give him an encouraging smile. But Arthur’s face didn’t have a trace of mirth in it. Instead, his eyes were like daggers, sharp and threatening. Something was wrong.
Arthur held the hoglet up for Lancelot to see. "What is this?"
The question hung in the air as the baby wailed. Lancelot studied the little one. It only took a moment for him to realize what he was supposed to find. The dark coloration, peculiar markings... A memory resurfaced in Lancelot's mind, one that had been up until now clouded by his consciousness trying to forget the taste of too much wine and a gentle touch many months ago. Guinevere lying on a table in the cellar, her lips on his cheek, Lancelot's hand delicately moving her leg to the side...
Lancelot couldn't answer his king's question, but his quickening breath and wide eyes were confession enough.
Arthur’s face was stone. "I see."
Arthur held the baby closer to him again, giving her one more glance before returning to the bed to hand the hoglet over to Guinevere. Once the queen saw what everyone else in the room was already aware of, tears filled her eyes, and she began to sob.
Nobody spoke. This child was not the product of the king and queen's union. All eyes were on Arthur and Lancelot. What was once a warm welcoming room for a baby was quickly becoming cold and tense. Arthur stood quietly by the bed, watching Guinevere cry over the newborn in her arms. Lancelot watched Arthur’s quills begin to bristle. He knew something needed to be said, but a delivery room was not the best place for such a conversation. Lancelot took a step towards the exit.
That was a mistake.
Arthur barreled into Lancelot and shoved him back against a set of shelves, sending books and scrolls cascading down to the floor.
"How could you do this to me!?"
"I didn’t—"
Arthur's fist collided with Lancelot's cheek, sending the knight falling to the side and through the curtain separating the room from the hall. Lancelot scrambled to get himself untangled from the drapery and caught the sound of Guinevere shouting for Arthur to stop while the newborn began to wail louder.
"My king please! Let me explain!"
"What is there to explain!?" Arthur tackled Lancelot to the floor and grabbed his shirt with one hand to hold him place, sending another strong blow to Lancelot's face and catching his left eye. "You're a goddamn traitor!"
"No! No, I would never betray you!" Lancelot took hit after hit, trying to get out from under Arthur's attack until they were nearly at the stairs leading back down the tower. In a panic, he frantically reached up to push Arthur off. His arm slipped, and his claws caught Arthur's face.
The king cried out and leaned back, clutching his face as blood trickled between his fingers and down his muzzle. He pulled his hand away for a moment and studied the blood, then looked down at Lancelot in shock. "You struck me."
"I—I didn't mean to..." Lancelot struggled to catch his breath, just as stunned as Arthur was. By now, the crowd at the bottom of the stairs were peeking around the corners to see what the commotion was. The maids were doing what they could to keep Guinevere and the baby calm, but their cries cut the silence between the king and the knight.
Arthur's expression went cold, and he quickly reached out to once again pin Lancelot down. This time, his hand closed around Lancelot's neck and bent it back over the edge of the landing. Lancelot gasped for air, hands desperately clawing at the sleeves of Arthur's shirt, legs kicking pitifully as he struggled.
"Arthur, stop! This is not his fault!"
Despite the pleas from the maids, Guinevere had found the strength to stand and force her way out of the room. Hastily wrapped in a blanket, she stumbled out on shaky legs, desperate to stop the violence. She held the baby in one hand, and used the other to prop herself against the wall before speaking. "P-Please, Arthur... Don't kill him!"
Arthur kept his glare set on Lancelot. "This vermin defiled you and betrayed me!"
"He didn't do it!" Guinevere choked out a sob and nearly collapsed before a maid caught her. "I—I am to blame."
Arthur's hands slowly loosened their hold on Lancelot's neck, leaving the darker hedgehog coughing loudly. He turned to stare at the queen, not saying a word as Lancelot caught his breath.
"I tempted Sir Lancelot. I'm the one who is at fault here. I shouldn't—I'm so sorry Arthur..." Unable to hold herself up any longer, Guinevere fell into the maid's arms and broke down into a fit of sobs.
Lancelot propped himself up and stared at Guinevere with tears in his eyes. Not for her admission of guilt, but because it wasn't the truth at all. Though his memory was clouded by the wine that night, he remembered quite plainly that he'd been the one who offered a comforting touch and soothing company to ease her troubled heart. He had not done it as an act of betrayal, it was a mistake brought on by warped judgment and loneliness. But it was still wrong. He should have had the mental fortitude to resist the urge.
Arthur stood and walked to Guinevere, his expression now more solemn. "You have embarrassed me like this, seduced my best friend like some common whore, betrayed me ..." His hand clenched into a fist, trembling as he held it at his side. Guinevere tensed, waiting for the same treatment he'd been handing out to Lancelot only moments ago. But it never came. Instead, Arthur sighed and looked away.
"I will grant you mercy from this guilt,” Arthur said.
Guinevere let out a sigh of relief.
“You are to be hanged before the sun rises this morning."
A wave of shocked gasps rippled through the tower as everyone present heard the order. Lancelot struggled to right himself and stumbled to Arthur as he begged hoarsely. "M-my king please, have mercy on her! You can't do this, Arthur—"
"Do not call me by that name ever again!” Arthur spat. “And do not question my orders." Arthur's eyes met Lancelot's pleading expression with a fierce glare. By now, a small group of castle guards had made their way up the stairs in response to the commotion, and now waited to see what orders they would be given. Arthur looked past Lancelot and nodded to them. "Take this disgraced 'knight' to the dungeons. Keep him locked up until I decide what to do with him. Guinevere is to be taken to the gallows immediately."
As the guards restrained the knight and queen, Olwen emerged from the room and took the now quieted hoglet from Guinevere before she was restrained. "Milord, what of the princess? She needs—"
"That thing is not a princess!" Arthur shouted at Olwen, quills bristling with rage. "She isn't any more noble than the dirt in the stables, and belongs to no one !" For a moment, it looked like he was ready to send the child to the same fate as Guinevere. The newborn hiccupped and started to quietly whine from hearing Arthur raise his voice, catching his attention. His expression flickered, caught somewhere between rage and pity. The hesitation gave him time to see Lancelot’s face before he was escorted down the stairs. Through the tears, Lancelot's eyes silently pleaded with Arthur, begging without words to spare the child. But he was ushered away before he had the chance to see what Arthur's decision was.
Both Lancelot and Guinevere were escorted through the study and into the covered walkway that led back to the banquet hall. The knight wrenched his hands from the guards and reached out to grab Guinevere's arm. "Why did you do it!? Why did you tell him that?"
The pink hedgehog could barely stand, too weak from the delivery and the stress that followed. She looked up towards Lancelot, her eyes brimming with tears. "We have all been friends since we were children. I see the kind and gentle person you are inside. But Arthur... Something has changed in him, I know you can see it. If anyone can protect that child from whatever rage has awakened in him, it's you."
"Milady please , this isn't fair to you..."
"I'm sorry Lancelot,” she said as one of the guards pulled her away, “Truly I am." She was taken down the path leading to the noose, leaving Lancelot to shout his defiance into the night as he was dragged down to the cold dungeons.
—
In the following days, the knight fell quiet from the heartache. When a physician arrived to carry out Arthur’s orders to ensure Lancelot would never produce a child again, he hardly put up a struggle. Though it was not a pain inflicted by Arthur himself, the king’s intent was deeply felt. It was a fitting punishment for what he’d done, and Lancelot accepted this shame and loss of future family. He spent days agonizing over his mistakes, filled with dread concerning his new daughter's fate while he constantly begged the guards for news to no avail.
Arthur made his decision known to Lancelot after a week had passed, albeit indirectly. Early in the morning, Lancelot was awakened by the sounds of conversation in the hall leading to the cellars. He could hear Arthur loudly talking to someone about what happened in the tower a week prior. Lancelot scrambled out of his cot made of hastily placed straw and cloth to peer out through the iron bars, and spotted half of Arthur's face around the corner.
The king now boasted a pair of still-fresh claw marks between his eyes that trailed to his muzzle. The scabbard that once held Arthur’s holy sword Excalibur kept him safe from death, and even prevented scarring. But since it had not been present during the attack, Lancelot’s claw marks would remain. Lancelot noticed that the king now carried the scabbard at his side, looped into a holster at his belt. He no longer carried Excalibur: According to Arthur, he had destroyed it a year prior, preferring to rule without its powers. In its place, a new sword was housed in the sheath, completing the look.
Lancelot watched, listening intently to each word Arthur spoke. Yes, Arthur was recounting what had transpired that night, but as Lancelot listened, he realized certain details were omitted or exaggerated. On Arthur’s telling, Lancelot had attacked Arthur first, not the other way around. Lancelot was astounded. Arthur was terrible at lying. And yet, as Arthur continued his tale, explaining how he had heroically prevented Lancelot from going on a rampage, Lancelot almost believed him. It certainly sounded like Arthur did. When he described how he’d had Guinevere hanged for her treachery, Lancelot could barely stand to listen.
"And what about the kid?" Gawain's voice.
"I heard both the queen and baby had died in childbirth." Percival. "I understand the political reasons for lying about the queen, but the little one..."
Lancelot closed his eyes, readying himself for the worst. He tilted his head to point one ear towards the hall. He had to know.
"I decided to let it live."
Lancelot’s eyes snapped open. Arthur's words were spoken loudly, clearly intended for Lancelot to hear. He should have wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but something was off. He looked back at the prison entrance to see Arthur now staring directly at him with his face half hidden by the door frame. A cruel smirk dragged across his muzzle. Lancelot's ears tilted backwards anxiously.
"Keeping his bastard child alive will aid in the lessons I have planned. Lancelot needs to be reminded of his weakness, learn control, and understand that going against my rule is worthy of punishments worse than death.”
“I want to see how his new daughter can play a role in it."
I do not understand what has happened to my friend. He was never so cruel n the past. Never this vicious. The Arthur I knew as a child would have never hurt anyone unless it was his only option for peace. And even then, he would not kill like he has now.
He claims to teach me a lesson for my crime, and I can only hope that Marian will be spared whatever anguish he has planned for me. Whatever pain he wants to deal on her, I swear I will unleash it ten and twenty times greater on myself instead.
She will not suffer for my mistakes.