Up, up, up he went, to the place where Guinevere and her women had spent so many hours, just the four of them.This was their space, to talk and relax while they sewed, wrote, knit, and so forth, away from the stresses of the court.Iseult had often played for them, sitting at her favorite harp rather than the ornate one she used to play for the court.
Unfortunately, the door at the top was sealed, both by heavy-duty lock and magic.Getting water up here to buffet the door would take too long and require too much energy.There wasn't enough room to break the door the old-fashioned way, and it was far too heavy to do that without special equipment anyway.
Fire would get through, but the only fire magic he had to hand was his prisoner.He didn't have the time to go get one of the others, and they were busy anyway.Think, damn it.
Throwing Tristan to the ground, Lancelot then heaved him upright and shoved him up against the door."Open it, Tristan.Get us through this door, or after I've done it myself, I'll kill Iseult slowly in front of you.Not as some brave hero protecting his beloved, but a worthless loser who couldn't keep her safe.Exactly the way you always knew you'd die.Open it."
Tristan glared at him with the kind of hate he'd reserved for everyone who said a single cruel word to or about Iseult.A kind of hate he'd never show Lancelot normally.It was all the collar's doing.He knew that.
It still hurt, just like it hurt to fight Galehaut, to threaten Iseult, who had always been like a little sister to him.
Screaming, he threw another punch, slamming into Tristan's stomach."Is that what you want?To lie there like a fucking coward while I break into this room and kill your beloved because you're too pathetic to save her?Open the door!It's the only chance you'll get to save her before I kill her."
Tristan screamed, loud even through the gag, and fire erupted all around them, searingly painful where it touched skin and reduced his clothing to ashes—but it destroyed the door too, in shockingly fast time, given it was thick slabs of hardwood.But that was fire magic for you.
Using what little moisture he could easily pull from around them to quench the worst of the heat, he busted the door down entirely and heaved Tristan through it.
The whole time, Iseult continued to play, as though completely unaware of her surroundings.This close to her, it was easy to see that was true.Whatever puppet spell was on the others was infinitely worse on Iseult…
Because she was possibly the puppet master by proxy.Or… the controls being used by the puppet master.Maleagant, or Ethelfleda maybe.Iseult had earth magic, of the persuasive type, though of the grow roses in winter variety instead of Merlin's carnal magic.Clearly it could be converted to more insidious use.
He dumped poor Tristan on the floor once more, making mental notes on how he could apologize for the mistreatment, and approached Iseult.Slowly, so slowly, he reached out to gently rest a hand on her shoulder.
Her head snapped up, revealing eyes that were black all the way through, alien and alarming, nothing at all like the deep forest green that so many young knights at court had loved to write poems about in futile attempts to become her new true love.Now just an alarming black void.
Throughout, she still played, like her arms were on marionette strings.There was blood everywhere—covering her hands, splashed across her dress and face.There was even blood in her beautiful, impossibly long hair that she'd always been so proud of, a rich, gold-toned brown color that shone like pure gold when the light caught it.Some of the blood was old, some was recent, some was fresh.She probably smelled awful, but all Lancelot could currently smell was his own scorched flesh and hot metal."Iseult!Stop!"
She just kept playing, as though she could not hear him, was not even aware of him, though those black eyes stared right at him.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Lancelot said.He didn't have the craft or skill to overcome Maleagant's terrible magic the slow and careful way.
Drawing his sword, he reached out and grabbed her collar, thicker and wider than those the others wore, a sickly sort of white instead of black.
That finally broke her playing, as she snarled and grabbed at him, nails digging into his skin, slicing through it and going deep.Lancelot ignored her, instead summoning all of his strength and willpower."Lady Iseult of Camelot, your king bids you remember where you swore your true allegiance."She screamed and yanked her nails from his hand to go for his face instead, succeeding in scratching the right cheek open before he punched her, knocking her over.Straddling her chest, one more thing he hated himself for, he retrieved his sword and sank the tip of it into the heavy collar."Lady Iseult, in the name of the king, I beseech you remember who you are and disavow this black magic.In the name of my mother, the Queen of the Waters, I repel your foul magic!"He screamed as he poured everything he had, everything he was, into the black magic sunk into the collar, into the spell.He channeled the power of crushing waves, of cyclones that could raze civilizations, of devastating flash floods and raging rivers that swept away cities leaving no trace they ever were.Of the cold dark deep that the surface would never see and couldn't comprehend anyway, where his mother and her kingdom ruled and protected the oldest, most powerful element in the world.
His vision went spotty, then black, as Iseult's scream deafened his own.Before he passed out, haunted, pain-hazed green eyes stared back at him, and he was so veryveryfucking tired of passing out.
When he woke, everything hurt, especially his fucking head, and he was right where he'd passed out.This time, though, he wasn't alone.Tristan and Iseult were there, no longer collared, fully aware, and looking as miserable as he felt."How long was I…"
"Just a few minutes," Iseult said."I managed to heal you a bit, though it's not really my thing.Here, drink this.It's just water, but you need that more than most, and literally everything needs it to live."
Lancelot managed a weak laugh."It's true I could really use a good, long rest at the bottom of a lake, but I'll happily take what I can get.I'm sorry for hurting you both."
Iseult scoffed."You did what you had to in order to save us, Lancelot.I like to think we are sensible and grateful enough not to quibble about the details."
"Forgot how hard you can hit when you really get going, you bastard," Tristan said cheerfully.
Lancelot smiled faintly."That's still Captain Bastard to you."
"Come on, now that you're awake, we need to get downstairs and back to the others."He dropped his head."I'm sorry he was able to take me.I swear, I fought as hard as I could."
Cupping his face, rubbing away a spot of blood, Lancelot then pressed their foreheads together."Of course you did.That was never in doubt.You are not to blame for being a victim.Do not do that.Put the blame squarely on Maleagant."Withdrawing, he turned to Iseult."Milady, are you well?"
"Been better, but somehow, I've also been worse," she said with a crooked smile.
"Suppose you have," he replied."Come on, let's get moving.I need to know how the fight with the others went."If maybe, somehow, someway, they'd freed Galehaut.He wasn't getting his hopes up…much…
Going down was a much slower affair than going up, but they each managed to do it under their own power with only a couple of stumbles that thankfully only resulted in bruising and no breaks.What a pain in the ass a broken leg or arm would be right now.
