Accolon

Accolon was glad to be returning to Camelot. He had spent the last fortnight riding from his estates in the country back to the castle on Arthur’s order. The Knights were needed, as there was rumor of conflict and violence coming to the city.

The trumpeter called, “His lordship and Knight, Sir Accolon!”

The court turned as one to watch the arrival of the newest Knight. He stepped through the heavy oaken doors as if he owned the room, and only when his gaze landed on the King and Queen on the far side of the hall did he adopt a properly solemn and subservient attitude. His eyes slid to the Queen’s right and landed on the gorgeous girl who sat on a purple cushion. She had a slight figure discernable even under the heavy gowns required by Court. Her dark, thick hair was left unbound and spilled in waves to the floor, telling him she was yet an unmarried maiden. Her deep décolletage told him that she wasn’t quite the innocent her years showed her to be. Court may be much more interesting this Season with this creature in attendance.

Morganna was aware of Accolon’s eyes on her, yet she could not look away, though she knew she should. He was by far the most glorious creature she had ever seen. From her station at Guinevere’s side, as her First Lady in Waiting, she could watch him openly as he came to pay his respects to her half-brother, King Arthur. As he strode up the length of the Great Hall, his dusty black boots made sharp, confident slaps against the smooth stone. With each step closer, Morganna’s breath became shallower. Something about the way his dark hair gleamed in the fire light of the candelabra and chandeliers, in the way his broad shoulders and strong arms filled out the moss green tunic he wore, made her feel silly and feminine and girlish.

It had been a great many decades since she was a girl, though to those in Court, she appeared to be a maiden of seventeen. This was but one of the miracles the Maker had made on her behalf. He had also made her human; a reward for great services she had provided in the name of Good. To be made mortal was the greatest honor one of the Fey could have bestowed upon her, for that meant that in time her Earthly body would perish, and her spirit, her soul, would be allowed to return Home. It also meant that she had all these feelings in her now-mortal body that she did not know what to do with.

Casting a sideways glance at her Mistress and catching her bemused smile, Morganna lowered her chin and peered up through her thick lashes to continue her perusal of the Knight. His thighs strained against the fabric of his slate-colored trousers as he knelt before the dais and bid his sovereign good day.

When he spoke, Morganna felt light-headed. His voice was like nothing she had encountered before. It slid through his lips like the finest wine, and it was just as smooth. Just the timbre of his tone set her blood afire.

When Accolon was bid to rise, she saw he was tall, a full head taller than she. His eyes were hard and proud. The king made a witty remark, and a chuckle rippled through the Court. Morganna’s breath caught in her throat when Accolon smiled. She saw his face transform from serious Knight to kind, warm man. Deep laugh lines circled his mouth, and when his eyes crinkled with mirth, it was all Morganna could do to keep herself from giggling like a child.

Guinevere looked at her Lady with amusement. “Accolon,” she said softly, “as you are just returned from travels, you must be in need of rest. Please allow Lady Morganna to escort you to a chamber where you may do so.”

Morganna nearly gasped in horror as her skin flushed. Surely her Queen did not just suggest they wander the halls of the castle alone?

As if she had spoken the words aloud, Guinevere added, “Tristan will accompany you.”

Morganna blushed harder. Tristan was the youngest page at Court, and quite incompetent. He got distracted at the slightest noise, scent, or sight, and would be all but useless as a chaperone. Shakily, Morganna stood. “As you wish, your Majesty,” she said. She carefully descended the steps of the dais to stand before Accolon. Next to him, she felt slight and small, and wonderfully in need of his protection. She made a deep curtsey. “Sir Knight, if you would allow me the honor...”

Accolon cocked an arm and an eyebrow. “The honor is all mine, milady.” His eyes darkened when Morganna’s hand touched his sleeve, and Morganna felt sure that he could hear the pounding of her heart. With a final “By your leave,” to the King and Queen, Accolon and Morganna took three steps backwards before turning and leaving the Hall, Tristan scampering behind them to keep up.

“What was that about, my heart?” Arthur leaned down to whisper in Guinevere’s ear.

“I saw an opportunity to match,” Guinevere answered, turning her head so her breath tickled her husband’s ear. “Did you not see how Accolon could not tear his gaze away from Morganna? She was the same.”

“My dove, you are utterly wicked in sending Tristan with them,” Arthur laughed softly. “He is naught but a puppy who will surely curl up in a sunbeam and forget his duties as chaperone.”

Guinevere smiled a knowing smile, and sat back in her throne. “I know,” she said. This knight was the first Morganna took an interest in since meeting Lancelot. And since Lancelot was Guinevere’s own personal favorite, it made sense to try to redirect the younger woman’s attentions.

Lancelot was the first and greatest of Arthur's legendary knights. His birth parents, King Ban and Queen Elaine, were forced to flee from their besieged castle in Brittany. Mortally wounded, Ban turned to gaze upon his home one last time; his dying heart breaking to see his castle in flames. The King sank to the damp earth, and Queen Elaine laid her baby son Lancelot on the ground in order to tend her husband. Vivian, the Lady of the Lake, picked up the baby and plunged with him into the waters of the Lake.

Lancelot never saw his true mother again, remaining in the palace of the Lady of the Lake until he was eighteen. At that time, Vivian herself brought him to King Arthur's court. Struck by his courage and feats of arms, King Arthur made him his friend and confidant, but no sooner had Lancelot beheld Queen Guinevere, then he fell deeply in love with her.

Guinevere was falling in love with Lancelot, and though she wouldn’t (yet) act on that feeling, she did not want the young and beautiful Morganna taking his attention from her. Accolon was the perfect solution to her problem. The Queen turned her attention back to her husband. “Should I have sent a different chaperone?”

“No, my pet,” Arthur chuckled. “Accolon will no doubt thank you for your choice.”

In the passage outside the Great Hall, Morganna asked polite questions of Accolon about his travels. She noticed his eyes, deep brown pools that were animated even though his countenance was not. She slid a glance behind her and giggled. Tristan was running a hand along a tapestry hung on the wall. It looked like he was counting the fringes on the end of it.

Morganna looked with amusement to Accolon, who had also noticed the page’s inattention. He took the opportunity to steal a kiss; a light brushing of his lips on hers. Accolon was facing forward and calling for Tristan to keep up before Morganna could finish processing what had just happened. She could hear her heart racing and feel the blood running through her veins – sensations she had not experienced in her Fey form. The slight flush of heat in her cheeks was nothing new, but the tightening low in her belly that went with it was.

While she analyzed these new sensations, they continued slowly up the damp hall. When they stopped outside a chamber door, Morganna gracefully disengaged herself from Accolon’s arm. “Here are your rooms, m’lord,” she said shakily, dropping another curtsey. “If there is anything you require, you have but to ask Tristan and it shall be done.”

Accolon chuckled and leaned closer to her so nobody else would hear his words. “And what if all that I require is your company?” He took her hand and bowed over it, placing a firm kiss on her knuckles. “Thank you, Lady Morganna,” he said in his normal voice. He looked over her shoulder. “Tristan?” he called.

“Yes, m’lord,” he said, rushing over and bowing.

“I do not wish to be disturbed until the evening meal,” he said. “Please see to it that it is done.”

“Yes m’lord,” Tristan answered, looking around to see who could possibly be disturbing the Knight. He saw a portrait hanging down the hallway that he had not seen before, and made a mental note to check it out once Accolon was back in his chambers.

“And, Tristan,” Accolon continued.

“Yes, m’lord?”

“I would like Lady Morganna to dine with me this evening in my chamber. Please take my request to the Queen.”

“Yes, m’lord!” Tristan answered, and scurried off, leaving Morganna alone with Accolon.

“My Lord,” Morganna said, “surely this is improper at best.” She tried hard to be indignant, but the idea of spending the evening in his company, quite undisturbed, did not dismay her in the least. She was curious to explore the sensations he caused in her body.

“Perhaps,” Accolon agreed. “But as a Knight in Arthur’s court, surely your virtue is safe with me?” He raised a dark eyebrow and smiled at her, slight dimples forming in his cheeks.

“Of course, m’lord,” Morganna answered, dropping a curtsey.

The sound of pounding feet on the floor jerked them from their conversation. Tristan was running pell-mell toward them, smiling. “M’lord, m’lady,” Tristan said, bowing. “The Queen grants you her leave, and wishes only that you join her and the King for the entertainments after dining.”

“Of course,” Accolon said, and Tristan scurried away again.

They dined alone in Accolon’s chamber, and he sat close to her at the evening’s festivities after dinner. He danced with her once, and as he held her to him, she could feel his ardor through her heavy gown. Her soul sang and her heart smiled when she was with him; and she knew then, he was the one.

Over the next fortnight, Accolon courted Morganna openly, dancing with her and taking chaperoned walks in the gardens. Her heart was full of love, and she knew she wanted to give herself to this man completely. They plotted and schemed, and were to meet as lovers. Morganna was never so happy.

Her happiness was such that it did not escape the notice of her brother. Her jealous brother. Lucie (how he hated that infernal nickname) could FEEL her happiness and joy. It filled him with rage that his sister should know such happiness. He would not kill her, for then her soul would return Home. He must, however, destroy her. He must take her happiness from her. Lucie plotted, and soon dispatched several of his minions to the courts of Camelot.

Morganna came upon two of these minions as she was strolling in the formal garden. She overheard two silly girls whispering in the bushes about the sexual escapades of one of them. Intrigued, she sat on a bench and listened. The more she heard, the sadder she became. It seemed clear that these flippant creatures were speaking of Accolon. She refused to believe it at first, but the more she listened, the more convinced she became that they were speaking of her knight. The final remarks of one of the girls confirmed her suspicions.

“And that girl he’s been flouncing around with?” the shrill voice said. “I hear that she’s just another conquest for him. Once he has her, he will tire of her.”

“Oh, won’t that be amusing!” her partner exclaimed. “Do you see how she moons after him like a lovesick puppy? Stupid git. Guinevere only approved because Lancelot fancied the girl.”

At that, Morganna fled the gardens, hoping to seek out her Queen. Though she was several social strata below the Queen, the two women had become friends, and Morganna desperately wanted Guinevere’s advice. She more desperately wanted to prove these gossips wrong.

Lucie smiled.

Two other minions were dispatched to the stables, where Accolon was grooming his horse. Like all knights, he preferred to care for his steed himself; it built trust with the animal, and the Accolon would know intimately every snicker and whinny of his trusty mount. Two groomsmen, working on other horses, were talking about a maid who had fallen out of favor with the king, and was to be banished.

Accolon was surprised, as he knew Arthur to be a strict but fair king. He couldn’t imagine what a mere maid could do that would earn her banishment. He listened carefully to their talk, incredulity creeping over his features. It sounded as if the two were discussing Morganna! From what they were saying, it was the Queen who wanted her gone, something to do with an affair the Queen was starting with one of his fellow knights who had an interest in Morganna. The groomsmen said that in a fit of jealous pique, the Queen demanded Morganna be run from court.

He was seething at this blasphemy – how dare they accuse the Queen of such things! – and ached to haul the two men to answer to the king. But he was more concerned with the kernel of jealousy he felt. Did Morganna really fancy this other knight? Was she really being cast out of court?

Determined to learn the truth, he quickly finished with his horse, and strode to the castle. He would have a word with the king. He found the king alone in the great hall.

“I hear some disturbing news, your majesty,” he began.

“Indeed, Accolon?” Arthur had heard rumblings of Mordred wanting to rule Camelot, and planning some sort of attack. “Is it Mordred?”

“Nothing so deadly, sire – though I have heard those rumors as well. No, this is of a somewhat more personal matter. It is being said that the Lady Morganna shall be made to leave Court.”

“I see,” Arthur said. “And who is making her leave?”

“You, my liege.” Accolon looked into the eyes of his king, though Arthur’s eyes betrayed nothing. Accolon could not tell if the rumors are true or not. This made him even angrier, and thoughtlessly, he lashed out. “It would appear that the Lady Morganna fancies a knight that the Queen has her eye on.”

Arthur saw red. Hand his sword, he spoke with all the authority and power of his title. “You will not blaspheme before me!” he bellowed. “This treason will not be tolerated, Sir Knight!”

Accolon put his hand to his own scabbard. “Do not draw against me, sire,” he said patiently. “I am twice the swordsman that you are, and I do not want to harm my king.”

Lucie laughed. This was going far better than he expected. He watched as the two men squared off against each other. If Accolon took care of Arthur for him, he wouldn’t have to do it, and he could bring his own special brand of hate and evil to the earth. He growled in frustration when the fight didn’t develop like he had hoped, but he did take some measure of satisfaction in watching his sister get in the middle of things and watched with glee when someone raised an alarm.

Mordred and his troops were descending upon the castle. Distracted by Accolon and Morganna, not to mention his wife, Arthur was distracted when the doors slammed open and Mordred stalked into the room. A great fight ensued, and both Accolon and Mordred were killed. Guinevere gasped when she saw her husband and king laying bleeding on the cold stone floor, Morganna poised above him. She was covered in his blood, and clutching his sword, Excalibur, to her chest.

Lancelot arrived at that moment, battered and bloody, and took in the scene before him. He condemned Morganna for her part in Arthur’s wounding, and he had her taken away from the castle. Morganna’s last view of Camelot was the Queen sobbing in the arms of her lover, Morganna’s own would-be lover dead at their feet.

Not long after that, the Elders called her back to Tír na nÓg to stand in judgment for her part of Arthur’s wounding. She was found guilty, and would have been recycled had she been Fey. As the Elders were discussing Morganna’s fate, Fiona stepped in and subtly wove a spell that redirected their thoughts, and they simply decided to strip Morganna of her mortality.

When Morganna's eyes returned their focus to her Sister, she saw Fiona staring at Richie, mouth agape.

"Sister, what's wrong?" Morganna said. "What did I miss?"

"The obvious reason why you are drawn to Richard. Look at him, Sister. Truly look at him."

Morganna scrutinized her sister's face, then turned to Richie. She looked at him, then made herself invisible to flit down and sit next to the pile of papers spread out in front of him. She looked into his face for a long time. Something on the page in front of him made Richie smile, and when his eyes crinkled and the dimples flashed, Morganna gave such a gasp of horror that Richie heard it.

"You say something, bro?" Richie asked.

"No, man," Jon said, distractedly.

Morganna zipped back to her sister. "By the Maker, you are right!" she exclaimed. "Richard does look like Accolon." Then Morganna groaned. "I certainly hope he does not betray me too."