Sir Roxas and the Lady of the Lake. ~2100 words. Inspired by Arthurian legend.
Brocéliande. There was a certain magic in the name of this place, and it lingered in the air and hovered near the oaks and beeches Roxas passed by on his steady mount Llamrei. Dappled light covered the ground beneath Llmarei’s hooves, and Roxas wiped the sweat from his brow. How long had he been riding through this enchanted forest?
Llamrei’s pace was slowing and her breathing was getting heavier, so Roxas dismounted and led her by the reins, searching for traces of water for her. A bubbling brook or steady pool would do just fine and give him the chance to refill his canteen, too.
After walking for a little while, he noticed the trees were growing thinner and the ground underneath him was sloping downwards. Then the sound of gentle waves lapping against the shore reached his ears, but they were different from the strong waves of the sea. A few moments later, his eyes confirmed what his ears had told him: before him was a lake full of dark blue water, and a hazy mist rose from its glassy surface.
This was perfect. Llamrei could drink to her heart’s content, he could restore his own water supply, and there were bound to be berries and roots nearby, as well as animals coming to drink at the lake that he could hunt. They could rest, too, once they’d had their fill of water and food.
“You thirsty?” Roxas asked Llamrei, and she nickered. “Well, you’re in luck. We found the perfect place.”
Roxas let Llamrei wade into the shallow water, and she lowered her head and began to drink. Satisfied that his horse was taken care of for now, he walked a little ways away from her, then kneeled and lowered a hand to the water. He was about to scoop up a sip when a young woman’s face appeared right beneath the surface of the water. Yelping, he staggered backwards and nearly tripped over his own two feet, and Llamrei lifted her head.
“Wh-What’s that? Who’s there?” he demanded. While it was possible he’d just stumbled on a corpse, this was said to be an enchanted forest, and it was just as likely that he’d found a fairy or a nymph or some other creature with a mischievous streak. Whether this creature would be cruel to him or kind to him depended largely on its own whims, and it was best if he stayed on his guard.
A light, airy laugh echoed all around him, and Llarmei’s ears flickered back and forth as she tried to figure out where the noise was coming from.
“You come to my lake and dare to ask who I am?” came a voice as if from far away. “You are quite bold, Sir… Sir…”
“Roxas. My name is Roxas,” Roxas said nervously. Being rude to a fairy was a bad idea, if his mother’s stories were to be believed. He peered into the water again, but her face was gone.
“Sir Roxas,” she said. “And what brings you here to my lake?”
“My horse Llamrei was thirsty, ma’am,” he said. “She needed water.”
“Well… a man who is kind to animals is a welcome guest to my abode,” the woman said at last.
Roxas relaxed. For now, at least, he was probably safe from any tricks. “And who might my gracious hostess be?” he asked, being careful to keep his voice polite.
“I am Naminé, the Lady of the Lake.”
“Lady Naminé,” Roxas said as he bowed his head, “thank you for letting me and my horse drink from your lake.”
He didn’t dare ask to see her again; that would be too bold. Instead he cautiously waded back in the water and drank, then refilled his canteen. As he was readjusting his pack, he thought he spotted a sword rising from the surface of the water a little ways away, grasped in a slender, delicate hand.
“Lady Naminé?” he called. “Is that you?”
“This sword is yours for the taking, if you so wish to take it,” came her singsong voice. “But if it pleases you to take it, you must promise to grant me one wish.”
With a gasp, he realized he recognized the weapon. It was Excalibur, his prized possession, his beloved sword. He had lost it in battle, and ever since, he hadn’t had the heart to duel wield anymore. He still had the beautiful Dyrnwyn with its white hilt and its blade that caught fire when wielded by anyone worthy, but it still wasn’t the same as having Excalibur. Excalibur was a weapon above all other weapons; forged in the furnaces of Avalon, the two chimeras on its hilt struck fear in the hearts of its wielder’s enemies. Using the sword greatly enhanced Roxas’s power and magic, and wearing its scabbard protected him from losing even a drop of blood.
“Please, I have to have it back,” he said as he waded deeper into the water, then hesitated. What if this was a trick? What if it was an illusion, and the Lady of the Lake would lure him deep into the water, then drag him underneath its surface and drown him?
“Don’t be afraid, Sir Roxas,” Lady Naminé said. “I will give it to you if you promise to grant me one wish.”
He hesitated again. “What wish is that, my lady?”
“I cannot tell you until you have agreed to my terms.”
“But how can I know if the terms are good if you won’t tell me?”
“You will have to trust me. You want your sword back, don’t you? All you have to do is say, ‘Yes, I will grant you your one wish,’ and Excalibur will be yours again.”
He didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, he wanted Excalibur back, more than anything. But on the other hand, he could be signing up for his own death, or for a fate worse than death, by agreeing to this. Legends abounded of people trapped in trees and towers and rocks for angering lovers or friends who turned out to be fairies or magicians or enchantresses.
“You promise you aren’t tricking me?” he said.
“I promise. You have my word.”
Roxas sighed and said, “Very well, Lady Naminé. I will grant you your wish in exchange for Excalibur.”
Something bumped against his leg, and he realized it was a small boat. He climbed inside and rowed to the middle of the lake, where Lady Naminé patiently held up Excalibur. He could make out her face underneath the water again, and it struck him that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her eyes were the same deep blue as the water, and her hair was like sunlight. Her dress swirled all around her, ebbing and flowing with the water to the point he couldn’t determine where it ended and the waves began.
He set the oars aside and reached over the edge of the boat. His hand rested over hers, and her hand wasn’t at all cold or wet like he was expecting. It was soft and warm, and he almost regretted the moment she let go of Excalibur, leaving the hilt grasped in his hand.
“Thank you,” he said, and she smiled. She looked more like an angel than an enchantress, which was what Roxas figured she was. Whatever her true nature though, Roxas was beginning to believe she really was on his side. He returned her smile, then fastened Excalibur’s scabbard to his waist. It felt good to have his trusty sword back, and now it was his turn to uphold his end of the bargain.
“Now, what is it you wish?” he asked.
Her smile faded, and a shadow came over her face. “When you are king, do not forget me. Do not forget the Lady in the Lake who restored Excalibur to your side.”
“Wait, I’m gonna be king?”
She nodded. “Yes, Sir Roxas, you will be king.”
“That’s all you want me to do? Remember you?”
That seemed easy enough. Surely there was some kind of catch to her request.
“It will be a harder task than you may think,” she admitted. “You will go on many adventures. You will meet people whose faces you remember better than mine. We may cease to recognize each other completely, in fact. But you must find me again.”
“And then what? What happens when I find you?”
“What the stars have decided for us from the moment we were born. Now go, and do not forget me.”
“I won’t,” he said. “I promise.”
She smiled, but her eyes were sad. “Oh, but you will. You will forget. You’ll forget my face. You’ll forget my voice. You’ll even forget my name.”
“No, I won’t!” he cried. “How could I ever forget a face as beautiful as yours?” He froze, and he knew a blush was creeping up his neck. Had he really just admitted he found her beautiful? That wasn’t the kind of thing he should be saying at all to her. Where had his manners gone?
“Beauty is fleeting, and memory is faulty,” she said sadly. “Many a man has promised to free me from this lake, only to forget me and abandon me.”
“You’re trapped here?” he said, his brow furrowing, and she nodded.
“An evil enchantress cursed me to remain here when I was just a child. Soon after I was born, it was foretold that my magic would be greater than hers, and she was jealous of me. She kidnapped me and trapped me here.”
“That’s awful,” Roxas said. How long had she been stuck here all alone?
“The only way to free me is to return for me,” she explained. “But everyone who meets me once leaves and never comes back. The only thing I can conclude is that they’ve all forgotten about me. They’ve all forgotten the promise they made.” She sighed deeply. “It must be the work of the evil enchantress. She wants me to be trapped here forever.”
“I won’t forget you, I swear,” Roxas said. “I’ll come back for you, I promise.”
“How can you be sure?” she said sadly.
Roxas thought for a moment. If magic really was involved, who was to say he wouldn’t forget her like all the others had? As he pondered the problem, his hand idled to the ring around his finger with his family’s crest, and that was when it struck him. He needed something to remember Naminé with, something that magic couldn’t mess with.
“Give me something of yours,” he told her. “Something to have and to hold. Memory may be fleeting, but if I have something to remember you by, it might be enough to resist the curse.”
She nodded and reached into the folds of her dress. A moment later, she lifted a handkerchief out of the water. Somehow, it was perfectly dry as she placed it in his hand. He noted with a great deal of pleasure that she left her hand in his for longer than was really necessary before shyly withdrawing it.
“See? This has your name embroidered on it,” he said as he carefully examined the handkerchief. “I’ll wear it next to my heart until we meet again.”
He could’ve sworn her cheeks turned pink, but it was a little hard to tell with the water between them.
“Thank you, Sir Roxas.”
“Please, just call me Roxas.”
Her cheeks got pinker. “Yes, Roxas. And please, call me Naminé.”
“Sure, Naminé.” He smiled and slipped the ring off his finger. “Please wear this for me until I return. You gave me something of yours, it’s only fair I give you something of mine.”
She lifted her left hand out of the water this time, and he slipped the ring on her ring finger, then kissed her hand. To his relief, she didn’t chide him for his bold gesture, and instead smiled and gently touched the ring once her hand was back underwater.
“Wait for me,” he said, and she looked up to meet his eyes. “I’ll come back for you when I’m king.”
“I know you will. Farewell for now, Roxas. We’ll see each other again soon.”
As he withdrew from the lake with Llamrei at his side and Naminé’s handkerchief next to his heart, he willed with all his heart to make his promise come true. He would return to Naminé, and when he did, he would make her his queen, if she would have him.
For that, no amount of magic or enchantment would ever stop him from returning.
This was written for Rokunami Day, for the prompt, “To have and to hold.” I’ve been wanting to do something related to Arthurian legend for KH for a while now, and I finally got to do that with this fic. I hope you all enjoyed!
A big thank you to @rapis-razuri who read over this fic for me. I really appreciate the support! And thank you to the Rokunami fandom for always being so caring and kind and supportive!
I’d also like to thank Canva and Pixabay for making this graphic possible. haha. My graphic design skills are a work in progress, but thanks to them I was able to put something together!
