The Third Wheel ~ Elaine's Tale
Title: The Third Wheel
Disclaimer: Joss owns the Buffy crew, Bruckheimer, Franzoni, & Fuqua own this incarnation of Arthur & his knights. I own the modernized names and situations, kinda.
Summary: Dawn’s not the only one to share a past history with her knights. The second time her heart‘s been made to break…
A/N: These are little vignettes into four of the Sarmatians’ ladies existence at the fort/Camelot/wherever the hell they all wind up. First was Willow’s back story, second was about Isolde‘s grief. Part three is Elaine’s psychotic break. And last part will be about Viviane.
Pairing: Buffy/Lanyon, stalker!Elaine & Lancelot. The Third Wheel
Buffy still wondered about that necklace and what it meant to her. Or, past
her. She’d had a lot of dreams over the years: prophetic dreams, slayer-tuned dreams, dreams of the slayer spirit. Bizarre dreams with cheese men. But not of a mirror-image her. Not the waking dreams of running through waist-high grass, chasing after a dark form that endlessly slipped through her grasp.
Not like the dream she’d just had. ~*~ Her hands fisted in her hair. She couldn’t stop the tears that consumed her whole. For years, she’d pined for him. Her love. Her Lancelot. He’d been within her grasp and it had been torture to wait for Morgana’s orders to find him and pull him close.
She didn’t even have a grave to mourn him at. He’d been burned, in the custom of their people. The way her father had been set to rest. She crouched beside a grave of one of the other Sarmatians in the darkness. He had been of Viviane’s tribe, and where he’d rested had been beside the scorched earth that Lancelot had lain.
Tears choked her throat as she tightened her grasp on the naked blade. Steel cut through thin flesh and blood dripped thickly over her fingers. Blood and ash forever mixed as she made her oath.
The blame for my loss falls three-fold, Elaine thought, her eyes going to the encampment below.
To the woman he died for, the ideal he strove for, and on the woman who denied me.
Guinevere, Arthur and Morgana. She would never find peace without Lancelot at her side. And in that moment she vowed that those three would never find their own piece. She vowed: on her blood and his ashes, that she would destroy all those who had destroyed her dreams. The leader, the lover, and her sister.
She never felt the spirit that coaxed her to give up her hate. Indeed, she was too deeply embittered in that moment to care for kindness. She forgot what brutal treatment had befallen her sister at the hands of the Romans. She ignored the still-healing scars on the woman Lancelot had died to protect for his brother. But she was not blind to the grief that Arthur still wore as a cloak around him at his brother’s death. She would latch onto that grief and make them all pay for her loss.
Her revenge would come from grief and bring nothing less in its wake. Briton would burn and she would dance in the ashes as it fell.
Buffy shook her head clear of the darkness. She felt dirty even thinking of that girl - that broken and dangerous girl who would destroy everything around her because her heart had been stolen from her. You never let it break you like that again
. She hadn’t. She’d fought - through Angel, Riley and Spike’s falls, she’d fought on. She’d been shaken up, but their losses had never torn her whole world down. But they never touched her as deeply as
The world couldn’t stand that kind of rage and grief a second time.