This quest was like no other that I have ever taken. It was not a simple duel or a devastating battle but a play of deceit and mere sin over all. I was tricked by a women like most other Knights. My story didn't end in death as many do instead I must bear the quilt and sin of a man tricked by a women. This is not something easy to talk about for a Knight but how am I supposed to be an honorable Knight if I don't show honor in my death? 

    I know that my fellow Knights are trying to make me feel better about it by wearing the green it only reminds me of the cowardice way that I acted. The sympathy they are giving seems to make things worst. I should not be getting sympathy while so many fall to sin and never get up. Wha
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Oh what a wicked web we weave when we practice in deceit. I still look back in awe on the crafty black magic of Merlin, and sit in shame, how he manipulated me to his own selfish ends. My love was reserved for one man, the Duke, and now I am sealed to the day I die to Uther, a Queen in a game of shadows bound by plots of wicked men. Uther’s lust and unquenchable desire to have me led the death of my one true love and the birth of my child, Arthur. My thoughts race when I think of who has been entrusted to rear this boy, what hand do I have in shaping him?

The plot of Merlin and Uther to deceive me speaks volumes to their character.  The thirst for power, obtaining it by any means necessary, is truly disgusting. These men are not honorable and deserve judgment.  I only hope that the child I birthed will not seek vengeance on the men that separated us. What power do I have in this court? My own fury will be my death, my only choice is to remain silent and honor the King, pretending that I am loyal and hold no ill will to my husband.

There are so many regrets that I have for my life and the life of the duke, I wish I never met Uther. I wish he never laid on eyes on me and I remained in Tintagel.  Although, my fate is sealed I do believe that I will have my revenge in one way or another.


With that last yell, my voice has cracked. No longer can I speak, and even if I did speak, there would be only two corpses to speak with. Two corpses that laugh in my face. They taunt me, mock me, make a fool out of me. Nothing grows in this tomb except for my own anger. Not for her, though. I find anger in my own lack of wisdom. How was I unable to see this trickery? Of course, I would not have. I should have seen the error of my ways. Should have known that I was far too old a man to be chasing after a young beauty like Viviane. She went along with my passions, though, because she was young and did not know what else to do. She could have said, "No! Merlin. No more! I will not have you at me like a sword impaled to a knights shield!"

I no longer think about the hours that pass in a day. If you would have me claw at the lid that covers me, you're in no such luck. I will no pound, nor will I try to kick. If anyone hears me, it will only be myself. For, there is no one who could lift this boulder off of me if they wanted to. Only she can do it. Viviane is the only one. And, I still believe that she will return to me, once she is wiser and older.
But no. I cannot believe that.
I've been in here so long that even my own tricks will not work against me. Thoughts leave the mind and bounce off of the walls, only to strike me where I lie.

The two lovers have spoken to me since. I've heard their whispers. I sometimes feel their cold breathe against my neck. If I open my eyes into the darkness, I see the whites of their eyes like four tiny crystal balls. Only the whites. There is no color or hue left in the dead. They stare back at me as blank as a parchment without ink. God has not placed His good will unto me. Satan must be laughing in hell. But, I cannot know. One of the two lovers has grabbed me since, forgetting that I was there. They were not so happy to find that someone was intruding on their love. Now they bite at my fingertips every chance they get.
"Stop! Stop!" I try to speak, but no words come out.
 It is as if my mind is locked within itself. I've forgotten colors and memories, never mind cast a spell. I've forgotten my King, and his court. All that remains is the face of my love. Vivi. She still holds a place near to me. I can still hear her voice and smell the lake on her clothes. Ah, what a beautiful lake we had together. Such a magnificent sight. That place was an oasis. I can never forget it. And all over again, these images of Vivianne come back. And all over again I am tormented.

There's not much more of me left. All words have been lost. There is no reason to anything anymore. Just Vivianne. Just her.

To my fellow members of the court: 

My beloved Tristan is no longer with us.  Tristan has died before me, and I can not hold myself together.  Tristan died for our precious love that we forever have held onto, and will continue to be together in the end.  I'd like to address the roundtable that my grief is to strong to withstand.  Tristan could not bare without the love of us together that he found another Ysolt.  But only it was the Ysolt of White Hands.  They did not share the love we had, the beauty   If i could only have been the one who had shared our love together.  As the queen, what shall I do?  How should I bear to live life without the knight I am supposed to be with?

I had left him alone all too long for which case I was not able to save him.  It's all my fault!  I could have been the one to save him and we could have lived a happy life together.  I must lay down with my beloved Tristan for good.  I can not leave him alone any longer.  It is all I know what to do now.


*(Like blogs #1-#2, Lanval is still daydreaming to himself and
waits at his hostel for Guinevere’s party)

To the Knights and Ladies;

 The religious festival, “Feast of Whitsun at Winchester” has
arrived and our illustrious Arthur has finished reviewing the past year with his
accountants, and on bridging those individuals’ discrepancies with the clergy. I
know of this festive celebration because I’ve attended many, and after, left
only with a smattering of the gala’s spiritual wealth. This year I expect
Lancelot will be the celebrity of the celebration. Sir Perceval and Galahad
should be receiving their accolades for noble actions too. At this festival,
Arthur shall again bestow his/ and the kingdoms gifts upon his Roundtable
Knights; moreover, and as usual the counts and barons shall also receive their
fair share. I hope that the event goes as well as it has in previous years, I
have a hunch it will.

 Again, I wait for the party and wonder about that merrymaking,
and how it will affect the Ideal of the
, myself. Although, mine treatment to date, then/ as now being
expressive of those with less, I’m still cheerful. I am hopeful things will
change. It has given me strength, and as a witness to past gift giving, the
festivals have bestowed awareness. I know if my intuitions are right, Arthur and
his (extra, ha-ha!) knights will be expecting me at this feast, to attend and
lift their gratuitous spirit with a story. It has been my providence to know
whence my presence is most desired by their company. Also, I still hope the
Roundtable Knights are not too curious about my past vows of poverty. My recent
display of kingly generosity most likely has brought their mind to that
otherwise less known secret. I must keep Arthur’s spirit alive; furthermore, let
none know too, of my newfound lady and her generous love. She will cease to be a
part of my life, if anyone finds out about her.
*(Gawain and his entourage converge on Lanval’s hostel, and beg
him to go to Guinevere’s party. Lanval finally arrives at the party.)           
You would have had to have been there to believe the amount of food, wine, and grog
that was being served at Guinevere’s party. In amount I cannot remember such
abundance at an occasion. The women were beautiful, and the other charged
Knights stoically waited for their favors. I ducked out, and kept a fair
distance from the festivities. A little later, and by chance Guinevere came over
and we talked; furthermore, and to the point about making love. I demanded she
let me go, and told her that I would not betray Arthur. I was later arrested for
propositioning the Queen, but realized it was for my knowing a fairer more
attractive women than her. I was finally overjoyed when my beloved (lady)
sauntered into court, because it was the prerequisite for my being freed from
protective custody. 
(After, Lanval reflects on the future King Arthur’s Court)

It all kind of fits and falls into place, my destiny it was inevitable, my arranged
meeting with the fairy lady too. Now, my strength in character comes from
knowing that what was most important in my life King Arthur, and being a Knight
has been battered, and it steers with the blustery weather towards a new quest
of recapture, one reminiscent of the true spirit of my younger