Lancelot still couldn't get over his non-existence. He hasn't been himself since he surrendered himself to Larry. He joked at times and continued to practice his swordsmanship with the empty crates in the garage, but most of the time he was silent, contemplative, and less clueless than he used to be, because deep down inside, he wasn't the first knight of the round table, but a fool.
Then Tilly introduced him to the wonderful world of Disney.
Disney movies were her "therapy" at times, so she thought that they'd lift Lancelot's spirits too. When Lancelot popped The Hunchback of Notre Dame into the VHS slot, he tried to remain unimpressed. But soon he couldn't fight a smile that tugged on his lips.
He stayed the whole night in that lounge watching the rest of the VHS tapes, to which Tilly fibbed to the Night Program visitors that he was "under refurbishment." After he had finished them all, he begged Tilly to buy him the sequels, which he loved, but which Tilly regarded as "'that shadowy place,' like in The Lion King."
Lancelot loved everything about Disney movies. The fact that they were hand-drawn, moving pictures created by humans instead of wizards ("Are you certain they weren't wizards, Lady Tilly?") already floored him. Color palettes and fluid movements entranced Lancelot's eye so much to make him believe that these settings and characters were real, so it was a disappointment when Tilly said they weren't. Nevertheless, Lancelot still enjoyed what each "new" movie would bring. The woodlands in Sleeping Beauty and Bambi reminded him of the times he would ride through Camelot's forests with the wind in his hair, searching for the next thief to halt, while the castles in Cinderella and Snow White made him recall the day he was finally knighted by King Arthur, after years of vigorous training. The characters reminded him of himself, both past and present. Gaston reminded Lancelot of how much he used to brag, inducing cringe, but it also reminded him of the days he would go out for a drink with the rest of King Arthur's knights, particularly during his big villain number. Phoebus really stood out to him, however - partially because he thought he looked the most like him out of all the other Disney characters (although Tilly suggested that him and Prince Adam could be twins, minus the ginger locks and clean-shaven-ness), and he was a knight of one sort, but mostly because of the chemistry between him and Esmeralda. It really mirrored the way he put all of his boastfulness aside because Guinevere's strength and beauty humbled him, once.
What really struck Lancelot, however, was the idea that peasants, even those who were undesirable or ugly, even, could marry princes and princesses. Lancelot had to wrestle with Guinevere's arranged marriage for years... Disney characters made it look so easy to marry for love instead of titles or riches.
But then again, those weren't real memories.
But Disney did not hold any real memories, either, Lancelot realized.
Although all seemed fairly familiar, the songs were new to him. When a character would start singing out of nowhere, Lancelot would question it, because from what he "remembers" only the fools and the musicians would sing in the King's court by his request, while the lords and ladies would sit and watch to their amusement. In a Disney movie, everyone would sing, even the princes and princesses who, in Camelot custom, had no time to, because they had to attend to their royal duties sooner or later. The songs were still enjoyable to him, though.
Of course, when the Walt Disney wing of the museum was announced to be, Lancelot was thrilled. Before the exhibit even opened, Lancelot - not the guests - was the first one to run into the Sword of the Stone painting. It was a grassy meadow with the castle in the distance, but it was close enough for Lancelot to ride on Trixie to. Since then, he would enter the painting to get away from his negativities and vent; he would imagine himself as a part of this magical kingdom. It might have been made-up like him, but he felt as if it was where he really belonged.
Now, he wouldn't just vent. He would musically vent. If Disney characters lashed out their feelings in song, then why couldn't he?
Lancelot was a fantastic singer. No one knew where he got that powerful baritone range from. Lancelot didn't think he was good, however, which is why he would go into the meadow by himself, check for any intruders, and sing. By then, he knew every Disney lyric by heart, so his go-to songs were "Out There" and "Evermore." But soon he would improvise, climbing the towers of the faraway castle and singing about Camelot, which appeared as nothing but a dream. A hopeful dream, nonetheless. He stole ("Borrowed, Lady Tilly. I borrowed it.") a lute from the castle and taught himself a few chords, his fingers mimicking a fool's hands on the instrument's neck when he'd put on a show for the King. He accompanied himself when he'd sing lilting ballads to himself, like "So This Is Love" and "If I Can't Love Her," imagining himself serenading Guinevere. An old hag named Mim noticed it gone when he returned, so he vowed not to enter that painting until she stopped caring about the instrument.
There was a windowsill overlooking the medieval wing, where Lancelot usually greeted guests. There was a space near the stained glass - enough space for Lancelot to sit, sing, and strum his lute from a height so high it would be assumed that no one could hear him from down there. It wasn't until he sang "One Song" when he realized he could be heard.
Ahkmenrah followed the soothing voice, winding throughout the museum's now-empty halls. It was polished, authoritative, and royal, so no wonder it led him to the medieval wing. But he didn't expect that voice to come out of Lancelot.
The young pharaoh called his name softer than he expected, but it startled the knight so much that it made him drop his lute. It suffered from a few cracks, but Lancelot only cared about it momentarily. He jumped from the windowsill onto the royal tile underneath the rotunda, clutching his dagger, ready to pull it out of his side. He couldn't remember the last time he was this defensive.
Ahkmenrah calmed Lancelot down, handing him his half-cracked lute. Lancelot let go of his dagger to hold the small string instrument in his arms. "You should sing more often, Lance," Ahkmenrah told him.
So, he did, but he started with baby steps. He would hum the melody of "A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes" under his breath when he walked through the halls with Ahkmenrah, who shied away to smile at his beautiful sound. Then his hums of "Once Upon a Dream" would materialize into mumbled words, still in Ahkmenrah's ear-shot. It took a while, but Lancelot was soon belting it out and showing off, breaking into song at the most random, impulsive moments. And Ahkmenrah would grin from ear to ear, because singing made Lancelot happy, and therefore, it gave Ahkmenrah joy.
Lancelot promised to show Ahkmenrah all of the Disney movies, and they'd even sneak out of the museum to catch a late-night showing of a live-action remake or the latest CGI-animated flick. (The pharaoh was bored out of his mind, but he kept awake for Lancelot's sake.)
Eventually, Lancelot returned to that meadow. He apologized to Mim and returned the lute, but, of course, Ahkmenrah would buy him a new one.
