Captivated

Sometimes I wonder where I've been,
Who I am, Do I fit in.
Make believing' is hard alone,
Out here on my own.(C) Irene Cara

It had been a long night, and even though they had collected his father's books and had begun the journey back to Camelot he still felt hollow. Kay stared ahead as he and Leontes led the small band of men toward home. The books would bring more to Camelot; it would create more of a homey feeling, more family values. Merlin glanced at the sun, gauged the time. "We should be there soon." He informed the men. "Won't be long."

"I'd kill for a decent meal," Groused Kay. "A big hearty one. Leontes?"

"I just want to be back with my wife." Leontes confided with a smile. "Oh, to be in loving arms again."

"Please don't make me lose my breakfast," Gawain muttered.

"Were Gawain's arms not enough?" Kay asked grinning.

"You swore you wouldn't talk about that!" Gawain reached over to hit him, missing narrowly. Kay laughed shaking his head. "Kay, I'll kill you—while you sleep."

"That's if Bridget isn't there," Merlin tossed in. "Or was I mistaken?"

"You're not," Kay admitted. "However she has found heartier feelings of Rusty." His words were met with silence before Merlin broke it with his quiet words.

"There'll be another."

"What?"

"Just trust me." Merlin grinned wryly. "You can do that can't you?"

Kay smirked at him. "I've done it this long." Merlin agreed silently, and wondered if Kay would trust him to follow all that his visions had shown him. He knew she had arrived at Camelot the day they left, now three days later they were returning, and hopefully all was well.

0-0-0

The sound of swords crashing together reached the men as they entered the ruins. Frowning Gawain rode ahead to be beside Kay, he glanced at the king's brother. "We told them no training until we were back." The ex-knight told him. They dismounted handing their mounts off to the stable boys.

"Don't worry—" Merlin's words were ignored as the three men rushed forward into the courtyard. He rolled his eyes. "No one listens to me. Bloody fools." He joined them, though his bored expression was enough to say he did not care in the least for the scene in front of him. Two warriors were wielding sword and shield, a clash of titans. The only thing that had the men stumped was that the shields were not their own knights and one was a woman.

"Up, down, block…block!" The man ordering had a brogue of Ireland. "Side step—" His words were cut off as the shield caught him in the diaphragm and a head full of polished oak hair rammed into his much lighter one. "Ow! Bloody bitch!" He grasped his forehead even as the woman stumbled to regain her balance, her vision going blurry for a moment. "And you bit me!" The shout echoed and the man tackled her. Her grunt and cursing filled the air even as the weapons fell aside. They wrestled, head butting, kneeing, punching, and pinching. "Get off!" Kay heard the voice, a light alto command. He went forward out of instinct to wrestle the man off of her. He fought to get him away and after a moment the stranger yielded, though he wasn't happy.

"She doesn't need yer help," The man pulled away from Kay combing his fingers back through his honey blond hair. Kay ignored him extending a hand to the fallen woman. He got his first good look at her. She was pale as the moon, a rosy pink flush on her cheeks from the fight. Her eyes were a mix of gray and blue and held hard and steady on his. She gave her hand though she was reluctant. He lifted her to her feet watching the burgundy dress settle back into place.

"You're back!" Arthur's voice rang out with glee from above. "I see you've met our two newest warriors."

"Two?" Gawain threw his head back and laughed. "I see one."

"Ye see two, don't be mistaken," The woman lifted her eyes to his. "Or would ye like ta fight me?"

"I'd like a name, personally." Said Kay grinning. Arthur had joined them and clapped a hand on his older brother's shoulder. "Are there more of you?"

"I'm one of a kind," she replied with a smirk.

"She came with her brothers," Arthur stepped into the circle that had been formed. "Moira, Larkin, Malcolm and Owen McCreedy. From Ireland. Merlin sent for them actually, before he got me and you, Kay."

"Oh?" Kay ran his gaze over the woman again. She had a slightly stocky build for such a tall woman, just a few inches shorter than him.

"Ye keep starin' and I could a trick," she locked eyes with him. Merlin hid his smile behind his hand. He had tracked the McCreedy family down after his vision, it hadn't been hard, but getting them to England had. And because of that he had run late getting to Uther's death, and then to Arthur. All was in place from Camelot, at least for that time. Gawain had left their group and was circling her. He had seen the fight with her brother, but then how was he to know that Larkin, as he was called, was going easy. "…They're a Laird's family. Royalty in a sense." He caught the last of Arthur's talk.

"Lady Moira, let's fight." Gawain stated. Her gray eyes flicked to him. She reminded him of a cat. The same look of distaste and dislike, a haughtiness about her that suggested she was better.

"Your name?" She asked.

"Forgive me, tis Gawain." He smiled. She nodded and retrieved her weapons. He glanced down at her dress. "This ought to be interesting."

"Moira," Malcolm McCreedy, tall and dark haired walked over to his sister. "What are ye doin'?"

"Sir Gawain has challenged me."

"Didn't we talk about this already," Mal lowered his voice. "Ye weren't supposed to fight anyone, but the clan."

"I was challenged." Her eyes begged him to prove herself. A crowd had begun to gather, all of them the knight who had already found his niche. "Please Mal."

"Quitting already?" a man laughed in the crowd. She glowered at her feet, even though he was ignored by the others. Mal heaved a sigh, which in her mind meant yes. She tugged her dress up to one side knotting it. She did the same with her hair before hefting the shield and the sword. Gawain's eyes weren't the only ones to go to the sleek looking legs, as white as snow and as smooth as water. He had no doubt she was married. "Ready." She swung the sword back and forth, loosening up. Gawain struck without warning. Her brothers backed away and joined the circle. The McCreedy brothers were all there now, blending in among Kay, Leontes and Merlin. There was silence among the clash of weapons, above Igraine watched, intrigued with Guinevere at her side. Moira spun away from Gawain's thrust and brought her shield up, hitting his jaw. He stumbled back; she took the advantage and in a fury attacked over and over.

Gawain was surprised to say the least. She was strong and quick, but he was stronger. He swept her legs out from under her, and leaped. Seeing him coming she brought her shield up catching him in the stomach and her foot in his groin. There was a chorus of hisses and swears. "Right in the cock," Owen's laugh was deep and hearty. "Ye should have chosen a different opponent." He grinned proudly at his sister. Both warriors were sweating heavily and panting, the fight high in their senses. He attacked, viciously, pushing her back, pushing her limits. Mal began to see her weakening and stepped forward only to be block by Merlin. "Let it go," the wizard said softly. "She needs to do this on her own." There was a curse as Moira landed on her back; Gawain dove with his sword poised at her neck. "You died," He whispered.

"So did you," She replied. He stepped back and saw the knife in her where his stomach had been. With a laugh Gawain backed away.

"I may not have died, but mortally wounded is better than not wounded at all." He would give her that much. "We train in the morning."

"Clever girl," Larkin whispered to his brothers.

Gawain watched her walk to the side with her brothers. "In case any of you missed that," he held up the dagger. "She utilized another weapon. I may have killed her, but she wounded me in the process. Not a fight won, nor lost. Well done." He nodded to her, a base to respect was set "Who's next?" Even as an opponent moved forward the McCreedy's were ducking out of the ring.

He didn't see her for days. She haunted his mind, his dreams, this—this Moira McCreedy. Kay tossed another rock over the cliff. The breeze from the ocean whipped his hair back, his hazel eyes staring over the expanse of the ocean. He heard from Arthur the story Merlin had told him. She was the daughter of a Lord in Ireland, she and her brothers had been trained together. Ireland viewed their women differently. The first born was to be a fighter, the second a lover. The men would always fight; the women when they bled were given a choice. She had chosen a hard life, and it intrigued him. With a sigh he turned his back on the ocean and went inside to the sanctuary of his books.

In another part of the castle the object of his thoughts walked with her brothers. "I can't feel my ass," Moira walked in between her brothers heading for their quarters. She rubbed the body part. "Ow, now I can." Gawain had bested her in the fight they had just had. Her pride was hurt. Gawain always beat her. It wasn't fair. Leontes beat her that day, though he had told her she was getting better. She had at least beat Rusty and Larkin. Which she was still teasing him about.

"My everything hurts," Owen stretched his arms over his head and stopped outside of his quarters. "Ye know, there may be hope for this place yet. I like it here, t'isn't Ireland, but-" His eyes followed Bridget as she walked by. He grinned wolfishly. "But I could get used to it."

"Pig," muttered Moira. He stuck his tongue out at her. They departed, going their separate ways. Moira went to her room and was relieved to see a bath had been drawn. Noticing her bed was piled high with clothes curious she went to her bed. A note sat on the edge. Thought you might need a few things. Igraine. She stared at the emerald green dress, garnet headpiece that sat atop the pile and of course the bath. She grinned and thanked God for the woman.

She let the sweaty tunic she wore fall to the ground with the britches she had borrowed—well stolen from Larkin. She gazed at herself in the mirror. She would never be beautiful. She was pretty at best, but right now—she turned one way examining the trail of black-blue bruises to the yellow-green of the older ones. Right now she was a warrior. She turned back to face forward, frowning. She had a round face unlike her sisters well defined bony one. "She isn't here, no use comparing yourself with her." She told herself and tore her gaze away from her body. Moira went behind the screen where the steam was rising from her bath. Gingerly, with every muscle screaming she inched her body into the bath.

She washed and soaked until the bath began to cool and though she was on the verge of sleep she knew she had to keep her eyes open long enough to eat dinner. The knock on the door starteled her enough to slosh water over the side. "Come in."

"Lady Moira," Merlin's voice greeted an empty room. Frowning he started to go behind the screen, immediately he backed away and closed his eyes. "Ah…I'm sorry."

"Tis fine Merlin,ye can't see anything."

"Yes, of course," his brows furrowed he went to the bed and surveyed it with a smile. Igraine was always thinking of others. He stroked the garnet stones in the circlet. "I was watching you today. You've improved since you first came here." He noted the book by her bedside and smiled. She was by far a mystery.

"I saw you," she dried her hair smirking. "Merlin, why is it ye always seem ta be around?"

"It's my lot in life." He replied with a sigh. "This color will look good on you," he fingered the gown, observing the intricate pattern of oak leaves. Moira stood watching him, a warm sheet wrapped around her wet body. "Why do ye look so sad?" She asked walking over.

Merlin watched her, ran his eyes over the protected body and sighed. "My dear Moira, have you seen yourself?" She furrowed her brows, her head cocked to one side in innocent confusion. "You are every man's dream, including this man, but…" He walked over to her with a regretful smile. "You and I were not meant for anything more than good friends." He laid his rough, warm hands on her shoulders, sending tingles down her spine. "And regrettably that's all we can be." He kissed her softly, lingering for a moment over the warm softness. He leaned his forehead against hers, the damn tendrils of her hair tickling his scalp. "That is why I'm sad." He left her room, leaving her both hurt and oddly amused. She was able to fight her way through dinner, and fell onto her furs that night exhausted. And she dreamed of a King's brother.

Authors Notes: As promised I am doing a Kay/Moira Fic. I'll continue with You'll Never Walk Alone, but this may take my mood more. There'll be differences between the two. This Moira is softer than the other, and a little more naive.