A/N: Holy shenanigans! I haven't posted a story in soooo long. But let's try with this one. Hopefully this'll hold my attention more than the other ones had, and I promise I'll try to finish this one. Enjoy! R & R pwease? :3

Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone but Cam D:

Chapter 1

Years, fifteen long years they had been in the service of the Romans and so many of their kind lost amongst the swords of the Woads…not to mention other countless enemies encountered during their stay on the god-forsaken island. Yet through all of this time their bond remained strong and true through the harsh reign the Romans had held over them. Even now that held true as a young woman scurried about through the leaning walls of the stables. Harsh winds and stormy weather had weakened them considerably, causing them to shift to the side.

However, that did very little to concern anyone, for many horses were kept there when they were not out with their riders. Huffing, she picked up a hoof pick and tucked it into a random pocket before snatching up a bridle. This might be useful she thought to herself sarcastically as she hurried down the isle.

"Sheesh, woman, you move as slow as a dilly dallying child," a rough voice brought her attention to one of the stalls.

"Shut up, Lancelot, you are no different. More so when you've had a few drinks," she spoke heatedly as she shoved the bridle into his hands. "And look at you now! Arthur said to be at the gates in fifteen minutes, yet your horse looks like he's about to go to sleep. You haven't even saddled him!"

"He's brushed at least," Lancelot grumbled as he slipped the stallion's bridle over his head.

"Yes, yes, much unlike you," she muttered as she lifted the stallion's hooves, picking the compacted dirt and rocks so he wouldn't bruise his feet. "And he needs to be shod when you return."

Lancelot frowned but remained silent, lifting his saddle onto the stallion's broad back. "Well, Lady Cameron, it seems you know more about my horse than I do."

"It would appear so…Nero likes carrots more than those sugar cubes you give him," she huffed, looking up at the dark knight.

Of course, he was smirking.

She had known Lancelot since she was but a babe, and the friendly fondness that was evident between them strengthened that claim. That was rarely on their minds, however, but more so the pressure to survive the fifteen years of service they owed. Well, what Lancelot owed anyways, Cameron was just a bit of a tag along that had snuck into the group.

Of course, when they had found she a woman instead of a man, there had been a bit of negotiation on Arthur's part to get her to stay there. For that, she was eternally grateful and in his debt no matter how often he brushed it off.

"Now go, go, before he gives you a stern talking to for being late…although it should be no surprise to him," she scolded, urging the knight out of the stables with his stallion moseying behind him.

"All right, woman, sheesh," he mumbled as he walked out of the stables. "You're a worse nag than anyone of the female society I have ever known."

"It's because your whores are too engrossed in making their money to tell you otherwise." Cameron hurried out after him, connecting a bag to his saddle as they moved.

"That was harsh…and uncalled for," he huffed, eyeing her for a moment.

"You're just angry that I'm not jealous of your barmaids. Keep walking, I'm stepping on you," she said, giving him a playful push.

Smirking, Lancelot stopped right in front of her. Of course, it caused their bodies to collide and Cameron to squeak in surprise as the dark knight turned around. His hands reached out, catching her hands as she raised them to hit his shoulders playfully.

"I'm not angry over anything. We are friends, remember? Ever since we were young we've been friends…well, more you've been a stalker," he reminded her, laughing as he let go of her.

Cameron glared at him, a light tint of pink coming to her cheeks. "Shut up, I was not a stalker. I was merely doing my duty of taking care of the chief's son, who by the way was a very troublesome young man. Now go." She gave him another push before following after him.

"So abusive," he murmured as he mounted his horse.

As they crested a hill, they could see a group of men and their horses standing at the gates that led out to the open fields. It was dangerous past those gates, many knew, but it was necessary for them to venture there so they could bring the Bishop home. It was the only way to grant their freedom, and they'd do what they could to gain it back once more.

"Be safe now, I don't want anyone coming back with an arrow in their shoulder again. That means you, Galahad," Cameron said, looking up at them.

Arthur smiled slightly, nodding his head. "As always, my dear," he said, turning his horse.

"What were you two doing in there? Good gods, you took longer than a pair of slugs," Bors roared in amusement.

Cameron glared at him and gave him a reprimanding hit on the leg. "Shut up, Bors. We weren't doing anything like that…we aren't you," she mumbled. "Honestly, after all of these years you would think that you people, of all people, would think me more than a humble whore."

The men chuckled quietly, shaking their heads. "Of course, of course. We know, it's more amusing to see your reactions," Bors laughed, patting her on the head.

"Yes, well be gone with you now. Go fetch the Bishop while I go to Vanora and get ready for his arrival," she said fondly and shooed them off before climbing back up the slope into the village.

Men, always so arrogant. Hurrying into the pub, Cameron spotted Vanora cradling a little bundle: her newborn son. Lancelot always gave Bors a difficult time about the children being his own, but Cameron found it difficult to distinguish if this claim was true. Although Gilly did have dark brown hair, much like Lancelot's. Shaking her head in wonder, she hurried over to the counter.

The pub was rather quiet this morning, the Romans preparing to move themselves out now that their time to withdraw from Britain was close – not that any of the villagers minded. Cameron certainly wasn't the only one sick of their presence here amongst all other things.

"Ah, Cam! There you are, my dear. We don't have long until the boys come back, so we must hurry and get this place clean," Vanora said in a peppy tone.

Cameron laughed easily enough. "The Bishop would not step near this pub! He might soil his good name, although I would find it awfully amusing if he were to get drunk," she commented.

Vanora frowned slightly, contemplating this before she sighed. "Yes, I suppose you're right. But we can at least get the table room cleaned up. Knowing my Bors, he left a mess."

"Most likely. All of them probably did."

The two walked into the large hall, heading toward the room where the round table was sitting while one of the other women watched the baby. Cameron didn't know how it came to be in the room, but it had been there since she and the other knights had arrived to this outpost. And, of course, there was clutter spread all over the place. Men.

"What'd I tell yeh? They're messier than a pen full of pigs," Vanora murmured as she grabbed some things off of the table and put them back in their proper place.

"They're men! We should both know to expect this," the other young woman laughed in good humor as she wiped off the table with a wet rag.

"Very true words," Vanora laughed as well, making sure everything was tidy. "We might as well clean up everything else while we're at it. There shouldn't be a hint of anything that will give the Bishop a reason to decline them freedom."

He shouldn't be declining anyone anything…the deal they struck with Rome is up today. But then again, the Bishop seems to be a man of many false words Cameron thought to herself as she pushed a chair in.

"I'm going to get cleaned up. I doubt the men will want me there, but I should anyways," she spoke to Vanora, who nodded gently.

"Go do that, child," she said and shooed Cameron away.