Disclaimer: nothing you recognise belongs to me.

Part of the "fairytale" series - only Bors to go now : ) Set post film but AU in that none of the knights died. Just a bit of hopefully fun nonsense. Some of the humour is a bit naughty, but nothing M rated.

It had started as an idle comment, evolved into a dare, and very nearly ended in tragedy.

Wearily, Arthur resisted the urge to lean back against the wall and fall asleep. Instead he watched one of the healers wringing out a bloodied cloth and return to the slumped form laying prone on the table. The yelps of pain echoed in Arthur's brain, and finally succumbing to the headache that had been brewing since the incident, he dropped his head into his hands. This was the last time he gave his knights the day off, he vowed to himself. If he didn't have any duties for them to occupy themselves with then he'd just have to lock them in their quarters.

Three hours earlier

"Bet you can't climb that."

Lancelot opened his eyes and rolled his head sleepily in the general direction Galahad was pointing. Both of them were slumped lazily on the slope behind Hadrian's wall and the vague sweep of Galahad's hand seemed to indicate half of western Briton. Seeing nothing climbable aside from some far off hills, Lancelot flopped back down and closed his eyes. Between the two of them they had finished a delicious but somewhat potent wineskin, and Lancelot wanted nothing more than to go back to his pleasant, boozy doze.

"I'm not climbing anything. Bugger off pup, I'm going to sleep."

"Getting old are we Lance?" Galahad gave the older man a nudge in the ribs with his boot, eliciting a grunt and baleful look. Feeling bored and a little drunk, Galahad leaned back on his elbows and pretended to study Lancelot. "Come to think of it, you are looking a bit worn around the edges. From what I overheard Rosie saying yesterday a bit of a rest might help things, you know, down there…" Stifling a grin he carried on blithely, pretending not to notice Lancelot's eyes flying open and his mouth working wordlessly. "Of course it happens to most blokes apparently. Well so I've been told. Except for Bors, anyway, perhaps you could ask him…."

"I do not need Bors's advice," Lancelot said icily, "especially when it comes to bedding wenches."

"Really?" Galahad gave an innocent shrug and darted a look at his friend. Lancelot had got to his feet, and with his dark eyes flashing and his hands on his hips was positively emanating outrage. "I was just trying to help."

"Help?" Lancelot gave a dismissive snort. "Rosie couldn't sit down properly for two days after the last time I bedded her."

"Perhaps you're doing it wrong then." Biting his lip to keep from laughing, Galahad rolled onto his front and made a show of studying a clover head. When Lancelot's blood was up there was no telling what he might do, or be made to do… he thought wickedly.

"When I next see Rosie I'll…"

"That's what I was saying to you," Galahad interrupted. "about climbing that tree."

"What?" Lancelot paused in his tirade and looked with puzzlement at the youngest knight. "What in the name of rutting cow's bollocks has a tree got to do with anything?"

"Not just any tree." Galahad scrambled to his feet and stretched before nodding at the vast wall behind them. "That tree," he said mysteriously. Pointing to an ancient elm that was twisted, gnarled and judging from its lack of leaves, extremely dead, Galahad nodded sagely. "See how close it is to the wall?" Lancelot gave him an annoyed look, but the younger knight continued before he could say anything. "Now see how the top branches go up to that window?"

"Is there a point to this?" Lancelot asked irritably.

Galahad gave a martyred sigh. "If you'd let me talk then you'd find out. As it happens, that is no ordinary window, my friend. That is the window that belongs to the maids' dressing quarters."

As Galahad had predicted, Lancelot's expression went from mild annoyance to predatory in a heart beat. Since it was impractical for large amounts of hot water to be dragged around the castle, Guinevere had set aside a large room where her maids could wash and dress before they started their duties. It was a running joke amongst the soldiers and knights, most of whom had tried to "accidentally" barge their way in and been sent packing by Gwen, a seamstress and self styled protector of the girls she worked with. After being threatened with castration by Gwen's scissors it was a very brave or foolhardy man who tried to spy on the girls again.

But sneaking in through the window… That was an approach that was yet to be tried, Lancelot thought shrewdly. Of course he wouldn't actually do anything - gods he wasn't one to take a girl against her will - but a few outraged squeals and an earful from Gwen would be a small price to pay for respect he would gain from the soldiers and his fellow knights. Better them talking about that than the whole Rosie business anyway - and what was that all about? She'd seemed perfectly content when he'd seen her last?

"So are you going to or not?" Galahad interrupted his thoughts.

For the first time, Lancelot felt vaguely suspicious. "Why don't you do it if you're so keen?" he asked his friend.

"'don't like heights. Remember that time when we all nearly galloped off the edge of that cliff last year? It wasn't just rain wetting my saddle, believe me. Come on Lance, do it for me." Inspiration struck and the young man looked serious. "Do it for Samartia."

"You want me to climb a tree and spy on naked women for Samartia?" Lancelot said incredulously. "In what way will that bring honour to our homeland?"

"It'll piss off the Romans," Galahad replied promptly.

"It'll also piss of Guinevere," Lancelot grumbled, "and if she's pissed off then Arthur will be too."

"Guinevere's a Woad, she ran around half naked all the time when she was fighting so I don't see how she can get upset. Anyway," Galahad gave his friend a grin. "You and Arthur are always arguing , so it doesn't matter if you do it or not. Won't make any difference."

It was sort of true… Lancelot eyed the tree thoughtfully. Although the branches looked easy enough to climb, he probably shouldn't have drunk quite so much first - it took rather more concentration than it ought to to make certain that there was one window and not two that he was aiming for. Catching Galahad smirking at his indecision, determination to prove himself overruled any hesitation, and marching over to the tree he scrambled up on to the lowest branch. It took longer than he had thought to climb up the old tree. Some of the branches were so brittle that they snapped as soon as he put any weight on them, and in places the trunk was bare of bark, devoid of anything that could be used as a foothold. Finally however, Lancelot managed to manoeuvre himself to just underneath the window. Bracing himself on a branch, he grabbed the windowsill and prepared to pull himself up.

Time froze.

Gripping the edge of the ledge as though it was the only thing anchoring him to reality, Lancelot yelped and watched with wide, horrified eyes as the huge, muscular and extremely naked Roman Centurian put the washcloth he had been using down and turned in confusion. For a moment neither of them said anything. With the small part of his brain that hadn't shut down in shock, Lancelot realised that he was unarmed, and that even if he had had a weapon he didn't actually have a spare hand to wield it with. On the plus side, the Roman didn't have a weapon either unless you counted that. And of Gods he was walking over and it was swinging….

"Sorry." Lancelot gave a slightly panicked attempt at a smile. "Wrong window."

The burly Roman nodded in understanding. Taking in Lancelot's handsome features a slow grin spread across his face. "Perhaps a happy misfortune then? You can do my back…"

Lancelot was saved from having to answer by a large crack as the branch he was balancing on broke. Tumbling down to earth, the last thing he saw was the bare shoulders and shocked face of the giant Roman before everything went black.

Three hours later

"So he's a hero really." Galahad made an attempt to meet Arthur's eyes, but thought better of it at the last moment.

"Galahad." Arthur ran a hand tiredly through his dark curls. "Do you really expect me to believe that Lancelot fell out of a tree trying to rescue a trapped kitten?"

"He could have don… I mean yes. He did." Galahad could feel the beginnings of a hangover coming on. "You're the one who's always saying that we should help people."

"Help, yes." Arthur winced as Lancelot gave a yelp from the room next to them. "I didn't mean throwing yourselves from trees into bramble patches. Dagonet's spent half an hour picking thorns out of Lancelot's arse and he's supposed to be riding out on patrol later."

You could give him a cushion, Galahad almost said, before thinking better of it

"What happened to the kitten anyway?" Arthur said as an afterthought, getting up and walking over to the hall. "And who's he?"

"It ran away." Galahad craned his head around to see who his king had indicated. A very tall, broad shouldered man was watching as Dagonet pulled the last of the thorns from Lancelot's naked buttocks. With a shrug he followed Arthur out the healing rooms. From the rapt expression on the man's face he was probably studying healing - it wasn't like anyone would look at Lance's bum for fun, he thought, bounding down the steps with a smile.

A/N don't kill me Lancelot fans - I love him really, it's just fun to be mean to him sometimes J