She could feel his arms on either side of her, pressing her into the wall. His breath was burning on her neck, his scent overwhelming her. She had left the tavern only a few minutes ago, her work for the evening was done and she was tired, she wanted to go home. She hadn't noticed the Roman watching her; she didn't know he had been following her down the dark alleys. She had only become aware of him when he had grabbed her throat and pushed her against the wall, her face pressed into the cold stone. She had struggled against him, trying to release his grip but she had stopped as soon as she felt the icy steel of a dagger against her thigh. "Be nice and I might just let you live." He hissed into her hair. She squirmed, trying to get away from him and felt the blade cut into her like a knife through butter. She bit her lip to avoid crying out, the blood was trickling down her leg at an alarming speed, pooling in her boot. She turned her head to look at him; she wanted to look him in the eyes as he defiled her. As she moved round he leant in to kiss her, leaving her cheek burning at the contact. He shifted his hand to the back of her neck and held her to him as his lips hit hers and demanded a response. She remained still which earned her a jab to the ribs with his free hand. He kept trying, forcing his tongue against her tight lips, eventually gaining entrance. She couldn't hold back the squeal of horror as his tongue rounded hers, his hand searching down her dress, ruffling up the skirts. She heard him say something again but it didn't have time to register before her head slammed against the wall again, bright lights popping in front of her eyes. She slumped down the wall, the darkness closing in around her. The last thing she knew before slipping into blissful oblivion was a male voice frantically calling her name.
Lancelot had seen her slip away from the tavern and after the Roman had followed her he decided to keep watch over her. He heard cries of pain and was there in time to see her fall. He raced over, cursing himself for not intervening sooner; he dropped to his knees beside her. He took off his cloak and wrapped it round her before turning to face the Roman. As he looked up something hit him with enough force to make him step back. He recovered in time to see the Roman run at him, dagger in hand. His instincts cut in as her dived to the side, grabbing his own blade from his boot. He was desperate to get revenge for Clara. He loved her like a sister and couldn't stand the thought of her being harmed by anyone let alone a Roman. He was snapped from his thoughts as a blade slashed across his chest, leaving a trail of scarlet. He jumped forwards catching the other man off guard and slammed him against the wall, his fist tight around his throat. He wouldn't kill him yet, he would make him pay first. He drew his dagger across the other man's groin, feeling him squirm beneath his grasp. "I never want to see you abusing a girl again. Do you hear me?!" Lancelot glared at the man, applying more pressure on the knife. "If you do, I might just slip and cut something rather precious." He smirked before spinning the knife in his hand and knocking the man out with the hilt. He turned to Clara and bent down, gathering her unconscious form into his arms, ignoring the pain flickering across his head and chest. Her head lolled against his arm as he ran through the streets to the healing rooms.
By the time he got to the door he was struggling to stand up straight, his head was fuzzy and his chest was aching. He banged his fist against the door, holding Clara close to him with his other arm. Shortly Dagonet came to the door and pulled it open just as Lancelot fell against the wall, the darkness finally winning him over. Dagonet reached out and took Clara in one arm, the other he hooked underneath Lancelot's arms and half carried him with his belt. Dagonet pushed through the surgery, laying Lancelot on the nearest cot; he carried Clara over to the cot by the window, snatching his bag from the side. He laid her down gently, moving the blankets to support her wounded leg while he fetched water and cloths. On his way back over he grabbed a stool and sat himself next to her, carefully laying out the equipment next to him. Carefully he began to wipe away the mud and blood from the cut on her leg, working quickly and quietly he had almost finished when the door was flung open and the rest of the knights appeared. Bors, Galahad and Gawain rushed over to Dag but Arthur hung in the doorway, caught between going to the healer and staying with Lancelot who was still lying unconscious in the cot nearest the door. Eventually duty won over friendship and Arthur moved to stand by Dagonet as he finished suturing the wound on the young girl's leg. Arthur questioned Dag on what had happened but as he knew very little the room soon dropped back into silence as they all looked down at the small form lying asleep in front of them. A few minutes later they were all abruptly jolted out of their thoughts by a cough originating from the bed next to the door. Arthur raced over to find Lancelot slowly stirring from his sleep, his eyelids fluttering as he fought his way back to the light. As Lancelot sensed the dark slipping away from him he tried to open his eyes, ignoring the pounding in his brain but gave up when the pain flared. He tried again, blinking the sleep away and found Arthur and the knights watching him with amused expressions.
"Is this your new tactic then, the knight in shining armour with a warm bed?" Bors laughed at Lance's cold stare.
"No, Bors. I'm just not happy to watch friends be hunted out by Romans."
Arthur stepped forward, his eyes flicking between the knight beside him and the girl at the other end of the room.
"What do you mean Lance? What happened?"
Before he had a chance to answer Dagonet came over and pushed through the knights to get to the bedside, he lay down Lance's cloak and then turned to address Arthur.
"Let me see to his chest and then you can ask all the questions you want."
He leant forward to lift Lance's shirt but his hands were batted away.
"I'm fine; shouldn't you be tending to Clara instead of bothering me?" Lance snapped as Dag scowled at him.
"No, Lance. She's sleeping and you've got a gash across your chest so stop acting the hero and let me deal with it so it doesn't get infected.
"I'm fine, honestly, stop fussing."
Dagonet however was not giving in that easily so continued his ministrations to Lance's wound. Clearly defeated Lancelot turned his attention to Arthur and began explaining the events of the evening.
As Lancelot made his way through the story the knights became slowly more horror struck. Few of them knew Clara as well as Lance but she was well known around the fort and none of them wished ill for a young girl. Usually the Romans did their best not to wind up the knights as they knew it was unwise, to attack one of their friends was just plain stupid.