Okay so, this isn't like a normal fan fiction. It was co-written by my friend Morgan and I. So you'll get everyone's point of view. There's six characters. For reference sake, the characters I write are Adiana, Tambrey, and Galahad. Morgan writes Beatrice, Lancelot, and Tristan.
Warning: We rarely write for this as we have a running 72 (gah!) projects going at the same time. Also, characters may become OOC. I try my best when I go threw and edit to put them here to conform them back to the way we find them in the movies, but be angels and leave comments on how we can better wrangle them in. Please forgive us in advance. Oh and forgive me of any odd chapter endings. They weren't written in chapters, each character is written separately so I'll be trying to get things into a logical order.
Chapter One
Sweet scents filled her nostrils as her eyes fluttered open like caterpillars with new wings. Black furs surrounded the cream body lying upon the thrown of his chambers. A sigh drifted up from the silent room. Two breathing bodies separated by a few meters of air and the pull to touch overwhelmed each of them. She lifted her long sleek brunette head to peer longingly at the silent knight staring at her. A soft laugh passed between her lips as he knelt beside her, beside his bed. He ran his fingers across her limp arms tangled in his bed. They danced across her body, with the lightest touch he could bear. Anymore contact and he feared he would not be able to leave her and every time the blankets moved up, arching with her every breath, he remembered the night before. Their bodies moving tenderly together, aware of every part of them that touched, aware of every feeling that went ricocheting through their minds.
Their eyes held each other's, playing in the pools of chocolate that met in silence. For a moment in time they just sat there, drinking each other in until the last possible moment when she leaned into him, resting her face where his neck was sewn to his shoulder. She breathed him in, trying to picture him beside her again. Somewhere deep inside she knew that this wouldn't last because her heart ached for someone else and she didn't have the heart to tell him. She swallowed the bitter taste that filled her mouth, smelling his unique scent, the scent that lingered all around her. He smelled so sweet, like the bed. She leaned back into the pillow behind her, taking in the scent of the night before. Her eyes closed and she smiled. She wanted to tell him to take her again. Take her flying through the sky until she only had the strength to breathe against him.
The stained memories of the past haunted her dreams at night and she soothed herself with the thoughts of things like last night, when she wasn't alone. Her bed in her own rooms was always cold and here she slept with warmth surrounding her, arms pulled around her body holding her to his. But the day would drag on, wearing her bones dry. She didn't farm, she didn't sell. She was different than the other villagers. May it be that she was not a peasant; she was neither rich nor poor. She had lodging in the House of Knights. But that wouldn't comfort her aching heart to reach out and touch the one she so hungered for. His silk voice slipped over her like a second skin, pulling her to him again, to feel his skin against her own.
"Don't go yet." Her own voice was quiet, reserved for the few occasions she used it. Soft as down it slinked into his ears and he closed them to her. She knew he was struggling to keep his hands off her and she smiled, knowing that he was struggling so made her spirit soar above her, free from body, shape, and form. Free like Tristan's hawk. The thought caught in her mind like a dagger dragged through an enemies scalp. Behind her eyes, tears welled, invisible to her lover. She looked to the two swords held on his back and shuddered. How she hungered for the fight, to kill. But she kept that secret, only telling her kid sister. "You don't have to go." He wasn't smiling, he didn't want to go but he had the oath of his fathers and their fathers to hold to. He served not his own will but that of Rome and it pained her to think that he should be free. Freedom was so close, only two weeks to wait. But the time was coming and after the fifteen years that her knights had been here in Briton would soon be over. Two weeks until freedom, though she was herself free, she could still taste exotic idea of it.
"I must go, Adiana." He ran his fingers through her hair, and down her clenched jaw line. His eyes twinkled and her heart melted. She sighed, tracing his lips with her fingers. They were silent again, letting their fingers trace their features lovingly. His lips parted with her fingers still touching, "I love you." Her heart caught in her throat. "When I'm free, I'll bring you to my home and Tambrey can come to. You'll love it there." Fear bite into her eyes but he didn't see. He didn't see that she didn't want to leave nor did he see that she was drifting further from him. He was gone now, telling her all he remembered. "The grass goes on farther then you can ride and the sky is so big that you can't see the ends of it." She dropped her eyes back to his armour, trying to ignore the plain tension that had bedded into the air around them.
"Lancelot, I," She stopped, hearing the footsteps sounding in the hall. He looked to her and stroked her hair again. "Don't want you to go. Stay here with me, please. You might not come back this time." He smiled as he always did when she showed concern for his life. A knock sounded at the door and her heart sank. He went to the door, opening it to a young knight's face. "Galahad, tell Lancelot he isn't allowed to go." Adiana pouted at him and he grinned.
"We're riding out soon." Then he added quietly, not letting his eyes move from hers, "I'd be happy to stay to keep you from getting lonely." Lancelot raised her brow at his friend. Galahad winked before taking his leave as Lancelot shut the door.
"I'll be back soon, no worries." It was her turn to smile. She kneeled on the bed, pulling his face to her own so their lips touched tenderly at first before they began devouring the other's lips and mouth. Lancelot's arms held her back and pulled her to touch his cold armour. She shivered as she leaned her head back to catch his lip between her teeth. Their tongues swelled from the suction and Lancelot's lip grew swollen. They were reduced to panting before he finally broke away. "Until I return, Lady Adiana, keep my bed warm." They kissed again.
"Do not leave until I see you off, at least promise me this." He nodded as he walked from the room, leaving her alone. She fell backwards into the bed trying to relax before having to find her clothing. She sighed and got up, searching out her discarded garments. She found her dress, the softness felt good between her fingers as she put it gently on the bed. She needed first her shift which she found hiding beneath Lancelot's bed. She dressed and left her lover's room.
Her teeth grinded together as she saw the knights mounted and waiting to leave. Her heart panged as she saw only six horses. They had lost three knights since she had come and there should have been seven horses. But there were only six horses. "Adi!" Galahad announced. The knights greeted her with vigour. Gawain came to her to wrap her in a bear hug; he kissed her chastely on the lips. Lancelot dismounted and walked to her, pushing Gawain away and gathering her up in his arms. "I will return as I always do." She felt tears pulled at the corners of her eyes. "Don't cry, Adiana. Not now."
"So many haven't," her voice whispered into his cloak. He sighed into her ear, pulling her away to look at her. "What if you don't return?" He dropped his eyes to the ground then looked to Arthur who looked impatient to leave. "And why are there only six of you?" Her eyes scanned the four knights surrounding Arthur. Bors, Galahad, Gawain, and Lancelot. "Where's Tristan?" Lancelot looked worried as he drew his eyes back to her.
"We don't know." That was all he said before he kissed her passionately and went to mount his horse. "I'll return soon." Then Arthur kicked his horse into a gallop, leading his knights from the city. Her feet guided her to the wall; she ran the length, watching the knights disappear. The wall guards stared at her as tears trickled down her cheeks. What if he didn't return? Her worry was not only for Lancelot. She worried for Tristan. Where was he? He wouldn't desert, no he loved battle and killing too much to leave before his freedom was granted. "Beautiful day for a ride, Lady." Her eyes flew around to see a Roman messenger standing behind her. "I noticed there are only five knights accompanying Arthur." She looked back to the disappearing horse of her lover. "Where is the sixth?"
"There should be more, sir. But the errands they must run because Romans are too afraid tends to diminish their numbers. Anyway, I haven't the slightest idea of where he could be. If any do not return, I suggest you leave quickly for the knights will not be restrained in their anger." She relished in the sharp intake of breath the man took. "Afraid are we?" She stopped speaking, gazing down at the man staring at her from below the wall. The man turned and walked away, the braids in his beard and hair swinging in the wind.
"You dare threaten a man of Rome? I should strike you now." He held up his hand and Adiana prepared to take the blow. She wouldn't protect herself, why take what the Roman wanted? She knew she could defend herself but she didn't feel the need. One strike wouldn't kill her. "You dare strike a lady, Roman?" The messenger flew around to see the sixth knight, hand on hilt. He paid no attention to Adiana. The Roman scowled, "Why don't you ride with your fellows?" Tristan walked past the man to Adiana, giving her an unreadable look. "I sustained an injury when I was in the forest. Woad attacked me. Have you met one, Roman?"
The messenger grunted as he turned and left, clearly upset that Tristan had appeared. "I can handle myself, thank you." He smirked and for what reason, Adiana did not know. "I know," was he all said. She stood beside him, looking off into the east, homeward. He was putting pressure on the wall with his hands but she could tell he favoured one. "Let me see your arm." He jerked his arm away but her hands were too quick, she peered down at the deep gash that snagged at the skin of his forearm. "Let me fix it up. Come, we'll go to my chambers." She could tell he hesitated. Everyone knew about her and Lancelot and that somehow put a dead weight on her relationship with Tristan. True, they had known each other for a long time. In fact, Adiana's older brother and he were the best of friends. She sighed as she remembered how she had come to reside here.
Two sisters had left their nomadic life after their parents had died of a strange disease that befell many of their clan members. Adiana and Tambrey traveled in search of the Sarmatian Knights, their brother to be exact and they had found him here. Adiana had supported her younger sister through hunting but she was only 16 and she didn't have the training she had now. Tambrey had been only 13 when they left. It took them a year to find Constantine, their elder brother, and when they did find him, Tristan was there. Well, the knights had found them. They were lost and had no food left. Adiana was tired and couldn't hunt. Tristan had stumbled upon them. He had led their horse to the knights' camp where Constantine recognized them and brought them here. Since Constantine's death Tristan had taken care of the girls. He had trained Adiana to fight and she in turn taught Tambrey. She was still teaching her. But from when their eyes met, she loved Tristan. At first only as kin, the best friend of her brother, but that grew into a love she held so close to her heart. A love she would not give to another. A love Lancelot wanted to have but never could.
Their feet brought them to the Scipio Hall quickly. The door that they stopped in front of was engraved with the name Sir Constantine. Every morn Adiana would run her fingers over the name. The trio was to return to Sarmatia after Constantine was freed. But she saw that time would never come to pass. "Sit while I get bandages." Adiana went to a table and gathered what she would need. A smile drew across her lips as she stood before him, watching his eyes move over her. "Now, give me your arm." He relaxed his arm in her hands, allowing her to clean the wound. He stared straight ahead, not looking at her. Adiana kneeled, taking the needle into her hand and threading it with the wire. She stitched the flesh together as gently as she could and then wrapped it in the bandage. "What mission have they gone on?"
He stood and gazed down at her. "Woad hunting above the wall." He flexed his hand with little expression besides a twitch in his lip. "I can't hold a bow," this was his reason for not going. She found herself at his side with her hand on his arm. His eyes darted away. Adiana spoke quietly, "You needn't lie to me. You aren't convincing. It's the Saxons?" By the way he flinched she knew it was. Adiana collapsed into the chair, feeling her knees grow weak. "They're going to return right? They won't die up there?" Tristan was silent; he gazed out the window at the fields and sighed.
"I won't lie then. I don't doubt the fact that you may ever see your lover again." He grabbed the door handle at the sound of Adiana's gasp, but turned around to face her again. Tears pulled at her eyes and a sob liquefied from her lungs. "Come here." She rose slowly, not walking towards him. Tristan took the few steps that separated them and put his arms around her shoulders. He hummed calmly in her ear as he did when she found out Constantine had died at the sword of a Woad.
"Tristan, if he doesn't return," She felt him tense at the mention of him. Her words caught in her throat as she tried to picture Lancelot's horse coming back, his hand only visible under the black blanket covering his body, the face she fell asleep to. Would he return like Constantine or would he return with bloodied swords and a smirk upon his mouth? She rested her face on the fabric of Tristan's shirt, letting her drying tears soak in. Her eyes closed and she fisted his shirt in discomfort. "Adiana." She shook her head on his chest, not wanting him to really see her cry. Especially when it was not he who she cried for. Not that he even knew the love for him that filled her. He pulled her away, lifting her chin with one finger. His eyes softened as they seldom did. "Ah, don't cry for a death that has not yet come."
His thumb brushed away the tears that had formed. She watched his eyes trace every feature of her face as Lancelot's did. Her eyes closed again, drinking him in. Those eyes shot open again at the touch of his finger to her lips. He was silent, gazing down at her face, almost longingly. A breath caught in her lungs and all she could hear and all that she was became his breathing. She let the breath course through her and touch his finger. He didn't tense at the warm air and she parted her lips to smile, he didn't smile back. She found her hand reaching to brush the hair that draped in front of his face. A breath caught again in her lungs at the look in his eyes. They moved fluidly from her eyes to her lips and in that moment the silence was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. Nothing could top how she felt in that second where nothing else seemed to matter. In that moment she didn't know anyone else, she wasn't Adiana, and Lancelot didn't grow in her mind.
So many feelings flowed through her veins in those moments when they were hardly a breath away. Her eyes closed again, letting him brush her hair behind her ear. His fingers danced down her jaw line and traced over every feature of her face, leaving her lips last. She looked up at him again, seeing a familiar twinkle. Not the twinkle Lancelot had, but the twinkle she saw every time he had taught her to fight. Every time their swords had connected and every time she knew he let her win. And it wasn't hard to believe that one so graceful with a sword could be so sensual. Her hand danced across his face. She could sense the defeated distance between them. He pulled her closer to him, feeling the warmth of her body against his. Adiana felt the comfort of his body fill her and she whimpered.
A shiver rushed through her spine as she felt his hot breath across her face. Shock rushed through her veins as she licked her lip and was met with his finger. It didn't elude them that they were only a breath apart. His beard tickled her face and his braids fell around her. She felt so, so loved and so needed. Nothing could make her part from this and nothing could ever make her want it to stop. There was something about it that made her want to cherish it forever. Tristan was so unlike Lancelot. He was so sensual where Lancelot was so sexual. Tristan was foreplay where Lancelot was right in; he wanted to start right at the thought.
Their lips brushed across each other's, sending Adiana to gasp for a breath. Tristan smiled and some of the nerves that built in her dissolved. Then he held his lips to hers and pulled her further into his arms. Her entire body relaxed in his arms. Something released within Adiana then and she felt free. He moved away to peer into her eyes as she ran her fingers through his tangled hair. Her eyes searched his for what she was feeling, to know what he was thinking. She saw nothing until they twinkled again and for that second she saw things burning so deeply it frightened her. She saw jealousy eating away at his soul and love infesting his heart. She tensed in his arms and his eyes immediately switched off. Tristan released all contact with her, turning away to face the door again. "Sorry."
She swallowed, pushing the dark figure in the back of her mind out of her thoughts. The air around them breathed with tension. She could have cut it with her sword. She smiled, thinking of her sword. Tristan had it made for her and it was so beautiful, nearly identical to his own. She remembered when he presented it to her on her nineteenth birthday. Her eyes filled with tears. She had thrown her arms around his neck, to taken aback; to happy to even utter thanks to him and he had held her there, letting her cry her thanks into his chest. She alone and her younger sister were allowed to show such affection to him and she alone had Tristan told his every thought, his every worry. But then she fell to Lancelot's charm and something happened. Tristan wouldn't tell her a word, he showed less give when he taught her. It was like he was angry at her or that she had done something terrible to him.
"Do you remember the first time you showed me how to use a sword?" He turned to look at her, their eyes locked onto the other and he nodded. "You caught me spying on you and you put your sword in my hand. You never asked why I was watching you. You just told me to pretend the sword was part of me." A smile spread across her lips again. She watched Tristan nod as his eyes gazed at her lips. "I remember thinking that your sword was really heavy." Adiana laughed quietly more to herself then for Tristan's ears. "Then later Constantine and you were fighting. I listened in but I didn't understand…"
"He was furious at me. He didn't want you to know how to fight. He was afraid that you would fight if the opportunity were to arise. But, Constantine didn't see you. You were amazing. You were a natural. You were so beautiful." He smiled and Adiana could tell he was remembering everything that had happened. She found something in the idea of how he finished where she stopped her story. It was like he knew her every train of thought like he did when she was fighting. He always knew what her next move was. "You know I was there when Constantine died?" Adiana nodded, "I watched him die and the last thing he said was 'protect them, Tristan. Teach her to fight."
Her feet brought her close to him again. He was stilling musing about their past together. She touched his check with her palm, spreading her fingers into his hair. His eyes moved over hers longingly, almost as if nothing had just happened, like he hadn't just kissed her moments before. "And I was never happier when you had taken me out into the fields and put my own sword in my hands. That's when I really knew."
"Knew what?" He croaked between cracking lips. His pink tongue peeked out to wet them as he caught her hands in his. Adiana smiled lovingly as he pulled her closer until their bodies were touching again. Her nerves were quenched again at the comfort she found in his embrace, in the feel of her body against his. Their lips touched again with more passion than before. His hands spanned her back as hers pulled through his hair and explored his face. Their lips parted slowly as they grasped at oxygen. She parted her lips to speak but was met with Tristan's mouth pressing against her own. He breathed onto her, gazing deeply into her eyes. "I know, I knew to."
"Hi-ri... Hi-ro... Hi-ri."
It was a simple song, to be true. Not one of any 'magical' qualities... not like some of the others. It flowed from her lips like the Word of God, if not truer. She felt the resounding echo bounce off the sodden walls and ricocheted up into the atmosphere, causing ears to prick, and people to listen. They knew who it was almost automatically, like some sort of natural reaction. They had heard that same voice singing so many times, had seen the face of its owner seemingly lingering everywhere. In truth, she had no idea how known she was. How many people knew her name, her clan... and her craft?
"Hoireann is O, ha hi, ra ha, ra ho ra."
The sky was rippled with interchanging colors of white and grey. That saddened her. She was the sun-worshipper among her clan. While the rest of them favoured the cold, the cool, and the grey, she was full throttle for vibrancy. For color. She could almost smell the rain and thunder as it began to swell over on the horizon. Too far away for any danger to them, and too near to remain unnoticed for long. Storms over the plains. So despondent in their beauty. Over her shoulder, resting comfortably up against the violet-dyed flax was a worn lute. The strings were made of coarse horse's mane, and fragilely thin with love. One tender hand, cloaked in skin darkened by the sun, always seemed to rest upon the round, hollow chamber, where the notes would echo. It was her one, true love. Or so she thought.
"Hoireann is O, ha hi, ra ha, ra ha ra."
Her eyes, two pools of muddled brown still as sharp as the Blade of Michael, took in her all-too-familiar surroundings. She wondered if the village would ever change. But, it had changed. The tension between the Saxons, the Woads, and infamous Arthur and the Samaritan Knights was growing. Violence was sweeping over the nation that she called home, and here she stood, walking under the cover of a clouded sky, unable to do anything. She had begged her father, a bard of the stoniest of hearts, to help protect those in danger outside the city walls. But she was refused. And she knew that if she dared to defy him, she would die. He ruled their house with iron fist, and a stinging whip that had given her scars all across her shoulders and back. She smiled as a select few close to her called out her name, or waved.
"Good morn', Beatrice!"
"Good morn', Friar Kaepora."
Her voice was soft, but firm, and gentle, as she broke into normal speaking. Like the earth upon which she stood, welcome to receive you back into death as quickly as you had come from it in birth. Beatrice's footsteps sounded quietly as she strode upon the familiar cobblestone pathway, her mind imagining her destination. She ignored the stares of a handful of villagers... her dress had never been considered 'normal' by them. Then again, neither had she. Her song resumed again, as naturally as it had ended, as she disappeared around the final corner of a small, Catholic cathedral. Small though it was it was still intimidating in its majesty.
"Hi-ri, Hi-ra, Hi-ri."
The courtyard. Her courtyard. No one seemed to come around here anymore, so she had 'adopted' it as her own personal sanctuary. Vines lined the worn, stone walls, and slowly crept up around the edges of an ancient water fountain. It had once been called St. Adelaide's Courtyard. But the name had now become lost from her memory. Beatrice gazed up through the perfect 'window' it created onto the streets of the village. Her home. And she smiled softly, with her dark, chocolate coloured hair falling in curls down around her face, and over her shoulders. She carefully sat down upon the polished edge of the fountain, and lovingly ran her fingertips over the water's surface. The liquid crystal seemed to ripple, to reach up and touch her back. Beatrice looked back up over her shoulder, back through the window again. People were her inspiration. All people. Or rather, it was the diversity of all people that gave her such motivation to play, to sing, and to enchant. And she was almost sure that she could see every kind of people, just through this window.
"Saol na saol... Tús go deireadh. Tá muid beo, go deo..."
Her voice seemed to die down for just a moment, although still riddled in melody and tune. She gingerly swung the lute from over her shoulder, holding it just so in her lap. Almost like a child. Her fingers nimbly plucked the strings, carrying on the song where her tongue refused to taint it. She gazed down mournfully down at the carefully painted Spanish roses, put there so long ago by her teacher's hand. 'These roses will help you to remember the virtues that make us, who ye are, Young Beatrice. Courage, wisdom, kindness, patience, inspiration, faith, and love. And the greatest of these is love.'
She had to smile, remembering Sire Jerome's words. He was dead now. Sunken into a bloody grave at the end of an enemy's blade.
"Saol na saol... Tús go deireadh. Tá muid beo, go deo. Hi-ri... Hi-ro... Hi-ri. Hoireann is O, ha hi, ra ha, ra ha ra."
End note: There you have it! You've met Adiana, Tristan, Lancelot, and Beatrice. I forgot to mention that there will be two romances but more often than not the characters I oversee are the ones with the more prominant romances. So Adi will take the lead on that. :D