Well, this is my first King Arthur story and only my second chapter story. I am ridiculously nervous about posting it, but my best friend, as always, reminded that I worry too much anyway and maybe I should take risks. I can't promise I will finish this story, although I do want to. Chapter two is finished, chapter three is in the process of being written, and an actual plot is beginning to form. I would love feedback; not reviews so much as actual (positive) criticism. I feel this is my most serious writing I have undertaken yet (other than my writing for English classes and the school newspaper). Also, I would love a beta. If you have beta services you would like to offer, perhaps we could talk. Anyway, without further ado...

Chapter I

Lancelot had seen Giuliana many times.

But not here. Never here. The young seamstress never ventured into the tavern, instead avoiding it like the plague. He knew it was the love of drink that led Giuliana's father to abuse her and her brother. The painful memories of childhood and the scar on her cheek led Giuliana to stay as far away from any alcohol as possible. Everyone who lived at this part of the Wall knew that. So why was she here?

The girl was standing behind the tavern counter, scrubbing the table top vigorously, pausing only when Vanora or another tavern wench stopped and asked for something for a patron.

Lancelot was shaken from his musings when a shove from Gawain reminded him he was in the middle of a dice game. He took a swig of his ale and rolled the die. Minutes later, Lancelot became a richer man, and Gawain protested loudly at the loss of his best knife.

Giuliana looked up from her work when shouts rose up from the far corner of the tavern. She stood frozen at the sound, until she realized it was simply one of the knights reacting to his dice game.

The girl had been skittish her entire time in the tavern. She jumped at every loud noise, and since the tavern was so busy, that meant everything. It made getting her work done difficult; she had scrubbed at the same spot for fifteen minutes.

She blew an auburn curl out of her face and threw her rag into the wash bucket. Vanora would be wanting more bread and stew for the men soon. It was a couple hours past the usual suppertime at the Wall, but Vanora liked to keep her customers well fed.

Just as Giuliana began cutting vegetables, Vanora sidled up next to her, one of her children on her hip. At the sudden new presence, the girl gave a small squeak of surprise.

"Girl, you are the jumpiest creature I've ever met," Vanora admonished.

Giuliana mumbled an apology.

"Hopefully this lot will shove out soon," she nodded toward the knights, "and you can be getting home."

Sure enough, an hour later, the small group of Sarmatians did leave the tavern (some at Vanora's strong insistence) and Giuliana was told to clean up the kitchen and then leave herself.

"Gilly! Gilly, come here," Vanora called to her oldest, who was currently fascinated by the few dice games remaining.

"You stop that grumbling, boy. Now, I want you to take Giuliana home – it's too dark out for her to go all by herself."

At the mention of Giuliana, Gilly instantly perked up, while a deep blush colored his cheeks and ears. Vanora eyed him curiously before turning back to Giuliana. She handed the girl a bundle that she had sat on the counter earlier.

"Here, take this extra stew and bread home. I'm sure Marcus missed having his evening meal at the usual time."

"Oh, Vanora, I can't -"

"Hush, girl, you can and you will. Now, home you go."

With a grateful smile, Giuliana left with Gilly. As soon as the fresh air of the street filled her nose, cleansing it of the stench of alcohol, Giuliana relaxed.

Not far into the short walk to her home, Giuliana noticed the usually chatty Gilly was unusually quiet. Her few attempts at conversation were quickly ended with his one word answers. He shuffled his feet in the dirt and kept his head bowed. She could not see the blush that still colored his cheeks.

They soon reached the door of the small cottage Giuliana shared with her brother. At fifteen, Gilly was just short enough for Giuliana to easily lean over and kiss his cheek in parting. "Thank you, Gilly, for bringing me home. And please, thank your mother for me again."

She could barely hear the boy's mumbled reply as he quickly turned and ran back the way they came, his face burning all the way to the roots of his hair.

She wore an amused smile, then looked warily around the deserted street before opening the door to her house and entering.

"Marcus? Marcus, are you home?" Giuliana called softly as she hung her cloak on the peg near the door.

She turned to find her brother slouched in the wooden chair next to the hearth. The fire she had stoked before leaving for the tavern had died down to embers. She added some more logs before hanging the pot of stew above the now cheery fire.

"Marcus, wake up." She prodded at his shoulder until his sleepy eyes blinked slowly open.

"Giulane.." he slurred.

She laughed softly, poking him once more. "Wake up, sleepy head, I have your dinner."

"Dinner?" He was awake now. "It's about time."

"Oh, don't complain."

"Don't complain? Giuliana, it's midnight and you are just now arriving home. I'll complain as much as I want – it's not right."

Giuliana sighed as she took the now warmed stew out of the fire and poured it into their bowls.

"I know, Marcus, but I can't keep working as a seamstress for Thaddeus."

"I wish you would tell me what happened to make you quit. You love being a seamstress," he said between spoonfuls.

"No, Marcus." She replied firmly.

"Giuliana, I am your brother, please."

"No!"

"Giuliana -"

"I'm going to bed," she cut him off. "Enjoy your supper." She hadn't touched hers.

With that, she left her brother at the table and went to her room.

Their house was divided into two rooms. The larger, outer room consisted of the hearth, a table, a few chairs, and Marcus's bed. The smaller room, which really resembled a closet, held Giuliana's bed and a small table for her few belongings.

She changed into her night shift and brushed and braided her long hair before blowing out the candles and settling into her straw mattress.

As she slept that night, Giuliana dreamt of a life long ago, of a large house and gardens, of children, and of laughter.

"Come, Gawain, one more game!" Lancelot cried.

"No, my friend, I know when I am beat. Even drunk you are better at this game than me!"

"Vanora, another pitcher!" Galahad yelled at the passing barmaid.

"Oh no, not for you," the red-head replied. "The lot of you have been stinking my place up long enough tonight."

"Ah, come now, Nora," Bors complained as pulled his lover close. "Just a bit longer, hm?"

Her answer was to turn her head away when he tried to kiss her.

"Argh, fine," he grunted, pushing Vanora off his lap. "C'mon, lads, we're not wanted here any longer."

Gawain was the first to comply, pulling Galahad up with him. The young knight was the drunkest of the four; even with Gawain's hold on him he almost fell onto the dirt floor.

Lancelot picked up his spoils from the game table, waving his new dagger in Gawain's face. Bors shoved the gloating man in the shoulder, pushing him to the door.

With a final glare and a threat or two, Vanora watched the knights leave before returning to her work.

As soon as Lancelot entered his quarters, he fell none too gracefully into his bed, groaning aloud as his muscles complained from the long day made worse by the effects of alcohol. He lay still on the mattress until the thumping in his head died down. When he felt as if he could safely move again, he rose and poured water from the pitcher next to his bed into a cup. He gulped the cleansing liquid, the small buzz in his head slowly dissipating. When the cup was empty he began to prepare for his duties the following day.

Early the next afternoon he and Tristran were to leave on a short scouting trip. He would be gone only three days at most, but it was sure to be boring. However, Arthur insisted on keeping the lands around his little city safe. Because the nature of these trips was so fleeting, Arthur's knights were charged with the task. The longer, more thorough scouting trips farther out in Arthur's realm were headed by regular soldiers.

Lancelot's first task was to gather his weapons. He had recently been to see the weapons master, so he was confident they were all in good shape, but he looked them over just in case; First his twin swords, then his bow, and finally his dagger. The weapons master would have a new fletch of arrows for him in the morning. He then picked what armor he would take with him: a simple, lightweight breastplate and his gauntlets. Tristran was sure to say something about his lack of heavier armor – the man took these trips much too seriously – but Lancelot had learned over the years to ignore the lecture.

Next he found a sturdy pair of breeches, a heavy tunic, and his warmest cloak. It was sure to be rainy and snowy and Lancelot didn't much care to return to the Wall ill. Upon closer inspection of his clothing choices, he found a large rip in the side of his tunic. He couldn't remember when the damage had occurred, but a training session was his first guess.

He looked about for another suitable tunic, but all his others were either covered in mud or not right for the occasion. He had been putting off taking his garments to the laundresses for a week; he made a note to remedy that when he returned from the trip.

He scowled. His only option was to have the tunic mended in the morning, a daunting prospect. Most of the seamstresses at his preferred tailor shop, no matter how charming he was, refused to work on such short notice. He got along well with only one of the girls, Giuliana. If he could only talk to her specifically in the morning and not the disagreeable head seamstress, he knew he could convince her to mend the tunic.

Satisfied with his plan and that he was sufficiently packed, Lancelot undressed and once more rested his weary body on the bed so he could sleep.

So, not a very eventful chapter, but I couldn't jump right into lots of action. This story must begin with Lancelot and Giuliana getting to know each other better, as more than simple acquaintances. I will try to post chapter two when chapter three is finished. By not posting everything I have written all at once, I hope to maybe get a couple chapters ahead. The plan is to not keep anyone waiting terribly long for the next update.