Hi, This is my first King Arthur story. So please go easy on me.

Trust me, this is not the first chapter. It is more like an introduction to the story. I wanted to give a little emotional information about Kimy (The person who is talking)

I do not own King Arthur, I only own Kimy.

(I will write a more detailed Note later.)

Tell me what you think.

*Flashback*

My heart pounded as I sunk behind a tree. My breathing labored, and I took a couple deep breaths to get it under control. Beads of sweat dripped down my neck smearing the blue paint as it traveled. I wiped my hand over my forehead wincing as the salty moisture seeped into the cut above my eyebrow. I thought I had lost the men, but I knew I was wrong when I felt a hand grip my arm and drag me out into the open. I didn't get a chance to see who exactly had me, only the fact that they were mad. I felt the first blow, it was directly in my stomach. I doubled over letting out a gasp of pain. The attackers laughed and continued kicking, hitting, and whatever else they did to inflict pain to me.

"Enough! He wants her alive, not beaten to death."

My hands were tied and I was tossed onto a horse, I soon succumbed into the darkness that called to me.

*End Flashback*

That was some time ago, I cannot give you an exact length of time for I have no idea if it is day or night. The days seemed to merge together into one long mass of hell. The beatings have become nothing to me. The torture is an everyday thing that I have grown used to. I believed that I was going to die and go to hell, but the monks would not take that. They wanted me to suffer for an unknown sin I committed. I still have no idea why I was put down here, and I don't think I will ever know.

A fog has consumed my brain, for there are times when I don't even know my own name. It has become like a distant memory. My own voice has become useless, for it was stressed from the screams that erupted from my mouth.

I pray to whatever god, and ask that I may die soon. But, maybe being alive to receive this punishment is all I will receive from him.

There are others here, but I have no strength to talk, or even learn their names. They will not last long, I have seen so many people die down here.

The monks are here, to give the usual dose of punishment. They go for me first, for I believe that whatever I have done means I get the worse punishment. I brace myself for the lashes. They tell me I will receive 45 lashes, and they want me to count them.

I don't even make it to 20 before I am nearly dead, but they continue. It is strange, they don't take me down from the chains that keep me up. But instead they leave me to wither in pain, as they pray.

I am about to drift into oblivion when I hear a noise. Something hitting the door above. No, no one is supposed to come. But, now I hear footsteps. And, voices. I cannot turn around where I am, I am to weak to lift my head.

I feel someone behind me, and a strong voice. "This one is dead."

No No No, I am not dead. I want to cry out, but the pain is to much. I have to do something, anything.

I push the pain to the furthest corner of my being and I pull up on the chains as hard as I can. My shoulder protests and I cant help but let out a whimper. I cant scream, my voice has long gone.

I am now breathing heavy, about to give up when a pair of arms circle around me and lift me up. The person is mindful of the wounds on my back as he cuts the chains free. I slump into the hard body behind me. Tears slip down my face, but I wont open my eyes. I am to tired to do so.

I am turned around and lifted up. My legs wrap around the person, and I'm carried out of hell.