Hello. This is my first King Arthur fanfiction. Recently stumbled upon this movie again and remembered how much I love it. While most of this is based on the movie, I do take several things from the book as well. Hope you do not become confused.

Reviews are always welcome. Critiques are longed for. As I always like to say, I only wish to improve as a writer.

I own nothing except the characters I create.

Enjoy!

The Rose Has Thorns

Prologue

Her horse was tired, as was she, both unaccustomed to the long journey, herself never having taken one on the back of a creature for such an extended time. Her body was sore and her head continued to nod. The reins were lost a while ago. She trusted the horse to know where they were going. They had been traveling in the same direction for the past few days.

Her head fell forward further than before, face catching a feel of the horse's mane. She straightened momentarily, taking in a deep breath before plummeting again. There had been no food for well over a day, her mouth was dry, her spirit lower than she thought possible. It had given up, the remnants of her will the only things keeping her upon the saddle, though those were swiftly fading as well. She attempted to grip the hair of the animal tighter but her effort was fruitless, her hand unresponsive. The other was lost, hanging limply to the side from what she could feel.

Through the stands of matted, black hair she gazed at the ocean of green, more shades than she could have possibly imagined. She supposed it was a beautiful sight, one that many could lose themselves in but the image for her had been tainted. It was a horrid land she gazed upon, one she feared she could never escape.

The green of the rolling hills was disrupted by something foreign, manmade. Hadrian's Wall.

A smile crossed her face as her thoughts whispered praises to the unseen hand that guided her. She patted the neck of her horse, a motion she was certain it hardly noticed. Even as her grip loosened and her body began to slip, it continued the slow trek toward the wall, body lost in repetition. Perhaps it continued still without her burden upon its back. She never noticed.

The relief in her body was overwhelming; the feeling of the ground forcing itself upon her more comforting than painful. It was as though she had fallen into bed after a hard day's work. A bed, though, was the last thing she wished to think of. Never again would she desire to touch one.

It was the sky that faced her now, deep blue and endless. If she concentrated hard enough, it could be the sky back home. This time of the year many found the heat unbearable but she relished it, never one for the cold. Her brothers would call her crazy, from the safety of the stable shade of course. Always she would ignore them, a smile on her face as she stared at the vast beyond.

How long had she been gone? She tried to avoid counting the days, hoping they would blur together, the thought if time was passing faster or slower never occurring to her. Eternity was how it felt no matter how she looked at it though.

Something disturbed her sight, brought new colors to the scheme. It was a man, clad in a suit of armor, the metal reflecting the sun's rays like a pool of water. He was the legend of knights brought to life, coming to her aid as the storytellers said they would.

"Artorius?" she wondered in a whisper, awe in her voice. The man knelt by her, brows knitted with worry. His eyes widened in recognition as her hand moved to his face. "I have found you."

He spoke nothing, only continued to stare in disbelief. Her hand moved along his cheek, feeling the stubble of another beard attempting to come through. How different he had become in the years they had been apart. He appeared so much older than he ought to have been, the same disease that had struck her father and soldiers like him.

"I am safe." Almost longingly she gazed up at him, a small smile once again appearing. His eyes were such a beautiful green, a fact she had long forgotten. Her hand slipped down again, strength failed, but the smile remained.

Her body was lifted into the air. She could not feel his grip but surely it must have existed. Then again, perhaps he was a dream, a construct of her desperation and weariness. Yet she found herself moving, soon passing beneath the gate of the great wall, the detail far too clear to be a dream or vague memory of hers.

He continued in silence or she was too distant to hear anything he said. She placed her head on his chest, the cool of the armor calming her warm skin. Her hand moved to his crest, tracing each line in its intricate pattern. She realized how silly it must have all looked, her actions matching that of a drunk's, but she neither stopped nor cared. South of the wall brought safety and that was where she was.

There were hoof beats in the distance, coming closer. The form was blurry at first and dark, a nightmare coming to reclaim her. For a moment true fear held her heart until the figure spoke, pulling beside the two of them.

"Arthur, why do you open the gate? For her?" His voice was cooler, familiar, the accent striking her memory hard as she searched for a name. If only she could see his face.

"She seeks sanctuary," Arthur spoke. "I will not be the one to deny her it."

"Woads control the North," the man replied. "How can you be so certain she is not one of them?" She squinted at the man, attempting to clear her vision but coming up with nothing. How she knew his voice!

"Do you not recognize her, Lancelot?" Arthur inquired, stepping closer as he did so.

Lancelot. She looked to him again, suddenly identifying the obvious features behind the blurring of her eyes. Of all the men to forget her, it had to be him. In a brief moment of humor that she thought long gone, she thought of all the reasons why, deeming all women looked the same to him at this point the right one. She almost laughed at this but her body was too sore to comply.

There was only silence on Lancelot's part. She knew his eyes were on her, searching for something, familiarity perhaps. She could feel her body moving away from Arthur's, being lifted up onto another saddle, could feel Lancelot's strong arms grasp her.

Smiling once more, she mumbled, "Lancelot."

Now it was his turn to gawk in silence. His hand removed the hair from her face, tracing what she could tell was now a well developed bruise, the pain of it hardly registering. There was anger reflected in his gaze, its presence comforting.

"What have they done to you, Benedicta?" he asked as she slowly faded into darkness.