A/N: Ok so just to explain Vivien she's also Nimue but its like there split personalities, two people in the same body so Vivien may seem a little messed up talking to herself but really she's talking and being talked to Nimue. Also none of the streets or places i talk about are actually real places in London its all made up.

Chapter 1: London

Meanwhile:

"London," The fifteen year old said to himself as he looked out the window of the taxi. He was going to miss Wales but London seemed okay. Much better than what he could remember of Russia.

Not to say he'd rather be here than in Wales. He would give anything to be back home and for his parents to be alive. To not have to come to London and go live with some distant aunt who didn't even bother coming to the funeral.

Aunt Vivian, he had already been warned about her by his father. She lived in a rather bad part of London and claimed to be psycic, able to support herself because amazingly she kept a job at a local shop and had some mysterious side jobs. Despite her rumored lack of sanity and lack of funds he was being dumped on her because she was his only living relative left.

"Whats the address again kid?" The cab driver asked in a heavy scottish accent.

"13 Lake street." Lancelot read from the slip of paper he held.

The cabby turned around to look at him, "Why the hell you going there?"

He just looked back at the cabby and shrugged, "Live there now I guess." The cabby turned around and murmured something about bad luck and no place for kids.

It certainly wasn't, Lancelot saw when they pulled up to the building. The cabby helped him get out his luggage and waited to get paid but after that he went to his car and drove away as fast as possible.

The building was old and worn down, surrounded by many more old worn down buildings and trash filled streets. Inside was even worse. There was no elevator so he took two trips to bring all the bags up.

Finally getting to apartment 13 he knocked on the door, running a hand thru his hair, trying not to let he nerves get the better of him.

After a few moments of waiting the door opened to reveal a tall thin woman in an old blue dress. She looked young, maybe still in her twenties, and had long blonde hair with blue streaks in it which matched her unnerving bright blue eyes.

"Ahhhh, so you were chosen! He will be happy, don't you think?" she exclaimed to herself in a distant far away voice.

"Excuse me?"

"She knows you Lancelot."

"Yes...okay. Your Vivien right, I'm your nephew." Oh great a schitzo.

"Your time will come soon knight." She grabbed some of his bags and walked back into her apartment. He picked up the rest of his bags and followed.

"There's no reason to joke about my name." Lancelot muttered thinking she was teasing him.

Despite dirt and some unfixed appliances, the apartment was ok. He was shown his room which, although small and damp, wasn't as bad as he expected. Lancelot had always been low maintenance, as long s there was a bed, roof, food, and things to do he was fine.

2 years later:

"Ohhhh Arthur!" He couldn't help but wince as his step mother's piercing voice assaulted his eardrums "There's someone here you just must meet." Arthur winced again as he realized that his stepmother was as usual trying to set him up with someone.

His stepmother found him where he always was during the Pendragon's extravagant dinner parties, hiding out at the fringe of everything. The only reason he went to them anymore was because of his politeness and the need to try and make things up to his father for being so distant.

She quickly strode toward him before he could run away, trailed by a girl who looked a bit younger than him.

"Arthur there you are sweetie, you just must meet George Leodegrance's daughter." She said pushing the girl foward. "Arthur this is Guinevere."

But he already knew who she was, his eyes widened in shock. There before him stood Guinevere, younger than he remembered her, but the same long brown hair and beautiful face. She looked out of place in a long yellow dress, yet again he still thought he looked out of place whenever he looked in the mirror.

"Hello." She said sweetly, eyes checking him out.

Well her boldness hasnt changed. Arthur thought grinning to himself. However the grin left his face when he remembered what she had done.

"Well," Guinevere said, "Arent you going to ask me to dance?" He looked over to his stepmother whose eyes were pleading him to do it.

Arthur just shook his head, "I don't dance," which was an absolute lie, he was forced to take lessons since he was six. "Please excuse me I'm feeling a bit under the weather." he apologized and nodded to both of them and fled quickly before they could stop him.

Once safely in his room he removed his jacket, tie, shirt and shoes. Falling back onto the bed he sighed in frustration. The last two years had been hard.

Arthur had changed, and although he knew he had very good reasons, no one else could figure out what had happened. He had literally changed over night.

He didn't mind his secluding himself, it gave him time to think, keep up his sword skills, read, and not feel so uncomfortable.

Arthur found himself no longer able to relate to his parents or any of his friends anymore. Sure there was that one part of him, the Arthur Pendragon part who had sixteen years worth of memory in his head. But that part wasnt as dominating as his memories as Arthur Castus.

It was probably because that life was longer and full of so much pain and emotion and love. The mix of the two lives pushed him into reclusiveness. He now found shelter in books, history, sports, and hard work: gardening, carpentry, anything he got the chance to do. The more he did the more he was able to forget all the pain and forget his old friends and forget Lancelot.

He may not have the happiest of lives but he got along, the knowledge that he would eventually be needed for something important helped.

But what was he to do with Guinevere? He loathed her, one half wanting to kill her and the other half saying no that's not what we do now a days. There was no reason why his stepmother should be trying to set him up, the few times he did go out with friends he always find girls that he even dated them for a short time. He didn't need to be set up, especially with her.

Meanwhile:

"Viv! I'm going out don't burn the place down!" Lancelot yelled from the doorway eager to get out. Vivien was lighting insesnce again and chanting in an attempt to enhance her prophetic prowess. He didn't mind the chanting, or even the fact that she was trying to perform magic he was used to all that. Lancelot just had to get out before his incense provoked headache split his head open.

To most people taking a walk in this part of town just as the sun was setting was a very bad idea. Lancelot however wasn't afraid of anything, not always a positive attribute. He had already gotten into a few scuffles out in the street and came out okay. Defending himself was never a problem, he knew how to fight.

Walking down the cobblestone street, trying to avoid the dirty puddles, homeless people, and garbage, he watched as people walked home from work and little shops began to close down. He really did love this place, despite its dirtiness, and crime rate, and poverty, it sort of grew on him.

Then again he never was all that picky about where he lived. As long as he never got bored, and between living with Vivien and living here he never did.

"No!" His head turned across the street to where a woman was fighting with a kid over her purse. Cursing he looked around to find any cops, and of course as usual there were none. The kid was just some punk off the street who probably needed a few bucks, and the woman looked like some local housewife who probably couldn't afford losing those few bucks.

The kid managed to push the lady off and start running away with the purse, passing Lancelot. Without really thinking of the consequences Lancelot took off after the kid.

He followed the kid two blocks, through an alley and over a fence. Although he'd gotten a good head start Lancelot was in much better shape than the kid and caught up with him, tackling him down to the ground.

Just as Lancelot was drawing his arm back to punch the kid in the face, a big meaty hand caught his elbow and pulled him up to his feet, throwing him back away from the kid.

He found himself surrounded by five kids a little older than him. "Give me the purse."

The big kid and obviously the leader laughed as another one helped the kid Lancelot chased to his feet. "And what the hell you gonna do if we don't?"

Lancelot looked around, sizing everyone up. The big one and some other guy with a baseball bat looked like the only real big threats. No one was reaching for this waists so it didn't look like anyone was carrying guns, these guys were all show.

"I'm going to make you run home to your mums." Lancelot said with a grin.

All six of them laughed. They didn't notice that Lancelot was slowly inching closer to the purse which he could now easily grab and make a run for it.

He was just about to do that when a weasly looking kid spoke up, "I know you, you live with that psycho bitch who can tell the future." All six laughed again.

"Heard she's a whore, they any fun?" Another one said.

Lancelot froze and his eyes darkened with rage, no way in hell was he going to let this go now, "Don't know, why don't you ask your pop? I mean he must be doing your mum."

"Bastard." The kid lunged at him but Lancelot sidestepped and elbowed him into the ground.

That's when the rest of them all started towards him and Lancelot realized he'd done it again. Done something without thinking, taking on six punks, most armed with baseball bats, while unarmed.

Ducking a punch he tripped the kid and knocked him into a wall, then struck another square in the face only to be caught in the ribs by what felt like a baseball bat. Whoever did that got a punch in the eye but then so did he right after that. He was holding his own at the moment but he didn't know how long he could last.

Suddenly the big one with the baseball bat was forced against the wall by a knife which pinned his shirt against the wall. Everyone stopped of a second to look over at the knife thrower, a new comer who was a stranger to them all. He was a little taller than Lancelot and possibly the sameage but no one could tell for sure because his dark long hair covered most of his face. Lancelot felt an odd shiver run down his spine as he got the distinct impression he somehow knew this guy, even though he was certain he'd never met him before.

Half hidden eyes scanned the scene before him and he shifted preparing himself for a fight. One of the kids launched himself at the new kid and Lancelot grinned as he quickly hit the ground. Between the two of them the rest of the boys had either given up or joined their friends on the ground in a few minutes flat.

"Thanks." Lancelot said as he bent down a picked up the purse.

The other boy just nodded, "Like to fight." he said.

"I'm Lancelot."

"Tristan."

"You live around here?"

Tristan pointed down the street.

"Oh so do I. I'll walk with you if your heading home. I gotta get a move on, return this purse to, 17 Ludenwic Avenue." He read off the wallet in the purse. "Then get home before my aunt burns the apartment down."

He just raised an eyebrow and followed Lancelot as he made his way down the street.

Lancelot raised his eyebrow, "Your not a real talker are you?"

"Yeah."

"Well that's ok," he shrugged. "It evens things out ya know, I tend to talk too much."

"Really I hadn't noticed."

Lancelot laughed. "Well this is it." He said nodding up at the building. "I have to return the purse, you don't have to wait."

"I don't plan to."

Lancelot laughed. "Stop by sometimes, 13 Lake street, I owe you for saving my arse." He said waving goodbye.

Tristan just nodded and walked away.

"Weird guy." Lancelot muttered to himself but decided he liked him anyway.

One week later:

Lancelot was alone in their apartment making lunch, Viv had gone to work. There was a knock at the door and he looked towards it warily not expecting anyone.

He looked thru the peephole and saw Tristan standing there waiting to be let in. Lancelot grinned, so this Tristan guy had taken up his offer.

Tristan looked up at him as the door opened and said hello. Lancelot returned the greeting, "So you want lunch?" The other shrugged which Lancleot took as a yes so he stood aside and ushered Tristan in. "The pastas almost done."

"You cook?" Tristan asked from his seat next to the open window.

"Yeah, I kinda had to learn when I moved here. Viv, well lets just say she should stick to telling the future." He grimaced at the thought of his aunt's cooking. Then he turned his attention back to his pasta which was almost done. When he looked up again to put it into two waiting bowls he noticed Tristan wasnt alone.

Tristan looked up and saw Lancelot gawking and just shrugged indifferently.

"There's a hawk on your hand, in the middle of London, in my apartment."

"Congratulations, you can see." Tristan drawled petting his hawk's head.

"I'm not even going to ask."

The hawk chirped and Lancelot handed Tristan his bowl, "I'm going to assume that's a rare thing for you. By the way you have any apples?"

Lancelot just laughed and threw him an apple from the fridge, "This looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship." he teased and Tristan snorted into his apple.

Two year and a half years later...

Lancelot walked down the street feeling better than he had in a while. Maybe it was because he had finally quit trying to be a cop.

Sure it was exciting and everything, but there were just too many rules and restrictions for him to handle. Plus he hated having a boss. The only problem was that now he didnt have a source of income, but he'd think of something.

At the moment he had decided to push all worries about what he was going to do next out of his head, at that moment he was free. Looking out at the street to his left he jumped up when he realized Tristan had silently apperead beside him.

"Christ Tristan!"

His silent friend just shook his head, "Youd think that after all this time we've known each other and youd be use to this."

Lancelot just shook his head and muttered something about creepy animal loving weirdos. Glaring at Tristan again he realized something was different. "Tristan..." he began.

"What?" he got as an annoyed reply.

"When, why, and where did you get those thingies on your face?" The shorter man asked his friend pointing wildly at the marks that now decorated Tristan's cheekbones.

Tristan shrugged "This morning...I kind of just felt like it." he said almost apologetically.

"They permanent?"

He nodded.

Lancelot just continued staring, "First the bird, then the apple obsession thing, then the random animals, the creepy silent thing, and now this...Tristan you disturb me."

Six months later:

"Lancelot what are we doing?" Tristan's patience was wearing thin.

"You'll see." Lancelot said leading his friend down the street. Finally they stopped in front of a small apartment building.

Tristan just looked at him, "This is what you wanted to show me?"

The other young man nodded his head exuberantly, dark curls bouncing.

"Well, I hope you know I have seen apartment buildings before."

Lancelot rolled his eyes, "Yes but have you seen apartment buildings owned by me before?"

Tristan could find no snide response to what he had just learned, he only stared at Lancelot. Who was of course grinning at the fact that he had for the first time in the years they've known one another managed to shock Tristan.

"Your on drugs."

Lancelot's eyebrows shot upward, "Pardon?"

"You just bought an apartment building! Why the hell did you? Where'd you get the money?"

For a second he was rendered speechless by one of Tristan's rare outbursts (he prided himself in being the only person who could incite one) but he quickly recovered. "I'm becoming a private detective." At his friends questioning look her continued. "See I like the whole action, chase down the bad guys guns blazing thing, but being a cop meant I had a boss. This way I am the boss, no rules, my own hours. So I decided to do this, and I needed a place. This is perfect! Plus money isnt a problem, I got a hell of a lot from my trust fund when I turned eighteen, I've been saving it." He gestured towards the building. "We can live in it and have the agency. Plus it was cheap, no one wants to live in this part of the city anymore so who would want an apartment building?" Looking at Tristan he deflated a little when he got no response, "So..." he urged.

"So what?" Tristan didnt miss the whole 'we' thing.

"Wanna be my partner? Place to live, income, you can fight and be creepy and get paid for it."

Tristan considered it, "Ok, but on one condition." A wicked grin appeared on his face and Lancelot almost regretted asking him to join.

"Anything."

"I get to name it."

"Fine," What's the worse he can do? Lancelot reassured himself, expecting much worse.

"Camelot Investigation, to pay tribute to your very unique name."

Lancelot blanched, Tristan knew his name was a sore subject. "Bastard." He mumbled then finally answered Tristan, "Fine, you better be damn good at this job." He said giving Tristan the finger when he started to laugh.

Tbc...

A/N: So the next chapter or so will be Lancelot and Tristan meeting and hiring the others. Don't worry Arthur will be coming back soon enough.