Disclaimer: I own neither the movie Quest for Camelot nor the books on which they are loosely based!

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A/N: Hello, my readers! I hope that my corrections didn't startle anyone or falsely raise any hopes. A special thanks to Skeedoodle, who probably doesn't even realize that I noticed the new Story Alert-but it made a difference: it gave me the push I needed to finish and post this chapter, given my recent illness and exam!

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Chapter 4: Two Returns

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When Kayley and her mother rode, properly dressed and presentable, to meet with the Knights of the Round Table, they were surprised at the size of the entourage. They dismounted at the top of the foothills as the first few men rode up. Kayley was excited, and ran ahead into the riding figures, despite her mother's attempts to quietly stop her—Juliana was old and strong enough to realize that something was amiss, here. She knew there were not so many Knights of the Round Table in all the land, let alone just the parts beyond their own lands.

"Kayley!" she cried, heart already starting to feel with dread. But the child had run ahead, calling for her father, unaware of the meaning of the stony faces of the men riding past her, refusing to meet her eyes. She gasped, seeing the reason for the many extra men: King Arthur had ridden with them.

She froze, seeing his guard and his shining crown—he was dressed in all the formal finery she would expect of a king. Somehow, the fact that this would normally be out of place for the road, even for a king, escaped her as she stared, dumbfounded. She started to bend into her lowest curtsy, but froze halfway down. She had seen something dreadful.

"Father!" she cried, her manners forgotten and her youth and grief plain. She ran forward to the long, sled-like plank being pulled by the horses. He was still and stony, positioned into the traditional repose of the dead, shield over his chest. The men leading the horses pulling him continued, and she ran after it, sobbing.

Suddenly, strong arms grabbed her and pulled her up. A man, taller than her father and just slightly broader, had grabbed her from the ground. She sobbed, not thinking of her safety, because the man who had lifted her was a Knight. He planted her firmly in the front of his saddle, then somberly swung up behind her, delivering her back to her mother.

"I am sorry, Lionel's Daughter, for your loss." he said softly as he lowered her to the ground, but she hardly registered the sentiments as she ran and pressed her face into her mother's skirts, sobbing. The Knight who had rescued her was not like her father in many ways, but did share some similarity to Lionel in temperament and gentleness. He had liked the man, and grieved for his widow and orphan as he rode back into formation.

The king demanded no such thing, but Juliana—as strong and noble a woman as one might have expected to win the affections of Sir Lionel—demanded that the comfort and hospitality owed to their liege and sovereign be paid in full. The feast was scrumptious, if more somber than might otherwise have been expected. As nervous and overprotective as she could sometimes be with her only child, her inner strength and will shone through her grief and relieved some of the worries that the knights who never knew her had harbored.

Kayley cried herself to sleep that night, even through all her mother's soothing, after the ladies of the house had excused themselves for bed. In the privacy of her own bedroom, later, Juliana permitted herself to do the same.

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*~*~*~*~*~*THE NEXT MORNING*~*~*~*~*~*

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Early in the morning, the sun was rising, and Juliana was sober in her mourning garb. Little Kayley looked younger than ever, draped in a mourning dress that was too large for her small frame. It had been made a little big, so it could be taken in if needed or out as she grew...but the sudden need for it had left no time foralterations, since the dress fit without dragging, at least, even though the sleeves were slightly too long, and the collar a bit large. The length was long, for what it was meant to be...but since it didn't go to the floor, that would be fine. There were more important arrangements to make, if it was wearable.

They rode solemnly out to the selected place. The ground was too frozen to cut, so they would have to leave her father in a stone coffin that had been prepared long before, in case he died on one of his missions for the king. The symbol of the realm—that of King Arthur, also worn by the Knight of the Round Table—had been carefully cut into it by the village mason overnight, in an act of loyalty and devotion to the man who had watched after them all with kindness and a fair hand.

The services were dry and boring. The priest was saying things and doing things, and Juliana watched with a serious face and dry eye, though the lines in her brow gave away her true misery. Kayley ran up and brushed a hand on the stone after her father's rites were done, just as King Arthur began to speak. She knew the stories—her favorite stories, of her father's goodness and loyalty. While at any other time, she would have listened to the story from the king's perspective in awed silence, clinging to every word...she was too sad. She ran to the well and cried softly to herself, not wanting to disrespect her father or her king by interrupting the funeral, but too stricken with grief to stay and silently watch.

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...far across the land, back in Camelot, an old wizard with a falcon perched on his arm watched on sadly while a little boy was similarly afflicted.

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*~*~*~*~*~*TEN YEARS LATER*~*~*~*~*~*

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Kayley was strong for a woman, though lithe and dextrous, not burly or clumsy for it. Through the years, remembering her father's promises and holding on to her dream, she trained her body like a knight would—without fancy equipment, she practiced swinging farming tools and aiming pitchforks instead of broadswords and javelins. She ran often, and tested her balance and coordination with increasingly difficult terrains...but her mother kept her close to home.

It was a source of endless frustration—she was ready to be presented to the king! She wanted to join his service, as her father before her! But Juliana, relying on her help and fearful of losing her only remaining family and child, always found reasons to hold them on their lands. Kayley longed for the day her mother would finally take the king up on his open invitation. In honor of her fallen father, the king had decreed that the gates of Camelot would always open to Lady Juliana. It would be so simple for her mother to send word they were coming and present her daughter to the king!

So why wouldn't she?! Kayley began to wonder if she would ever step foot off their lands...

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*~*~*~*~*~*IN CAMELOT*~*~*~*~*~*

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King Arthur was giving a speech to summarize the last ten years. As he always did, during their meetings, he remembered Sir Lionel, whose chair at Arthur's right hand, also as always, was left empty in his honor. For all his strength and bearing, the king still sorely missed his first and most trusted Knight of the Round Table. As many of the king's vassals, Arthur's friend had given his life in service to his kingdom...and, as weighed most heavily on Arthur, to his king. As the sovereign finally branched into the business of the lands and the peacekeeping and patrolling efforts of the Knights, though, a sound like a cannon split the air, and rubble began to fall.

Some of the younger knights, a few taking over for aged or deceased predecessors, flinched and jumped. Arthur didn't begrudge them the surprise, but instead froze, like the older, more experienced knights. A gryphon was descending through the destroyed dome of their rotunda! Arthur slowly began to reach for Excalibur where it hung ceremoniously on his chair, but the intelligent beast saw his movements and deduced at last where its target was.

In the blink of an eye, it had attacked, slashing the king's arm and yanking the sword free. Knights yelled and clambered onto the table. Almost as quickly, it was gone, despite the king's best archers shooting after it with flaming arrows. The knights were rushing to Arthur's aid, but as they tried to lift the wounded king into his chair, he pushed them away sharply with his good arm, yelling for them to find Merlin and retrieve the sword!

Mere minutes later, a long-bearded elder was at the top of the keep, on the walk where the guards watched nightly, despite the long peace. A few on-duty guards were startled by his sudden appearance; he gave off an air of swirling energy and intensity that wasn't expected in such an obviously aged man. It seemed uncanny—unnatural, even—and they were frightened. Merlin paid them no mind.

He raised his staff and made motions with his hands, and something felt different to the men standing, watching, terrified. God, protect me! One man prayed, If I survive, I will go to mass each day and pray penance each night! They were in no danger, but the arcane was not to be trifled with. To have lived so long with his gift, Merlin had been forced to accrue incredible control and abilities, but the ordinary men on the tower with him were unfortunate enough to chance upon him in an instance where he could not hold back as usual. They would not be harmed—but they would not leave unaffected.

"Silverwings...protect the sword!" His voice sounded no louder than a healthy man calling clearly-but somehow, it persisted, and echoed...though nobody down below heard the sound of his voice, they would forever swear on their mothers and grandfathers that it had boomed even into their very skulls, forcing its way in, and through, and across the land. Far in the distance, they thought they heard a raptor's cry.

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*~*~*~*~*~*THE NEXT MORNING*~*~*~*~*~*

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All able Knights of the Round Table, minus a protective force for Camelot itself, were sent outward in every direction to begin their search for the gryphon and the sword. The heralds and scribes were given an order by the king, who was pale and weak with loss of blood from the deep tears into his stronger arm, muscles nearly cut from the bone.

The apothecaries had thought he would lose the arm, but Merlin locked them all out. When they returned three hours later, as per his orders, they found the old wizard near-fainting, and the king out cold...but with his arm obviously fully attached, though his wounds were still grave. Merlin ordered them to tend to the king as if it were a normal wound of such severity, because there was no more he could do...and then he somehow managed to hobble past them, and was not seen again for days.

Following their orders, the heralds and scribes set off the emergency signal chain, blowing the horns from one tower to the next, and then building the first fire for the smoke signal. Once the signal began to be repeated from the nearest alert towers, they set off to deliver the messages they were to carry in person—one to each landholder, and a few to certain individuals particularly.

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*~*~*~*~*~*MILES AWAY, HIDDEN*~*~*~*~*~*

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The man gnashed his teeth, waking after a dream reliving a frustrating old memory. His plans, concocted and enacted over ten years, were finally coming to fruition. He heard the alarms blowing the pattern that announced an emergency with an upcoming message. Truthfully, he had expected it sooner—it was nearing nightfall, and the attack had been planned for the night before.

But then, they were somewhat removed, out here. It was a pity, really, that this land didn't have a Knight-Protector, these days. It was a pity that Sir Lionel had refused to serve a new king! The man might have lived and prospered under him—except that his bullheadedness and determination to hang onto current ways had led him to label any challenger to the throne a "false king"...but he knew the truth! It was Arthur whose reign was stagnating the lands! It was time for somebody new to take power—and with his plans falling into place, that was exactly what he intended to do!

Ruber had returned! ...and it was high time that Lady Juliana took advantage of that little invitation he'd heard she had received...!