4 – Stand – Rascal Flatts

It was another busy night in the tavern as Cara whirled around with a tray of dinks in her right hand and a full pitcher in her left. There was laughing and gambling and then there were the wenches that kept the Romans and some of the knights occupied.

For the first time in a long time Arthur had joined the knights. They seemed to be having a good time with all the laughing and joking that was coming from that corner of the room. Bors was being loud as always and Lancelot was being his cocky self.

She busied herself at other tables, not wanting to interrupt. Like always Cara wasn't paying much attention to where she was going and she nearly ran into one of the tavern wenches. "Hey watch it," the wench spat in a high pitched annoying voice. Cara was silent and said nothing in return.

Cara hadn't noticed Lancelot watching her and he was highly displeased with the way she cowered like a child when the wench got in her face. The Cara he used to know would've had that girl on her ass in less than a second, but now she seemed so…restrained like a chained dog.

"Hey, Cara!" Galahad called across the room. His voice was slightly slurred and he swayed slightly when he lifted his arm to get her attention. "How 'bout a couple drinks over here?" Cara looked over to see Galahad waving at her, beckoning her to come over and refill their mugs.

Her footfalls were silent as she approached. For once the smile on her face wasn't forced and it seemed to brighten the room. "Don't you think you've had enough?" she asked observing his drunken behavior. Bors laughed and Galahad shook his head.

The young woman refilled their drinks one by one and moved to leave, but Lancelot caught her arm and pulled her onto his lap. "I think you got the wrong woman," Cara joked lightly.

"And what makes you think that," he asked breathing against her neck. It was seductive and tempting to say the least, but Cara didn't fall for it.

"The wenches are over there," she said turning her head and pointing a finger towards the bar where a group of whores had gathered. One looked over and smiled slyly at Lancelot. He chuckled in her ear.

"Who said I wanted a wench?"

"Well at least one of them would warm your bed," Galahad joked, though no one laughed. In fact everyone was shocked. He probably wouldn't have said it if he was sober, but it hurt nonetheless. Lancelot looked about ready to kill him and Tristan was ready to step between them if a fight accidentally erupted. Cara didn't want to have to deal with this topic and moved to get up.

"Stay," he ordered softly, hanging onto her, refusing to let her go. The smile had disappeared from her face.

"I have work to do," she answered, excusing herself as she walked away. Lancelot sent a glare in Galahad's direction, but the young man wasn't looking. He soon turned his attention back to Cara. She pushed her way through the wenches to refill her pitcher and he frowned when one of them seemed to be mocking her and shoved her back. This time she didn't stand by and take it. She set her pitcher on the counter and socked the wench good in the mouth.

The wench was on the floor and the knights' attention was drawn to the wench and Cara who seemed like she had had enough. Lancelot looked back down at the table. "That's my girl," he mumbled to himself.

The knights watched the women carefully. The whore got to her feet and made to punch Cara, but the knight was quicker. She grabbed the wench's arm and spun her around backwards, pushing her back to the hard floor.

The knights rose to their feet and Vanora came running towards the fighting women, though it wasn't much of a fight. "What's the meaning of this?" she asked harshly. The wenches came to their friend's aid while Cara remained silent. "Cara, go home," Vanora ordered sternly. The wench smiled and Cara's face remained stoic.

She left the tavern without a word and only Lancelot followed her out. "Cara," he called after her, she didn't even turn to look at him. "Cara!" he called louder. Still she did not turn to face him. He quickened his pace, while hers remained the same brisk walk. He grabbed he arm and spun he around to face him. She would not look at him. "What's wrong?" he asked in a calmer voice than before.

"Nothing," she replied simply and softly.

"Cara," he sighed, knowing that she was shrugging him off again. He only wanted to help her and all she seemed to do was push him away. It was slightly unnerving. He used to be able to predict what she would do and how she would react to certain things. Now she seemed so closed off from the world and Lancelot didn't like the fact that he was the one getting pushed away.

"I said it was nothing alight," she snapped, pulled her arm out of his grasp and storming off in the opposite direction. The dark haired knight knew she didn't want to talk about it. Hell she did no t seem to want to talk about anything these last few days.

Not once did Cara look behind her. She didn't want to. It hurt too much. She knew she had hurt him and she knew that Lancelot knew or at least had an idea of how she felt. If he didn't then he was pretty dense. Cara wanted to tell him what the wench had said. How Cara was no longer a brave knight, but a common tavern whore that had been taking advantage of Lancelot.

In a sense it was true. Then again another part of he simply told he that the wench was angry with her. After all, Lancelot had been popular among the women. Cara felt bad about it. She knew Lancelot missed bedding the women, but she knew that he only wanted her happy. The truth was simple. Cara was far from happy.