Wow it's been ages and I am very very VERY sorry, but I literally have no time at all to write. And please, people, leave reviews, if I don't get any I won't continue to write! Mind you, I'm so rusty it might be a good thing to stop ;-) Enjoy!

Lancelot had spent the whole day doing two things.

Firstly trying to come up with a way to deal with his … situation. Unfortunately he hadn't really succeeded. He simply didn't know what to do or how to react, should he encounter Aethelinda.

And secondly, trying to avoid her. That part of his plan had worked out quite well. He'd simply refused to leave his quarters until sunset, receiving quite a few teasing comments from his fellow knights, all of whom, thanks to Gawain, had already learnt of the happenings of the night before. Inwardly cursing himself for telling Gawain, Lancelot continued to walk p and down the room. He wasn't sure whether it was the fact that he'd been forced to stay in his room all day, or whether he was growing impatient with himself for not having found a solution for his problem yet.

Maybe both.

Sighing frustrated he sat down on the edge of his bed and stared into the fire.

It wasn't only the fact that he didn't want to feel anything for a woman. That part was frightening enough. He didn't want to be that attached to another human being, always wondering what they were doing, always worrying about them, growing insanely jealous every time they spoke to someone else.

There was also the fact that he didn't have anything to offer.

He wasn't a rich man. He had no power. He was a knight. A killer. There was nothing there that could promise a woman a secure future. That simply wasn't enough.

And then there was of course the fact that he was already thinking about the future. The only way in which he thought about women and future in one sentence was how to get out of her room the morning after. This was a very unsettling turn of events…or rather of thoughts.

He didn't know what it was about Aethelinda, but she made him think of the future in a compleltely different way. He didn't know her all that well. He knew that she had a troubled past, that she had lead a hard life, knowing things only of death, terror, violence. Maybe it was exactly that. They were so much alike, being forced to fight and kill all their lives. Maybe the fact that this was a person who knew exactly what he felt, who knew what it felt like to kill someone to survive made her stand out from the rest.

And maybe it was just the opposite. Maybe it was the fact that at the same time she was so unlike him. She didn't trust anyone, never wanted to trade in joy for terror, never really letting down her thick coat of armor, never seizing to fight.

Stop thinking! He told himself and squeezed his eyes shut, but all that did was conjuring up Aethelinda's pale face and her huge dark eyes.

Lancelot actually yelled in frustration. At that moment there was a knock on the door.

"What?" he snarled and whirled around as the door opened.

"Peace, Lancelot," Gawain said as he entered the room.

"I will kill you," Lancelot said.



"For what?" Gawain asked, seeming only mildly interested.

"For telling everyone else what I confided in you!" Lancelot said angrily.

"Oh calm down, would you?" Gawain said, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "They would have found out anyway. Do you really think that they would just let you sit in your room all day without asking questions?"

Lancelot looked at Gawain for a moment, then said:

"I really hate you sometimes."

"I know," Gawain said, winking. "It's because I'm just so brilliant."

"Right," Lancelot snorted and Gawain grinned.

"So how is all that hiding-in-your-room-stuff coming along?" he asked.

"Just marvelous," Lancelot said dryly.

"I thought so," Gawain said. "Let's go down to the pub."

"I can't," Lancelot said feebly.

"Why not?"

"Because we might encounter her," he mumbled.

"How scared are you of this woman?" Gawain asked, looking rather worried.

"Pretty scared," he answered honestly.

"Bt if we go down to the pub," Gawain said, being kind enough not to comment, "you can get drunk and then she won't be able to confront you or if she does manage and you totally blow it you can always blame it on the ale."

Lancelot thought about this for a second.

"That is a very good plan," he said.

"Of course it is," Gawain scoffed.

"Let me guess," Lancelot said, smirking. "It is brilliant because you thought of it?"

"Naturally," Gawain answered.

"Naturally."

"Do you see her anywhere?" Lancelot asked, looking around frantically.



"Don't be so bloody paranoid," Gawain muttered as they made their way through the crowd towards the table where Arthur and Galahad were sitting.

"Yeah right, because you would be totally cool in this situation," Lancelot hissed.

"As a matter of fact I would be."

"Sure," Lancelot snorted. "We'll see about that when the time has come."

Gawain turned around so abruptly, that Lancelot almost stumbled into him.

"Enlighten me," he said, looking serious. "what exactly do you mean by 'that time'?"

"I…" Lancelot didn't know what to say.

"That's what I thought," Gawain said and studied his friend's face. "We really are talking about that time, aren't we?"

"What? What are you talking about?" Lancelot asked, trying to sound innocent.

"You know exactly what I mean," Gawain muttered, turned around and made his way towards Arthur and Galahad.

Lancelot stood there struck dumb for a second. Then he shook his head as if to rid himself of his thoughts and pushed past a couple of drunk soldiers.

The table was slightly obscured by two guards arguing loudly. Lancelot scowled and shoved them out of the way.

His heart sank.

Sittin on the wooden bench right next to Arthur, was Aethelinda.

She looked up as he came towards them, her face an immobile mask.

"Lancelot!" Arthur said, not able to hide his amusement. "Why don't you join us?"

"Fine," Lancelot said through clenched teeth, sitting down stiffly opposite Aethelinda and trying hard to avoid her gaze.

"So how are you?" Arthur asked, a slight grin appearing on his face.

"Fine," Lancelot repeated through clenched teeth.

"We've been missing you today," Arthur continued.

"Yeah, where were you?" Galahad asked, looking unbelievably amused. Lancelot shot him a death glare, but Galahad just raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"I, er…I had things to do," he said, literally shaking with rage, while Gawain and Galahad were shaking with suppressed laughter.

"What sort of things?" Arthur asked.

"Who cares?" Aethelinda said, rolling her eyes. "So, Galahad, does that wedding veil fit on your head yet?"



Gawain fell off the bench, tears streaming down his face as he continued to laugh.

Lancelot grinned as Arthur roared with laughter and Galahad' ears turned bright red.

Lancelot threw a grateful look at Aethelinda and she winked at him, making his stomach flop like a fish.

"Why yes it does, thank you very much," Galahad said stiffly. "I brought it with me because I thought you might want to borrow it."

"Er…why?" she asked.

"Well, seeing as Lancelot might want to put one on you in the very near future, seeing as what happened between the two of you," he answered, grinning evilly.

Lancelot froze solid and he could feel Aethelinda do the same.

"Evil," Gawain said, enjoying the situation immensely.

Galahad raised an eyebrow at Lancelot, still smirking.

"Well, I see that this situation is going to turn into a very uncomfortable silence, so…I'll just leave," Gawain said and fled, Galahad running after him, still grinning.

"Yes, well, uh…" Arthur said, shifting in his seat. "So. Umh…"

"Oh for God's sake just leave, will you?" Lancelot snapped and Arthur sped out.

And of course, the predicted uncomfortable silence followed.

"Wow," Aethelinda said, snorting slightly. "This really is uncomfortable."

"You telling me," Lancelot murmured and they both grinned.

"Listen," he began.

"Leave it," she said, holding up a hand. "It…well it happened, let's leave it at that. It's not like there are going to be any severe consequences. It wasn't that big a deal, okay?"

"Oh, okay," he said, taken aback.

"Look," she sighed, staring into her ale. "You're alright. I mean, you're a self-centered, self-absorbed, arrogant male whore. But you're alright, really." She said.

"Wow, I'm flattered," he said and she laughed.

"I do like you, I don't know in what way, but…well even if I liked you liked you it would never worked out. You're not a one-woman kind of guy, are you? And anway…we're too different. I am a Saxon and believe it or not I am proud of it. It's my heritage and I would never defy it in my whole life. And…and I want to go back, I really do. I miss it."

"You miss it?" Lancelot asked incredulously. "What exactly do you miss? Being beaten to death by your brothers, killing children, having to spend time among barbarians?"

Aethelinda looked at him, her eyes as cold as ice.



Oops.

"Is that what you think it's like? Really?" she asked, looking furious. "Let me ask you something: did you have brothers?"

"Yeah, two."

"Good. Did you ever fight, you know like brothers do? Punching and pummeling each other?"

"Uh, sure we did."

"There you go. I was the only girl in a family of six brothers. How would they know how to treat a girl and anyway why would I want to be treated differently? Being beaten by my brothers? It usually ended with them having broken noses and blue eyes and me not bearing a single mark. And killing children? Excuse me, Mr. Saint, you've certainly never killed anyone, have you?"

"It's not the same-"

"Oh, really? Have you always made absolutely certain that the people you killed were older than twenty? Or at what age did you draw the line? Twenty three?"

"No, I-"

"Well there you go again. And you call is barbarians? Do you actually know anything about Saxons besides what color their blood is? You don't, do you? You have absolutely no idea what our lives are like, how we work, what our culture is like. But you can condemn us nevertheless, can't you?"

Lancelot wouldn't have thought it possible, but he felt even more uncomfortable than a few minutes ago.

"I'm sorry," she said. "actually, no I am definitely not. It makes me so angry when someone judges my people based entirely on prejudices. Everyone does."

"I'm sorry," Lancelot said, feeling like a total bastard.

"Forget it," Aethelinda scoffed and drank from her mug.

"Well, good night," she said and got up.

"You're leaving?" he asked.

"That's what one normally does when he bids someone good night," she said, turned around and left.

Lancelot was sure, that he had never in his life felt like a bigger idiot.

Alright, pleeeeeease revieeeeeeeeeew!