Well...I know there have been a few of you waiting for this part to get here! Hope you're not disappointed with it. :) (a section of it is unbeta'ed at the time of posting because I have company coming and didn't get the edits in time. So I will come back and fix any big mistakes later)

Thank you Nance for your hard work and your reviews when you finally read the full posted chapters in more than 500 word sections! (Edited. And YES I did notice! LOL you girly-girl you!)

IcarusLSU- my brother from another mother in another life...'nuff said. You are my muse.

Megami- Yes, it was interesting, and it will get more interesting in the next chapters hehe

michealgalek- I'm glad you like the story! Thanks.

NOW for a whole chapter of pretty much fluffy feels! Because it might just go downhill from here...but then again...who know ;D PLEASE REVIEW! Thanks!

Slow, deep breaths...he was focused and could already hear the roar of the crowd outside his tent.

He could smell the sweat of horses and men, as they exerted themselves on the field.

He felt the slight tremble of the earth beneath his feet, as another destrier charged down the length of the arena...the echo of its hoofbeats resounded through the land.

He stood in silence, allowing the young man, who he would soon be able to call his son, to strap on the heavy plate armor. This was the third and final day for the tournament.

Due to his skill in past tournaments, as well as his prestigious position at Arthur's side, Leon was among the few knights who actually owned all of their armor. He took pride in the knowledge that he had worked hard for each and every piece.

Loholt finished adjusting the last buckle and stepped back, waiting for Sir Leon's approval. The blond knight smiled and swung his arms, letting the pieces settle into place. "Thank you, Loholt."

The boy smiled proudly and reached for the helm. Leon took it from him, just as the flap of his pavilion lifted and Cai appeared in the opening, dressed in chainmail. "Go check my horse, Loholt. Make certain my lances and shields are prepared as well. Thank you." Leon said, dismissing the boy.

Loholt looked back and forth between his uncle and Leon. Since Bedivere's death, the two men had hardly spoken to one another. He nodded and quietly left the tent.

Leon smiled hopefully at the other man. "You're not jousting today?" He asked.

Cai shook his head. "No, just the melee this afternoon. I was always rubbish at jousting anyway...you should know that."

The blond knight chuckled. It was true that Cai had never taken to the jousting aspect of the tournaments. He competed when they were younger, as squires, and did well enough against the competition; but the melee was where Cai could really hold his own.

"I just wanted to come and wish you luck, my friend."

"Then why do I get the feeling this may also be a 'goodbye'?"

Cai shrugged and found a place to sit. "Merlin and I were speaking with some of the druids who arrived. They have suggested that Merlin find someone else to instruct me in magic."

Leon stood quietly, listening.

"It seems that, because so much of what Merlin does is instinctual and natural ability, he's rather sloppy with the actual practice of it...all the pronunciation and accompanying hand gestures, and such." He explained. "The only time a spell from a book has stumped him, is when he doesn't think he can do it. So, they suggested he take me to a man Merlin knows, in Helva, who might be able to teach me properly. We'll be leaving tonight, just after the wedding ceremony." Leon's eyes took on a hint of fear for a moment, and caused Cai to snicker. "I think you can manage your wedding night without me."

"That is not what that look was about," Leon said defensively. "I am just wondering how long that will that take?"

"As long as it has to, I suppose." Cai stood up and raked his fingers through his hair. "I have never been able to do something like this...something for myself, I mean. My whole life has been about taking care of my family. With my brother gone, and you stepping up for Lisanor and her son, I think it's time I took a step back. Get a fresh perspective on life...and I really don't want to hear you and my sister consummate your marriage through the walls."

Leon laughed and flushed with embarrassment. He nodded his understanding. "Well, I shall miss you." Leon held out his hand. He wanted to do more, but it was neither the time nor the place for such things. It was a small gesture, but he hoped it would be the first step towards getting past recent events. Already this conversation was the most they had spoken to each other, in the past few weeks.

Cai took it with a smile, his eyes meeting those of his lover's.

"Are we alright?" Leon asked tentatively.

The next words were barely a whisper. "We will be." Cai cleared his throat and reluctantly released Leon's hand. "I meant what I said, good luck in the next round. I checked the Tree of Shields, just before I came in here. You're going up against the king next...and the winner faces Sir Lancelot."

(*~*~*~*)

For the first time, Leon didn't hold back against Arthur; the elder knight was no longer torn about letting his monarch win. The festivities and competitions set for the week were in his honor, and he was determined to make the most of it.

His horse pranced. The slit in the visor of his helm gave him tunnel vision down the field to his opponent. The weight of the wooden lance felt more like an extension of himself, rather than the unbalanced and tapered pole it really was.

From across the arena, he noted the gleam in Arthur's eyes. He knew the king was also keen to prove himself; this being the first competition he has participated in, since he nearly fell to Mordred's blade.

Arthur felt, and even acted, younger than before the fateful battle which stole nearly a year of Leon's life. Even though this wasn't the final round of the jousting, it was a climax of anticipation. Cai was correct in his news that the winner would face Lancelot, but that was neither here nor there. The recently discovered Prince of Caerleon was an amazing jouster, no doubt. However, given his history and the fact he was absent from Camelot for so many years, he had become more of an outsider.

To many people in the stands, other than perhaps the Princess Mithian, the finale would be simply another joust. The pinnacle of the week-long competition laid before them now. The king, and the commander of his forces, faced one another down the long stretch of packed dirt. The tilt rail in between them was decked with ribbons, flags, and banners.

Silent affirmation, given through a barely perceptible nod in the heavy plate armor, signalled the young herald boy standing at the center mark, to hold up his flag. The boy's eyes darted back and forth between the two men, his own heart racing. He looked to the queen.

Gwen's face was impassive, but Merlin could read the anxiety in her eyes. He reached out a hand and patted the queen's arm in support. There was always a chance someone would be severely injured in the games these knights played, but deterring them from their favorite competitions was a futile effort. It was best done quickly, like removing a bandage that had begun to stick to newly healed skin.

He saw her relax slightly on an exhale, and knew she took comfort in his presence, even without looking at him. The queen nodded her consent to the young herald.

The boy inhaled sharply. His right arm, held high above his head and holding the flag in a death grip, sped downwards. No sooner had he dropped the flag, then his youthful legs were pumping against the ground to carrying him out of the path of destruction and doom.

Like any well trained warhorse, the equines were a split second ahead of their masters' commands.

When the flag raised, both beasts had stilled. Tapered ears twitched momentarily, before laying flat towards the crest of the neck. Front hooves were lifted from the ground, as the powerful muscles of the back legs catapulted them forward. They needed no guidance from their riders. The adrenaline-fueled course was something they knew all too well. The horses took as much pleasure from sprinting towards possible disaster as their knights did.

Midfield...they each felt the impact. Arthur's lance shattered ineffectively against Leon's shield. Leon's lance grazed the shield and struck the king in the chest, before it too splintered. The knight grinned as he reined his horse in, and turned back to the other end of the field.

A flag went up from the Herald, as he shouted out the score. "One point for Sir Leon!"

Reset at their respective ends, Loholt carried out a second lance to Leon. He smiled at the knight and took the reins of the horse, patting the stallion's neck to quiet him as the competitors lined up.

Once again the flag in the center was dropped.

Lisanor's fingernails dug into her brother's hand as she gripped it. She was vaguely aware of Cai's firm squeeze on her own hand as the two men reached the center. They held their breath as the blunted lance tips struck their targets.

Leon's strike caught the king square in the chest, nearly unhorsing the man. Arthur's aim was higher and his lance shattered against his commander's helm. The knight's head snapped back, but he remained on his horse as well. He felt liquid, thicker than sweat, as it dripped down his brow and into his eye. Turning back towards his starting end, his gaze flickered towards the raised score flags. Another point for him for hitting Arthur in the chest...and two points for the king when he connected with Leon's helmet.

The third and final lance for both men remained with the tied score. Leon shook his head in an attempt to clear it from the ringing that had started when Arthur's lance had caught him.

"I need a cloth." He told Loholt. The boy pulled out a clean rag and handed it to Leon, while he propped the lance against his shoulder.

Leon lifted the face visor and dabbed inside the metal, against his forehead. He wasn't surprised to see the sweat-diluted blood that appeared on the cloth.

"Sir Leon, I noticed during the previous courses, the king has been keeping his shield tight to his shoulder. His lance hitting your helm was like, more of an accident."

The blond knight's eyes narrowed and he stared across the arena at his competitor. "Is that so?" He smiled at the boy who would soon be his son. During the first two tilts, Leon's aim had been fairly typical of a 'Joust a` plaisance,' a friendly competition. Now, with the third and final lance...it was time to change tactics. Even if Arthur had meant the blow to the helm, the fact that it seemed more of a fluke meant either the king was trying to be tricky, or he was hurting. In a bold move, Leon unbuckled his shield and tossed it aside. He sent a challenging grin to Arthur down the field.

He was rewarded when Arthur removed his own shield. The wind carried the sound of Gilli's protest, though not his actual words, across the grounds.

Loholt stood by nervously. "Sir, are you..."

"Yes, I am." Leon let the blood and sweat soaked cloth fall to the ground. He lowered his visor and reached for the final lance.

Consent was given. Once more, the audible snap of the flag cut through the air. The horses reared and shot off like bolts of lightning.

Leon held the ungainly weapon skillfully; aiming for the bulk of the king's chest. The moment before his lance struck, he pulled his arm tight, causing the lance to swing slightly off-center. It was a daring move. He knew Arthur well enough to understand that if he had been keeping his shield tight, it meant that Arthur was nursing a bruise from a previous round. The problem came in trying to hit an unseen injury, and not having his lance swing so wide, that it missed the king altogether.

He felt Arthur's lance impact his chest at the same moment his own struck paydirt.

Leon reeled in the saddle, his strong thighs squeezing tightly to his horse's sides to keep his balance.

The king was not so lucky, as he went tumbling off his horse towards the ground.

Gilli rushed forward and Arthur was helped to his feet, luckily unharmed. He turned and bowed to Leon. The final score: five to three.

The knight was barely given a moment to rest before the final challenge against Sir Lancelot. As was typical of the honorable man, at a quarter of the way, Lancelot pulled in his horse and raised his lance...giving the day to Leon.

Meeting midfield, Leon raised his visor to question Lancelot.

"When the celebrations are for my wedding, I will not be so gracious." The dark-eyed knight smirked. His eyes turned towards the stands and the brunette princess sitting in them.

Leon's gaze followed, and he laughed, "Neither will I. I plan to make you work for the title of champion, especially then, my friend."

(*~*~*~*)

"Are you nervous?"

"Of course. Are you?"

"Why would I be nervous?"

"Because your baby sister is marrying the man you care about, and you're going to be leaving soon."

Cai blew through his lips. "That's no big deal," he lied.

Lisanor slapped her brother's arm.

He didn't even flinch. "You still hit like a girl," he teased. "You will be fine without me. Leon will take care of you and Loholt."

She sighed, "I know. I just...I'm going to miss you. We all are."

"You will be so busy setting up your new home, you won't have time to miss me." He kissed her cheek and stepped back to admire his sister. She was truly stunning in the simple, light peach gown that had once belonged to their mother. A sheer overlay covered the satiny silk. "You look so much like Mother. She would be proud of you."

"I wish I could remember her," Lisa whispered sadly.

"Come on, Lisa, I think your groom is waiting for you." Cai wiped away a tear from her delicate face, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He then helped her lower the simple beaded ivory veil over her face.

The two siblings entered the Great Hall, and slowly made their way through the parted crowd, towards the dais at the far end.

The king and queen sat in their thrones on top of the platform. Leon stood on the first step up from the main floor, dressed in his finery. He had foregone the chainmail in favor of a red leather jerkin over a pale shirt, and dark leather breeches.

Arthur had questioned the choice at supper the evening before, as he had chosen...despite many protests...to wear his armor at his own wedding.

It was just the core group of friends and loved ones gathered around the table. The comment from the king had sparked a whole line of conversation that ended with Leon thoroughly embarrassed. The queen had a gift, wrapped in an indiscriminate piece of plain linen, placed in front of the knight.

He had opened it and felt his face flush beet red when he recognized its contents. A simple, albeit overly large, lilac colored dress laid in the wrapping, with off-white embroidered lace and ribbons festooning the neckline, bodice and flounced hem.

Lisanor had glanced at the dress and without missing a beat, she deadpanned, "If you really want to wear that tomorrow, then I should excuse myself and go find some trousers to fit before the ceremony."

Leon had taken the dress and promptly thrown it into the fireplace, amidst catcalls from Gwaine and Arthur, as Gwen explained the joke, and how it was a very similar gown she had used to sneak Leon out of Camelot during a siege.

Lisanor was grateful to see that the only thing out of place was the fresh gash on his forehead. Just above his left eyebrow, a splintered piece of Arthur's lance had managed to shoot through the visor and lodged into his forehead... thankfully missing the knight's eye.

Reaching the dais, Cai took a deep breath. He squeezed his sister's fingers before offering her hand to Leon. He reached over and patted the blond man on his shoulder. "Anything happens to her, I will kill you. You know that, right?"

Leon smiled and nodded, not trusting his voice as he took Lisanor's hand. Together, they turned towards Geoffrey.