Arthur, King of the Britons.

A/N:Muches on cookie. Thank you all my wonderful reviewers. I'm afraid this chapter is a bit short and is only half of the original fifth chapter. Cries. I am having a bit of a problem with the wording of the rest of the chapter so this is "In Darkness I am", the rest is "From Darkness I have come" and I will try to upload it tomorrow! SO SORRY ABOUT THIS!
Chapter V: In Darkness I am, from Darkness I have come...(Part I)
The icy cold hands of the water ripped her away from the anguished cry of her name. Her hand was trapped. She desperately struggled, one hand scrabbling at the ice above her head, finally her hand gripped broken ice, and holding just her fingers above the surface, she turned her attention to the hand caught in Dagonet's cloak, he himself was weakly struggling with her hand. For one moment she thought he was trying to keep her with him in this watery grave, and then she realised he was trying to free her from the weight of his armor that pulled him into the swiftly flowing current. The hand on the ice suddenly screamed pain along her already burning arm, Another block of ice had crushed and between them her only recently healing hand was being crushed. Her lungs were fighting hard. Finally she felt the hand that was trapped release, For a moment Dagonet passed closer to her, she saw his eyes, wide with pain and fear as he was swept away in the current. Going ever deeper as his armor that should have protected him killed him. She raised the free hand and gripped her sword and slashed up through the ice, her arm felt like lead and the current was pulling her. She was blacking out.

Darkness crept in around her and the sword was stuck in the ice. Fingers fell away from the hilt, eyes shut against the waves of pain she drifted into the oblivion. The face of her brother crossed her mind, the first man she had ever killed, the first time she had been kissed, the moment Lancelot had leant close and bestowed her second kiss, the way his eyes had melted the last vestiges of ice packed around her heart...

His voice screaming her name as though he was in pain... Pain... Pain... And blackness, the blackness inside... The blackness around her...

"Igraine!" Lancelot screamed as her face disappeared into the darkness beneath the ice. A terrible ache filled him as he scrabbled around trying desperately to catch a glimpse of her... To save her. Arthur gripped his friend and pulled him away as more ice gave way. Then all was still. Still except for the wild beating of Lancelot's heart.

"No." The words were whispered. And echoed by the screams of denial from Guinevere as she ran forwards, Arthur turned and grabbed the young girl. Her eyes were large with tears.

Suddenly She twisted out of his grip. Arthur took two steps after her. A white hand was thrust through a crack in the ice, but a Guinevere went closer and knelt by the hand the ice groaned and shifted, crushing at the scrabbling hand, blood stained the ice red. The hand jerked and then Lancelot was there weeping he began to beat at the ice on the other side of the crack it was stuck in with bare hands. Arthur looked from one face to the other, both were distraught beyond reason. The other knights had gathered, they were obviously pained and Bors was weeping as well. He curled his second hand around Excalibur as he knelt beside the two distraught and desperate ones he cared for.

Lancelot started. A sword rammed up through the ice he had been pounding on. He choked back sobs.

"She's-" he didn't finish as Arthur stood. He lifted his sword, the ice had turned slightly clear, through it a pale face was visible unmoving, a soft wave of deep red flowing around her. He lifted Excalibur and struck the Ice with all his might. It cracked and suddenly both Guinevere and Lancelot were pulling away bits of Ice. Bors, knelt beside Guinevere and gripped the small white fingers in his vice-like grip. Excalibur rose and fell once more in a glittering arc and suddenly the face was visible as Guinevere pulled the head up. She was slightly gray with blue lips from the cold. Guinevere and Bors were both shoved back as Lancelot half-dived into the water and heaved, lifting the tiny pale figure from the water. The ice was once more groaning.

"Let's move!" recommended Tristan his normally low, controlled voice over laid with pain and sadness. Lancelot ran like a man possessed across the ice, the knights and woad maiden following upon his heels as more ice cracked behind them.

Lancelot wrapped the tiny bundle in his own cloak at the edge of the lake. He gripped her around the chest and squeezed hard enough to bruise, unconsciously her mouth opened and water came out accompanied with weak spasms. The other knights gathered around. Wordlessly their cloaks were wrapped around her and then they mounted their tethered horses, Lancelot clutched her too him as though she might brake. He hair was wet and she was obviously very cold, only the slightest tremble and faint rise of her chest advised him she was alive. He pulled her closer with the arm around her. He pressed his lips to her head as he over took the last wagons; his fellow knights followed him. The wagons stopped as he slid awkwardly from his horse. He was helped by someone to get her inside the wagon, Tristan he thought he laid her down on Guinevere's side of the wagon and snapped at whoever had followed him to get out.

He grabbed his dagger from his waist and slit the dress Igraine was wearing. He then turned her over and pressed down on her chest she coughed weakly. She had unconsciously coughed up a little water but he wanted all of it expelled before he wrapped her in warm clothing. That was when he noticed a rough bandage wrapped around her hips and anther around her lower ribs. He cursed at the sight of unknown of injuries. And answered an enquiry with another epithet.

He quickly peeled the bandages back from her gray skin. She was icy as the snow to touch. One was an old wound where a sword or dagger meant to disembowel her had hit her hipbone. The other was dark purple bruising that he thought meant she had been beaten. Other marks showed on her upper thighs. He tightened his jaw at the outlines of hands upon her flesh...

None of the injuries needed his immediate attention and so he lifted her up and placed her on her side of the wagon, which was more covered. He then stripped his armor and then the padded leather shirt underneath it. Carefully he lay beside her and pulled her close to him. He pulled blankets up around them, the warmth of his body seemed feverish against her frozen flesh. He pressed his lips once more to her forehead as he allowed his tears of fear to fall, and with them an admission of more than he had told Arthur that morning.

"Don't die," he sobbed into her ear. "I need you... I need you Igraine." And for only the fourth time since he had left home he had wept.

Will she live? Will she die? Check back soon and find out! MW HAH HA HA!

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