Disclaimer I do not own King Arthur, though I wish I owned Lancelot and Tristan -smirks-. Anyways, anything you do not recognize, such as an extra character or two(Like The Rogue Knight, and a Certain Woad that got her captured in the first place) belong to me! Any other beings or characters that you do not recognize also belong to me, or another of which I have asked permission to use the subject! Nor any songs that might appear.
Author's Notes -I Listened to alot of P.O.D. whilst I wrote this chapter.(-cough- alive, will you and sleeping awake mostly) It put me in the mood for the discovery of the Rogue, who's name shall be revealed in this chapter ;.... yeah...
(Spelling mistakes might come up once in a while in both name and mere word! I am sorry for this, and must apologize further for my impatient chapters that might be incredibley short.)
-scruffybunny Thanks for the Review! And I know about how it is only allowing signed in users, but the problem is, I don't know how to fix it -sighs- VV;
-Thanks for the Reviews everyone!!
Summary This isn't you typical, find a third prisoner within the walls of Marcus Honorius' dungeon that he had so cruelly sentenced Guinevere and Lucan to.
When the knights manage to find their way into the dungeon, they manage to find a third captive. However, their rage becomes even more so, when they find out that the woman isn't a woad warrior at all.... But one of their own. A knight.
-Pairing- Tristan/OC or/and Lancelot/OC, whilst the OC is currently ambiguous towards Lancelot.
The Rogue Knight
Chapter One; Don't Touch Them.
- The Territory of the Woads -
The ebony stallion that rushed through the foliage, was scratched upon his muscular chest, long legs, and sides. The tack that still clung to his sweating body was irritating him, causing him to bump against a tree now and then to relief himself of the burden. The raven atop his head squawked in annoyance, as the stallion rammed his right side against a pine tree, causing a large amount of pine needles to rain down upon the two companions.
It was then, out from behind a tree stepped the powerful leader of the Woads. Merlin. The stallion ceased to rub against the trees, and instead, pricked his pinnas forth and stared with curiousity towards the man. The raven watched aswell, noticing this was a man, who their two legged companion had talked too a mere week ago.
The man held out a knarled hand, ushering the two creatures forth with a small wave of his appendage. Tentativley, the stallion walked forward, his steps slow and stretched out, until he finally reached the man, who lay his knarled hand upon the steed's forehead. Rubbing up and down, the older man slowly removed the tack from the body of the sweating, equine who watched him nervously.
The last piece of tack was the bridle, and slowly, the older man removed that aswell, the raven stepping over the leather strap as it slide out from beneath him. When the stallion felt the mouth piece slide from his mouth, he tossed back his head and neighed loudly. The raven cackled softly atop his cranium and flapped his wings, batting the stallion in the muzzle, and nostrils.
Merlin leaned forth, grasping the stallions head in his hands. The steed tried to move his head from the man's powerful grip, but it seemed unreal, and the stallion knickered in defiance of his capture. Leaning towards the blazing eyes of the ebony equine, he began to whisper, "Watch the roads, watch for the Knights, watch for the day when the dungeon of Marius Honorius is broken. Await, for the moment when your friend is freed. Come to me, and I shall take you to her."
The stallion stared at the man with his large brown occuli. The creature breathed softly, and finally managed to pull his head away from Merlin's grasp. The raven squawked again, in irritation and the stallion brushed past Merlin, and rushed away, kicking up leaves in his mad dash to reach the road, in which he had come from.
- Dungeon of Marius Honorius, After the Arrival of Arthur and his Knights -
The smell was insufferable to the sensitive nostrils of The Rogue. She lay within a cell, submerged in her pain, as it multiplied as the days, and weeks progressed. All Rogue could think about, was the pain, the stench of both death, the wastes from other prisoners, and herself, along with the guilt she felt for her two animalistic companions, and the guilt over the screams of the small boy she had originally came to save, as he was tortured by the prodding hands of the monks.
The Rogue shared her cell with one other, a Woad woman that had defied the advances of Marius Honorius, and in return for her denile, he had had her thrown into the dungeon to rot away and give enjoyment to the supposed 'pure monks'. The Rogue glanced about the small cell, her eyes having adjusted to the dark a a mere hour after she had awakened. The woman whom she shared her cell with, claimed that Rogue had been within a fitful level of unconciousness for an entire day. But, how would the woman be able to tell the difference between night and day, when not a hint of light managed to make it's way into the nearly abyssal antechamber of the dungeon. On occasion, the faint glow from the Monks firey torches, sitting in another room, or torturing a prisoner in another chamber, would softly shed it's light upon the ground. Light was something, that people seemed to scramble for, just as if they would, for food.
The Rogue, sat against the brick wall facing the barred entrance of the cell. She held her sensitive right hand softly within her left, her left leg was slightly extended, the bolt from the crossbow a meager inch from the dirt and hay strewn ground. The butt of the bolt that had hit her shoulder, protruded from her chest and was wedged just beneath her collarbone on her right side. She was in no way indangering her organs, the only cause of death, might be infection if it happened to get bad enough. The Knight stared at the door that held the Monks within, her chapped lips curled in disgust and she shook her head slightly as she heard their faint voices conversing over who to torture next.
The other woman stared at The Rogue, shivering slightly from the coldness of the underground dungeon. The Woad woman seemed incapable of doing anything, her visage was gaunt, hell she was gaunt, a walking carcass, and where she once had tattoos, were scars. The monks had tried to dig some of them from her flesh, and now her legs were a mess of scars, and half images of Woad tattoos. The woman moaned softly as she shifted her position, and continued to stare at The Rogue, her lips parted slightly, and she smiled warmly.
"You are The Rogue Knight of Arthur's Knights." The woman's voice surprised The Rogue, for the woman jumped slightly and stared at the other, before nodding in affirmation.
"I am."
The woman nodded. "I am Guinevere."
The Rogue felt a bit uncertain of giving her name. For she had not heard it in the long five to seven years she had been supposedly exiled. Her true name rolled about on her tongue, and finally it escaped from the pink muscle. "Fenaliy (fen-ah-lie). Or Fen."
Guinevere nodded, and stared towards the ground sadly. "If a knight has been thrown in this dungeon, what hopes do we Woads' have for freedom from this dreadful place?"
Fen, as she was recently revealed as, gazed at Guinever sadly. "We will escape." Fen moved her swollen right hand towards the entrance of their cell. Guinevere caught sight of the bolt protruding from her hand.
"You should have that removed. Here, let me-" As Guinevere scooted closer to Fen, Fen moved her hand away from the seemingly eager woman.
"Don't touch it!"
"It will become infected if you leave the bolt in any longer. Skin will grow around the head maybe, and then you'll have to have the skin cut away to get the bolt out. We can use the small amount of water they bring us to wash it-"
"Them." Fen glanced at her leg, and pointed to her shoulder. Guinevere eyed them warily, before she nodded.
"We'll wrap them in something not dirty and keep them form getting incredibley infected. Chances are, they will get infected, but not overly so." Fen eyed the other woman with curious eyes. She slowly edged her right hand towards the other woman.
"Fine."
Guinevere nodded, before she gently lay her hands upon the bolt. With a quick movement she yanked it out of the woman's flesh, leaving a circular hole in the woman's palm, that if someone were to hold it eye level, they could probably see through almost perfectly shaped while, save for a jagged piece of flesh, or the whiteness of two bones that allowed her fingers movement, and which, the bolt had gone between. Fen cried out in pain, causing other prisoners to glance towards the cell with the two woman. A loud ripping sound soon followed the cry, and Guinevere wrapped a piece of slightly dirt dirtied clothe to the other woman's injured hand. Fen started breathing heavily as Guinevere reached for the bolt on her calf. Guinevere yanked that out aswell, before she wrapped that up aswell, as blood began to freely flow from Fen's calf. Fen gritted her teeth and hit the brick wall with her uninjured hand. She cursed loudly, but, her thoughts were interrupted as another pain burst through her, this one in her shoulder. She cursed loudly, and heard yet another ripping sound as Guinevere began to weave an incredibley long piece of fabric about her shoulder. She moved it about her arm, and chest, making sure the bandage would not move or fall off.
"There." Guinevere sat back, and Fen leaned her head up against the wall, closing her eyes and breathing more so heavily then she had during the second bolt being removed.
"We'll wash them soon. The Monks prepare our nourishment."
Fen laughed softly, opening her eyes and turning her cranium to allow her eyes to rest upon Guinevere. "Thank you."
Guinevere inclined her head slightly, before blushing and moving back to her original spot.
- - -
The scent of death hit Arthur's nostrils, with a sickening blow. The Roman Knight almost gagged up his lunch when, he caught sight of a female in a cell. He hadn't yet allowed his gaze to fall upon the other woman. The other who was in a deep fever and was silently thrashing about in her dreams. Arthur cut the chains that held the two woman within, his gaze was firmly locked with the Woad womans. Lancelot came up behind Arthur, catching sight of the fevered woman. He stepped past Arthur, causing the awake woman to shrink back into her corner and stare at the two men suspiciously. Lancelot stooped down, and placed his hand upon the thrashing woman's brow.
"Her fever is high. Incredibley so." Arthur glanced at Lancelot, and for the first time, realized the woman. He glanced back and forth between the two woman, before motioning to Lancelot to take the fevered woman outside.
- - -
Fen felt herself being lifted from the uncomfortable ground. A moan escaped her lips and she clutched the chest of the person who had managed to get her off of the ground. She clenched her eyes tightly together and cringed as her saviours body was squeezed against her sore shoulder and hand. As he pressed more firmly against her, she let out a yelp and almost caused the man to drop her from surprise. Slowly, Fenaliy opened her eyes and glanced upwards towards the being who had freed her from her 'The will of God' cell. She blinked several times, as her eyes ran across the man's familiar features.
Fen shook her head, trying to rid herself of the annoying, heart aching illusion of Lancelot. She grasped his cloaked chest more firmly, and breathed in deeply through her nostrils. She shook her head, slightly, before her eyes widened in surprise. What if, what if it is Lancelot.. and not the fever, she thought, before glancing up again. The man was staring down at her.
Lancelot found the woman oddly familiar, of course, her familiarity was hinted at, for he could not decipher he exact apperance under the grime and blood that was caked to her pale skin. Her pain clouded, blue eyes were filled with her thoughts, and for a moment, he thought he saw her contemplating whether she knew him or not.
He stooped down, and allowed her to roll from his grasp. The woman let out a gasp as her right shoulder hit the ground first and Lancelot's brows furrowed together in a quizzical manner. He laid his hand upon her left shoulder and motioned to a peasant. "Water." he said briefly before glancing back at the woman. "Are you hurt miss?"
The slight nod, brought his attention to her shoulder, and right hand. A hole appeared in her leather jerkin near the shoulder, and her hand was bound in a bloody clothe. He also noticed the swell of her pant calf, hinting at bandages beneath the clothing. The peasant soon returned with a wineskin filled with crystalline water, Lancelot nodded his thanks before he placed his hand behind the woman's head, tilting her head to meet the tilting mouth of the wineskin.
As the water rushed from the skin and into the woman's mouth, she sipped more eagerly, and the clouded look from her eyes began to dissipate into a nothingness.
"You.. you are Lancelot, yes?" Her voice surprised Lancelot, and he quickly pulled the drink away from her closed lips, making sure that no water was wasted. Lancelot nodded, and stared at her..
"Rest, we shall talk later." The woman stared at him, her lips moving as she looked for the words to tell him, she knew him, that she was Fen, or The Rogue as they had called her. She slowly nodded as he eyed her, his stare telling her to rest in the most unpleasant manner.
"Fine." As Fen felt herself lifted from the ground and carried towards a wagon, which Guinevere and a small boy, were being loaded onto, she felt a sense of relief flood through her body, overwhelming her senses and causing her eyes to shut in defeat as dreams of her fellow knights flooded into her mind's eye.
Author's Note:
Uugh, hmm, I'm not so sure if this chapter is all that great, but hey, everything gets under way in the next chapter. Read and Review!
