This chapter is quite long..for me anyway. So, um, yeah. Not much to say really. Thanks for the reviews and stuff, hope you enjoy it! The more reviews I get, the easier this stuff comes out, I'm sure every author says that too haha. Anyway, enjoy and do review. Thanks

Chapter 4 – Doubt of a Legend

They never saw the sun rise that morning behind the angry clouds that blanketed the sky. It had rained most of the night, stopping only as the darkness lifted slightly, night replaced by morning. Instead of the rain, a frigid wind chilled the land. It was the sort cold that gets in your bones and freezes you down to the core.

Lancelot pushed the horse faster, they were near the fort. It was good too, Arthur had stopped shivering. His head no longer rested on Lancelot's shoulder, but his body slumped forward in the knight's grip.

"Just a little farther," Lancelot whispered, "We're almost there."

Arthur didn't acknowledge him, Lancelot knew he wouldn't. He could feel blood on his tunic. Or was it just rain water? They were both still wet from the rain, it hadn't let up that long ago, and this horrid wind wasn't helping. Shifting his grip on Arthur so that the Roman was more secure, Lancelot asked the horse to give them more speed with his heels. He was worried and afraid, they had to get to the fort soon.

Lancelot barely slowed the white horse down as they rode into the fort. The few people that were out quickly moved out of the way, gasping at the sight of Arthur wounded. Lancelot paid no attention to them, only on getting help.

They rode into the courtyard that specifically belonged to the Sarmations knights and their commander. It seemed to Lancelot that all of the sudden a great whirlwind came up and brought the court to life, leaving him alone in the middle, untouched. Healers, stable boys, sentries, even barmaids asking about the others; all speaking at once. Lancelot's mind didn't comprehend them, all else was confusion; his focus was on Arthur.

Some of them helped Arthur down off the horse. The wounded man groaned, being disturbed from the painless darkness. His hand had clasped Lancelot's sometime during their journey, the knight didn't recall when. Arthur's tired grey eyes opened slightly and found his knight. They silently pleaded with him so that Lancelot thought his own heart would break again. Don't leave me.

I won't, I promise. Arthur's eyes closed again, he was so tired, but he could sleep now that he knew Lancelot wouldn't leave. It only lasted a moment and their hands were pulled apart as Arthur was carried off through the small crowd to where the healers could tend to him.

Jumping off the horse, leaving her in the care of one of the stable boys, Lancelot followed after them. His long strides quickly caught up but one of the healers turned back to look at him, the man shook his head, telling Lancelot he could not come. He stopped dead in his tracks and watched them carry off his best friend and captain, being told he could not follow.

Lancelot stood in the courtyard, the whirlwind of action still swirling about him, but still leaving him untouched, as if he was disconnected from time itself. After a moment, he blinked and they were gone. Arthur was gone. No, no, not that way. He is gone with help, he is safe. But Lancelot wasn't there with him. His heart sunk lower in his chest and Lancelot hung his head.

Prime Snowfall, Arthur's white horse stood fast where she was, her ears perked forward, watching where Arthur had been carried only moments before. The stable boy pulled her reins, trying to get her to move, but it was no use.

"Come on Snowy," the boy tried again to get the horse to move. "Snowy" as she was more frequently called, snorted loudly and looked around for her master. She had known their urgency to get back to the fort, it made her nervous. Raising her nose up in the air, she let out a concerned whiney and waited impatiently for a reply, stamping her feet and refusing to go with the stable boy.

The horse's cry brought Lancelot back into the real world. He turned and saw the boy trying to take Snowy to the stable. Standing with her ears forward and full attention placed in one spot where she had last seen her master, Prime Snowfall was just as her name suggested; prime. The image before him of the boy trying to divert the horse's attention brought a slight smile to Lancelot's lips. "Let me take her," the knight said, walking towards them just as Snowy whinnied again.

"Yes sir, but sir, it's..." the boy stuttered.

"I said, let me take her," Lancelot interrupted, taking the reins from the boy who bowed his head slightly and ran off, knowing better than to question the Sarmation knight.

Sighing, Lancelot petted Snowy's neck. "He'll be all right," he said softly, "Come on, good girl. You carried us fast, you deserve a rest." The horse snorted again and reluctantly looked away, following Lancelot on a loose lead to the stable.

It didn't take him long to un-tack Snowy and gently brush her down. Horses were always treated with respect, they were brave and loyal animals. As Lancelot was brushing Snowy, something nudged his back.

"I know, Hadrian, I'm not Arthur," Lancelot sighed, not even turning around to see what had nudged him. He knew Hadrian would be curious, it was only a matter of time before he would make his curiosity known. Prime Snowfall was actually Arthur's second horse, Hadrian was his first (and the origin of his name was quite obvious). A few weeks prior to their leaving the fort, Hadrian had injured his knee, so Arthur took Snowy instead.

Patting Snowy's back one last time, Lancelot turned to Hadrian looking over the wall between the stalls. "Both you and Arthur are hurt," he informed the horse, receiving a soft knicker in response, "He'll be all right, Hadrian." Lancelot stroked the bay's muzzle and bit his lip. Even the horses were concerned. He rested his forehead against Hadrian's face, repeating the phrase he had said so many times the day before, "He's hurt and it's my fault."

Very little had been said on their return journey, only a thing or two about the Woads. It was all just idle talk to pass the time, everyone knew what was on each other's minds. So when they reached the fort, a wave of relief passed over the knights.

Dagonet didn't bother putting the hood of his cloak up as it started to rain again when they reached the courtyard. Patting his horse on the neck, he dismounted and looked over at the others. The silence was awkward. "Put the horses up and then we'll see about Arthur," Dagonet said finally. Mumbles and nodding of heads were the reply. It really shows how much Arthur is truly our leader, Dag thought.

Gawain and Galahad had gone to see Arthur, Bors was with Varona and Tristan had gone off on his own, as usual. That left Dag to find Lancelot. It was hard enough when a friend or brother is wounded in battle, they all knew that, but when it was the fault of one of their own, intentional or not, it could be devastating. Dagonet knew Lancelot, their villages had been close by before they left for Britain those years ago. He had never been as close to Lancelot as Arthur was, but they were friends, perhaps more so than the others. Lancelot needed someone he could trust, someone who would be there for him, he had found that in Arthur. It was obvious from when they first met the Roman. Dagonet sighed, that's what made this so hard.

After some time of searching in the rain, Dag found Lancelot on top of the wall, looking out over the land. It was a common place to go when troubled, most of them had been known to use the same view for various reasons. Silently, Dag sat down next to the younger knight, both of their legs dangling off the edge of the wall.

The only sound was that of the rain hitting the stone, until Dagonet spoke. "I thought you might be with Arthur," he started kindly, his blue eyes fixed on some point on the horizon.

"I don't want to hear it," Lancelot said sharply.

"Then maybe you must hear it," Dagonet replied.

Lancelot shook his head, "I already know what you're going to tell me Dagonet. It's not my fault, I couldn't have helped it, Arthur will be fine, I'm not to blame." He paused, his dark eyes now fixed on the man beside him, "Maybe he will be fine, but that doesn't change anything."

"It doesn't change anything because you won't let it," Dagonet sighed, "Lancelot, the Woads set that up, it was a trap, we all know that. Arthur knows it too."

"That's not the point!" Lancelot shouted, standing up, frustration evident in his voice. "It doesn't matter! I hurt him! I cut open his side with my own sword and you are trying to tell me that it's not my fault! It's all my fault!" Tears started to well up again in his eyes, Lancelot didn't care anymore, he didn't care that he would cry out of anger and grief in front of one of his fellow knights.

Dagonet slowly stood up as well, placing his hand on Lancelot's shoulder, who quickly pulled away from the friendly gesture, "You can't blame yourself, it will make it worse."

"It already is worse," Lancelot shot back, the tears dripping down his cheeks mixed with rainwater. "I hurt Arthur. Our leader...my best friend. Nothing you or anyone else can say will make it better. We're supposed to protect each other. And this is how I repay him? How the hell can it get worse than this!"

Lowering his eyes to the ground, Dagonet didn't watch Lancelot storm off. It was tearing him apart. It could be worse, it could be so much worse. Dagonet stood there in the rain for a long time.

Tears clouded Lancelot's vision, he didn't care where he was going, his feet were just taking him somewhere. He was angry, angry at everything, everyone. Why did Dagonet even try, what did he care? Arthur was wounded, they should be concerned about him, not Lancelot.

Brushing his wet curly hair out of his face, Lancelot suddenly found that he was standing outside of Arthur's door. He hadn't meant to come here, it was just where his feet took him, subconsciously. His hands shook as he reached for the door handle. Why was he going to see Arthur, the Roman probably hated him now that he had abandon him. Abandon him? No, Lancelot hadn't done that, the healer had told him not to come.

With his hand on the door handle, Lancelot closed his eyes. Why was he doing this, why was he beating himself over this. Maybe Dagonet was right. But then he wasn't, Dag had no idea what it felt like to do this to your best friend, even if it wasn't entirely his fault.

Slowly, Lancelot opened the door and stepped inside Arthur's room.