Hi, sorry this took so long. I had a hard time getting where I needed to be in this chapter, so that's why I didn't post when I said I would. Um, I hope this turned out ok, it's kind of late, and it's not as believable as I would have liked haha, but oh well. If it doesn't make sense…well…maybe it wasn't supposed to. I'm not sure when I'll have the next part up, but soon probably. Oh, and thank you so much for the reviews! I love hearing what you guys think is coming next and all of the encouragement is great, I really appreciate it. So here's the next chapter, enjoy.

Chapter 3 – Mythical Journey

It was barely past the middle of the night; the moon had never risen in the window of the wounded man's room. Arthur stared out at the stars, listening to Lancelot's laboured breathing. Everyday since, the path of the poison weakened him. His hand became colder in Arthur's grasp. The Roman sighed, his best friend, the man whom he loved as a brother, was fading before his very eyes and there was nothing he could do. The face of the dragon came to him. The dream had occurred too much to be a simple coincidence. There had to be something else. Arthur recalled stories his mother used to tell him about the dragons of Britain. Perhaps it-…they…existed.

Arthur stood up. He reached forward, stroking the back of his fingers across the knight's cheek. "Lancelot, I…" tears welled up in the Roman's gentle grey eyes. He swallowed down the lump in his throat. "I promised you it would be all right. It will be." He paused, bowing his head and gripping Lancelot's hand. "I will come back, I will be here. Lancelot, I don't want to leave you now.." Arthur looked up again and knelt down, leaning in close to Lancelot's pale face. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he felt the tears well up again – he might not come back, but even worse…he could be too late. "Just…hold on for me."

Arthur felt the tears finally spill over, running down his cheeks. He gently kissed Lancelot' forehead, the fever still burning in the young knight's veins. Brushing a stray curl from his face, Arthur wished that moment would never end, that Lancelot would at any moment wake up and everything really would be all right. But that's not the way it turned out and Artorius Castus was leaving to chase a dream that may or may not be real. Leaving when his friend needed him the most. Arthur hesitated at the doorway, looking back upon his friend one last time.

His boots made little noise as he walked down the nearly silent hallway. No one would know, they didn't need to. There would be no new patrols or anything of the like for some time anyway. Arthur gathered what he needed in the dark, only one candle burning in his room. His armour was ready, his sword was polished and sharpened. Taking a deep breath, he left his room and headed to the stables, quickly getting Hadrian ready, and leaving before the sun rose and anyone noticed he was gone.

Arthur didn't truly even know where he was going, and it would seem foolish to anyone else. But the dream…it couldn't be explained to anyone who hadn't seen it. It had changed again the night before, the dragon willed Arthur to meet him, to fight in Lancelot's place. He was determined to now.

There had still been no cure found for the poison that attacked Lancelot's body. Arthur wasn't even sure what attacked them. Daytime became like a dream, just how dreams at times go unexplained, only that one knows there is danger, no other details.

The sun didn't seem as warm that day and the woods appeared to be more solemn. Their pace was slow, Arthur knew it was best not to tire Hadrian too much, since he didn't know how long their journey would be. The forest was quiet, nothing moved. It seemed as if it held its breath, waiting for something. Midday had barely passed when they found the first signs of life other than the trees and plants.

Hadrian snorted, his strong body tensing; he could hear something in the brush. Patting his neck, Arthur slowed the horse, "Easy, lad." The last thing he wanted was for the horse to bolt and inadvertently knock him off on a low branch. "What do you hear?" the Roman whispered, leaning close to Hadrian's neck. Knickering, the horse shook his head in response.

There was movement to the left, a shadow darted between the trees. Arthur reached for his sword, his knees tightening on Hadrian's sides. A twig snapped behind him. Whirling around, Arthur saw nothing, only trees. His grey eyes scanned the forest. The shadow moved again out of the corner of his eye. He was about to spur Hadrian forward when an arrow zipped by his head.

"Go Hadrian!" Arthur shouted, kicking the horse, who immediately responded, glad to get away. But he could feel it behind him; he didn't dare turn. Arrows flew by, missing him by only the smallest amount, until finally one struck his left arm in the weak part of his armour. Arthur didn't stop, it barely phased him, and he kept pushing Hadrian harder to get away from the shadows pursuing him.

Night had fallen. They had to stop, Hadrian was covered in sweat, he needed to rest. Glancing down at the arrow in his arm, Arthur knew that if not only for the horse, but for himself should they stop.

He could do some of the untacking one-handed, but it took some effort to get Hadrian's saddle off. The horse was pleased to be free of the weight, however small it was. There was a stream near by and Hadrian contented himself with sticking his nose in and letting the cool water run over it before splashing the water playfully at nothing in particular. When he looked back again, Arthur was sitting against a tree, going through the saddlebags. Hadrian plodded over, stopping with his nose over the Roman's head, dripping on him.

Arthur didn't look up at him. "Thank you, Hadrian," he said softly, pulling a roll of bandages out of the saddlebag and laying them on his lap. The horse's large eyes watched as his master looked at the arrow. It had passed through above his elbow, but no where near the bone. Taking a deep breath, Arthur knew that probably the best way to get it out is to push it through. Gripping the base of the wooden shaft with his right hand, he used his left to break off the rest of it. Pain shot through him when it broke, he nearly thought he was going to pass out when his vision swarmed.

Hadrian knickered softly, nuzzling Arthur's other shoulder with concern. A simple nod was all the horse got for a response, as Arthur got ready to push it through. He tried to make it as quick as possible, but that wasn't necessarily easy. It was never a fast process, but finally the arrow came out. With his hand trembling, Arthur pressed a wad of bandages over the two holes it had created and leaned his head against the tree, closing his eyes. He sighed shakily, "I'm beginning to think someone doesn't want me to have this arm anymore."

The bleeding subsided a little and his strength returned as much as it could; Arthur wrapped the wound as tightly as he could bare and returned to his resting position. Another sharp pain in his arm made him flinch. It was tingling as if many needles were poking at his arm. The phantom needles moved down to his hand. Arthur opened his eyes with sudden realization. Poison.

Sleep came uneasy that night, and with the new turn of events, Arthur knew that his strength would not hold out, he had seen the effects this poison already had, he couldn't waste time here tonight. Their stay was only for Hadrian's benefit and as soon as the horse was ready, they left. His body grew tired, his arm heavy. The night, which in reality was quite cool, became warm. But he couldn't fail, he couldn't let his take hold.

Arthur felt his eyelids growing heavier, it took great energy to stay awake on the horse near morning. His arm lung loosely at his side and his other was positioned as a support on the front of the saddle, gripping Hadrian's reins. It acted fast; too fast. He had to keep going…for Lancelot. But he was tired-..so tired.

There was laughter, unfamiliar in this place. "Lancelot!" Arthur cried to the young knight running deep into the woods.

Lancelot turned around, "What? Aren't you coming?"

"Where are you going?"

"You'll see! Just come on!"

"But…how did you get here?"

"I've been here the whole time. Is there something wrong?" Arthur hesitated, Lancelot hadn't been there. He was confused. The knight laughed, "Just come on!"

Arthur followed. Hadrian had suddenly disappeared, wasn't he riding just now? Maybe not. Lancelot wove his way through the forest, jumping over fallen logs and tree roots. Every now and then, Arthur would think that Lancelot had gone again and then he would come back and beckon him forward once again. "Where are we going Lancelot?" the Roman asked, panting from running through the forest.

"I told you, you'll see!" his friend replied with a grin, "Oh, don't trip on the tree root…"

Arthur hit the ground with a thud, his foot caught on a tree root. His chest burned, his breath came in short gasps. "Lancelot?" he question to the forest. The only reply was that of Hadrian nudging his good shoulder. Lancelot was gone.

Pushing himself up on one arm, Arthur shook his head trying to clear it. The large nose of his horse appeared under his arm and helped him to stand. He was at a clearing now, the forest tapered off. Arthur didn't recall coming here, nor did he remember dismounting…but chasing Lancelot through the woods?

Stumbling forward, blood dripped down his arm and off of his fingers from the bandages where it had already soaked through. But he didn't notice that. Hadrian let out a nervous snort as a pulsing sound came from above. Arthur looked up to see a red shape coming closer out of the sky…