Title: Forever More

Author: MEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehahahahahah.

Author's Note: I'm so proud of myself. I wrote chapter 7 and 8 on the same day. So now I'm going to try and finish Chapter 9 as soon as possible. This one I'll actually put more thought in it.

Disclaimer: Don't own King Arthur (just merely re-summarizing what already happened so that the readers will understand) but I do own Kera.

Chapter 9:†Leaving for the North†

The first sunlight flooded into the chamber, capturing a million motes of dust within its golden beams. The room was sparingly furnished with only a small bed in the corner, a vanity mirror in the other, and a plain wooden chair. The fortress wasn't known for its great lavishness but rather the great people within. A patter of footsteps approached the room from down the hall. The wooden door creaked open as a wandering dog pushed its way in to explore. It had noticed the new scent in the fortress and wanted to find out what it was.

Shaking its large, floppy ears from its eyes, it padded softly over to the bed. A thin figure lay sprawled on top of the quilt, its hand dangling over the side of the bed. Sniffing the hand, the old dog rose up on its hind legs and rested its paws on the bed. Reaching out its neck, he nudged the figure's face with his wet nose. Getting no response, he tentatively licked the figure's cheek.

"Grandma….." the figure whispered.

Turning over, the girl opened her groggy eyes. In front of her the light hurt her eyes as she tried to figure out what was the form standing next to her bed. Silhouetted against the brightness, which could almost have been emanating from its body, was somebody. A ring of dust formed a shimmering aura around it. Placing her hand above her eyes, she squinted them in concentration.

"Hello?" she said.

Suddenly, a large brown face appeared before her. The large dog cocked itself to one side and let out a bark. Then jumping onto the bed, he woofed happily, stepping on the girl repetitively as he hopped around on the bed.

"Holy crap!" the girl yelled bolting up in the bed, clutching the sheets to her chest.

The dog immediately yelped and leaped from the bed. Scampering from the room with its tail between its legs, its claws scrabbled madly on the wood floor.

Sighing, the girl got up and walked over the mirror. The room was chilly in the early morning and all she was wearing was a large over shirt that someone must have lent her. Slipping out of the shirt she stared at herself in the mirror. Several long cuts covered her arms and bare legs but most of the damage had been done to her stomach area. Running her fingers over the cuts she was amazed at how quickly most of them had healed. Thick, white bandages had been wrapped around her ribs. Most of the blood wounds beneath the cloth had clotted up but the bandages had soaked up whatever hadn't coagulated leaving large red stains. What had been a shallow cut on her cheek was now a faint scar. Looking around the near empty room for something more than just a shirt to wear, she spotted a dark scarlet gown draped over the chair. It wasn't anything too fancy, with a wide neck, large sweeping sleeves and a low, gilded waist; it was just an average dress. The bottom fell into pleats and allowed a wide range of freedom. Tightening the girdle harshly around her small waist, she stepped out hesitantly into the cold hall barefooted. Shivering, she pushed her messy, black hair from her face she looked around. At each end of the seemingly endless hall were two great stained glass windows. The soft dawn light streamed in through them, casting a circle of dancing rainbow colors on the marble floor. Smaller halls branched off to places unknown. Hearing voices around the corner, she crept up next to the wall, pressing herself against it as she peered around the bend.

Sliding against the wall, she slipped into the next hall. She could see several fully armored men talking amongst themselves near the end of the passage. Their voices were low and somber as they conversed and finally after several minutes, they dispersed leaving one man standing by himself. He stared out the glass window, his eyes searching for something that wasn't there.

Testing her chances, the girl tried to quickly run into another corridor without being seen, but only succeeded in tripping over the dress at the same time. Stumbling, she cursed out loud.

The man turned abruptly around, hearing the noise. He was the same knight that had brought her back to castle. Lancelot he had called himself.

He quickly reached out his hand and made a step forward as he saw her stumble down the hallway.

"Kera—look out!"

But unfortunately, the dark lighting of the hall had made her think that the area before her that had seemed to be a flat floor had really opened up to a flight of stairs that led down to another level. There was then a flat area before another flight of stairs led back up to the previous floor. Kera hadn't seen that.

Tumbling down the stairs, Kera shoved her hands out in front of her to break the fall. Wrenching her body sideways, her shoulder hit the steps as she proceeded in sliding down the steps head first. Her hands scraped along the treads as she tried to grip the corner of a step to slow her fall, but this only caused her nails to crack and break and her fingers to bloody. Descending across the stairs diagonally, she slammed her head into the railing. By instinct, she covered her head with her arms, trying to protect it from anymore harm. Falling head or heels, she finally skidded the last few steps to a halt at the bottom landing. Her right ankle was twisted at an odd angle as she moaned softly.

Lancelot hurried down the stairs, skipping two steps at a time until he reached the bottom. Bending to his knees, he brushed a hand over Kera's oddly placed ankle. Hissing, Kera recoiled and tried to back up but her hands gave way when she pressed them against the floor.

"I tried to warn you," he said pitifully.

Kera nodded her head and reached out her hand for the hand railing. Wincing in pain, she pulled herself unsteadily to her feet, lifting her now swollen ankle a little way off the ground. Hopping towards the flight of stairs that lead back up, her left leg almost gave out on her. Though she couldn't quite see Lancelot in the dim area, she could sense his presence near her. Lancelot then stood up and draped her arm over his neck.

"Lean on me," he said taking slow steps towards the stairs.

Kera gripped his shoulder as they both awkwardly made their ascent up the stairs. Every so often she would stop and regain her composure before hopping on one foot up the stairs again. It took them a long while to reach the top, but Lancelot never once said a word. Patiently, he made sure that she wouldn't fall back or sideways to sprain the other ankle.

Once at the top, he called out for Galla, who always seemed to be around. She rushed out from one of the rooms towards them.

"She hurt herself again?" she said.

Lancelot nodded and waved his hand at the flight of stairs behind him.

"Didn't see them, I suppose."

Galla hoisted Kera up into her arms, careful not to disturb the wounded foot and brought her into the dark infirmary with Lancelot trailing behind. Inside, there were several cots lined up at intervals along one side of the wall. On the other side, were five or six cabinets filled with small bottles of remedies and potions just for the sick or wounded. Galla felt Kera's ankle with gentle hands for a moment. Gritting her teeth, Kera dug her bloody fingers into the bed sheets. After a moment, Galla concluded, "It's sprained. This might take some time to heal. The ligament is not severely damaged but it is critical that it is not injured any further."

Two nurses brought in a bowl of cold water and a small towel. Dipping the towel into the water, Galla wiped away the blood on her fingers then placed the wet towel onto the ankle. The throbbing in her foot had slowly subsided but the pain was still there.

"In an hour, I will come back and bandage it, but for now just keep applying the towel to reduce the swelling."

Galla left the room and Lancelot sat down on a cot next to Kera's and rest his elbows on his knees. Though it was dark in the room, Kera could feel Lancelot staring a hole into her head.

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" she said.

"I'm sorry but I have been wondering where do you come from? When I saw you at the edges of the woods, you were dressed in strange garb. I have not known women to wear trousers before."

Kera bent her left foot slightly and flinched as pain shot up her leg.

"I come from Scotland," she said. "It's difficult to explain."

She fingered the Celtic necklace hanging around her throat. It was a big odd to talk in the dark but she continued anyways.

"I'm not from here. I'm not quite sure even how I came here."

Lancelot sat up straighter as she mentioned Scotland but did not make any remark.

Shifting into a more comfortable position, Kera sighed. Her eyes wandered around the room, taking in the feeling of the place. Only hours ago had she been safely tucked away in her bed. But now she was roughly in a time six hundred years before sitting in a fortress where savages and knights actually did exist not only in stories but for real.

"I…" she began, "we live near the wall. Quite near actually. Just on um… the outskirts of the forest. My parents wanted me to find firewood for the hearth so I went out into the forest. I didn't know what would be in there. But before I knew it…" she paused to try and think of something else to say, "…those creatures came out from no where."

Her tale of lies seemed to have been believable enough. The Woads, as she would later on find out they were called, were vicious creatures and it wasn't surprising that she had been attacked. Yet she still hadn't answered why her clothing had been so wrong for their time. But Lancelot decided not to press matters and let the subject drop. Kera lifted the towel from her ankle and scrubbed away the blood from her hands.

A nurse came into the room. Moving her way around the wall, she opened up the curtains, letting a storm of light come in. Kera shielded her eyes, unaccustomed to the sudden change of lighting. The window above her bed shined a bright beam of light onto the bed, warming up her cold body.

Lancelot covered his eyes as well as the sun hurt his eyes. When his eyes had readjusted he almost had to look twice to make sure he was seeing the right thing. Kera looked completely different than when he had first saw her, covered in blood and delirious. Here, her skin was cleared of the dirt and blood that had gritted up on her cheeks. Her hair fell down to her waist in a loose braid and her eyes seemed brighter than when she first stumbled out from the trees. Her lips were thin and her cheekbones high and sculpted. It had been completely different when he met up with her in the dark halls where he hadn't been able to see her clearly.

Kera, unaware of his intense gaze, pulled back the edge of her dress to her knee. A large, purple bruise had formed on her shin. Not quite sure what to do, she placed the damp cloth over it for a few seconds before wadding it up and setting it back on her ankle. Lancelot, surprised, looked away.

"Am I that hideous that you can't look at me?" Kera asked annoyed slightly.

Lancelot averted his eyes from her uncovered legs.

"Women do not show their legs around here. Yet you are so bold and do," he whispered with embarrassment.

Throwing up her hands, Kera heaved a sigh.

"If it makes you all that uncomfortable then fine," she said yanking her dress back over her legs, "but honestly, it's just a leg. It's not like breasts or something."

Immediately realizing her mistake as Lancelot drew his head back, she covered her mouth. The corners of her eyes crinkled up as she laughed behind her hand.

"Oh. I shouldn't have said that."

Lancelot smiled forgivingly. Kera wasn't like all the other women that he knew. She didn't care about rules and even less about traditions. She would make a wonderful Sarmatian warrior. One more person against the Romans. He felt something stir in his stomach, an uneasy feeling that he hadn't ever felt before. Kera tilted her head and grinned sheepishly at him and he couldn't help but smile back.

Just then their quiet moment was broken by the sound of claws clicking against the floor. Coming in from the door was the same dog that had woken Kera not too long ago. Wagging its tail enthusiastically, he walked towards Lancelot and happily rubbed itself against his leg very much like a cat would. Lancelot reached out a hand and ruffled the dog's head. Then the dog turned around and placed its forepaws on Kera's cot and shoved its nose into her hand.

"Seems like Adder already knows you," Lancelot said.

Kera scratched the large brachet behind its ears. His hunting dog body, growing stout in middle age, still trembled to a look. A wide patch of black hair covered most of its back while the rest of him was either tan or white. His tail ached with wagging and even his hips moved from side to side as he shook.

"He woke me up this morning," Kera whispered more to herself than anybody, fondly smoothing down the messy hair on its long muzzle.

A sharp rap on the door brought them to their senses. The door creaked open and a head appeared around the corner. The man stepped cautiously into the room and his stare flashed first from Lancelot to Kera then Lancelot again with suspicion growing in his eyes. But if he suspected anything, he didn't make it known. He was a brawny man, in his late forties with a receding hairline and a hard face. His roundish stomach bulged slightly from underneath his breastplate. Dressed in full Roman armor, he looked ready to tackle an entire army of whatever happened to be his enemies.

"Lancelot," he said, "the sun is already risen. Arthur and everyone else are waiting at the gate. You'd better hurry."

"I'll be shortly, Bors," Lancelot addressed.

Bors quietly closed the door behind him as he left. Kera soaked the towel once more in the warming water.

"Where are you going?" she asked, not raising her eyes.

"Arthur has been given one last order from the Pope before we are given our release forms. We must accompany him to north of a wall. There, a family is in danger of the Saxons."

"How long will you be gone for?" she questioned, standing up hesitantly.

Lancelot stood up as well.

"A few days at the most. Galla will take care of you while we're gone," he said, starting to leave.

Kera tested the weight on her ankle and sat right back down.

"I'm staying?!" she exclaimed a bit louder than she had meant to.

Lancelot faced her and sighed. She sat before him, her eyes bearing into his with seriousness.

"The journey is too dangerous. Besides, you have no need to come. The chances are that the Woads will attack and it would not make sense for you to get hurt again," he explained.

"Woads?"

"Savages in upper Britain that inhabit the forests and claim whatever land that they can."

A rap came at the door again. Bors stuck his head inside to examine the situation.

"Lancelot. Come on!"

Lancelot turned both ways, his eyes pleading with Kera.

"You'll be safe here," he said quickly before leaving the room briskly.

Author's Note: I'm done done doneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. They really should make a section for king Arthur on Then I could finally stick this lot of a story on it.