Title: Forever More

Author: Me

Author's Note: I think I've been watching too much Olympics. Sitting on your ass for 5 hours straight into the night can do some serious damage to you. Men's swimming is my fav. I think you'll see that I've incorporated some of my new-found obsession into this chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own King Arthur but I do own Kera and Andrew who I have completely forgotten to mention. OH and while I'm on that track, I also own Nonpareil and the Grandmother and Henry and um… the father and mother who don't really play a part in my story anymore. And I own that awesome BMW motorcycle in the second and third chapter and um… the necklace? Yea, that's pretty much it for the time being.

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Chapter 18:†Reflections on Times of Old†

A welcome back feast had been scheduled for that night in honor to commemorate the knights who had come home so sweaty and tired. Even though Fulcinia should have been resting, she and Guinevere hustled into the kitchen to prepare whatever their four hands together could make. The fulsome laugh of Guinevere resounded often as oil was dripped onto the floor messily while cake was made from scratch. Flour dusted stories of baking sweet smelling foods were passed around as the smell of roast lamb and spiced vegetables wafted through the open doors and spread quickly into the halls, drifting into the hungry and eager noses of the knights. The only person that wasn't hungry was the person that lay stiffly on the starchy bed.

Gawain had had to help her unsteadily to her chamber. She had tried to sleep, sweaty on top of her covers, blanketed by only the thick, moist air. Kera had quickly waved away the chambermaid who had tried to help her undress. Once the old maid had left the room, Kera had slipped from her sopping wet dress into the tub. The hot water curled around her legs and seeped into her skin appreciatively. The cold lake water drained from her body as she leaned back, resting her head on the edge of the tub. On the wall facing her, a long mirror had been nailed to the wall for vanity purposes. Loosening her long, straight black hair from its ties, she draped it over the edge of the tub and slid into the steamy water until the only thing that wasn't submerged were her eyes and nose.

Though it wasn't exactly night yet, the black ink of a dark feeling and spilled through the window sills, flooding like liquid metal. Her bloodshot eyes stared by rebelliously at the mirror. She was disgusted by the way her stomach seemed to swell outwards as if she was standing in front of a carnival mirror. Lifting her thin leg, she nearly gagged at how it seemed that her ankles were nonexistent and her pointed foot was connected right to a chubby leg rather than grow upwards in a slim line. Her gaunt cheeks looked like they bulged forward and at that moment, her mind was playing games with her. She never realized how ugly she was until here she was, faced with the awful truth. Picking up the bar of soap lying on the floor next to the tub, she chucked it at the mirror. With a crack, a long jagged split shattered down its middle.

Maybe if she had been a guy, she would have been able to see past the illusions of a corpulent self. Maybe if she had been a guy, she wouldn't have been obsessing over self image and rather in the courtyard, tossing dice with the other knights. But she wasn't a guy, and she all this hot water was really getting to her.

Her thoughts wandered back to before the time travel, back before the oncoming war. She remembered what seemed so long ago when she was speeding down the main road in Maryland on her beloved red BMW motorcycle. Her mind felt slack now. Now to think about it, she had turned sixteen that morning. If she ever got back to her time, she would be starting school in a little over a month. The Olympics would be coming up soon in Athens and as usual, she would be glued to the television. She would have driven to Greece herself to see it if she could, but there was that problem with the Atlantic Ocean to cross. But even if there was some inter-country highway, she still hadn't found the time to get her permit, let alone her license.

She had always loved swimming back home, for unlike gymnastics or other insignificant sports like diving, you weren't confined to a scale from 1 to 10. All you needed was endurance and speed. From that very first day her brother had tossed her into the deep end of the pool, she had found a feel for the water. Her childhood hero had even been that boy who wasn't so much of a boy as he was a 'guy'.

From watching the swim meets and the Olympics, she had grown to adore that Michael Phelps. She knew he lived somewhere near her and she even swore that she had seen him once at the pool practicing. Kera had grown up chasing in her dreams after the same world records which he so smoothly shattered. It was one of those dreams where he would climb out of the pool, sopping wet with naught but a Speedo and a gorgeous smile on. Just as he reached her, she would wake up in a miserable fit. It was one of those dreams that she so desperately wished had a sequel but had never managed to see it.

But now, as she sat in the large basin, the warm water which surrounded her suddenly turned icy cold. Her head slid under from where she had been resting. Bubbles gurgled to the surface as her nose immersed. Too late she realized that her breath had turned to lead. The weight grew heavy on her lungs as she tried to get this torturous gulp of air out, but she couldn't even get it in. Kera felt the water force into her mouth, clog up her throat as she thrashed and tried to fight. Grasping at her throat, she choked as her mind swirled back to the lake, falling under the water, trapped behind a pane of ice, screaming for air, but no sound came out as the light slowly faded with each passing moment. She cried out, praying for that breath that would not come. Clawing at the ice, her fingers bled red as she shrieked for the air, her face frozen in an eternal scream.

But the only excruciating noises that escaped her mouth were, "Michael! b MICHAEL /b !"

"Oh my god! Kera!" a voice broke through the terror. "Kera! No! Come back! Wake up! Somebody! Somebody please help! Anybody!!!!!!!!!"

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Guinevere's scream had brought nearly everybody running down the halls to see what all the commotion was about. Lancelot was the first at the door of the room, with Tristran, Galahad, Arthur, Dagonet, Gawain, and Bors to follow. Moments before Guinevere had come up to call Kera to dinner. When she knocked, she had gotten no answer she had peeked her head inside. Maybe Kera was asleep.

"Kera?" Guinevere called out into the still chamber.

There was a trail of clothes leading into the washroom. Not wanting to intrude, Kera closed her eyes and called out again.

"Kera? Are you alright?""

Still getting no answer, Guinevere unwillingly entered the bathroom and was confronted by a still body lying sprawled at the bottom of the bathtub.

Lancelot shouted out something as he saw Guinevere drag the limp and naked body of Kera into the bedroom chamber. A towel had been thrown hurriedly over the bottom half of Kera by Guinevere.

"Get out!" Guinevere screamed, covering Kera's exposed body protectively. "Leave! OUT!"

The knights were shoved roughly from the room by Guinevere's threatening yells. The door slammed in their faces and they were left still hungry yet concerned in the hall.

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Half an hour later, Guinevere had left Kera to rest by herself. Her dirtied and ruined red dress had been discarded. After helping Kera into a new forest green dress, they had hugged as friends before separating. Tucking her knees to her chin, Kera shivered even though it was hot outside. A knock on the door brought the frightened girl out of her trance. It was Lancelot and Arthur. Just her luck.

"How are you feeling?" Arthur asked, standing off to one side as Lancelot quickly hurried towards her.

She had been fussed over for so long, even in her condition, and she couldn't help but feel slightly irritated. Yet she wasn't expecting when Lancelot's arms wrapped around her in a bone-crushing bear hug.

"Oh lord," he whispered into her hair. "Don't ever do that again."

Kera sat rigid at the edge of the bed, but sure what to do. Arthur smiled at Lancelot's boyish antics.

"So now you believe in Lord," Arthur smirked.

Lancelot turned his head towards Arthur with a stern look. His manly composure came back. Standing up, he took the plate of food that Arthur was holding.

"We brought food for you," he said. "For you um—missed dinner."

Kera shook her head and brought the blankets of the bed back over her.

"Kera, you have to eat," Arthur said. "If you don't, I doubt you will have enough energy to get your necklace back. We definitely don't want Cerdic becoming the next ruler of Rome."

"I can't eat," she said, her voice diminishing into a child-like whisper. "I just need some sleep. I'll be up and ready by your side in no time."

Arthur shook his head.

"You cannot fight. We cannot risk you getting hurt… again."

"You cannot be serious, Arthur," she said. "I have every right to be in this fight as you do! My grandmother needs revenge. My uncle is with them!"

Tristran came in just then, in his hand he held a small ringlet of pearls. Kera sat up immediately to greet him, a smile breaking across her face.

"Come now, Lancelot," Arthur said in a hushed voice.

Being led from the room was probably the hardest thing Lancelot had to do. Arthur was grasping his arm almost painfully tight as he gave a final look over his shoulder just to see Tristran sit down at the edge of the bed. Kera threw herself into his arms, her cheek pressed tightly to his.

"Hey there," Tristran murmured. "S'alright now."

A feeling of hopelessness dawned on Lancelot as Arthur finally wrenched him out the doorway. Even as the door began to close, he was not ready for the wave of depression that swept over him when Kera timidly took the bracelet from Tristran's hand. The next moment, she gave a little sigh and pressed her lips to his, her eyes closing in exhilaration.

Several minutes later Tristran exited the room with a grim look on his face, contrasting to his happiness that he felt when he was around Kera.

"I went out to scout the area and found the Saxons not far from here," he said. "There is an army well into the thousands, Arthur. We must get ready."

They were quite for a second.

"I managed to coz her into eating something," Tristran said quietly. "She told me she wasn't hungry but she ate a piece of bread."

They were silent for another second before a noise came from inside Kera's bedroom. There was the sound of feet pattering across the floor. The three knight's faces grew bleak as the sound of retching and coughs leaked through the walls.

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Author's Note: I kinda liked that chapter, how bought you? Kind of a change in writing technique or something.

- All hail the great Michael Phelps.