Four --Turning Point

((I have left many parts of the movie out, but truly only the minimal ones to my story. Of course the Woads trapping the knights is important in the movie, but in this fic, not really.))

Galahad's eyes pierced Arthur as he rode up beside him, the long trail towards this Roman family was quiet and rough. It seemed that no one was willing to speak, the anger among them had been thick, yet no one had the heart to turn their backs to Arthur.

The only noise heard for the journey to the Roman family was the wind barking at their backs; slapping and cursing at each step they took. There was a few cries from Horton, the Bishops whipping boy. He and a horse didn't mix well, other than that, silence reigned the path to Alecto.

Bors' eyes lit up when the drums, the sound of Saxon's pounded in the winter bitten air. Snowflakes was carried onto the ground, and once Dagonet, Gawain, Lancelot and Arthur filed into the tunnel, Lana turned to Tristan.

"Suicide, I tell you, suicide." Wind bit harder, his stare curved over the covering mountains, and his sword was out for insurance. Once his strange plug stopped, Tristan snapped his face towards Lana. "Maybe you should have stayed in Rome."

A hearty grunt came from her stomach and lifted from her tongue. She shook her head as Morty, her stallion swayed slightly.

"Right, and miss all this adventure. Scripts, books, theory? Naw."

"Hope you ready for a fight," Tristan watched the people load their most valuable possessions, when his hawk entered the sky. "In no time, Saxon's will catch up." Lana inhaled through her nose and watched to see Arthur exit.

This girl, Arthur had brought out from a bricked up wall, leading to a tunnel, she was weak. As soon as she was placed on the ground, and given water, it was clear the markings on her legs where Woad. Her eyes, like none ever seen, and just as soon as Arthur looked into them, something stirred within him like nothing before.

"Arthur," Lancelot called, he knew fair well like the other knights, they needed to start moving if they would ever have a chance to escape the Saxon's.

"Place them in the wagon," Marius' wife called out, she ushered the boy, and the girl into the wagon, and along with Dagonet, they where tended too. Each person was lined up, and like body guards, the knights dispersed themselves among the people, keeping their spirits high, and feet moving.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Right," Lancelot stared, his face calm and his curls watered down from the snow, melting into a dripping rain. Lana reached over and grabbed the dagger leaning out his armor. She narrowed her eyes, before sliding it back into it's sheath. "That's mine."

"A parting gift you could call it." An arrogant charm always slurred from Lancelot's lips, his fancy eyebrow trick was forming, and Lana's long middle finger flexed before him.

"Part from what? It's been nearly five years. And if you got a gift, tell me what mine was?" Lana snapped back with a sneering grin. Messing with Lancelot's mind was a talent she acquired years ago.

"Whoever's bed your sleeping in now." Lancelot's face was turned, and Lana's glare was pointless, he was catty, and would do anything for a reaction from her.

"Lancelot,"

"What? You think I don't know? I have Bors crossed off, but still, I am unsure who it is." Lifting his cocky chin, Lancelot flexing his fingers curled around the rains. Lana's face was blank, her stare straight ahead. "Aw, struck a cord? Believe me darling, I know you. I know what you like. You like sharing you're bed with a strong man. Someone equal to you. And it'll only be a matter of time before I find out -- Arthur finds out." Lancelot took a breath and kept chiming in. "He wasn't entertained with the idea of you and me. Just think of what will become when he realizes another one of his men is sleeping he beloved sister." A sharp glare was flashed beneath his eyes, a sparkle of the clouded sun gleamed his view. Just then a burning sensation ripped at his throat, but before he could react, Lana's voice entered.

"You'll leave it be. My life is no longer your concern. And as long as you keep my name from your tongue, my sword won't slice through your appendages." A blunt laughter arose from his throat after the sword was placed back in it's sheath. Lana watched the wagon ahead of them, that girl, she laid still, covered in a fur bedspread, staring at the white blanketed earth. Arthur had a mesmerized tone to him, a shimmer in the corner of his eyes was clear as day.

Yet this moment of thought was challenged another time with the sound of charging hooves. Lancelot looked beyond the swore Lana, while a white stallion approached.

"Are we ready?" Gawain's voice caught Lancelot and Lana's attention, his face seemed faint and tired. Her eyes softened when he smiled for only a moment.

Lancelot took it upon himself to find Arthur, and tell him what leads ahead.

"Why must you kill the people whom have bore you from their blood?"

"It is the way of man."

"To kill their own? Survival of the fittest isn't in the Roman language?" Guinevere's lips where chapped, in a harsh color of pink, her eyes rimmed with a dull shade of tired, and her hand, in which was mangled from Marius' men; was healing quickly.

"You don't know our trials." Arthur grumbled as Lancelot peered in, Guinevere's eyes noticed his, and Arthur moved from his position.

Chewing the last few pieces of dried bread, Gawain pointed out his finger to Arthur, Tristan and Lancelot in front of the wagon, steadily trotting ahead. Lana lifted her eyes and connected to where he pointed, she looked back at him, in question.

"What was that?" Mumbling with each chewed piece, Gawain paid more attention to his bread than the conversation he was trying to up hold. Lana leaned over a bit, and gave Gawain a outlandish look.

"What was what? Gawain are you planning on speaking to me, or eating that old bread?" Lana gave a few chuckles before Gawain cocked his head and looked at her, his blue eyes clear and beautiful looked at her with suspicion.

"Speaking if you inquire to participate."

"What?" Lana traced back to where Gawain first pointed, aw, Lancelot. "Him? He's trying to stir me up is all, nothing uncommon. You've witnessed that first hand."

Gobbling up the last bit of bread, he slapped his hands together and returned them to the rains. "And his hand on your cheek, back at the post, up on the wall. Was that common?" Lana rolled her eyes, Gawain relaxed an elbow on his thigh just to get a clear view of her face.

"He wants to know which one of the Knights I share a bed with." Lana turned her head and nodded at Gawain. "See I'm caught," She smirked.

It was the last few moments of simplicity before Gawain, Lana, Lancelot and the others where called up front with Arthur, to discuss plans of attack, on the sheet of ice ahead.

"Tell them to spread out,"

"No way around it?" Dagonet asked while Tristan shook his head, his lower lip perched up as if he was completely sure. Gawain looked at the snow fogged ice, it was thick, but not thick to hold everyone for a lengthy time.

"No with the Saxon's at out heels, it's best this way." Tristan raised his head, blinking several times Tristan lifted a corner of his mouth, he knew Saxon's where too close. Lana turned her horse, and saw Arthur, his face was tired, and apparently not ready to speak to her yet.

"Now are we ready?" Lancelot nodded his head at Gawain and Lana, before they called the people to walk the ice. It was awkward, the way every slipped and slid, their bodies anxious to move on. And thus their wish was granted, they where lead into safety, when the Knight, including Guinevere made a center line on the ice ready to push back the Saxon line.

((FYI, i'm still editing, and changing up the story, hell i might delete it and rewrite it...))