A/N: Well, there hasn't been much interest in my story, but I'll keep posting up chapter if anyone stumbles across it. I love to get reviews. This chapter is in Galahad's POV, and the next chapter will switch to Lancelot's.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything... etc.

Chapter 3, BATTLE ON ICE

Galahad rode behind Gawain, forcing his horse to go as quickly as she could through the thickening snow. They had been in such grave positions before, but Arthur had charged them with the responsibility of all the lives of the serfs of Marius, who all proved to make their mark on the company by moving horribly slow; at least by Galahad's standards. But, he was a knight; this was his purpose in life… in these fifteen years that he had been serving Rome. He felt himself smiling widely despite all these facts; Lancelot always had some sort of way to cheer him up, and thinking about a family he would soon have was more exciting than he could bear. He wanted to hold up his first born son and claim him as his own, he wanted to have little daughters who could look up to him for protection; he wanted to pass his stories onto them, and be remembered. Most of all, he thought with a slight blush, he wanted a woman who could satisfy him at any time; a beautiful woman as Lancelot had said.

Gawain looked back suddenly at Galahad, his frown slightly quivering with a smile, "What could you possibly be thinking about at a time like this," Gawain marveled, almost laughing now, "that would make you blush?" Galahad smiled coyly, and brushed the cold snow from his face, willing his thoughts to disappear for the moment.

"Nothing," he said defensively, and Gawain nodded all knowingly, making Galahad flush even redder for he knew his cousin could read his thoughts right from him face. It was difficult for him to hide his feelings, he was as an open book compared to his companions! "Where is Lancelot?" changing the subject he sighed to himself with relief as Gawain stopped and looked backwards to the way they had come.

"Lancelot!" Gawain yelled, and just as he did Lancelot came emerging through the snow, his face flushed with tears. Galahad eyed Gawain with a grin; he wasn't the only one who was thinking of the pleasure of women, but then again Lancelot never had any trouble with women.

Gawain decided to ignore the fact that Lancelot had been seemingly crying, and just nodded, turning his horse back the other way. Lancelot shot Galahad a look that almost knocked him from his horse, Do not ask, Galahad, do not ask or I shall cut your throat.

Turning his horse around quickly, Galahad decided that it wasn't the time for pestering his friend, and decide right he did for Lancelot looked even more wretched than ever, as if he would hold true to the look he shot. Galahad was usually the subject of the other knights laughing pleasure, or for this matter their anger, for he was the youngest of them, as well as the least experienced with hiding his thoughts and intensions. He supposed he should go to Tristan for advice about that.

They reached the lake before a minute had passed where Arthur, Bors, and Tristan stood; the three of them already throwing uncomfortable looks to each other. Lancelot had wiped away any evidence of his earlier tears, and now kicked his horse to stop next to Arthur's. Gawain shot Galahad an emotionless look, searching his cousin's face for fear; though Galahad looked away as quickly as he could, not wanting to be remembered as the only knight who feared to cross a lousy patch of ice.

"Is there any other way?" Arthur asked, turning to Tristan, who bit his lip.

"No. We have to cross the ice." Arthur nodded, and turned toward the rest of the knights, his face just as emotionless as Gawain's. "Get them all out of the carriages. Tell them to spread out."

Tristan nodded, and quickly made his way to the carriages, sending his black raven back into the sky to scout; Arthur jumped down from his horse and began leading him across the ice. Lancelot glanced over to Galahad, and following suit jumped off his horse, Galahad followed their example, as well as the other knights. They were barely a few steps onto the frozen lake a few minutes later when Tristan arrived once again, the carriages some ways behind them. The six of them stopped while their companion dismounted and joined them on the ice, and they waited for the carriages in an awkward silence. Bors and Dagonet were talking off to one side, and Bors laughed quietly, though Dagonet's expression didn't change; it usually never did. Galahad stood next to Gawain, who kept looking over him reassuringly; it began to get a little nerve-racking for the knight.

"I'm alright," Galahad said under his breath, mad at Gawain for thinking he was frightened; he could take care of himself. He had been in Rome's service just as long as Gawain, been fighting the same amount as him, and he had survived! And yet Gawain still couldn't accept him as being a good warrior; he wasn't a child… anymore.

"I didn't say you weren't," Gawain replied, smiling at his cousin, his face saying the very opposite of his words. Galahad just shook his head, accepting this answer for now; and finally the carriages and the peasants arrived at the frozen lake, their faces filled with masked fear as Galahad's was (though he would never admit it).

They carried on, stepping slowly and spreading themselves out so as to put less pressure on the ice; they had better chances of getting across that way. Their footsteps sent loud tremors through the ice, which creaked under their weight, though it didn't crack; Galahad held his breath just as well. Leading his horse carefully, though she shook her head away from his calming hand, as if sensing the future that the ice would break. The Saxon drum was loud enough to rattle Galahad's thoughts, and he could feel the angry tremor of the ice creak louder as it disturbed the cold air. Arthur stopped suddenly, and the knights looked at one another with a slight smile; it was time to fight, and face the bloody bastards. He turned around, facing the knights with a frown that was usually on his face; a slight smile appeared on his face.

"Knights?" Galahad took a quick glance at Gawain, who was already nodding in approval.

"Well I'm tired of running," Bors replied quickly, looking serious for the time being. He walked forward from his horse and replied with a semi-grin, "And these Saxons are so close behind, my ass is hurting."

Tristan shrugged, replying, "Never liked looking over my shoulder anyway." Dagonet smiled at him, agreeing in silent. It seemed they had all been thinking the same for awhile; it usually happened that way for they had spent most of their lives with one another.

"It'll be a pleasure to put an end to this racket," Gawain said with a nod, and he looked toward Galahad somberly. With a deep breath, he agreed and looked back at Arthur.

"And finally get a look at the bastards," his voice was more serious than ever, all the youth and joy sucked out of his breath by the cold and miserable surrounding. He felt himself clench his teeth, and looked toward Gawain for silent support.

"Here. Now." Dagonet smiled, and clasped his hand onto Bors' shoulder, who smiled, moving to get their weapons. Galahad watched as Lancelot shook his head, in a disapproving manner, though he began to get his weapons out just as quickly as the rest of them; his hands were shaking. Galahad followed behind Lancelot, knowing he might have some comforting words for him because he always did. If anyone besides Gawain was a shoulder to lean on, Galahad looked toward Lancelot immediately.

"You don't want to fight do you?" He asked loudly, in more of a statement than a question. Lancelot frowned deeper, squinting his eyes as he looked up towards the sky, grabbing his own bow and Galahad's. Galahad took it with a quiet thank you and began to walk away, seeing the other knight wasn't up for a talk.

"I do not want to die, Galahad." He stopped short, eyeing Lancelot with relieved eyes; finally someone expressed the same fear as he had. But Galahad smiled, taking his bow up and aiming across the lake, though he had no arrow to shoot.

"You won't." He said with more confidence than he really felt, surprising himself with his daring words. He was rewarded with a bright smile from Lancelot, and he nodded his head, walking toward where Gawain stood, aiming for an invisible target on the other side of the lake. Lancelot followed behind him, raising an eyebrow as he watched Guinevere walk away from her carriage, straight toward the knights and where Arthur stood talking with the peasant Ganis.

"But your seven against two hundred," Ganis pointed out with hope, giving the argument with Arthur all he had just so he would be allowed to stay and fight. Guinevere smiled to herself, and raised her eyebrow to Arthur.

"Eight," confidently, she eyed Arthur seductively; "You could use another bow." She walked straight toward Lancelot, standing in between him and Galahad. Lancelot grinned to Galahad, as if to say, She's fighting? And Galahad laughed, though he didn't find it too funny. Guinevere caught Galahad's eye, and he stopped smiling instantly, feeling himself almost stop breathing.

"You are Galahad are you not?" she asked, turning herself completely from Lancelot, and moving closer to the young knight, making him even more uncomfortable. He could feel himself blushing, Dammit! Any woman but her… He laughed nervously, focusing his eyes on across the ice, hoping she wasn't watching his too closely; and he simply nodded.

"I hear you are a great warrior, with the bow," Galahad blushed even harder, nodding, "I admire you for that."

She smiled, Damn her smile! Galahad thought to himself, wondering how quickly it took him to fall for a woman; for he could certainly see Guinevere in a different light now. She turned away from him, and he sighed to himself, feeling the heat of his lower half cool down, though his face didn't.

The beating of the drums continued to grow louder, until finally they were so loud Galahad was waiting for any moment when they would barge through the thick snow. He held his bow tightly, marveling that it wasn't breaking, and felt himself shiver. Looking to Gawain, who stood still and unmoved by the cold, he willed himself to do the same; perhaps he would feel manlier that way.

"Hold until I give the command," Arthur said, just as a first few stray Saxons began emerging. Galahad sucked in a mouthful of blinding cold air, making him cough.

"You look frightened," Lancelot said to Guinevere, regaining his speaking terms to her and possibly knocking Galahad out of her thoughts. He sighed, and said suggestively, "There's a large number of lonely men out there."

Guinevere smiled with a glare across the ice, rolling her eyes slightly, "Don't worry, I won't let them rape you."

Galahad felt himself snort, not able to control his laughter; the image of Lancelot getting raped by a Saxon man… he stopped suddenly, shaking his head to get the image out of his mind. Guinevere smiled softly at him, and turned her eyes back to the emerging Saxon army, who stood dumbfounded by the large frozen lake. A Saxon archer stood in front of the rest and he shot an arrow high into the sky, but it held no avail. It landed some halfway from the knights, and skidded against the ice.

"I believe they're waiting for an invitation. Bors, Tristan." Arthur said as the two men both raised their bows high into the air, ready to fire. Guinevere stepped forward, almost angrily lowered her bow.

"They're far out of range." The men let the arrows go, and quickly they found their targets, and five Saxon soldiers fell lifeless onto the ice. Arthur raised his eyebrow to Guinevere, who glared at him, taking her place back between the two knights. Galahad grabbed an arrow, placing it in his bow, and waiting for another command from Arthur; the Saxons began to move closer.

"Aim for the wings of the ranks, make them cluster." They all aimed toward the right flank first, watching the arrows hit their targets and the men falling to the ground. The remaining men clustered toward to the middle of the pack, as they aimed for the left flank, more men falling. A larger man in the front of the army was pacing from left to right, yelling for his men to hold the ranks; though it wasn't working. They marched closer, until finally it was clear to the knights that the ice wasn't going to crack. Guinevere started to back up, firing another arrow for spite and watched it sore through the sky.

"It's not going to crack. Fall back! Fall back!" he drew out Excalibur in fury, eyeing the approaching army with bitter hate, but he was confident, "Prepare for combat!"

Galahad moaned inwardly, shooting off as many arrows as he could at a time, making sure not to loose his head in despair and keep his eye on his targets. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dagonet run from them, wielding his axe in his hand and yelling with a mad fury in his voice.

"Dag!" Bors cried with surprise, shooting off a few more arrows at the oncoming archers.

"Cover him!" Arthur quickly picked up his bow, and they continued to knock off the Saxon archers. Galahad let off an arrow with a fierce cry, feeling all his emotions rise into his fingers as he let the arrow go; Dagonet was risking his life for theirs. Arrows passed by Dagonet, never striking him and he continued to belt his anger into the ice, sending large tremors through the lake.

Galahad reached down quickly for another arrow, looking quickly to see his most worthy subject to kill. And then it hit him… Dag! He watched in horror as an archer let loose a deadly arrow, letting his own off at the same time as the Saxon's… but it didn't matter. Dagonet was wounded, and he fell with a yell onto the icy floor. I didn't fire in time…

"Dag!" Bors cried out with tears forming in his eyes, but Dagonet got up just as quickly as he fell, hacking with more brute strength into the ice. He was struck with two more arrows before the ice finally gave and split toward the Saxon army. Arthur rushed forward, getting to Dagonet just in time to pull him out of a watery grave. Bors watched in horror, and grabbing his shield his rushed forward, screaming, "Dag!"

Another large tremor went through the ice, this time almost knocking the knights off their feet; Lancelot watched in horror as arrows charged toward Arthur and Bors, "Pull back! Arthur!"

Everything was happening so quickly, and Galahad could hear his screams as he let go of each arrow, tears streaming down his face violently as he watched the crumbled body of Dagonet, and his companions dragging him to safety towards the rest of them. It was his fault, he saw the man, he could have let go of his arrow in time, in time to save him! But no… Dagonet was dying, and it was all his fault.

"Help us!" Bors yelled, trying fiercely to shield himself and Arthur, and keep Dagonet conscious. Gawain and Tristan rushed forward, just as Galahad let another arrow go, his vision blurred with incontrollable tears. He could vaguely make out Guinevere beside him, firing off arrows just as deftly as he, her posture remaining strong and fearless.

Bors pulled the dying body of Dagonet into his lap, crying to the man, "Dagonet! Stay with me!" his voice croaked with tears, as Dagonet's eyes iced over with death, "Dagonet! Stay… with me!"

Galahad dropped his hands to his side with a sigh, looking down to his brothers in arms, who were all silently struck with grief, except Bors, who cried openly for his lost friend. Guinevere glared across the ice, deathly white, and fired one last arrow.