Authors Note:

LilyoftheValley4 – I want to kind of work it around the fact that maybe the camera crew just skipped over my character, concentrating on the Knights themselves. A bit like history, where some bits are recorded and others are skipped. Thanks for the encouragement!

fiji-mermaid – You've got some good ideas. You should write your own King Arthur fic!

Amirra - Wow! Thanks for the great comments. Hope you like it...

Camreyn – I try not to be predictable. I usually follow my imagination and let the characters evolve. I think there are so many stories with women in it because there are more possibilities for female characters to interact with the Knights.

TheperfectCircle - Thanks for the review. Hope I don't dissapoint...

Thanks to everyone who takes the time to review. Presenting the next chapter. Enjoy.


Chapter 2 – Watching and Waiting.

The Knights were edgy as the stranger moved from the shadows into the light.

Gawain and Galahad froze as Lancelot coughed and spluttered, almost choking on his wine.

The tracker was a woman.

"You weren't expecting me?" said the Lady in black with a sly smile.

As Lancelot recovered, the others stood firm. Lancelot sheathed his knife and stood. He hadn't seen her in what felt like a lifetime. But there was no mistaking her.
"Men, this is my sister, Taryn".

The Knights wavered but did not step down.

Gawain relaxed his stance as he made out the similarities between the two.

She was as tall as her brother, and she was beautiful – dangerously so. She shared her brother's devious smile, and a head of tight, dark curls that fell to her waist.

The Knights glanced at one another and decided to lower their weapons. Lancelot then realised that the tavern had stopped. He smiled. They would soon realise she was more than a pretty face that could handle a knife.

Before Lancelot was enlisted into the Roman military, he had been teaching his little sister to knife fight and shoot a bow and arrow. He recalled the aim of the Woad from the hill.
She had obviously been practising.

"It has been too long Lancelot," said Taryn, moving to embrace her brother.

Tristan held the ebony blade as he observed the men in the tavern. When she spoke, he could see feelings of lust cross more than one Roman soldiers face.
Tristan was always cautious, but told himself to be more so.
He knew from experience that people were never as they appeared.

As the lady named Taryn looked to each of the Knights in turn, Tristan could see another trait she had in common with her brother.
There was a darkness behind her eyes.
There was no question that she had seen battle and taken life.

As the tavern returned to its rowdy state, he introduced each Knight and they sat down. Lancelot handed Taryn his drink and Tristan placed her dagger in front of her.
She quickly handled the knife and fitted it into the folds of her cloak.

"So, what brings you to Britain?" asked Lancelot over the din.

She turned and looked Lancelot straight in the eye.
"Father died, Lancelot, a year past" replied Taryn slowly.
Lancelot searched her face. He found what he was looking for – grief started to seep into her cool composure. The Knights all listened to her silently.

Taryn stared into her mug.
"Mother joined him soon after" said Taryn, taking a steady sip of her drink.
The news was difficult for her to tell. The wounds were still raw and she had not dealt with their death well – that much was clear. Lancelot placed his hand on his sisters', comforting her.

"I had nowhere else to go, so I set out to find you".
Lancelot gave her a sympathetic smile. Despite her beauty it had seemed she had never been offered marriage in the years he had been gone. She was strong willed at ten, and that was fifteen years ago, so it did not surprise her brother that men were somewhat intimidated by her.

Though she hid it well, Tristan had a feeling she had skipped something, though he did not mention it. She was distant, and dismissive, even with her brother. He felt her story was too quick. What was this woman hiding?

"When I made it to Britain, I hoped you were still alive" she said.
"I learned that you were. Your trail was not hard to find".

"What do you mean?" enquired Bors.

Taryn flashed another devious grin. "The entire South West quarter of Britain hosts tales of a dark Knight and his womanising ways".

The Knights chuckled and Gawain playfully punched Lancelot in the arm. Lancelot gave a small smile, and looked at his sister with annoyance.

It was then that Bors asked Vanora to sing. Taryn kept her gaze on her drink as she listened to the words.

"Land of bear, and land of eagle,

Land that gave us birth and blessing…"

As the song resonated through the tavern, Taryn felt Tristan watching her.

She glanced at him, expecting to see a man full of desire and longing, for that was what she was accustomed to. Instead his steady gaze made her feel uneasy.
For once she couldn't tell what a man was thinking.
His eyes somehow disregarded her exterior.
She felt as though he could see right through her.

She reminded herself that she always had to watch the quiet ones.


Taryn stood noiselessly outside the stable doors where she could hear Arthur and Lancelot arguing. A final order had been issued to save a Roman family in the North from the imminent Saxon assault, and the Knights were not going eagerly.

Lancelot's voice echoed into the night. "No, I chose life! And freedom! For myself and the men!".

Taryn jumped as she felt someone behind her and whirled around, knife in hand.

Tristan was quicker, grasping her wrist mid-air.

Her heart stopped for a second. He had caught her off guard.
She wrenched her wrist from his grip and shot him an angry expression.
He infuriated her more by remaining passive. Taryn returned her attention to the stables when Tristan didn't move.

"Are you joining us?" he said, turning to leave. It was the first time he had spoken to her and she noted the thick accent.

She didn't answer but turned and watched him slip away into the night.


Gawain held his drink steady as he climbed the steps of Hadrian's Wall.
The air was clearer up here, free from the world below.

Arthur had told them of their mission and he had spoken for his younger cousin. Galahad would not forgive him so easily, but Gawain hoped a nights rest would cool some steam off his anger.

Gawain placed his drink on the wall and leant on the damp bricks. Letting out a long breath, he closed his eyes. He had had too much wine and his head swirled with images of his life. It was awash with blood and battle.

The clunking of metal stirred Gawain from his thoughts. Bors was solemn as he came and stood beside him.

"Vanora isn't talking to me" said Bors as he helped himself to Gawain's cup. "I'll never understand women".

"I don't think they were meant to be understood" said Gawain chuckling.

The men grew silent as tension baited the air. In the end, Bors spoke first.

"Lancelot's sister…" Bors started, trailing off.

"Taryn" finished Gawain.

"…Taryn. If she knew where to find Lancelot as she claims, why did it take her so long to get here?"

Both men looked towards the sky as they thought about the secretive woman in black.
She was skilful in stealth, but she could not hide everything.


Authors Note: So what do you think? It's my first fanfic so any constructive criticism is appreciated.