Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the film King Arthur, nor do I own the myth, or anything else, just the Dzerassa's character. This story was written for entertainment purposes only, no money was exchanged. Please don't sue, just tell me if I need to change something.
je suis une pizza -- I don't think the knights are close enough to her to be angry, they are just wary of her, and with good reason, they only know what she told Arthur about herself, which was probably vague at best. Probably they do not often decide to trust people, and to have it so blatantly returned with suspicion mistrust might be taken as a snub. If they had problems with accepting the idea of her being allowed to roam freely through the encampment, they would have said so to Arthur in private, not in front of Dzerassa, so the audience is left as in the dark as she as to their objections or opinions about her. Mostly they just need to see that Galahad is ok with the girl before they feel they can accept her.
As for the pronunciation of her name, I actually searched the web for any female Sarmation names I could find, because I really don't know anything about Sarmatia but wanted it to be authentic, so I haven't heard it spoken myself. I would imagine that if you pronounced it phonetically, it would be pretty close to how the name is supposed to sound.
Thanks to Babaksmiles, Zelina, je suis une pizza, fiji-mermaid, katemary77, Raynacch SilverMoon, and anonymous person for reviewing!
Chapter Seven: Drink and Anxiety
Galahad leaves the bar for a long time. I can see him in the distance, sitting on a fence looking out towards the dark. I gather my clock around my shoulders and start to leave, but he comes in again, looking flushed despite the cold. I see an empty flask in his hand, and realize that he must have been drinking out there, and thinking. He grins, and drags me over to the table that the other knights are sitting at. Honestly, he makes an extremely friendly drunk. The others are more relaxed around my presence now that they see that Galahad is alright with my…well, my existence. Bors grunts and pushes a frothy mug of mead towards me. I take it tentatively, as if I expect something to jump out of it, this isn't the cleanest establishment ever, but Lancelot quickly snatches it out of my hands. I frown at him, but he shoves a smaller mug towards me.
"Ah, that's the better one to drink, lad," Lancelot explains, and the others laugh hysterically. I stare at them all, perplexed.
"See now, boy, they spit in that first one," Tristan volunteers softly,
"Ah, nawh! Lancelot's just greedy and wants the bigger mug," Gawain jeers, and they burst into laughter again.
"Hey!" Galahad protests, "When I was his age, you all let me drink three cups of that stuff before telling me about your added ingredient!" More laughter. Gawain looks sharply at him, "And that's not for lack of warning, friend."
Now the others are curious,
"What's this then?"
"Gawain warned Galahad! Back when he was new!"
"Gawain, you traitor! You warned an initiate about our drink?"
"Yeah, come on, we all drunk it!"
Gawain laughs at all the accusations, "And for all the good it did! Stubborn little Galahad didn't believe me, and drank three mugs of our spit-beer!"
They laugh drunkenly again, and Galahad blushes. It's all quite amusing, but I make a mental note to avoid accepting food and drink from them in the future. Of course, I am not an initiate-knight like the others were when they drank their "spit-beer," but it is nice to laugh with people. It is nice to feel that they accept me – or at least, the boy they think I am.
I have become an all-around apprentice of sorts, meaning, quite frankly, that in return for bed and board, I do pretty much whatever the knights want me to do. Someone forgot their cloak? Send Dzer to fetch it. Someone is ill? Dzer will tend to them. Someone wants a live target for archery practice? Well, it hasn't come to that yet, but I'm waiting. Not that I'm complaining, it is nice to have a purpose, as ambiguous as it may be. I have a feeling that I will be doing a little bit of everything until I show a little talent in one area, and then will be trained more in that field. I've gone out hunting with Tristan and Dagonet a couple times, and often, when no one else needs me, I go to the sick-halls and help the healers there, mostly cleaning or changing bandages, nothing too extreme. Almost every morning that he has spare time, Gawain will call me to the practice courts behind the main complex. I don't know whether he does it because he thinks I should learn to how to handle weapons, or simply because he likes to laugh at me.
"No, see, Dzer dearest, you want to lift the blade over your head when you do that— " Gawain laughs.
"Ugh, that's easy to say when your blade isn't half your weight," I reply, breathless,
"Well, if you wanted, I could get you a play sword. Or maybe a toothpick…" I drop the sword and glare at him. He takes this as a challenge and immediately assumes a defensive position, "Ah, my miniscule friend, you think you can take me weaponless?"
I start to reply, "No, I didn't mean—ack!" he comes charging at me like some rabid cow and I jump out of the way. Alright, this is the one area I know I can succeed in, years of watching those Roman soldiers at Marius', trying to teach myself defensive hand-to-hand combat. He comes rushing at me again, still smiling, but at the last second I crouch down, tucking my head down and covering it with my hands. He trips over my back and goes flying. I stand and smile at him from above. He gets back up and comes after me, but I am to fast and too small. This is fun! Finally, he gets close enough to throw me, but I curl into a ball again, and quickly spring back up. I kick him in the stomach, and then deliver an impossibly high kick over my own head, hitting him, and try to push him to the ground as he comes falling down, but at the last second he grabs me and flips me under him so that I am pinned. Try as I might, once under his weight, I can't get free. We both laugh, he says "See, now, if I were a Saxon, this is when my friends and I would kill and eat you very slowly for being such a pesky little thing." I laugh again, but not so hard this time, it is getting hard to breathe. I hear more laughter, and Galahad comes walking up, "He almost had you there Gawain! We'd better watch our backs—" He laughs again.
"Gawain, get off of me," I say, but I don't know if he can hear me, he's still laughing with Galahad, "Gawain!" I scream, this is scaring me for some reason, this reminds me….a panicky feeling rises in my chest, I WANT HIM OFF, I free one of my hands and strike upwards, hitting his nose. He quickly jumps up in pain and I run out of the yard. Deep breaths, deep breaths, I tell myself. It's hard to breathe.