Title: A Woman Among Men
Author: sabor ice
Summary: Where did Vanora come from? How do she and the knights meet? How did she meet Bors and fall in love with him? This is their untold tale.
Disclaimer: I don't anything, etc, except for any orginal characters and this story.
Feedback: Yes, please.
To All the Reviewers: Thank you; your feedback is much appreciated.
P.S.: I'm not following the story in KA completely. It's true in the time period I've set, Bors and Vanora couldn't have 11 children. Therefore, they're not. Hope that cleared some stuff up.
Ten (Warning: Some intense situations included in this chapter)
Bors and Dagonet had been trying to catch Vanora's attention all night. Both of them wanted to apologize to her for their misbehaving, but all times she ignored them. She went about serving the other men in the tavern. She made a mental note to stay away from the corner where Lancelot was playing cards with a group of Romans. Last time things got out of hand when the dark-haird knight was caught red-handed with an extra pair of aces. It was a rowdy bunch, but she learned to live with it.
Between rounds and breaks, Vanora watched the others knights, never letting her eyes catch Bors or Dagonet's. Gawain, Galahad, and Tristan were playing a game of knife throwing. Gawain wasn't getting much of a score, since his hands were full with the two barmaids he had on his lap. Galahad tossed a dagger and missed the board completely. Tristan, with an apple in his hand, stepped up and threw a dagger at the one all ready stuck in the board. The blade hit the hilt of the dagger Gawain had last thrown.
"Tristan, how do you do that?" Gawain asked.
The scout took a bite of his apple and then pointed. "I am for the middle."
Vanora had to chuckle at that remark. She casually made her way over to the three to try her luck, when a Roman guard crossed his legs, preventing her from walking through.
"Hey, darlin', wanna go home with a real man tonight?" the brown-eyed Roman asked cockily.
"I'll let you know when I see one," Vanora replied.
With that, she raised her skirts slightly and stepped over the man's legs. The other men around him snickered as he was rejected. The Roman happened to be sitting near Bors. When he grabbed ahold of Vanora's arm, Bors was ready to pounce on him, but paused when he saw Vanora taking care of the problem herself.
"Sorry, sir, but this woman is not for sale," Vanora said, shaking her arm away defiantly. "Perhaps you will find something more suitable in a whorehouse."
The Roman sat back with his comrades and chuckled heatilly in his half-drunken state. "I thought that's where I was," he mumbled as he drank.
When she finally made it to where the trio, Vanora blew the hair from her face and placed her hands on her hips.
"So, you want a real challenger to show you how it's done?" Vanora said, smiling.
Galahad took a few paces forward and handed her a small dagger. He stepped aside and crossed his arms over his chest as he, Gawain, and Tristan, watched her in amazement.
"Don't hurt yourself, Vanora," Gawain chuckled. "You sure you know how to use that thing?"
The young woman didn't answer. She barely aimed her shot as she released the knife. She smiled proudly as the blade hit the hilt of the second dagger, head on. Gawain and Galahad clapped as Tristan shrugged and continued to eat his fruit.
"Again!" Galahad cried.
Vanora shook her head and smiled sweetly. "Sorry, loves, back to work for me."
The remainder of the night was about the same. Vanora busted tables, served drunken fools, and spoke with the knights whenever she had a minute or two. Most of the patrons, including the knights had left the tavern around two in the morning. Vanora and a few other barmaids were left to clean up the mess.
"I don't see why we should even bother," a blonde haired girl said. "Why clean when it'll be just as bad tomarrow night?"
Vanora finished cleaning the tables as she looked up at her. "I'd rather clean the filth than walk in it the next day."
A middle-aged woman with cropped black hair chimed in on the conversation. "Did you two see those handsome knights that were in here tonight?"
The blonde girl giggled. "I did so. Who could miss them? Which one did you like, Mary-Anne?"
The black haired woman called Mary-Anne replied, "I like that big brute, you know, the short, bald, husky one. He's like a big teddy bear that you could cuddle up with all night."
Vanora slammed down on one of the tables, making it look like it was just from moving a chair by it. She had heard enough all ready.
"Let's just finish up so we can go home, ok?" Vanora said.
The other two women exchanged amused glances and finished up their work.
Vanora was the last one to leave, for she was the one that had to lock up the tavern every night to ensure drunkards or thieves wouldn't break in and steal the liquor. Folding the key into her dress pocket, Vanora drew her hood over her head. She wrapped herself tightly in her cloak, for the night was rather chilly.
The night was calm and motionless, for all the world seemed to be deep in a peaceful slumber. It would've been completely black outside, save for the milky moonlight in the deep sky. The silence was so great, it was almost deafening. Vanora didn't mind quietness after such a night at the tavern, but it was almost too quiet for her as she made her way to her hut. Once she made it to the road, Vanora was glad to hear her own footsteps again. She kept her ears open and her eyes peeled. She was more afraid of being attacked by a wolf that occasionally made their way into town than anything.
Suddenly, Vanora swore she heard another set of footprints. They were heavier than her light ones, so it caused her to freeze and listen intently. The wind blew quietly around her and she did not hear anything else. Her gaze peered ahead, knowing that she was almost home to her hut, and she would be safe behind locked doors. She continued on at a quicker pace, but not so fast as to cause attention to herself if there was something out there.
She shivered, chills running down her spine as she looked back behind her once more. As she turned back around, she ran smack dab into another person. Her first instinct was to scream, but she was silence by a large man over her mouth. The person, who should could tell was a man, grabbed her around her mid-section. Eyes darting frantically around her as she struggled, Vanora was met by two more forms. She peered up at the man before her as his gray eyes stared coldly back at her. Those eyes, she thought. She remembered those piercing, devil eyes.
The man that held her grabbed her face and turned her gaze towards him. "Hello there, darlin'."
Vanora continued to struggle, but the man had a strong grip on her. She looked back at the gray-eyed man and his square-face companion. The man moved inward, his face directly before hers.
"A Roman official comes to no wench," he snarled. "The wench comes to me."
Tears welled in Vanora's eyes, for she remembered these men now. They had been the Romans she and the other had ridden with over ten years ago. She suddenly realized how serious the situation had truly become.
Vanora stomped on the foot of the Roman behind her, and shoved her way past the gray-eyed man. She managed to gain a few paces and let out a cry for help before she was tackled to the ground. She was flipped over, as the gray-eyed man was upon her. The others two held down her legs and arms, the one keeping her silent as well. The Roman began to tear at her dressings, while forcing his knee between her legs to open them.
"I've waited ten years to pay you back, wench, ten long years," the man whispered in her ear.
Tears streamed down Vanora's cheeks as she lay helpless in the hands of three rapists.
"Redemption, my dear," he added, slapping her across the face.
As Vanora lay there with her eyes shut tight, she felt the weight on her arms and legs removed. As she re-opened her eyes, she saw a figure standing over them. The gray-eyed Roman didn't have the chance to make a move as the other figure embedded a sword into the Roman's back. Vanora was shaking as she watched the gray-eyed man die on top of her.
"Vanora," a familiar voice said, rolling the dead man away from her.
The young woman was sobbing as she peered up into the face of Bors. He wrapped her cloak around her and took her up in his arms.
"I'm sorry," she wept.
"Shh, it's all right, now, I've got you," Bors tried to calm her down as she cried into his chest. "Everything will be all right now, I've got you."
End, 'Ten.'
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