Of Kings and Commoners

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Downward Spiral

Harry stared at his calendar and had never seen such depressing words. Because of last night Harry had spent the Monday cleaning, vacuuming and washing the two cars in the driveway. It wasn't until sunset that he passed his Aunt's inspection. And Harry suspected it was only because it was much harder to see water spots. He wanted to read his two letters, which became three sometime during the day, and wash his sheets. They didn't smell anymore, at least not that he could tell, but that they were still dirty bothered him.

Aunt Petunia seemed to be more one edge than usual and began to nitpick his cleaning again. He didn't mind, he just wondered what was making her so anxious. She would look at the kitchen clock and pace about the house, peeking out of the curtain every now and then. The sudden distinct sound of the car pulling into the driveway pulled his Aunt away from his cleaning.

"Well? How did you do Duddys?

The loud booming voice of his Uncle resonated in the house.

"He won! Dudley dropped that so called "house champion" didn't you boy?"

"Yeah Mum! You shoulda seen it! I was like BAM! And then he tried to come up, but I was too quick for him and POW! He was out!"

"That's wonderful dear!"

"Mr. O' Reilly says that because I won, he's going to put me in for tomorrow's tournament!"

"That's excellent news dear!"

"Oh this is so cool! Can't wait! I'm going to pack right now!"

"Right lad, get to it now. There's my champ."

Vernon turned to Petunia, both with proud looks in their eyes as Dudley stomped his way up to his room. They glanced briefly at Harry before he ducked his head back into the kitchen.

"I'm sure Charles will be able to handle a few days without me. I'll call him and make arrangements. And dear, call Marge. Wouldn't due to have…him…here by himself."

"Yes dear of course."

They both looked disgustedly in his direction and calls were made. Uncle Vernon had his days off and Aunt Marge was coming to keep an eye on him for the next few days. And again his Uncle set him to work on the house until it reached beyond perfection.

"Listen here boy."

Harry looked up from his current task of clearing out the couch cushions of loose change and dust bunnies.

"Two days boy. Aunt Marge will be here to keep an eye on you. No funny business and do as you're told. Understand?"

"Yes sir."

Straight forward and to the point. None of his typical anger or roughing up. Upstairs he could hear them fussing over Dudley and his things. Two days with the most hateful woman on the planet. It was no wonder why she had so many pets. At least he could throw around some magic with Voldemort. Aunt Marge was a whole separate entity of all things evil. What he would give to curse her into oblivion.

"Then again I don't think oblivion deserves anything that bad…" He muttered under his breath.

Maybe some "accidental magic" could let itself loose. He couldn't control it last time and now with his Aunt and Uncle gone, he was hoping he'd be able to do it again. Maybe one day he'd be able to pull it off at will. Wandless magic was definitely something he wanted to pursue as he found the wand, though thin and nimble, cumbersome in trying times.

So many times his reactions were fast enough, but he had to reach for his wand. Pulling it out of a self sewn pocket in his robes or just not having it around was frustrating. Sometime he wished he could be like Dumbledore and casts spells with the wave of his hand. But even Hermione told him that as great as it was it takes people years to learn much less master. In that conversation he kept his mouth shut, but he really wanted to go and gloat about himself. Harry Potter learned the Patronus Charm well before anyone at school. Everyone and their mother knew that He was strong in a magical sense, and that being said, he should be able to pull of wandless magic before he graduated.

But he kept his mouth shut. Harry wasn't an arrogant person, but he did, at times (very few times mind you) let himself bask in his own spotlight.

"Remember boy. I don't care what your freaky friends do. No funny business or you are out of my house."

Harry simply nodded and followed his Uncle out of the house to load the last of their luggage and unload Aunt Marge's belongings.

There was the usual forced conversation with Aunt Marge before they left. Harry wondered if even his Uncle hated her on some level. A simple pressing of cheeks with Petunia and hug for a fistful of pounds from Dudley and they were off.

Aunt Marge strode up to Harry who waited just in front of the door looking at him with disgust. Her heavy makeup and eccentric hat made her look deplorable. She however walked with her nose in the air and a stride that suggested she was several hundred pounds smaller and several years younger.

"My bags boy. Fetch them quickly, it has been a long drive and I am due for a nap."

"Yes Aunt Marge." Harry kept his tone monotonous and he let his eyes look through her rather than at her. Had he not she would have punished him for laughing at her appearance.

One by one Harry heft out the luggage that seemed to be charmed to give him a hard time. What he would give for a simple swish and flick and send them around the hall and into the guest room.

With the last bag he stood by the door waiting for his next order. She ignored him of course, taking time to carefully take off her hat and reveal a wiry mass of dirt brown and grays. Each piece of jewelry had it own place on the dresser top. He tried not to sigh out loud as she now began to arrange them all in a pattern. Whether it was out of habit or to spite him, he couldn't tell.

"Dinner had better be ready in fifteen minutes or you aren't eating."

He sagged his shoulders in frustration. She knew dinner wouldn't be ready in fifteen minutes. He would need at least a half an hour to cook dinner. That he would only cook enough for her didn't reduce the time as he would have expected.

"Have to take into account that you eat for ten…" He said quietly enough for her not to hear, but loud enough to be heard if she strained. She didn't even bother waiting until she sat down to belittle him. She walked into the dining room already complaining about his lack of motivation. That he should be happy to cook and serve her dinner like it was an honor.

It was just like the first ten years of his life and Harry still remembered how to ignore the voices and still accomplish the task at hand. She would call out one of many punishments he would receive if he messed dinner up, but after so many years, Harry wasn't about to mess up a simple steak. At least not in a way she could see. He made sure his saliva was thick when he quietly spat on the steak.

"What are you smiling at!?! Plotting some mischief are we?

"No Aunt Marge. I'm just happy to be away from school."

She sniffed at the air and arrogantly tossed he head disapprovingly.

"Typical. A delinquent like you couldn't appreciate the hard work those people are putting in to straighten the likes of you out. It's a blatant disrespect for your superiors; that's what's wrong with you."

Harry arranged the food on the plate and set it in front of her. He knew he wasn't getting any dinner anyway. Punishment wasn't something new to him and Harry found a sudden desire to push.

"Respect is earned not given."

"Excuse me?" She spattered out a bit of the salivated steak in surprise at his remark.

"That's what they teach us at St. Brutus'. That it would be natural to respect an accomplished person. But just because someone is your senior doesn't mean you have to give them any due respect."

"Boy, dinner is late and you're not getting any dinner already. Would you like to be denied food all day tomorrow?"

"Then I could call a constable. See? An accomplished man, I could respect him because he is doing something I respect. You just seem to be a hateful woman who would starve a growing boy to take out her frustrations on not having a relationship or any friends that don't walk on four legs."

Harry knew his uncle would hear about this. It would be exploded out of proportion, though even if Aunt Marge was completely accurate and truthful, he would be punished just the same. He didn't know where this sadistic desire to bring punishment upon himself came from, but it didn't matter. He knew he was getting just what he wanted.

She shot from her chair, lifting the table with her protruding stomach and sent dinner crashing onto the floor. It was a sight that Harry would have to remember. If it sent him to his room, all the better. He could read and write letters.

"Room! Now! And don't come out until your Uncle Vernon returns!"

Already Harry had turned to walk.

"Clean up this mess! Get back here and fix this mess!"

"You know," Harry spoke as he continued to the stairs. "They also teach us to clean our own messes."

He slammed the door and heard her stomp her way to his door. She screamed and slammed at the door for him to clean the mess as well as many other obscenities that Harry chose to ignore. First the sliding lock, then the chain lock, and lastly the key lock were secured.

Like many instances of minor rebellion he had on Privet Drive, he would be severely reprimanded, and like those many times, regret his actions. But this time it was too easy to laugh it off and tell authority to piss off. Normally he'd do anything to keep her happy rather than face her wrath. But like all teenagers, he gave into a moment's temptation.

And he felt like a regular fifteen year old.

Dear Harry,

Just wanted to drop a quick one before I have anymore worked to do. Good thing it's the off season. Just helping out for the Victory is tough enough during practice sessions. The guys here are all cool, and sometimes I get to play. I think I'm getting better. Anyway, not to be rude, but don't bother writing back. Don't know when I could write back again anyway. I may get to hang out for the Arsenal's next few sessions. Not the Cannons, but hey they are pros. Hope summer isn't kicking you in the ass too bad.

Ron

P.S. Just owl Mum if you ever need anything.

It was good to hear from Ron again. He wouldn't write to him, but Mrs. Weasley instead. She was the closest thing to a mother he had ever had and he liked to get a motherly tone from someone once in a while. It helped Harry feel normal every now and then.

His thoughts drifted to Hermione, and how she was faring in France. Probably absorbing more than enjoying. She mentioned how her cousin as some sort of child prodigy at Beaxbatons a few years back and she wanted to see what she knew. Typical Hermione to find some way to learn rather than relax on a vacation.

Thoughts drifted to how his friends had changed. They had all grown up physically, and mentally. Though Harry wouldn't call his own experience as "growing up". He wondered how much taller Ron would be, but only that since Ron's personality hadn't changed since he had first met him. Hermione would get taller as well. It was their fourth year that Harry had realized she too was a girl, and when she wanted to, like at the Yule Ball, she could look just as stunning as any model he'd seen in the magazines. She'd drift once in a while into his dreams, and naturally he'd toy the idea of a relationship. To be a guy and have such a close friend a girl, you'd have to be mad to not consider the possibility.

Maybe.

And he was content to leave her at that thought. He picked up the next letter, stamped with the seal of the Lupin family crest in purple wax. A charmed seal to be sure. Only to be opened at his hands. Common practice in for most mail, since, just like in the muggle world, mail got lost and would fall into the hands for prying eyes.

He snapped the seal which crumble away to dust and floated out of the window on an evening breeze.

Dear Harry,

How are you Harry? Saw your Aunt and Uncle leave. You may have suspected dementors since the news report (Tonks told me about the TV report). You suspected right, but we took care of them, only a small group. Even if they did make it here, I'm confident you would have been able to handle them. Anyway, nothing new going on about. Keep your wand and your wits about you Harry. Constant vigilance as Mad-Eye would say.

Sincerely,

Remus

As to be expected from Remus Lupin. How are you's and be careful's were in every letter. It wasn't that Remus was an impersonal person. No he made it wildly apparent in his first letter that he didn't enjoy writing letters and that his would be short and concise. He didn't mind since his own replies were just as short. He kept it at being "fine" and stating in more ways than one his hatred for his Aunt Marge. And that, he had spent the whole day without thinking of Sirius.

His eyes watered a bit as he folded the letter up. Maybe he was finally moving on. The thought of his godfather still pained him, but it was easier to find something else to occupy his thoughts. Such as the letter from Cho. He had discovered her letter so far smelled of jasmines and Snape's Dungeon. Probably because she worked in an apothecary she smelled of herbs and potion ingredients. It wasn't a bad smell, just distinctive. He pulled out the letter and with it fell a tag for a discount for students.

Dear Harry,

Please don't force yourself to write me letters. I may not be Hermione or Ron, but we both know what it's like to lose someone and I think I may be able to understand your situation better. I accept your apology, but I'd rather your write to me out of want and not need. I hope we can keep this up. It helps pass the time, wondering what I should say.

Have you noticed that at the end of the term, everyone is excited to go home, (maybe not you though) but when they get home there is nothing to do? Everyone always talks of summer plans and most of the time it's just lounging around doing nothing?

Me? Well it's always work or homework, work in some form or another. The sale went well so that's always good news, but I think I drank more than half of the Enliveners I brewed up. Which is quite a bit. I don't know why, but I was so tired that whole day. And working there isn't even physically draining. Boredom I guess with a little motivation. Imagine History class but getting paid to do it and you have my job. Oh God I'm rambling again aren't I? Seriously I can't help it. Once I write I just go with what's on my mind. Sorry if it's too much.

Sincerely,

Cho

He still felt odd reading her letters. They had ended the last year on none to good terms. And now she was writing him letter about her day. It was weird to say the least but not unwelcome. He wasn't angry or frustrated with her anymore. It felt more like indifference towards her. Like he would welcome her friendship, but wouldn't cry if she suddenly stopped. And being his first crush ever didn't help his thoughts of her. She could inspire the very word beauty, but that twist in his chest wasn't there anymore when he thought of her. Thoughts about a relationship with her still filtered through his mind, but she wasn't the dominating force she once was in his psyche. But then before it was just her looks. He was too shy last year to really talk to her. And now seeing who she is as a person was interesting. Like seeing past looks, preconceived notions and reputations, he saw who she looked like inside. At least starting to...

Harry no longer felt funny writing back and he eagerly clicked his pen to write.

Dear Cho,

I'm not forcing myself to write to you. Honest. And now I'm going to need your letters to pass the time. So far I've done everything without question. All my chores and cleaning and my relatives haven't harassed me yet. But since my cousin is into boxing, they left to attend a two day long tournament. So they sent my Aunt Marge to watch me.

This woman, I'm not even sure she's human, is the epitome of all things evil and seems fit to be the bride of Voldemort. Not like evil "I want to kill you" evil, but evil "Fat, ugly, hateful because I'm going to die alone and my pets don't count as friends" evil.

Well today I talked back to her. It was more of a matter-of-fact statement rather than talk back. But being the disgusting mass of bad stuff that she is, I'm locked in my room until my Uncle gets back and even then who knows how long. But I have the Weasley's looking out for me so I'll be ok.

But really I would like to keep writing to you. Ron and Hermione are busy with work and travel so I'm forced to rely on you for correspondence…just kidding. Seriously, I'm not forcing myself to write, but I will say I'm sorry again. Losing my Godfather was he worst thing I've ever been through. I never knew my parents, and he was the closest thing I had. Seeing that taken away from me...I don't know. I felt alone. Like no one could understand what I was going through. I even lashed out at Dumbledore. Luckily the year was over and I didn't lose any points.

He sighed at his attempt at humor. His eyes began to water a bit but he forced his pen to paper once more.

I really wish I wasn't who I am. So many things would be different. No one would have been attacked by a basilisk, or die at Voldemort's hands-.

A tear fell and spattered upon the parchment, but the ink remained. He dabbed it dry and felt his strength begin to leave him.

I'm sorry I'm going to have to cut it short this time. I didn't mean to sound so depressing. But once I start thinking of my godfather I can't help it. I'm sure you'll understand.

Harry

On cue like so many times before Hedwig fluttered in and hopped a few time on the window ledge. A bit of something or other fell from her beak and she looked at the two letters signed and sealed. Harry bet his owl would have sighed loudly is she could. He wiped his eyes dry and smiled for her.

"You know what? These can wait until morning. I'm sure you need your beauty sleep."

She did look pretty tired. He hadn't been in his room all day and she could have been out the whole time. Seeing as how the letters weren't vital to his survival, he let his owl get some rest before having to set out again.

He smiled and ran his hand down her sleek white feathers. She nuzzled he head into his hand, scratching an itch she couldn't reach before flapping lightly to perch atop his closet. Between a stack of books he never read and one of Dudley's old toys was her favorite place to sleep.

"First thing tomorrow though ok?"

A clicking of her beak was her only response and Harry was satisfied. He laid down in bed and figured he had all of two days to lay in his bed. His mind filtered through images he longed to forget and he kept his eyes shut to see them despite his want to forget.

Harry awoke with a start. He kept his eyes closed and remained perfectly still. Something was wrong and whatever it was it was near by. He would need a split second of surprise if whatever it was was going to be beaten. Having stared darkness in the eye one to many times, the feeling of it's presence was easy to recognize.

The house was deathly silent. The grandfather clock ticked loudly and it dominated all other minute sounds. Hedwig ruffled her feathers lightly, opening Harry's eyes. His room was empty. Slowly he rose from his bed and pulled his wand from under his pillow.

Living with locks all of his life, Harry had learned a few tricks of the trade to sneak out and get some food when his punishments had grown dire. He was meticulous with his hair pin and wire. It had been so long since he had to unlock his own locks he felt nervous. He had done it so few times as the risk of being caught, but when he did go out, he never was caught.

The chain lock took the longest. He had to hold it down has he twisted the doorknob so it didn't rattle. The house remained quiet. He hoped some sixth sense would kick in and he would find the threat. Or that his guardian had taken care of it. Or hoping more still, that he was just chasing the wind.

"I'm not a bloody psychic. Wizard yes...psychic, hell no." He thought. But he needed to be sure.

He crept down the stairs, placing his feet on memorized spots that didn't creak. Again every small detail seemed to grow exponentially. His lack of a shower was obvious, the grandfather clock had increased in volume, and his Aunt Marge wrestled with her blankets. Her snores assured him he was safe from at least her wrath for the time being.

Suddenly a cold breeze swept around him and he quickly crouched down.

An open window.

The leaves rustled with the breeze and the crickets resumed their annoying calls.

Harry sighed quietly. Maybe it was just his imagination. He didn't feel cold or depressed. When ever he was near Voldemort he could literally feel his power surging in the air.

He didn't feel that either.

Dejectedly he went up stairs, not as carefully as he had come down. His Aunt Marge seemed to sleep the sleep of the dead. He shut his door and spent his remaining energy locking the doors, the hardest part of sneaking out. Still he couldn't help suspect. He pulled out a small piece of parchment that remained from his letter to Cho and scribbled a few words.

Covering her beak he woke his owl up who seemed to look hatefully towards him for breaking his promise to leave the letter until morning.

"Sorry girl, this is important. Find who's on watch tonight and give this to them ok? There might be something out tonight."

She seemed to understand and she gripped the letter and soared out the window. It seemed like he had just sat down as she flew back in dropping a small note and returning to her perch. Harry in folded the letter, which was scribbled just as quickly on the back side of own.

Harry,

All's well. Go to sleep. Nothing wrong.

K.S.

Harry was relieved to see those initials. Kingsley Shacklebolt may be old, but he was one of the best and most experienced Aurors in the British Ministry of Magic. Mundungus was another story. He wasn't sure if he still pulled a watch on him, but he knew that he felt a deal on something or other was more important than keeping him safe. But then what young wizard would want to spent his nights watching some kid? Roles reversed he would have refused in Dumbledore's face.

The grandfather clock had quieted down significantly but resounded with tone of two loud chimes signaling it was two in the morning. He wasn't sure what time his Aunt would come rampaging into his room, but he wanted to rest some more before he was put to work.

Harry's eyes flickered open at the seventh chime of the clock. He heard the first six in his dreams, and decided that such no one had made cloaks that were so loud. Then again if there was one, he was sure Sirius would have bought one for him just as in his dream. The sky was gray and dark and he rose from his bed. A good thing too since he didn't feel like working outside. He hoped the summer storm would keep until she had left. He stretched and flexed his cramped muscles. He wished he had never woken up last night since it deprived him of precious sleep time.

"Damn, I was up for only a few minutes. How the hell am I so tired?"

It was a situation he and Ron seemed to face everyday at school. Nothing a hot cup of coffee wouldn't cure. He reached for the doorknob and gave it a feeble twist. He had forgotten he had to keep it locked so his Aunt wouldn't suspect.

"Boy! Why isn't my breakfast ready!?!"

"Speak of the devil…" He muttered. "I can't cook breakfast if I'm still locked Aunt Marge!"

"Don't talk back to me boy!" She yelled up.

She came up and seemed to break the locks as she unlocked them and slammed the door open. She wasn't seething mad like his Uncle Vernon was. Seething didn't describe the anger she had. The lack of make up to cover up the blemishes that dotted her face made Harry cringe. He bolted for the space between her and the door and down the stairs. He tried not to laugh or smile. He made sure to cook breakfast perfectly, just so he could hear her criticism. And he found that being a smart ass can actually be fun.

Oddly enough she had little to say. Not enough salt, too much pepper, Non-dairy or dairy creamer. Aunt Marge contradicted herself just to give her reason to be mad. After a "decent" lunch she went to take a nap and left Harry to clean. Her little nap seemed to extend beyond nap and Harry didn't really care to clean anymore or wait until she woke up so he could wait on her hand and foot.

Longer still did her nap go on and Harry was even able to do his laundry without waking her. He took his time folding them and putting them away and he found it odd that despite his relatives demand for neatness, and his desire to rebel, he kept his room neat and square. A self imposed neat "freakiness" that could give even Hermione a run for her money.

He felt a chill run up his spine and a soft breeze waft into his room.

"Turn on the heater! I'm cold!"

It was a bit chilly. But the air was cold since he had felt the breeze himself.

"Shouldn't you be warm with that layer of fat on you?"

"What was that?"

"Nothing Aunt Marge!"

Harry adjusted the temperature from the gauge next to Dudley's room a few degrees more and clicked the fan on. The air rushed through the vents softly enough to hear her sigh in agreement. He sat back down at his desk, and the gray skies grew darker, bringing with them a natural depression. A small beacon of white appeared and Hedwig had swooped in sending a letter smacking into his glasses. She settled herself in her spot a bit nosily.

The letter was from Cho. Settling into this routine of letters with her proved to be less depressing and monotonous as he had originally expected. It came with its trademark scent of jasmine and this time around, wormwood. It held a spicy, almost damp smell that covered up the flower scent. He opened the top flap of the envelope when the bellowing voice.

"Didn't I tell you to turn the heat up?"

"Yes Aunt Marge!"

"Well, why haven't you dooooAHHH!"

Her already loud voice exploded in terror. And immediately Harry felt the familiar cold chills and sadness that accompanied the dementors that obviously made their way to his location.

Stuffing the letter in his pocket and wand in hand he froze. He was being hasty. Haste got Sirius killed. He needed to organize his thoughts and calm himself. He could handle dementors. But where was his guardian?

"Hedwig! Come on girl." He frantically wrote a short message on a piece of paper and handed it up to her. "Come on girl. Find who's on watch and give this to them and go to the Weasley's. I'm not going to keep you here. Just make sure you get this to who's on watch!"

He saw her hop once from her perch and he raced down the stairs. The cold atmosphere made him lose his breath. He forced happy thoughts into his head and he crept to the guest room. The lights were still on, and she lay on the floor muttering nonsense and rocked herself in the fetal position. He felt the cold move away and he followed it to the front door. He steadied his breathing and no sooner did he try to peek through the peephole did the door explode of its hinges and flatten him to the floor.

Quickly he scrambled to his feet and stared into the abyss of the dementor's hood. Behind its leering figure he could see more. The night sky seemed darker and even the street lights didn't offer more than a flicker.

Hesitation had barely registered in his mind when he raised his wand.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

The familiar silvery mist took stag form and plowed through the dementor, it's very being collapsing, leaving only a few marks of it's presence behind. Harry was glad to see it disappear but that feeling quickly vanished as one after another came into the living room. He back away slowly until his back hit a wall and he slid along it into the kitchen.

"Cast the spell Harry…Come on. Lift your wand you pansy!"

His self taunting paid off and the kitchen was filled with silvery mist as stag after stag sent dementors fleeing. The misty remains of the spell left Harry's vision clouded and he could only make out vague forms in the dark. That the lights were off didn't even register in his mind. The darkness seemed to meld together with the dark figures that seemed to grow in numbers despite his best efforts.

Harry wiped at his eyes as he cast another Patronus. His vision began to get blurry and the powerful spells were taking it's toll on him. The magic in his body was being drained and he held himself up against the wall to save energy.

"Where the hell is my watch!?! Aren't they supposed to make sure shit like this doesn't happen!?!"

His patronus started to fade faster and he had cast the spell when they were closer for it to remain effective. The cold breezes surrounded him and he waved his wand in random directions not really knowing if he was hitting anything with his fading spells.

"I could really use some chocolate right about now…"

He was exhausted. There was no more energy left within him cast a spell much less hold himself up. He slumped at the sliding door to the backyard and he struggled to slide it open. Barely managing, he crawled as fast as he could but he could feel the sadness like it was a thick air pressing itself down on him.

He whimpered as he felt a thin frail hand grasp his ankle trying to pull him back.

This wasn't supposed to be happening. He was Harry Potter. Wasn't there supposed to be some grand cosmic destiny thing to keep him alive until…well until he faced off with Voldemort? He wasn't supposed to go out like this…

Author's Notes

Hmm. One review from the same person. Many Many thanks Brooke Kenobi. I was hoping for more. It helps motivate me. I'm still questioning my abilities and continue to go over each chapter. A lot has been going on and despite having already completed many chapters I wish to post only one at a time so I can get some reviews and hopefully people will catch mistakes I missed. What's going you ask (or not…) Well I turned twenty, sprained my foot so now I'm not jumping on Tuesday, paintball, go pulled over for not yielding to a fire truck (too excited to play paintball to notice) etc etc. It's troubling to say the least.

Brooke Kenobi – As for Gweniviere and Morgan, I'm going off the movie Excalibur. Morgan is Arthur Older half sister. His father Uthor used Merlin's magic to infilitrate and enemy castle and slept with a rival kings wife because he was in love with her. Much later on, Morgan used magic to look like Gweniviere and slept with Arthur, having a boy (don't remember his name!) And the two gathered an army and fought each other to the death. Gweniviere was Arthur's queen and had an affair with Lancelot and fled to a convent after being discovered. I would say to watch the movie, but it's really not that good and looks pretty old. But in Afghanistan when boredom calls you watch anything. Even badly dubbed Italian b-movie horrors more than once because the ugly chick in it gets naked… NM thanks for the review.