King Arthur: Volume II

A/N:

Disclaimer: I don't own King Arthur, the characters, and everything else dealing with the movie. I don't get paid for this, so please don't sue.

Rating: PG-13

Reviews: Please

Part Three/

Chapter Two) 'And Here We Are'

With a small smile of remembrance Amares sat up in the soft bed. She clutched the thin blanket trying to remember "everything". She could remember going back to his room and then… nothing, blank. She felt deaf, dumb, and mute. No, she felt like a invalid cursed with amnesia. How much did she drink anyway? And if she had gotten drunk so much why was Tristan able to get up and leave before she had yet to awake. The first thing she was supposed to see was Tristan, sleeping next to her. No, she wasn't supposed to see Tristan, she was supposed to be gone! But anyway, the first thing Amares woke up to was the large pouch, tied carefully with a blue string and weighing down the pillow in Tristan's place.

The half Britain yawned looking around the room, barren for the most. Slowly she crawled to the edge of the bed looking for her clothes. "What the?" her soft voice seemed raspy and strained with sleep, hopefully. Standing? Overrated. Who needs to stand when with every exhale the pounding of a headache threatens them? She wrapped the blanket tighter and tilted her head to make sure she wasn't seeing things.

Her deep auburn dress swayed, hanging over the railing two seconds from falling. She could have wondered how it made it's way upon the balcony. She could have wondered why Tristan, who had laid the blanket over her didn't extend his common courtesy even more and rescue her clothes. On a farther note, she could have even wondered why she used such a light fabric to sew it. The mild breeze surely didn't help her dress's case. Amares jumped up and just before she could place one foot onto the balcony her dress blew away. She sighed, walking to the edge of the balcony and hitting her hand hard on her head in realization that she would have to make her way home, across town in a thin blanket. She looked over, lifting her hand in a sort of half wave to Lancelot, standing on his own balcony, smiling, laughing, most likely at her, half naked on Tristan's balcony. "Nice night?" he yelled over to her. Her eyes scanned the floor, and then his face again, she threw her lips in an odd way to the left side of her face.

"I… can't… really… remember," she admitted, clutching the blanket closer to her body. He nodded, looking back out at the wall and the lands beyond it. "You?"

"It was… interesting," she nodded that time.

"You wouldn't have happened to see Tristan would you?"

"I know Arthur mentioned something about Galahad and him training in the stables, you should check there, well… that is," Lancelot stopped to smirk briefly. "when your… you know? Decent,"

"Very funny Lancelot… very funny,"

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Lancelot stepped back into the room, listening to her light inhales and exhales. He smiled at the sleeping figure. Her hair covered half of her face so those indefinitely pouting lips could poke out, visible from his vantage point, along with her long eye lashes. She did look much better since she had taken that bath, Lancelot even believed that it was the reason she had slept in his bed. Well other than her falling asleep in the water and Lancelot carrying her there, she did wake up in the middle of the night and even upon finding herself hastily dressed by Lancelot she didn't leave. She fell into a deep sleep. He wondered just how bad her body would ache the next day from being thrown around. He meant to ask Tristan about the details but the scout was probably the hardest knight to catch up with. Obviously, even if Amares couldn't find him. He knew about the sparing match Tristan had promised to Galahad though. It seemed like Galahad could loose fifty times (which is likely) and he would still challenge Tristan. It wasn't that Galahad didn't have Tristan's skill it was that Tristan used all of his senses to predict what Galahad would do next. Sometimes Lancelot believed Tristan knew even before Galahad did. If they were fighting purely on skill, of course Galahad could probably beat him or at least give him a good fight.

Lancelot didn't know why Tristan had to get up at dawn anyways. Like anybody does.

But since Tristan wasn't in his room he had to be somewhere. Tristan was good at hiding but disappearing was a trait even he lacked. Lancelot sat on the edge of the bed careful not to wake up Lessa. She had finally found a moments peace around Lancelot and he wouldn't ruin that. She had momentarily allowed her guards to fall. The curly haired knight dressed hastily. With his bad luck Tristan would have rode to another village or left the service by the time he knew where to find him.

He turned back to take a quick look at Lessa before he left and she sat up in his bed. She attempted to say something, her hand instantly went to her swollen lip, then to her bruised stomach. She probably was remembering yesterday. "Go to sleep, there is no need to wake this early," and for the first time since she had been there, just before she rolled over, Lessa smiled at Lancelot. For Lancelot. In a natural chain reaction Lancelot found himself smiling also, but her back was already to him. He wondered how old she was when Case made her his. Arthur called her a young princess but how old exactly?

It was a sort of legend, there love story. According to Arthur. Case fell in love with a slave, Lessa, at first sight after saving her from the harsh treatment of some soldiers. The love, forbidden was shunned by Cedric and so Case told Lessa they would run and her name would be Clara, then the war began. Or the invasion. It was obvious Case was needed by his people so he stayed. The story could go one forever, really. Depending on who told it there were so many unknown details and stupid facts that one could tell the tale over the span of a day if they'd fancy. Lancelot wondered how many were true. If it was true that it was love at first sight (as most wanted to believe) or if Case courted her.

He pulled open the door. The scraping made Lessa jump, slightly, probably involuntarily and so instinctively she didn't even notice herself. He wondered how long before she would no longer jump at every small noise or sound. Before she wasn't afraid of the world. Before she no longer was afraid of Lancelot. She flinched every time he touched her and she looked to the ground for refugee every time his eyes found hers. He could tell she was insecure, if Arthur was correct about everything Case had to be the only person she had been with. She was simply too young. Back at home Lancelot could imagine her as trusting and naïve. Not always alarmed and panicky.

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Lancelot pulled open the heavy doors to the stables. He squinted his eyes so he could see the two bodies, sparring in between the dust swirling in the air. "Tristan!" he called out making Gawain look over. He sat atop a near rotted barrel.

"Don't interrupt, Tristan is actually trying,"

"Be quiet," Galahad yelled loosing his concentration. He fell backwards. A large puff of dust rose around him making the boy cough violently. Tristan offered his hand but Galahad did not accept it, instead he pushed his own body up. Tristan sheathed his sword and walked over to a shelf housing a rough cloth so he could wipe his face.

"What?" he asked Lancelot.

"Amares is looking for you," Tristan didn't even look up. Galahad did though, jealously striking his face.

"Amares?" the knight ran his hands through his dark curls after he asked the question trying for it not to sound too forced. As if he actually cared. Galahad was hoping that last night… they hadn't been… together. "what did she say?" Galahad asked the question for Tristan who could care less.

"Maybe she needs some help remembering last night, I mean her dress hanging off of the balcony… I filled in the blanks quite fine," he smiled and Tristan shut his eyes opening them to look up at Galahad. His knuckled turned white at the hilt of his sword, the same white as his flushed face. His jaw tightened and Tristan could almost hear his teeth grinding. He refused to look at Tristan though he just pushed the heavy stables doors open and began to stride away, his cheeks puffy and crimson. "What's wrong with him?" Lancelot asked to Gawain. Gawain just looked to Tristan before he stood to follow. For once it seemed Galahad would be a man about this.

"I'll go," Tristan mumbled instead.

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Galahad pitched the last of the apple into the clear lake water after he had chipped a small piece off with his dagger to eat it quickly. Galahad did everything in a hurry when he was mad. He jumped looking backwards when he hear the intentional snap of a twig. "Galahad you are aware that she's a-" Tristan looked closer at all of the red bobs floating around the lake and then at Galahad. So much for being a man. "What the he- Galahad why did you throw all of the apples in there? Vanora's going to-"

Galahad cut him off with :"whore. Right? I am aware that she's a whore. Yes Tristan I was quite aware of that but thank you for reminding me," but it came out more like:

"whoreright?Iamawarethatshe'sawhoreyestristanIwasquiteawareofthatbutthankyouforremindingme,"

Galahad was so sick of Tristan not caring. He was supposed to freak about the apples. He ate one every morning so what was he going to eat? Did he even care? He probably would find something else but didn't he care that his favorite food was gone?

"Galahad I didn't say…"

"But you meant it! Why her?" he asked in a loud shrieking sort of way. "Do you know how many other whore's parade themselves around that tavern? How many women throw themselves at you but you just had to have her Tristan. I told you how I felt about Amares. Did that not mean anything? You didn't even know Amares before I told you about her," he was huffing now, his hand enclosed around his sword. Tristan knew he would never use it. For some reason it made Galahad feel safe. To know that he could use his sword at anytime he needed. Tristan stood, allowing Galahad to castigate him. If it made him feel better than they could stay there all day.

"Galahad… she has slept with other knights… you know that right?"

"I don't care Tristan! I told you! Lancelot, yes I could see it, even Gawain but not you. You, you - Gawain was right," Galahad stood. "You don't care about anything," he swiftly walked past Tristan so he couldn't see the tears welling in his eyes. It was the first time Tristan had let him down. Tristan's tunic rustled lightly with Galahad's passing wind. He sat at the bank, leaning over to catch a apple before it could began it's cycle around the lake again. He bit into it.

Gawain's right. I don't care about anything, anybody. Except for them. That stupid, loud, rambunctious, group of idiots. They would be dead if not for me. Every single one of them, even their reckless commander. I don't care. I don't need them, none of them. I'm free. Free to walk away and leave them, then they'll see, they'll die without me but… I don't care-

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Galahad's feet froze. There was something different about the cemetery. A small women sat near a gleaming sword protruding from a small mound of dirt. Her knees pulled to her chest. She was rocking back and fourth. He had never been there when someone else was there. Nobody else went to the burial ground. The woman coughed, sniffled and then wiped her eyes dry. The large tunic she had on fell off her shoulders. She flipped back her hair and her eyes caught on Galahad. His breath snagged. She smiled jumping up quickly and Galahad walked over, slowly. Why wasn't he mad at her? Why didn't he hated her. "Do you still think about him?" he motioned towards the sad grave.

"All the time. I fear I'm the only one though,"

"I see him sometimes, I mean I come here and I see him, but sometimes he comes to me in my sleep and…"

"You know every time I look at Jeil I see him," she smiled sorrowfully. It seemed like yesterday Jespert had taken the arrow for Galahad. He opened his mouth but she shushed him. Her index finger stuck in the air, tears rolled, lonely, down her moist cheek. She wiped her red nose. "I know it wasn't your fault Galahad,"

"Do you?"

"Yes, Jespert chose to save you so you could grow up, and live. He was already grown practically. Well, older than the rest of you," he fell back to the lush grass, the out of place grass mocking the resting knights. "he loved you, you know that right?"

"Yes," Galahad quietly said after Amares had turned to face him. He ran his finger along the side of her face. Her eyes cut to the side to watch it travel to her shoulder. She scrunched her face pushing him aside. "Amares," he called as she began jogging away. "Amares I didn't mean it-"

"Yes you did Galahad," she called over her shoulder. "I know it was coming, come back to my room!" her voice wavered. 'Well the answer is no!" she got to the end of the courtyard before she turned to see Galahad's pained face. "Galahad you and I… we have always been friends… not… business partners, I just…"

"I would never ask you to do anything you weren't comfortable with," he nearly whispered. He was now about four inches away from her. Her eyes were on him though. The scout no one was supposed to see, he was apathetically petting his hawk, only raising his gaze every five seconds. She couldn't believe this. But then she looked down at the clothes. Well… they were his, he did have a right to make sure they were safe. But did he have to so noticeably watch over her? Did he really have to hover like that? Galahad turned back to follow her gaze. A jealous pang obviously shot through his face. Seeing this, Amares tried to smile but it stood unconvincing to Galahad's eyes.

"I know Galahad, you seem to be the only one. But then it's not like I can really complain right? I made my bed. Why should anyone think of me as higher than I-"

"Because you are," he sheepishly said. "your more amazing then anyone gives you credit for, more beautiful then anyone cares to admit," He was so much more charming then Tristan with his cute smile and his wide eyes. But then again Tristan didn't try to be charming. He did him and hoped it worked in the end… or not, he simply could care less if it worked.

"Thank you Galahad," she smiled briefly. "I have to get home," she patted Galahad on his shoulder and turned on her heels to head home. After about ten minutes of walking she stopped walking but she never turned around. "Stop following me," she warned.

"And how do you suppose I get my clothes back?" he asked indifferently as always.

"I don't know Tristan should I take them off right here?"

"You said it not me," she looked around at that. "This is payment for the dress you destroyed when you let it fly over the railing-"

'It's not my fault that you were to drunk to realize we were on the balco-"

"Hey," she ran forward to wave a index finger before his eyes along with shake her head fiercely from side to side. "don't you dare say that aloud," she snapped, shaking her head in a disappointed way before turning to walk away. She expected him to follow but he didn't, his eyes did. Almost like her guardian angel his eyes followed her until he could no longer see her.

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She cocks her head to the side, and I find her lips bending a bit back into something of a smile as I realize for what it's worth Lessa has come to trust me. She no longer flinches when I touch her, her shoulder's relax at the touch of me instead of stiffening and she actually eats the food I bring to her.

She looks down and I smile, with my balled fist I lift up her chin to stare into her eyes. I wonder if she's afraid. She's trembling. Her smile merely hides the fact that I frighten her. She thinks I will hurt her. And then it happens. It's obvious that Arthur has something important to announce but to her or me I'm unsure of. And here we are right now. The glassy eyes are glaring at the man that killed the one she calls father and I am staring at her, as she sits there, on the verge of tears just from the site of him. She moves, but slightly. I can almost see her wall being built. Swiftly also. She wastes no time.

The only time I'm sure it isn't posted is when she sleeps. I watch as slumber infiltrates her wall and whisks her away. She drifts to sleep slow, waiting for me to go first because obviously she is unsure that I'm really going to go and what will happen if I don't.

She has grown not to hate me at least. When she does fall asleep first it's beautiful though. I watch from the other side of the room and when I can hear small breaths escaping her tired body my eyes open to see her mouth barely open and her thin frame curled protectively into a ball. Her mouth moves slightly and I wonder if she is having a nightmare or on the verge of a smile. And here we are…

"Don't touch me," Lessa yelled when Arthur attempted to approach her. Arthur barely smiles. But he does. He was obviously understandable to Lessa. He had dismantled her world in the matter of a day. It was his knight's that are responsible for her husband's death and him himself that killed her father.

"Lessa-" Lancelot began but she pulled backwards.

"You tricked me," she nearly mumbled. Lancelot shut his eyes, he gulped but Lessa didn't hear, she was too busy backing into the crook of a wall. And there it went. Already erected, and high. There was her wall. She looked over at Lancelot with confused eyes. Lancelot looked to Arthur. Then dark eyes scanned Lessa again. He nodded. Just like that they had had a whole conversation and left Lessa to decipher what it had been about. Lancelot stood and Lessa looked up at him, afraid that he would leave her, and he did.

"Princess," Arthur waited a moment trying to find the correct words.

"Widow," she gave them to him as she corrected him smiling sarcastically. "I am no longer a princess without a prince to take my hand…wouldn't you agree?"

A/N: Thanks for the review Naril. I want it not to be confusing but in a way it's supposed to be. I'm like going for a Pulp Fiction thing here, hence, the out-of-place parts. The truth is I didn't really know what part Guinevere was going to play but now I do so that's why she wasn't in chapter one & two, she will be in chapter three though. Also, if anyone cares, I've come to the conclusion that Amares and Tristan's part will be smaller although it was supposed to be as large as Lancelot so if they don't show up for awhile that's why. Please review and tell me what you think even if you hate it, I've worked really hard on this story.