Disclaimer: I do not own any of the character names, save my own original creations. I do not wish to be compensated for this work, nor do I wish to infringe on any copyrights held by any stakeholders of the movie King Arthur. This work is an original creation, based on the legend of King Arthur and his knights.


Scribe Notes:

Sokorra Lewis: They did! Not sure if I like it, lots of extra clicks, and I am on dial-up here. Ahh well... Yes, Tristan is changing. I hope to surprise you more soon, so here is the next chapter!

Calliann: Me too. It was a late addition to have them expecting, but it seemed to fit. Happiness can be infectious. I am glad you liked the dance scene. I bet your Tristan and Ana would dance well together as well. But I could see their dance being so much more intense, so much more primal. The way their souls are intertwined, they would become one as they danced.

Bloodredcherry: It is set after the movie by a bit. I made reference to Lancelot getting hurt badly by a crossbow bolt to the chest in the chapter No Control, to bring in the element of that battle. You bet! Fiction of any kind allows us to take our imaginations, desires, hopes and dreams and put them into words, characters, situations and stories. It is our ability to tell these stories to fulfill our own souls that allows us to fulfill others too! Thank you for your encouragement in my quest to bring fulfillment to myself, and thus, to you.

et ceterea et cetera: Thank you! Yes I agree I was getting impatient with them as I wrote too, but I have to remember to breathe and let them figure it out on their own through my fingers. Here you go, the next chapter, with our happier Cerys.

lilstrummrgrl527: I am glad I can surprise you!I am glad you enjoyed, and I hope you continue to be so with this chapter.

Ailis-70: Lancelot is a dolt. Believe me, I see so many different men I know in him right now.

Tristan is changing, and I think, after her gift to him, he may have realized that he should begin enjoying his life on the days he is not in his fishing village with his Wynn. Perhaps this was the final moment for him. I have yet to figure that one out but I have an idea. My favorite part was when he left, his swaggering salute as he strode away. That made him sexy to me.

Perhaps its a sign that I need a man with attitude to be attracted... Hence my interest in the personalities of these knights in this movie.

Babaksmiles: Thank you! It was fun to write his new freedom, and his cocky swaggering. I could see this humour and attitude in him in the movie, where he leans over and says "Try it sometime, you just might get a liking for it." He sounded so much like an Irish pub fighter to me right then and that has stuck with me. He has cockiness and attitude in spades, he just hides it. I wanted to bring it out.

LovelyHeidi: A flint rock is a small piece of what would have been sandstone and perhaps a bit of coal, smoothed out in a river and used to sharpen the edges of swords and axes. It would have been used wet, and run in either a quick long sweeping motion down the edge of the blade, or rubbed in circular motions along the edge to give a more thorough job. Also called a flint stone or a whet stone.

I am glad you like Perceval. He is a brat eh? I am happy that you found the chapters light and fun, that was the intention. Here is another!

History2: Cerys is at peace. So much more so. Her life is coming together and I tried to show that in her new freedom to enjoy and not throw herself to making others enjoy. She is taking care of herself now, and able to focus on taking care of Brinn. it's kind of like she is falling in love with both Lancelot and Brinn, in different ways. Yet, each are precious to her in the same way, that she has them in her life to help her feel and be happy.

I am glad that you liked the way Tristan told Cerys about his other side. I decided that since he really isn't a talker, he would be better off showing her something, and giving her something he knew she would appreciate. He is an observer, this we established, and he knows his gazelle would appreciate his big step.

Burnt Alice: I am so glad you are inspired! Write! Write! I look forward to seeing it! Thank you for your praise and you excitement. It helps me to write too!


Chapter 35: Good Knight

Lancelot swallowed. Here she finally was and he didn't know what to say. All evening he had been waiting to spend time with her and now... Instead of trusting himself to say something proper, he put an arm about her shoulders and pulled her into him.

"Tristan will never cease to amaze me." She said, sighing, leaning into him, her eyes closing for a moment. She put an arm about his waist and looked up to him. "Did you know he could dance like that?"

Lancelot shook his head, lieing. He wanted to be anywhere but here right now, and preferably with her, alone. He swallowed. Her warmth was making his heart lurch.

He couldn't stand it. He had to tell her. He was going to tell her tonight.

She was looking at him, a soft happy look to her face, her hand on his chest. He smiled down and they walked around the edge of the crowd for a few moments. He felt relieved a bit, having made a decision to finally deal with this pain and get it over with.

Tomorrow he could go for a long gallop to forget, once she had said no and he had thrown eve­rything away. Tomorrow he could deal with in its own time. Tonight was all he had to get this out of his system.

Octus leered up at them from a space on a cushion as they passed. Cerys averted her eyes and he could feel her stiffen. He tightened his grasp on her shoulders.

"Awful man." she whispered.

As they passed, he sought out Octuses eyes and gave him as hard a glare as he could. Octus blinked and scowled.

"You can have th'whore." He muttered and spat towards a smaller brazier near his position. Lancelot stopped and his jaw immediately started to flex. He turned.

"Give me another reason, Roman." Lancelot seethed, his hand curled into a fist. Octus grunted and turned to get up, stumbling twice before he got a hand out to lever himself out of the cush­ions. The younger man beside him put a hand out to Octus and muttered something under his breath. Octus shook him off.

"Begone with you Hector." the older man shouted. Some heads turned to see what was happen­ing. Hector rolled his eyes and stood with his father.

Lancelot waited. To give this man a good belt, the way he was feeling, would be very good. But not until he could look him in the eye again. He wanted the satisfaction of watching him crumple.

The man was taking forever to get up, and it was obvious he was well into his drink. Whore? How dare he say that about her! Filthy pig.

"Get up, pig, or I'll rip you up by your sorry hide." He gritted again, his eyes now glittering with anger, his hands clenching and unclenching.

Octus stood and swayed as he regarded the knight. "What makess you s'high n'mighty? This... This wom'n wass cavorting with...with your friend jes lass night." He slurred, hiccuping, point­ing in the general direction of Perceval. "She wass will'ng t'go to his bed, I would've show'd 'er. You can have 'er."

Lancelot made a growling noise in his throat and stepped forward, his fingers reaching out to grasp the man's neck, going nose to nose with him, his nostrils flaring.

A hand gripped to his other arm stilled him and he turned to tell whomever it was to take their hand away or he would belt them as well. He was so angry, frustrated and confused, and he was determined to let it out on… this.

Cerys blinked at him as he turned and snarled. She pinched her lips together and he immediately felt sorry for it.

."It's not worth it. Don't. He's drunk and thinks I am promised to you anyways."

That made Lancelot blink. Promised to him? By whom? It made him forget about ramming his fist to the Roman's face. Lancelot turned back to the man, and then caught the eye of his son Hector, whose own eyes were pleading with Lancelot. He sighed and straightened his fingers on his other hand.

"You're not worth it." He spat as pushed the old man away, releasing his throat. Octus fell back to the cushions, spilling drink everywhere, Hector trying to catch him. The crowd silently watched. Octus mumbled incoherently as he pawed at his son's hands.

"Promised?" He turned and asked Cerys, as calmly as he could.

"It's a long story, please, let's just keep walking shall we?" She said, a pleading look also on her face. He stood a moment more, forced his anger down and obliged. They continued to walk, her hand slipping into his and squeezing. The room regained its buzz of conversation as they continued on their path.

He would have to speak with Arthur about that. It would be him that would be able to give her away. Had he meant something more by his comments the night before? He shook his head and grimaced. This night was making him think too much, the lack of wine making it torture.

Cerys yawned. It was getting later in the evening and she had been up and dancing for most of it. He wanted to pick her up and carry her away. She looked wonderful as she yawned and he loved the lines around her mouth. Her eyes crinkled too. Why had he never noticed that about her before?

His head was a mess. He needed to get out of here.

They waved together as Bors and Lorina said goodnight to everyone and strode off arm in arm. They always retired early, with the gaggle of children towed behind them. Galahad straggled up, and with Dory under his arm, he too nodded his goodnights.

They stood a moment more near a brazier, talking to various people, chatting, laughing, jesting. He felt her squeeze his hand, and she was absently rubbing her thumb across it while they spoke.

It felt so good. It was making his head spin. He amended his previous thought. He needed to leave with her. Now.

"Come on now, where are your thoughts this evening?" She asked, punching him in the arm. He made a face and held his arm, then laughed. She could read him so well sometimes, and he re­laxed just slightly. She smiled; satisfied that he was not upset, and turned back to more good­byes.

"I should think it is time for my own bed." She said rather reluctantly as she watched the crowd thinning.

It was now or never, he thought.

"Walk with me outside for a moment?" He asked, holding his voice as steady as he could.

She nodded and released his grasp, to hug Arthur, say her goodnights. Lancelot followed her to where the rest of the men were standing, catching raised eyebrows and amused looks as he joined them.

"Lancelot." Gawain said as he stumbled up, "May I borrow your rooms again this night? My brother has kicked me out again."

Lancelot looked at the man. "And where do you suppose I will sleep?"

Gawain muffled a snort and flicked a glance to Cerys.

"Don't be daft."

Lancelot gave him a resigned look and Gawain clapped his back. Damn... First Tristan, then Perceval, Arthur, now Gawain? Did all his companions think him a fool? He rubbed his fore­head and remembered the hair pins under his tunic, and what he was about to do.

Perhaps he was.

A hand slipping into his again brought him back from his thoughts.

"Ready?" She asked, her face showing amusement. "It seems, my knight, that you are the one whittling in your head this evening."

He put on a smile for her. They waved their goodbyes and stepped out into the common, Cerys towing him by the hand towards her rooms. He heard a few echoes of "Have fun!" and "Don't hurt him!" from Gawain and Perceval. He shook his head. Cerys seemed not to hear them and he was glad for it at that moment.

The night was clear and cold, and he watched the moonlight bathe her skin as she slowed to let him catch up to her side, her breath pluming above her head. She was as beautiful now as she was that moment in his rooms when he first realized his feelings and he wanted to brush the hair from her face and kiss her, the urge almost too much to stop.

He hesitated his hand as she turned towards him. She stopped at her door.

"Wait here, I have something for you." She opened the door and stepped inside.

He didn't wait. He followed her in, closing the door behind him.


Dear Reader:

And thus we have his decision. How easily an evening can turn a mind to something. He has gone from being forlorn, to confused, to jealous to angry in the space of a few hours! It is a lot for one man. His head is spinning. Despite that, he is determined, as his actions are showing.

I leave you with this chapter, and I look forward to your guesses on the next!

Cardeia