Eight - Lucky Arrow

At a high rate of speed, the gates squealed open near dusk. Galahad, Arthur and Lancelot where the first in, their horses huffing and puffing until pulled at a final halt. Arthur flew off his horse, his long red Roman cape tossing with each motion. Galahad was able to help Gawain off this horse alone; Arthur looked at Gawain, whispering encouraging words and patting his back. Blood rimmed Gawain's mouth while Galahad aided his movements, hopping across the pathway. Tristan, Bors, and Dagonet entered all gathering off their horses like the where on fire.

Pulling her down, Lancelot shouted for Arthur, and once Lana's brother was in view of his sister, his face filled with concern. Lana gripped Lancelot's shoulders, pressing her chest against his in pain, her eyes clenched together she took heavy breaths.

"Lana, I need you to hold still," She nodded her head as Lancelot held her close. Arthur looked up at his friend, signaling at once. Between the intense breaths, she opened her eyes, and saw Gawain yards away; her eyes locked with his, just as Arthur pulled. When the jerking triggered her nerves, she yanked on Lancelot, as a sharp scream left her mouth. Lancelot gripped her, trying to ease the pain, as his appearance was pale.

Bors stepped forward, watching Lancelot and Arthur speak to Lana as she groaned in torture, ahead of Gawain and Galahad. Dagonet helped support Gawain, but he just kept his eyes ahead, nothing ached on his body anymore, as Lana allowed a single tear to roll down her cheek. But she still held Gawain's powerful gaze, almost like he was coaching her through the stinging.

Gawain's lips parted as a final tug wrenched Lana backward, her face stiffened, and she closed her eyes, breaking his connection with her. Gawain's heart paused while Arthur dropped the bloodied arrow.

Lancelot picked up Lana, and the three of them walked off, heading for her chambers. Gawain was moved by his fellow Knights and once he realized they where speaking, he paid attention.

"Where are you bleeding?" Dag asked his deep voice rumbling Gawain's feet barely touched the ground as the three faded from sight. He watched Bors lend the way inside with Tristan behind him.

"Left side, right shoulder and my cheek," He listed quickly while being lifted to his chamber.

"No hidden arrows?" Galahad questioned, Gawain just shook his head, not finding any humor in his comment. Once he lay in his bed, Vanora came in, unfastened his armory and lifting off anything over his injuries. She applied new dressing over his wounds, removing the leaves and the thick cloth. Applying a moist cloth to Gawain's shoulder, Vanora stepped back, staring at her work. She looked at her patient; his face was lost in his own mind. Seeing this as a perfect exit, she left him.

It didn't take long before another being entered his room, this time; Gawain sat up his bare chest hidden by the sheets Vanora made him acquire. Biting his tongue to keep any noise revealing his pain from his mouth, he balanced his back on the backboard of his wide bed.

"How are you feeling?" His strong voice carried over the room, Arthur took a seat near the fire burning in Gawain's quarters. The desk besides it was cluttered with weapons and cloths. At the end of Gawain's bed where two large bowls one with bloody rags, and one with wet clean ones. Arthur realized how badly Gawain had been injured.

"Tired, hungry." Gawain said, he didn't want Arthur's worries, so he left a tiny grin on his mouth. "Being lost for almost two days is adventurous." He humored himself, Arthur shrugged his shoulders, he was thankful Gawain was in high spirits. Resting his palm over his knee, Arthur's armor shook, making a clanking sound echo in fire lit room. A calming tone cleansed the room Arthur turned to his Knight, his face in a half smile.

"Can you tell exactly what happened?" Arthur requested, Gawain nodded his head, his long hair pulled back behind his strong and bulked shoulders.

"We took a break once meeting up with the carriage, giving the horses a rest. Lana, walked over to me, asked for some of my bread. I laughed; asked how much is was worth to her." Gawain's eyes traced over the stitched patter on the sheets as he continued. "She took my axe, threatened to hit me with it. I ran after her, when the fog hit. We where off the pathway, in the middle of a wooded area, when Woads attacked, hit us on the back of our heads. When I woke, Lana was tied to a tree across from me, as two Woads had be tied between spears. They took turned, slapping, cutting." Gawain pointed to his cheek. "Lana had a slash to her chest, I believe they hit her a few times as well. Then they gave me this pretty number," After pointing to his left side; Gawain scratched his chest, as he looked a far to remember the events. "Lana passed out, just in time to miss Merlin. Turns out Rogue Woads attacked, extremist Merlin called them. And once he ran them off, he proceeded to place me back to sleep."

"Rogue Woads?"

"Willing to capture and torture." Gawain added. "Next thing I know, Lana woke me up, and she built a torch, and carried my ass for a good portion of the time. Once she finally decided to camp..." Gawain continued his story to Arthur, telling him all that happened. Arthur still assumed this all could have been prevented. Lana shouldn't have gone into the woods, and Lancelot should have had more control. It was beginning to look clear that Arthur should have gone along, none of this would have ever happened. The story had finished, and Gawain had recalled all that he could, Arthur thanked him, and encouraged him to gather some rest. He also suggested Gawain sit out the next mission in the following days.

"Ouch, careful," Lana hissed between her teeth, Lancelot brushed small wooden flanks from her wound, directly below her right shoulder blade. Her bare back felt frozen, after two days in the cold, and an arrow in her back, she knew her body wasn't in great shape. Her exposed chest was pressed onto her bed, as a sheet covered her lower back. Lancelot dipping the white rag back over her wound, grazing small amounts of water at the half inch whole, which ran deep into her skin.

The apologetic words he wasn't known to saw nearly crawled from his lips a dozen times. While cleaning her wounds, he couldn't bring up the voice to say it. The guilt was overwhelming, especially all the pressure from Arthur. And Lana showed no annoyance with him, to his shock.

"Let me gather a dressing," Lancelot knelt over her body, placing a clean cloth over her lesion, Lana held her pillow, wrapping her arms underneath it, and cradling her face softly. Her hair was tied back into a small bun, avoiding any chance of the locks covering her gash. Blinking delicately, Lana watched from her left eyes, Lancelot's reflection in the bowl of water on the floor was her only way to view his face. And guilt was obvious. Once he knelt off the bed, his sat to on a chair, to view her turned face. She smiled weakly, closing her eyes with his touch to her cheek. His eyes, dark and hallow at times, made him seem a thousand miles away, but now she could feel his connection stronger than a winters breeze.

Reaching out with her left hand, she touched his knee, Lancelot raised his face, the hard ridged look he used to hold was fading.

"I don't blame you. If anything, I blame myself." Whispering Lancelot shook his head. "Don't try and sway my choice. You couldn't predict any of this,"

"I can't even protect you." Lana shushed Lancelot; her lips creating a small sleek smile. His lips touched forehead gently, his armor, which laid on the back of the chair, raddled as he moved. "What about the baby?" Lancelot finally asked, his mouth dry with concern.

"Not sure," She whispered, Lancelot rubbed his hand over his forehead, before touching Lana's cheek and back. A knocking came from the door; Lancelot stood up, and jerked the handle open.

"Mind if I speak with her in private?" Arthur rhetorically asked Lancelot. He stepped from the door, walking back to Lana; he whispered a few things in her ear, before pulling a comforter over her back, keeping her warm. He leaned over a final time, they exchanged kisses, before he acknowledged Arthur with nod, and left the chambers.

"Come to interrogate?" She smiled, her voice thick with sarcasm. Arthur had smile, for the first time in days. Taking Lancelot's seat, he gazed into his sibling's face.

"You feeling better? Finally warm without Gawain stealing your cape?" Lana smirked, Arthur had spoken to Gawain already.

"Yes, without Gawain stealing my cape and snoring on my shoulder." They both smirked, Arthur's face warmer than Lana had viewed in almost a week. "You had no need to worry brother, we where fine."

"Lost in Woad territory, right. Not worrying wasn't my choice." Arthur's brilliant voice made Lana feel at home, his massive and protecting stare landed on her, and she knew nothing horrible could ever happen to her.

"A few scrapes, a little lucky arrow here and there." Lana joked as though it was all a dream, but the pain she felt was real, Arthur knew she was doing a great job hiding it. "Arthur give Galahad and Lancelot a little slack." Lana came out and said it, Arthur's boyish grin was washed away.

"Galahad wasn't responsible, Lancelot was." Arthur stated. Lana rolled her eyes.

"Let him off the hook, as he is your closets friend, he deserves your understanding. Lancelot would never put us in harm. It was my mistake, be angry with me."

"You knew better, but it was his accountability." Arthur lifted his palm and then flexed his index finger at this sister. "You shouldn't have gone anyway. In that state which you are now." Lana closed her eyes, of course Arthur knew, but Lana knew the truth of what would come from the stress and cold nights. Leaving her eyes from her sibling, she looked at anything which wasn't involving Arthur. His damn pride was thick, and the way he ordered his men about, Lana felt more of his maid than sister. All the fury she was known for, the discussions, which she could lead into squabbling, all was erased for the first time. With the calm sound murmuring in Lana's quarter, Arthur revealed himself from her room, giving her space to rest.