A/N-I'm Back! Sorry for such a long delay, this chapter's extra long to make up for it. Instead of asking for reviews which I know P.O.s some people I've decided to just start responding to reviews so any ideas, thoughts, or questions posed in reviews will be responded to by moi.The whole point of the beginningof this chptr is to show how Camille thinks Lance doesn't love her and the fact that he's only avoiding her because he feelsguilty.BTW- THIS CHAPTER IS NOT MEANT TO BE A CAT FIGHT BTWN CAMILLE AND GWEN OKAY! THEY ARE STILL FRIENDS!okay, sorry, just had to get that out.
tori- I promise I'm going to keep Camille and Lance together, don't worry :)
dmitchell1974- he won't break her heart,(besides if he did, she'dprobably kick his butt)his thing w/ Gwen is just as you said- an infatuation.
dellis- his love for Camille is the whole back-breaking, sacrifice your life, type of thing. He's not so fickle that he would flip-flop over to Gwen at a moment's notice. In this chptr (or in the next coupla ones) this will become pretty apparent
meraculas- here you go!
Evenstar-mor2004-yeah they are good at that aren't they?
ash211- thanks for putting your critique in such a polite format, I love getting feedback but sometimes people can be so rude! Your comment tipped the scale in favor of the decision I made public in the above A/N. My apologies for making Camille sound a little like a M.S. in the earlier chptrs, at heart she's really only about one guy, and that's Lancelot. I hope you keep reading.
Riley Todd- thanks for the compliment!
Maeghan- I do try for the spelling/grammer thing although it's taken a while to get there :)
eradwyn- yes the ring will be important later
The next morning, rough arms seized Camille around the neck and waist and yanked her upwards against a thick, stocky body. Gasping for air, and blinking her eyes, she watched helplessly as they grabbed Dagonet, attempting to do the same to him. Furiously, the big man beat them back, blades and all with his fists, roaring with fury. As he reached to his boot for a dagger, the shrill, unpleasant voice of Marius Honorius boomed out
"I havf zee boy!" Everyone turned to see the fat man gripping the little boy, Lucan, his head pulled back, an evil-looking iron blade against his pulsating throat.
"kheel them ahll!" he ordered triumphantly. Any further orders were cut off as a gray-flighted arrow thudded into his gut. An expression of shock on his ugly face he fell backwards, dead, or close enough to it. Everyone's head's swiveled to see Gwenivere, resplendent in a borrowed roman dress held a full bow, completely extended, a second arrow knocked to the string. Her full lips were pursed and her beauty set a temporary spell upon men in the area. Camille's captor relaxed against her and slid off her onto the ground, pouring blood. Arthur strode past her, his sword bloody from having freed her and stood firmly beside Gwenivere, murder in his eyes. Lancelot stalked out, cool as any tomcat, his swords out and rested on his shoulders, giving an unmistakable impression of a charismatic killer.
"Your hands seem to be better" he remarked nonchalantly to Gwenivere. Camille could feel the seductive undertones of the comment and swallowed hard, anxious. The victor of the silent mental struggle was immediately won when, Bors, yelling bloody murder, galloped in on his horse, wielding a battle axe.
"Do we have a problem here? Huh?" he inquired of the mercenaries coldly, bumping them with his horse.
"You have a choice; either you help or you die." Arthur informed them, icily calm.
"Put down your weapons" yelled the leader, livid "I said put them down!" Dagonet, now in possession of his huge broadsword, yelled an encouragement. The tension was broken and the group quickly, broke, heading off to pack up camp, hastening to leave. No one noticed Fulcinia, Marius' battered wife, bending by the body of her husband, and tucking something into her cloak. Tristran thundered into camp, his horse snorted and steam rising from its magnificent coat.
"Average kill?" yelled Bors,
"Four" replied the unflappable scout.
"Not a bad start to the day!" the burly man chortled. The two had gone raiding on the Saxons that morning, heckling them and moving as phantoms in the tree cover picking off the outsiders with well-timed hails of arrows. He pulled his steed to a halt and dropped a crossbow at Arthur's feet.
"Armour piercing, they're close," he informed them solemnly.
Lancelot wanted to smack himself. His hands were trembling slightly. Imagine, the one time he could have been there to protect and shield her, what had he been doing? Why, Dawdling, lousing about, and shirking his duty to her of course. Because of his inadequacy, her life had been in danger and his best friend had been the one there for her when it was him that she needed for a change. He berated himself furiously. And after having slipped up once he had come sauntering in, without a care in the world, completely unaware of the danger she had been in. He could have punched a stone wall, but none were available in the immediate area. Unable to face her after his blunder, he had mouthed off something smart to Gwenivere, to which Camille had immediately tensed. Great, he had now offended her AND let her down. By the time he was done dragging himself through the mud, he felt appropriately miserable and he trotted at the front moodily, letting the elements purge him of his guilt and frustration. Camille, in a polar opposite, rode towards the back, avoiding all things Gwenivere, who looked at her, confused, not sure what had brought on the other woman's hostility.Camille tried being flippant, forcing herself to flirt with the other men, but her heart was not in it. Despite her fluttering eyelashes, coy words, and witty responses, her laughter was hollow, her eyes haunted, and her words were vacant of any true feeling. They would talk and laugh with her only so long before realizing the emptiness that seemed to have burned its way through her core, waiting to be filled by a single look or word from a man that would not seem give it. When they stopped that night, she slid down restlessly and paced for several minutes before she stopped dead, almost running into her horse.
"Training" she muttered, hastening to her saddle bags "Training will do me a world of good.". Fully arming herself, she stalked off, without a word to find a clearing
Camille sat on the forest floor in a crouch, her eyes closed and her swords sheathed. She inhaled strongly twice then surged to her feet, threw herself into a roll sideways, then flipped up, drawing her swords in a fluid motion as if an imaginary attacker had besieged her from behind. Circling the unseen foe she crept, her eyes slitted in concentration. She stopped. With a growl of satisfaction she sent her arms spinning into action wielding the twin swords. Thrust, undercut, jab, parry, parry, block, down slice, club, swing and thrust, up and block, diagonal jab, she worked in a steady rhythm, increasing her pace until she had reached a dizzying speed. She began to breathe harder and a sweat broke out on her brow. Her thoughts quieted and her heart rate rose to a steady throb that filled her ears as she augmented her attacks with leaps, ducks, avoidances, rolls, and steps, sending her zigzagging across the clearing. She was in a deeply contented haze of flying metal when her blades were stopped with a jarring clang. Her gaze snapped up to meet Gwenivere's blue one, who peered innocently at her, smiling slightly.
"I thought you'd like a sparring partner" she said nonchalantly. A tiny part of Camille leapt with a savage joy at this opportunity at battle, especially considering the stakes- Lancelot's heart. The more rational part of her shoved it down, dismissing it as ridiculous "After all," she thought "It was only practice" She pulled her blades free from Gwen's and fell into a fighting crouch, which Gwenivere mirrored, loosely holding a short roman spatha and the hooked axe of the Celts. Both wore friendly smiles, but their eyes were unfathomable, each trying to find and exploit her opponent's weaknesses. As she was a half-foot taller, Gwenivere's height minimized the advantage Camille possessed with the lengths and symmetry of her weapons. Tristran materialized from the wood followed by Gawain and Galahad, distracting both momentarily. Bors made his appearance loudly trailed by Dagonet
"Whoa! A cat fight" roared Bors. Dagonet punched him in the arm but said nothing. Suddenly, the fight began. Gwen's axe snaked out as her spatha cut a swath towards Camille's legs trying to distract her from the approaching axe. Not to be deterred, Camille's right rapier blocked the sword as her left flicked up and caught the axe with ease. Both women had now gauged her opponent's strength and they withdrew to again circle. Simultaneously they rushed each other and steel clashed with iron as they met, twirled, parried, and thrust, in a graceful, sinister battle of wills. Ten minutes later, neither side had gained a foothold and both were panting, unwilling to relinquish any ground. Camille's eye was caught by Lancelot's appearance and, caught off guard she stumbled backwards. Seizing her chance, Gwenivere pressed furiously and off balance, Camille found herself against a tree, the taller woman's sword at her throat. Scattered applause greeted this end of the sparring. Her lips pressed together and she met his eyes over Gwenivere's shoulder. She shifted her glance back to her opponent and smiled. Gwenivere's eyes narrowed slightly, as if she suspected something and without warning, Camille dropped back into a low crouch, and swung her leg around viciously in a street fighter's crouch and drop, sending Gwenivere to the ground with a yell of surprise. Crawling over, and dripping with sweat, Camille dropped her swords and wearily helped her friend up, smiling, this time with genuine happiness. She had effectively sweated out all her rage and jealousy. Whoops and yells, from an audience that had since grown cheered this much happier ending and Arthur, who appeared from the shadows, clasped Gwenivere's hand with a smile, which she returned. Lancelot and Camille were left alone staring at each other from separate sides of the clearing. He dropped his eyes and turned to leave. She swallowed hard; sending down pride along with spit and ran up behind him, flinging her arms around him from the back.
"No matter who you love, I will always love only you" she whispered into his tunic" He swiveled and held her close as her tears seeped through her lashes and down her cheeks
"What is this?" he asked gently, relieved "Tears little one? Of course I love you, whom else could I turn to"
"But you love Gwenivere n-n-n-now," she sobbed into his chest. He held her even tighter and then sat, letting her crawl into his lap like a child would have. He smoothed her hair and kissed her tears away
"Never, I would never love someone else, my Camille, you know that" Camille did not respond, but buried her face further into his chest. He laughed softly, his fears alleviated. "No you needn't concern yourself with that" murmured softly, his lips and beard brushing the back of her neck. "Do I have to show you?" he joked, coaxing a tremulous laugh from her. "I never want you to believe that I have, for one second ceased to think about you or love you" he whispered fiercely, suddenly serious. He held her so tight, she could barely breathe, but her soul, which had seemed to be wilted and frail, bloomed once again and sang with joy.