An Optimist's Dream in a Time of Darkness:

Chapter 10: The Air of New Times

Lancelot lazily sauntered toward the village stables, a reign loosely dangling from his hand. His mind was wreck yet he displayed nothing less of a jovial appearance. He must have been consumed in his positive mood for as he entered he paid no heed to Aislin tending to her horse. She on the other hand, had noticed him and with great effort decided to be civilized. "Good morning!" The young woman shouted over the neck of her black mare.

The knight hadn't even lifted his eyesight to match hers he simply spoke coolly, as he was accustomed to doing. "And how is the little love bird this morning? Still mourning the loss of your betrothed?"

Aislin sighed realizing that a decent conversation would never be possible between the two of them, especially with all of his irking inquiries. "I was not in love with him else I would not have let him go." She explained through clenched teeth. Meandering around the horse in an effort to place the saddle on.

He entered his horse's stall and hung the reign halfheartedly upon its mount. "So it was all just for a good time?" Lancelot prodded.

"Never would I steep my morale so low as to touch yours, Lancelot. Never." Aislin stated flatly as she walked Ladiah passed his stall making her way from the stables.

"Ah," the knight chuckled enthusiastically, "You are a noble creature then? Be gone before your miraculous morale rubs itself upon my filth of a soul."

"At least you can admit it."

"Admit what, that I am a horrible being? All men are horrible in their own way; it is simply in their nature. Women are the holy beings that smear away a man's past and bring a change to their lives. Which is precisely why I will not marry." Aislin listen almost intently as he spoke. She tried to push herself from the ground as if to mount but found it slightly difficult. Her body slid backwards and would have hit the solid ground if it had not been for Lancelot's arms around her stomach.

She had been left in a state of awe, hesitation crept over her being, and for a brief moment she longed to reside there within the protection of his embrace. She closed her eyes and quickly shook the feeling away, she would not let herself feel anything but distaste and pity for this man. When she finally mounted the saddle, with a little help, she pulled off her calm air once more. But not before the two of them had exchanged a look of bewilderment that had satisfaction buried deep within its core. Perhaps this would be the beginning of something great. " Philosophers are we?" Or perhaps it would be the shunning of a great thing that may never be allowed to exist.

"With any luck, maybe."

"Hmph," Aislin nudged her horse toward the opening of the stable without so much as a backward glance. She nearly made it out into the field when her noble cousin came around the bend.

"Aislin! Aislin stop for a moment," he called out to her in vain. Her horse was already galloping out towards the green grass of the field.

"Arthur, forget it. You've made an attempt and that is well enough in itself. But did you honestly think that you'd stop her from riding?" Lancelot advised as he sauntered joyfully from the stables, wiping his dirty palms on an old scrap of cloth. "Or being the willful woman she is?"

"Since when did you become the expert on my cousin?" The commander pondered cooly, his eyes never leaving those of Lancelot's.

"Since you began protecting her from me," he laughed childishly. "Arthur you have grown, you have matured…somewhat." He allowed a minute grin to cross his face, "now let her."

"She is mature, she handles the same situations that I have, only better. I should think she was more fit to be commander than I." The young man roared on, now walking down the road with his comrade.

"Yes, she deals with the situations. But have you not noticed the blockade she puts up when she does? Like she is doing now?" Arthur's eyes delved deep within his advisor's. "She does not talk to much of anyone, and especially stays away from you." Lancelot noticed the pleading look in Arthur's face; he was alone without her. "I don't know why she puts up the barrier, perhaps so she can think. Though, Arthur she needs time, as you needed time. Time to find herself."

Arthur took a moment to think over these words and then found it to be humorous for Lancelot to be the one telling him this. "What has changed you, Lancelot?"

The older knight was taken aback, "changed? I haven't changed."

"You have become understanding." Arthur watched silently as Lancelot shrugged it off and headed back to the villa. But Arthur stayed, thinking this over. He entered the stable wondering down its long corridor before stumbling over a necklace. It was nothing more than a trinket and yet oddly much more than that. It was made from short black shells that strung around the neckline and dangling down were longer more narrow shells that glistened the world's colors on its black hide. Assuming it was Aislin's, he decided to hold on to it.

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"One day, Ladiah, we will be free to roam wherever we wish. Not just in this caged field, but out in the open and through the forests." She patted the mare's neck. "You would like that, wouldn't you?" As if to respond the horse began to kick up dirt with its front huff. The cloud of dust began traveling and dancing in the wind. "One day."

That day Aislin rode hard, her horse uprooting the dead earth as they galloped through. The wind blew in her sun-lightened tresses, meticulously tangling them with one another. Though she didn't care, all she felt was the rush and power of her freedom away from the wretched life she was born into. How things had become so complicated for her and Arthur, she did not know, but nonetheless they were.

Nothing had stopped her that day; she had held nothing back. And as the days turned into weeks, weeks into months, months into years she still rode just as hard, just as determined.

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FIVE YEARS LATER:

The snow cascaded down over the land deflecting everything in sight. A cloaked rider entered the gates of Hadrian's Wall hurriedly, their body soaked through with the first storm of the season. The mysterious being dismounted their horse and handed the reigns to the stable hand, Joules. Then, in noticing the commanding officer of the garrison took a few strides toward the man and knelt before him in an honoring way.

The cloaked person rose without command and began to speak plainly to the officer. "Arthur, the crops are going to be washed away when the snow melts if we don't do something to protect them, the seeds are going to go southward and end up in the lake if we're not careful. Then come spring we have no food!"

"I assure you I have taken measures, my dear cousin." Arthur raised his hand to her hood and pulled it from her face. She had aged, though not terribly. Aislin still held some of the child-like charm she used to have and smiled just as wonderfully. Though her vibrant eyes had relaxed and her bright hair had dulled she was above all else a mature woman. Arthur escorted her back toward the villa, exchanging his dry cloak for her drenched frigid one.

"Aislin, I care more for the people than I do for battling the Woads, you know this. So please understand I do what I must to ensure their safety." He paused, scratching his chin in aggravation. "You should not have run out like that."

"And risk us loosing our spring crop?" Her anger flared within her words.

"Cousin, you know I protect these people, and so I protect their way of life. Don't you think I've thought of this before?" Arthur halted their aggressive walking. "You should not be galavanting out in the snow, what if you were to fall ill?"

"If it were to save dozens of lives from starvation, I would gladly become ill." She nearly screamed at him.

"Damn Aislin!" Arthur released in frustration as he watched his cousin leave in her fury. "Why do you have to be so difficult?"

"Thank you for the cloak!" Was all that she said in response before turning down a side street and leaving him utterly alone.

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"You seem somewhat tense," inquired Galahad as the storm of a young woman brushed by. He bravely followed behind her, "do you want to talk?"

"Not truly," Aislin waved him off with the back of her hand.

He didn't get the message, "well good, I can do all of the talking. I have been dying to tell someone."

"Tell someone what?"

"Ah, see. I got you interested." He chuckled softly and barely missed the door slamming in his face. "Fine, if you won't let me in I'll just…"

"You'll just what?" She questioned arrogantly from the other side of the door.

It took him a moment to answer, "I'll just sit out here and wait."

The young woman couldn't help but laugh, "you do that; but I'll warn you, you'll be out there for a while."

"I think I can handle it."

Aislin rolled her eyes in disbelief before pulling from the fire pit the pan of heated water. She poured the translucent liquid into the small marble pool, watching as the steam rolled from the surface. Aislin had always found the bathing room to be the most relaxing, and enjoyed her time within its mist.

She stepped in carefully, allowing her hair to fan out around her in the water as she relaxed. Aislin was immediately transported into another place, her mind free of its troubles and the heavy snow falling just outside the walls. "You know I hear from… ahem… well a reliable source that the bathing room is the best place to have one's… erm… fun." Aislin's eyes flew open, and even though he was on the outside of the door, she couldn't help but hear every word Galahad had said.

"Galahad, I beg you, do not tell me any more of Lancelot's little endeavors." She sunk her head into the water trying to block out Galahad's voice.

"Oh, I was referring to Bors."

Aislin's scream must have echoed off every wall in that room because it was amplified in the hallway. Galahad had to plug his ears to avoid the pain of her piercing shriek. A few moments later the door opened and Aislin stepped out, fully clothed in a lengthy rose gown that hung loosely over her shoulders. Galahad, due to his weight against the door, fell backwards onto her feet.

"I hate you," she commented coldly.

"It's a delight to see you, too."

"Off my feet," she shoved him from her sandals and waltzed on by.

"You know its funny," Galahad continued rambling as he cautiously followed behind the enraged woman. "That when you thought it was Lancelot I was speaking of you didn't mind staying in the room," he paused glancing at her with scrutinizing eyes, "but the moment I said it was Bors I was indeed speaking of, you became repulsed. I wonder why that is?"

Aislin halted suddenly and flung around to face him, her face contorted into a threatening mask. "Exactly what are you getting at?"

"Oh, nothing," he spoke innocently, "nothing at all. I am merely curious."

"Well, in that case I would be delighted to enlighten you on my reasons." She started to trip over her words slightly, not quite sure where she was going with her statements. "You see, well… is it not true that Lancelot erm… well is everywhere? It is only natural to become accustomed to hearing such things and eventually to become numb to them. Originally I was repulsed by it, just as much as I am repulsed by Bors endeavors now, but you see Lancelot's stories have grown on me- everyone, have grown on everyone."

"And now you are numb?"

"Yes! No! Everyone is numb… well… Argh!" She grunted in frustration and headed down the stairs. "You are trying to trick me, and I don't think I like it."

"Oh come on, just admit it! You like the guy!" He shouted down after her.

"There is nothing, and I mean NOTHING in this world that could make me feel anything for him! He is a pompous self-absorbed pig-headed cur and I pray no woman be dumb enough to dare love him!"

"Except you?"

"Yes! What? No! You bastard! I'm never speaking with you again!" Aislin ignored his laughter and continued her way down the stairs, her face flustered and heated. At the bottom she nearly ran into Bors. "You! You are a filthy vile chat!" The young woman shoved by and raced towards her chamber with out another word.

Bors stretched his neck to look up at Galahad, "what have I done this time?"

"It is a long tale," Galahad spoke hoarsely through his joyous laughter.

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Eventually Aislin slowed her pace, allowing herself the time to catch her breath while she made sense of her thoughts. "I can't… feel for him, he's a horrid brute of a man. Galahad was wrong, I am not in love with-."

"With who?" Aislin's heart skipped a beat; her face drained of all its color and then blushed just as quickly at the sight of Lancelot. "My Lady, are you blushing? For me?" He stepped lightly out of the shadows of the adjacent corridor. "I don't think this has ever happened before."

The young woman swallowed hard, "I merely am… tired from my duties this afternoon. And my face is flushed not blushing." Aislin brushed by him only to be pulled back as he grabbed her upper arm.

"What sort of duties would one have in the afternoon that would flush one's fa-." He stopped, simply broke his sentence as he noticed the necklace laced around the woman's neck. Lancelot starred at it, his eyes fixed upon its rainbow of blackness.

"Lancelot?" Aislin had almost immediately forgotten about their conversation and now was busy feeling awkward. His fingers trailed over the shells of the necklace, something about its value or meaning had entranced him. "Arthur had given it to me," she tried to break up the embarrassing air between them. "He said he found them in the stables one day, years ago. I guess he assumed it was mine." She giggled uncomfortably.

The knight had stopped tracing over the shells and had dropped his arms back to his sides. In the ten years she had known this man not once had he behaved like this; it was as if he was stuck in a memory, fixed in his thoughts. Aislin felt she needed to say something more, there had to be something she could do. "If it is yours, you can have it back." She pulled her fingers to the tie at the nape of her neck and undid the string of shells. Aislin lifted his hand and allowed the necklace to fall gently in his palm.

The unnerved woman bit her lip nervously; "I never had much use for it anyway." Not another word was passed between them; neither knew how to react to the other through words, who would?

Just as Aislin was about to leave the silenced knight had pulled her into an embrace. There were no words that could express the emotion that surged through Aislin; her blood raced and her mind jogged, but her heart was whole. She let herself hold him; her head resting on his shoulder, her body became frozen in that position.

Aislin lifted her face to peer into his dark eyes, was this how it felt to love? His breath was warm on her cheek and slowly his face began to move towards hers. She felt it coming, her body quivering with anticipation. She wanted this, she knew that now, deep down inside she had always wanted this. His lips were nearly on hers.

"Aislin!" Loud knocking echoed in the young woman's ears and she jolted awake, still wearing her rose colored garment from earlier. "Aislin, are you all right?" The man on the outside of her chamber door called.

"Yes Joules, I'm fine." She caught her breath as she dabbed her face with a towel.

"Arthur has asked for your presence down in the meeting hall." He paused, "He says it's urgent."

"Yes, I'll be down in a few moments. Tell him not to wait on me." She responded halfheartedly.

Aislin waited until she could no longer hear his footfalls before giving into her tears. She put her face into her hands and let herself go. "Galahad was right, I do care." She groaned in frustration, "I don't want to care! I want to hate him!"

The woman threw herself from her bed and sauntered angrily over to her balcony, "what has become of me over these last couple of years? Why should I feel this way for him? Perhaps it is simply a phase. Yes that is what it is, a phase. I will grow out of it."

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"There has been news of a Roman supply ship landing to the east. Due to the snow storm the crew was not able to control much of the ship and roughly landed forty miles north of here and because of the amount of the damage done to the ship they would not last at sea if they tried to turn around. It is our duty to see that the Roman soldiers, merchants, and supplies reach our garrison safely and with haste." Arthur's voice boomed through the door, echoing ceaselessly in Aislin's mind. An uproar had began in the hall, little could be comprehended from in the corridor outside any longer.

Forty miles north…that's deep into the Woad's territory! Please someone, anyone object to this order! Please! Aislin took a deep breath and tried to exert as much strength and courage through her limbs as possible, and with a push of her arms the weighty doors to the meeting hall slunk open. She was the only woman within that chamber and with such a dramatic entrance all eyes were on her. Aislin had past every knight seated or standing at the round table with as little emotion as possible. As she past Lancelot on her way to Arthur she couldn't stop her fingers from trailing over the necklace laced around her pale gullet, she even thought she saw his eyes flicker. Brave Lancelot, how he would ravage a thousand maids and kill nearly double in combat, allowed one woman's, one girl's childish antics to stir something indescribable in him.

When she came to stand next to her towering cousin she found it hard to breath let alone speak with any willpower. The young woman swallowed her pride, gently closed her eyes, and then reopened them. But the texture of those eyes had changed; they were now stern and unrelenting, cold even. "I firmly oppose this course of action!" Aislin drew in a sharp breath, "the path through the Woad territory is extremely dangerous not to mention lethal. Many of you who would go would never return to see our glorious gates again as mortals. Not only are the natives who live there harsh, but the native land as well. It is true that the winter season is nearly up but is that not when the storms hit us the hardest? There are mountains upon mountains to the north, I cannot say that they aren't beautiful but they will surely bring the demise of some of you who are ignorant enough to go.

"I am a woman and have no true authority here, but please take my warning to heart. The path you set out on has its own fate, do not think that God will protect you." The knights watched with curious eyes, some of disbelief and other with awe, Arthur was even taken aback by her words. "I shall take my leave of you all now." The young woman with out so much as a hint of kindness turned and strode fiercely toward the massive double doors.

She trembled terribly as she marched by, her body simply falling to pieces, and for a fleeting moment she allowed Tristan to see her pain before shoving it off again and leaving. After her departure the uproar began again and Arthur once more was forced to tame the lions. Though interested in what Arthur wanted to say, Tristan found it difficult to listen to his persistent speech after such a powerful warning. He took his leave as well, not two feet from the door and he could hear her frustrated tears.

"Why? Why must you take everything that I love away from me? Is this some punishment for being born a savage? Why God?" Aislin sobbed aloud as she crouched down on the stone floor staring up at a blank wall. "Why do you hate me so?" She threw her fists down onto the freezing stone nearly screaming in pain.

"Aislin!" Tristan ran to her side and lifted her from the ground, holding her warmly in his embrace. "Do not fret over this." Her fists began to bleed on his tunic and in his hair as she held him even tighter.

"Don't fret? How am I not supposed to fret?" She sighed, neither of them catching sight of Arthur standing off to the side. "Arthur has all of you charging out into this wretched and bloody battlefield without much thought."

"I do not quarrel with you over this, most of the people he would go to save would not make it to this place. They would never even stand at our gates. But to Arthur, even if he simply saves two from a terrible demise then it was worth it to him. As for the rest of us knights it is simply another battle, another time for us to practice and make mends to our fighting tactics."

"Practice?" She lifted her head from his shoulder, her eyes scrutinizing him with every moment they were staring. "How can you gamble your life? How can you let it slip through your fingers and say that it was okay? Battles are horrible things, they are cruel and unrelenting and yet it means nothing to you."

"We knights are blessed in that we do not run from it. We seek it, grasp it by the throat and demand honor in our passing." Tristan released her from the embrace but still held tight to her hands. "We do not fear our death, so please do not burden yourself with their weight, I don't want you to collapse because of me." Tristan released her hands and walked back towards the meeting hall, stopping only for a fraction of a second to gaze at Arthur who seemed taken aback by his knight's knowledge of his presence.

Aislin wiped her eyes to rid them of their childlike tears. She had not known how pathetic here tantrums were until a moment ago. She had always acted on her emotions, always worried about her cousin and the knights, but for once they don't need her worry. In a way Aislin had babied them, felt it was her duty to protect them from death when it was truly their duty to protect her from despair. How selfish could she be, knowing now that this is what they wanted all along: to fight, to bleed, to achieve victory.

Aislin walked somewhat lighter across the floor than before, a weight had been lifted from her heart though not completely gone. As she stepped past the corner she saw Arthur and couldn't help but smile. "The meeting must be over?"

"It is." His response was more mechanical then she would've liked.

"Ah, I'm sorry, for everything that I've put you through. I know now that it is okay, this journey, this battle is part of what you must do as a knight."

"You have nothing for which you need apologize. I have always been more harsh than kind to you."

"How can you say that?" Aislin took a few steps closer to him her eyes struck with hurt. "Arthur you're the reason I'm here today, you and your knights are my saviors and my brothers. You could never do me any injustice." The young woman reached up and kissed him on his cheek just before wondering off down the corridor.