Disclaimer : I don't own Gawain or Galahad. I do own Esme.

Rating : K

Summary : One night at the tavern. Random musings on life, love and liberty by everyone's favourite knights. A series of one-shots

Author's Note : Its amazing what random fic ideas come to you when you're half asleep, as this one did last night. There will be 7 chapters, each from the POV of a different knight, Gawain up first. They are very loosely linked by the fact they are all pondering in the same place (the tavern), but the thoughts and events will be individual toeach knight as I try to capture their personality. I hope you like what I do with them!

Name meanings:

Esme Emerald

Gawain

It was market day in the fort today, the air rich with the cries of peasants from the surrounding villages flogging their wares. Small children ran through the streets, darting between the legs of browsers and sellers alike. Shoppers wandered, idly swinging their baskets from their hands, enjoying the warm sun on their faces and the energy of the fort.

The fort comes alive on market day.

For me, my whole life comes alive on market day. For it is on market day that I see her.

She arrived this morning, with her sister, two packhorses laden with bags of the things they were selling. Baskets and mats, woven by her sister from rushes and reeds, twigs and sticks carefully stripped and whittled. Items of jewellery, forged by herself, nimble fingers working iron into delicate strands and twists.

I watched as they set up, unable to take my eyes off her laughing green eyes and tumbling strands of auburn hair. She isn't the prettiest of girls by any stretch of the imagination – far more attractive women live in the fort. Hell, I've bedded some of them. But there is something about her when she smiles, and when she laughs. She doesn't titter politely at comments – if something tickles her she throws back her head and laughs openly, her eyes sparkle, and her whole face comes alive with the simple pleasure of happiness.

I soon realised I was acting like a hawk after its prey, or like Tristan when he senses enemies - watching and waiting, hidden in the shadows. Making my way through the market place I deliberately avoided their stall, not willing to look overly eager. Women proffered vegetables, clothing, tools, but I didn't see them. My eyes were unfocused, my mind on the beautiful girl.

Finally I could no longer hold temptation at bay. Inwardly chastising myself at my inappropriate haste I hurried to her stall, slowing as I neared it. She was talking to a customer, a woman, smiling as she displayed an item of jewellery. The lilting tone of her voice carried across the air and I smiled. I could tell she was trying to persuade the woman to buy the object, but I could also tell she was sincere in her promise that it looked wonderful on her.

Before long the sale had been made and the customer wandered off, smiling to herself as she fastened the clasp of the necklace. The girl slipped the money into a box under the table then looked up. Her gaze fixed on me.

My step faltered but I forced myself forward, as she gave me a welcoming smile. She greeted me, her voice as musical as a brook running over a pebbled bed. Trying to exude an air of casual nonchalance, I lifted a brooch and turned it over in my fingers, admiring the intricate metalwork.

"May I suggest this?" She spoke to me softly. I looked up and blushed involuntarily as I met her gaze. She held something out to me. "It's our new range. For men." I took the item, goose bumps rising on my arms as my fingertips brushed the soft skin of her palm. It was a thick leather thong with a clasp at the back, the pendant a circle of burnished metal. Engraved on the back was the word courage. "We have courage, honour and pride," she told me. "I think courage is the most fitting for you." I looked up at her in surprise. "A Sarmatian knight, are you not?"

"Yes," I replied, my voice cracking. It was only then I realised how dry my throat was, and yet how sweaty my palms were.

"Then I see it as perfect. May I?" Wordlessly I handed the necklace back to her. She moved out from behind the stall and stood behind me, gently lifting my wild, untamed mane, her hands cool as they brushed my neck. I shivered. She reached around me and looped the leather strand around my neck, gentle fingers fastening the clasp. Then she grasped my arms and turned me round to face her. I tried to control my heart, racing at the proximity. "It looks great." She smiled and lifted a small mirror from the stall. I looked at my reflection unseeingly.

"I love it." I would have never said anything but that, even if it was the ugliest thing I had ever seen. I fumbled it my pocket for my money but she stilled my hand with her small one, another smile gracing her beautiful features.

"You defend our lives and our land every day without payment. Consider this a token of my appreciation."

It is evening now and I am in the tavern, along with the other knights. It is fuller than normal, some of the market stallholders still here, drinking to relieve the stresses of the day. I have been waiting for her for almost an hour now, and am just starting to come to terms with the fact that she must have gone home.

I slump into a chair, taking a deep gulp of my ale. I had finally come to the decision to at least speak to her, to put a name to the face that so often appeared in my dreams. I suppose now I'll just have to drink myself into an uncaring oblivion. I raise my tankard to my lips once more and freeze. She has entered the tavern.

Her glowing green eyes scan the crowded room and involuntarily my hand strays to the pendant around my neck. Her eyes land on me and she smiles in recognition. She says something to her sister and starts to weave her way over to me.

Oh no. She's coming over to me.

I hurriedly place the tankard back on the table and push my hair back, trying fruitlessly to untangle some of the matted locks with my fingers. She reaches me and gestures to the free seat on the opposite side of the table. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

"N-no. Not at all."

The smile she bestows upon me is breathtaking as she takes a seat. "You're Gawain, aren't you?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

"I asked people." She blushes, looking, if it is possible, even more appealing than before. "I, uh, I mean…" She falters.

I smile, for once feeling like the calm one around her instead of the stuttering fool I become in her presence. "Now that you know my name," I say softly, "Maybe you could do me the honour of sharing yours?"

"Oh. I'm Esme."

'Esme,' I smile to myself. 'Emerald. Like her eyes.'

"Hey, Gawain!" I look around, and see Galahad beckoning to me. "What do you say we show these Romans how to throw a knife?" He grins as he lifts a dagger in illustration, before throwing it so it embeds itself in a wooden post.

My eyes drift back to Esme. "Not right now, Galahad."

"You can bring your new friend," he teases, his meaning evident in his voice. I flush red.

Esme smiles at me, her eyes sparkling. She stands and takes my hand, and without realising quite what is happening I stand. All I'm aware of is a heavenly chorus that has suddenly struck up a tune at her grasp on my hand.

"Come on," she says to me, and her lips brush my cheek for the briefest of seconds. "Maybe I'll be your lucky charm."