Disclaimer: I own nothing of King Arthur. This is my own original creation based on a thought that came to mind a long time ago.
Author Welcome:
Hello Readers,
I'm so excited to have finished the first chapter of this story. It's been racking my brains since the middle of 'La Tortura' and I had to finish it. It is based in England and on a bunch of people who have different lives and somehow get tangled together by their work. Sounds bad but read the chapter and you'll get the gist. This is a fun fantasy that I have really been enjoying writing.
I love constructive criticism and reviews. It is an alternate universe story based in today's date, 2005. Hope you enjoy it.
Introduction
Vanora pulled her car into the parking lot and pulled on the handbrake. In the passenger seat, her best friend Ania de Laurent sat silently staring blindly at the people walking on the busy footpath.
"Remind me," she said quietly. "Why are we here again?"
Vanora leaned her head on the steering wheel and gave a short laugh. She had been this way ever since they decided to return to the village. At first she was against it, for many understandable reasons but all the way, the three and a half hour drive to the village Ania questioned why they were coming.
"Because your grandmother just died," Vanora said, for the third time that day. "It's her funeral and we know she would want you there."
"Old bat," Ania said under her breath as she opened the door to Vanora's BMW fourwheel drive.
Vanora scoffed and closed her door with a loud 'thud' before pressing the button on her car keys to open the boot. "She was your nonna Ania."
"So," said the brunette tartly. "She did nothing but mock, insult, and question me while she was alive. Let's face it Van, the woman hated me."
Vanora closed the door of the boot closed and slug her bag over her shoulder. "We can do this Ania. Three days tops and then we are back with Guinevere in the city."
"Why didn't she come?" Ania asked Vanora, following her onto the footpath. "She is my cousin and the old bat was her nonna too."
"She couldn't get out of that meeting," Vanora said calmly, looping her arm with Ania's. "Relax Ania. Nothing will happen here. It will just be little old Columbia Shire as we knew it when we were girls."
"Is that supposed to make me feel good?" Ania asked her. Vanora chuckled and squeezed Ania's hand as they walked into the deli. 'Oh this girl!'
The bell on the door tinkled as both girls stepped into the shop. Two women behind the counter stoped speaking immediately and looked at them oddly. "Can we help you?" asked one of them. A middle aged woman with grey/purple hair and a floral apron tied around her waist.
'Gods I hate floral things,' Vanora thought as she smiled at the curious looking women. "Yes, we'll take two chicken and avocado focaccia's to go please."
The women's eyes lingered on Ania for a moment before they set to work on the order. It was not until Vanora was handing over the money that the women became more friendly. "I know you two!" said the other woman. "You're Vanora Garner and Ania de Laurent!"
"Yes," the girls said in union.
"Why, I haven't seen you two in years!" said the woman with purple hair. "Oh, Ania Tristan will be so happy to see you! He's down visiting his mother."
Ania felt her insides boil but smiled meekly at the woman. "Do you miss nothing Mrs. Hayworth?" she asked, sarcasm intended.
Vanora took the bag from the women and headed for the door as Ania smiled sardonically at the women before winking at them.
The women watched the young women leave the deli before breaking out into chatter. "That Ania hasn't changed a bit," Mrs. Hayworth hissed.
"Relax Stella," the other one said patting her shoulder. "That girls always been feisty."
"Oh come off it Mary," Stella snapped. "The girl is as wild as a fag in a gay club."
Both women giggled before the door opened once more, this time revealing a tall burly man with a small scar running down his eye.
0-0-0
"Have you heard?" Lancelot asked Arthur, pulling a chip from his paper packet as they walked down the street. "Ania and Vanora are in town."
"Yes," Arthur said calmly, scraping his half bitten chip on the side of a paper packet to get more salt. "They are in town for Ania's grandmothers funeral."
"She hated her though!" Lancelot said as he pulled the car door open and spotting Tristan striding down the street. "Arthur," he hissed. He nodded toward Tristan and smirked at the man.
"Eating again?" Tristan asked Arthur, handing him a spare clip for his gun. Arthur took it and put it in his jacket pocket, careful not to get any salt on his jacket.
"Is the suspect being watched?" Arthur asked him.
"Yeah," Tristan said, making a motion for Lancelot to get in the back seat of the car. "Bors is on him."
Lancelot rolled his eyes. "Everyone here thinks you're here to see your mother."
Tristan glowered at him before slamming the door of the Jeep closed after getting in the drivers seat. "Like I'd come to see her," he muttered as he revved the engine.
He had not seen his mother in four years. Not since his full blown break up with Ania. He'd never forgiven his mother for what she did. Ruining the first relationship he had with the only girl he had dated to want him for just him. Not for a quick shag or to hand off his arm like an idiot.
Ania was the first girl to get a conversation going with him. Not jump in the back seat of a car and pull her skirt up. Then it was ruined. His four months of bliss flew out of the door when he found out his mother told Ania that Tristan was still seeing Isolde Francess.
He gripped the steering wheel tightly as he remembered that girl. She had been with every guy in the year; including Arthur, which was saying something. Arthur noticed Tristan composure and turned to send Lancelot a scathing look.
"Look Tristan," Lancelot said. "Maybe this could be a good time to….talk to Ania? I mean….it's been over four years."
"Maybe," Tristan said as he turned to corner and to the drive way leading to Schiller Manor.
0-0-0
"Walk this way! Walk this way! Just give me a kiss!" Guinevere sang loudly in her car. She was singing along to 'Aerosmith' her favourite rock band. The sun was setting along the long highway leading from London to the outstretches of England.
Her fingers tapped the steering wheel in time with the guitar and she lowered the music slightly as her phone rang in its holster. "Hello?"
"Hey its me. How's work?" asked Ania's voice.
Guinevere put the music on mute quickly. "It's good Ania. Same as usual."
"Are you in the car?" Ania asked.
"Just driving home," Guinevere said, reading a sign that said 'Columbia Shire: 100 Miles'.
"Ok," she said. Her voice sounded tired and sad. "I'll let you go then. See you in a few days."
"Ok. Bye honey."
"Bye. Vanora says be careful on the road."
"I will. Bye."
"Bye."
Guinevere sighed loudly. She looked at her reflection in the rear-view mirror and cringed. The eyeliner under her eyes had already begun to drip. She traced the tip of her finger along the lines and checked her reflection. 'Plane Jane.'
She slowed the car down slightly and unbuttoned her jacket before flinging it to the backseat. Wearing those clothes irked her. It was only for today though. She and Ania were field agent's while Vanora, the lucky one, worked as their voice at the base. Everyone outside of work thought they worked as travel agents.
How wrong they were to think so. Guinevere pulled her gun out from the inside of her boot and stored it in her handbag as she passed another sign, this time reading: 'Columbia Village: 98 Miles'.
She was going to surprise Ania by arriving early for the funeral. She had told her she was being held up for a meeting to do with a case they had recently solved but wanted to surprise her cousin by being there for support.
"A few days of being just Guinevere Luchlan," she muttered to herself. "No more Agent Luchlan."
0-0-0
Tristan put his gun on top of the wooden liquor cabinet. He squatted down and pulled the glass doors open. "Wine, Brandy….Port….great, whisky," he said to himself as he pulled out the bottle of Johnny Walker red. He unscrewed the top and pulled three glasses off the top of the cabinet before walking into the next room.
Lancelot was sitting on the long couch in front of a short coffee table. His laptop was being plugged to Arthur's laptop which was facing the other way.
"What time is Dag getting in?" Arthur asked as he pulled his gun apart.
Tristan set the glasses on the table with the whisky and went to the side of the room to his carry bag. "Six," he said in an absent minded tone. He pulled out his own lap top and sat down beside Lancelot. "That shit has been in and out of pubs all afternoon," he said as he typed in his password.
Lancelot blindly handed him a glass of whisky as he stared at his computer screen. "That shit being James Anderson?" he asked, tapping the keys on his pad.
"Yeah." Tristan drowned the whisky in one, shook his head and groaned as the full hilt of the alcohol hit him.
"Headquarters has just been in touch with the American CIA," Arthur said, reading off his computer screen. "They've just informed Anderson that his citizenship to the US is now terminated."
"That'll make him happy," Lancelot said with a smirk. "What if he tries to get into Canada?"
Tristan shook his head as he brought up the MI5 file on James Anderson. "He won't. Got business to go here first."
Lancelot leaned back on the couch and looked around the dusty room. "Nice place you've got here."
Tristan lifted his eyes from the screen for a moment to look at the room. "As long as it's not inhabiting my mother then that's fine."
"You still crook with her?" Arthur asked as he clicked of the web page to see the MI5 sign on his desktop background.
Tristan nodded silently. "Haven't spoken in fours years. Not since…." He stoped speaking as Ania came to mind.
"She's called the office a bunch of times," Lancelot said. "Had to keep telling her you were in Berlin working on a bank project."
"As long as she stays out of my hair," Tristan said calmly.
0-0-0
A/N: So? I hope you understand that characters a bit. I'm not telling much or else all of the secrets will be revealed in the first chapter. Review….if you like.