A review yey!

Cardeia- Thank you. Not quite sure what you meant. xD But yeah. She's bother familiar, yet very strange. 33

Chapter Two

"Get away from me! Don't touch me! I'll kill you all." The two men rushed back into the camp to see the girl holding a sword to the other knights. They had a look of bewilderment. The arrows were not imbedded in her skin and there was bandaging around her thigh, but he guessed not around her other wounds. Tristan looked around and noticed Lancelot was still not present. "Arvakur, here now." The roan trotted over to its master, clearly aware of her words. The horse amazed him. It seemed to understand its master's ever whim. "Lady, kindly drop your sword. I'm sure Dag only meant to help you."

A smirk wrapped onto Tristan's lips as she spat at the tall knight's feet. "Never will I take command from a Roman." Arthur looked dumbfounded at the malice in her voice. "Kindly, let me leave and I shall not bother you any longer." Dag shook his head and turned around, which was clearly a mistake for the female took her chance. She stepped forward wrapping an arm around the knight's neck. Whose mistake now came was unreadable. For, Tristan knew that the knight could overpower her, but could he outsmart her? Dag's arm elbowed her ribs and she fell onto the dirt, her arm holding her kneeling frame off the ground. The knight turned around to defend himself of another attack, but none came. Only a smirk grew behind the fence of hair. She was planning something. "Dagonet!"

The knight fell flat on his back as her leg spun around, knocking him down. She was on top of him in less then one beat of his heart, a dagger held to his neck. The knight's arms pinned beneath her weight. She smirked again and then rolled free of the knight. She could have killed him then and there. She was smart, this was very evident now. He almost respected her and he was the only knight who had not drawn out his sword, but nor had Arthur. "Lady, drop your sword or you will die." His commander spoke again.

"You underestimate her, Arthur." All the knights' heads spun around to see their fellow brother Lancelot standing behind them. "She would kill at least one of us before we could even fell an arrow, even in her weakened state. She is Roxolani, she is trained well." Surprise dripped from all of the knights, even he. The relationship between Lancelot and the girl was growing stronger and stronger. There was definitely a connection between the two. But what the true nature of it was a mystery still and he suspected it would remain so for a long while if not forever. Arthur's voice then caved to the will of Lancelot, a feat that none could manage. Though, Tristan had countless times. "Drop your weapons, knights."

The knights reluctantly lowered their weapons at the order of the commander as did the woman. Tristan turned and went to his horse, seeing that everything was calm now, though the other knights clearly didn't think so. "What is your name Lady?" Tristan only listened as he checked his mount over. She was reluctant to speak and he glanced to her, following her hard glare to Lancelot. He sighed, tension was building again. She wasn't answering. They were silently fighting, that Tristan could tell without looking at them. "My name is Leilia." Lancelot said nothing to Tristan's surprise. He was growing annoyed with the constant glare Lancelot had laid on the woman's face. "And your business here, Lady Leilia? You travelled all the way from Sarmatia for what reason?"

He turned around again to watch the scene. She swallowed, he saw how she hesitated. Tristan smirked; she was full of anger and hatred. Her face betrayed her emotions. Her jaw was clenched, her nostrils flared, and her dark eyes screamed fire. Her breath came in ragged intervals and he could not tell if that was from her rage or her weakening state. "I did not come from Sarmatia. I have not been in Sarmatia for many years, too many years." He watched her teeth grinding together. "As to the reason, that is none of your business, Roman. Now, I will be leaving. Arvakur."

The horse made no move to the woman's dismay. He whinnied quietly before lowering his head to the dirt for a long sniff. "Seems your horse has no want to leave, Lady Leilia," Gawain chimed. She scowled before her hand came swiftly down to grasp the reins. The horse did not budge; instead it chomped a tuff of grass. "Stubborn, I see. You should get a better mount. One that listens." Her face was reddening. He couldn't help but be amused by the display. Gawain was getting to her. "You remind me of something, you know." Her head snapped up with an intense glare, she looked suddenly nervous. "Yes, this wench at the tavern." She seemed almost relieved.

"And you remind me of someone also, knight." Her voice rang cool in the night. "This wench I met not long before. Perhaps you know her? Maybe you two were inbred." Then she laughed. It was like bells ringing in the breeze. Tristan did not show the affect it had on him. No, he was not the one to show how he felt. But it was mesmerizing, beautiful to his ears. He swallowed hard, glancing around to the other knights. They didn't seem to feel the same effect. His eyes danced to Lancelot, he saw something different. He was affected by it. But so different then what Tristan felt. He definitely knew something. There was definitely something there. Ah, but the sound of a woman truly laughing, he had missed the sound.

The silence disturbed her. It was like they had all stopped breathing as soon as her laugh poured from her lips. It almost scared her. But the most disturbing thing was the intense stares she was now getting. The ones from the majority of the knights didn't faze her. No, just those two. Her captor and that of Lancelot. They were gazing deeply at her. Her captor hadn't spoken in a long time and Lancelot had only spoken to come to her defence, she guessed. It wasn't like his intentions of warning the one in charge were all the clear. "Fine, Lady. Leave now and you will most likely die of infection or bleed out from your wounds."

She pulled Arvakur to her, he gladly followed. "I don't recommend leaving. You will die." She looked up to the voice, not recognizing the husky, deep sound. Her stomach jolted as her eyes connected with the scout. His gaze was hard, meaningless, and full of nothing. It was a blank stare. Normally, she would have tossed it aside. But now she felt deeply drawn to it. Like it was pulling her in, like she was sinking in his weightless gaze. She would not break his gaze. Everyone was silent around them, that is, she thought they were. She could not hear their silent whispers.

"As do I," She knew that voice, even now she knew it. Yes, Lancelot had spoken again and she wasn't remembering how he had spoken moments ago. No, and she didn't recognize his voice in whole. It was the underlying boyish tone that played over and over in her memory. She shook her head, breaking her gaze with the scout. She allowed her eyes to fall on Lancelot. She felt a little remorse, only a little regret in taking her eyes off the scout's. She nearly broke open then when her eyes connected to Lancelot's and she was thrown into a memory.

But she stabbed it back; she fought the memory until remembering was a memory, an inkling in time. "Stay, Leilia, and allow Dagonet to heal your wounds. Then you may leave." She almost growled but she did not, she held back. The tall one, she took for Dagonet, stood but she could tell he was not doing something he wished. Following Lancelot's clear order left her some dignity. At least, the healer was wary of healing her. She at least had some solace in that.

"Fine, Lancelot. But do not expect to see me again in the morn or ever, for that matter." She would have smirked at the flash of hurt in his eyes but Dagonet was giving her a hard glare. He wanted to see her wounds. "Alright, alright! But I will not show or give you access to my wounds if they're all watching." All the knights turned away except one. She took it to be the youngest. He looked young at least. He was staring, wide-eyed like he had not seen a woman in months and he had probably not. She knew, for a fact, that they were a good week's ride from the wall. At least, a week's ride for a caravan. She stayed away for this reason. "And you, Sir Knight, stare any longer and you will not have eyes when you awake and if I'm especially annoyed, maybe you won't be a man when you wake up." The knight's eyes widened again before they darted to the ground where she knew they would stay. She caught a glimpse of the three smirks flashed her way. One from Lancelot, one from the fat one, and one from the scout.