Standard Disclaimer applies; King Arthur and all that is related to the legends and movie are so not mine. It'd be great though. Ah well, stuff you don't recognize, like the ideas and such, yeah that's mine. Anyways onto "Blood Heritage"
A/N: -actions during speech- "speech" 'thoughts'
(A/N: This is where the points of view change to be easier on everybody. This way I get into everybody's head. Laughs wickedly)
Seven riders rode out of the forest, world weary but eager. Below their vantage point on the hill a caravan and its Roman guards trekked waving their banners. The riders watched the caravan anticipating something. But a crash in the woods and a string of curses behind them drew their attention from the caravan.
"Tristan, check it out. It could be trouble," a dark haired man with light eyes and Roman armor said to a brown haired man with tattoos on his tanned face. The man called Tristan nodded and headed back into the woods, eyes searching the forest's gloom and ears listening for the cause of the crash. Again the string of curses came. And Tristan cautiously guided his horse to the sounds.
"I'm gonna kill that mutha fuckin' sonuva bitch! Fuckin' peepin' shit! Where the bloody fucking hell am I?" A young woman with black hair cut in a pixie style with red tips and long red bangs half-sat half-leaned against a large oak dusted herself of leaves and tree debris. Her clothes were unfamiliar, a tight black shirt without sleeves with red shiny markings on it, bands of some material in black on her arms and black breeches that cut off around her ankles, and the shoes she wore were unfamiliar if they could be called shoes, mostly black, white at the end and on the bottom. Around her neck was a material of black and a silver chain, silver bracelets on her bloodied wrists and three silver rings graced her delicate but slightly bloody fingers. The woman's back was to him, but Tristan could tell she was in pain by the blood on her wrists.
Cautiously he dismounted from his horse and approached her, "My lady… can I be of service to you?" To her ears it sounded like an accented Latin.
'Latin!' She looked to him in surprise, her hazel eyes wide with shock and apprehension, "Who're you? Where'd you come from?" She demanded in Latin as well, she was well educated in many languages. 'Why does he look so familiar?' she thought to herself
"I could ask you the same question lady." Tristan noticed that she gripped a rock in one hand and a pair of shackles in the other; carefully he still approached her. "Lady, your wrists bleed. Would you allow me to attend them?" He walked closer to her, his hands in front of him in an "I'm innocent" kind of way.
"Listen palsy, take your hero someplace else 'cause I'm not interested in helping you get your jollies. So fuck off!" She said swinging the shackles at him forcing him to duck. In that split second, the girl bolted to the edge of the forest, stumbling and bleeding along the way. She was disoriented and needed to bandage herself soon or she could faint. Crashing out of the line of trees, she stopped short to see six other horsemen in a line in front of her. "Oh Shit… I am sooo not in Kansas anymore."
The other horsemen turned to the wide eyed, short haired girl; a look of recognition grazed their faces.
"Lady, are you alright?" The dark hair Roman asked politely, eyeing her strange hair and clothes, as well as the dried blood on her wrists and fingers. Just then Tristan rode up carrying the shackles with him, the woman held up her bloody fists in fighting stance as the other knights formed a circle around her.
"I believe, lady, these are yours," Tristan said dropping the shackles at her feet, "you have good aim for being injured." Her eyes looked wildly around at the horsemen that circled her.
"Where did you come from?" The knight commander asked, his accent was more familiar like the professors at her school, but the war-cries of people in leather and blue paint prevented the girl from responding.
The six riders headed toward the caravan to protect the cargo in the carriage, and the woman found herself lifted up and on the back of Tristan's horse pressed against his back. 'This guy looks so much like my dad… but that's impossible.'
"Hold tightly, lady," Tristan said to the woman behind him as he pulled some bandages from his saddle bags and wrapped them tightly on her wrists away from her bracelets. "The Woads are dangerous, but do not fear, you are safe." The man missed the annoyed look she gave him. The bouncing of the horse made her even dizzier and nauseous.
The girl watched at the "Woads" as they attacked the caravan. The blue people split their numbers and came towards them set to fight off the men on horseback. The girl continued to ride on the back of Tristan's horse gripping the man's armor to keep from falling. This was not her fight; she had nothing to protect and would not get involved unless someone tried to harm. Besides it not like she'd be getting paid either.
Unexpectedly, an arrow whizzed by her head. "What the fuck!" she yelled seeing one of the Woads stringing another arrow and aiming it at her. She toppled off the back of Tristan's horse thinking that the arrow was for someone else; but another nearly hit her. Now she's an enemy… 'This is so fucked up,' she thought. One of the men from earlier, the one with a shaved head and scar over his eye, rode closer to her as though to protect her, she grimaced and ducked away from an attack from another blue person, no way in hell was she gonna play the damsel in distress, pulling a spear from a fallen Roman, she used it like her naginata against two Woads. The rider watched from the corner of his eye as he fought another Woad in his path to her. During this time, Tristan briefly noticed that she was no longer behind him and tried to turn his horse to save her. But he was prevented from helping as two Woads attacked him, but he cut them down like paper; he saw that the girl was fine on her own.
As though she were born to fight, the stranger cut down attackers. Her mind recited a mantra that was drilled into her head from youth. Wounded or not, she learned long ago to 1. Never drop your weapon and 2. Never ever drop your weapon. She used the spear to slice two more Woads that attacked her at the throat and forced them to drop their swords. Then threw the spear straight into the chest of one who was about to attack the long blond haired one from behind. He nodded a surprised thanks to her as she picked up the sword of one of the fallen Woads. Normally, swords were not her strength, but she did just as well with them, another thing she learned in training. "Adapt to all weapons, whatever the circumstances, pole arm, sword, gun, learn to adapt; it could be the one thing that separates you from life and death." Her training master's voice rang through her ears. The battle continued on like a blur, blood from her assailants speckled her arms and any exposed parts of her body.
"RUUUUSSSSS!" One of the bald ones cried before killing two more and breaking her out of her reverie in time to cut down another foe. Soon, those still alive retreated back for the woods, but the knight commander held his sword to the throat of one blue man.
"Why did Merlin send you south of the wall?" He demanded, but the man dropped his sword and said something in another language. "Pick it up -but the man didn't move- Pick. It. Up. -this time the Woad did- Go." He said forcing the man to run. It was over. This strange battle that she was thrust into had ended.
As if on cue, her stomach revolted. She ran to a bush to vomit, the bile bitter in her mouth. Wiping her lips with the back of her hand, she noticed the horsemen looking at her apprehensively. The long blond haired knight led his horse up to the new girl in all black; her shirt read "Like Dirt? Come and Attack Me" in shiny red letters.
"I thank you lady, you have unrivaled skill. I am Gawain, in your debt," he smiled, then asked what the markings on her shirt meant, she told him causing him to laugh. "But lady, I do not know to whom I owe, please, a name." She noticed that they all spoke in Latin.
"I had many, but I suppose I can let you know one. Roxie, call me Roxie," She smiled back, Roxanne, her mother's name, chosen because she'd forgotten her own real name.
"Roxie? That is a rather interesting name. I am called Galahad. Over there is our commander, Arthur, that one is Lancelot -the man leered at her and her eyebrow rose- Tristan, Bors and Dagonet." The one called Galahad told her smiling. He was rather young and handsome, wavy brown hair and kind eyes.
"Wait, waitwaitwaitwaitwait, what're your names again?" Roxie asked trying to keep the shock from her face, Gawain repeated their names, and she avoided their gazes quietly whispering to herself, "you've gotta be shittin' me, no fuckin' way. King Arthur and the fuckin' knight of the fuckin' round table! Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh bloody fuckin' hell." She paled and fainted into Dagonet's arms from shock, exhaustion and slight blood loss.
"What happened!" Arthur demanded, his knights told him that she was whispering to herself in a language they couldn't understand and suddenly fainted. Arthur turned to the man to whom he was speaking, "Bishop Germanus, if I could, but trouble you, to allow this child to ride in your carriage?"
"Are you sure this is safe, Artorius? It could be some attempt on my life." The Bishop said looking the fainted girl over. Her black shirt tightened and pulled down exposing the curvature of her breasts in Dagonet's arms.
"Bishop, I doubt a fainted young girl is any threat to you. -the bishop eyes her more lecherously- But if you insist, I will see that she rides with one of my knights." Arthur noticed the looks the Bishop gave the girl and commanded that Roxie ride in Galahad's saddle, since she was so light.
Roxie awoke a few hours later from her initial shock in someone's arms. Alert, she quickly lifted her head only to have it contact squarely with Galahad's nose.
"OW! What was that for? -they looked at each other- Stop it!" the two said in unison. The rest of the knights looked at them and laughed as Roxie weakly struggled to get out of Galahad's saddle.
"Let me go or I'll make you suffer!"
"I already am suffering; I have to deal with you." He looked down at her, smiling and encouraging the joke.
"Oh that's funny, really. Don't attempt lame jokes when you don't know shit 'bout me." She said harshly. Silently resigning since she saw no other choice. The company continued on, joking and laughing. Everything muffled to her ears, until the knight behind her said something.
"I don't like this, if he's here to discharge us, why doesn't he just give us our papers and get on with it." Galahad said disdainfully.
"Is this your happy face?" Gawain joked. Roxie paid attention then looked at Galahad.
"Hn, I'd hate to see you angry," Roxie muttered earning chuckles from the other men.
"Do you still not know the Romans? They won't scratch their asses without holding a ceremony." Gawain continued.
"Why don't you just kill him and discharge yourself after?" Bors asked, smiling to Roxie. 'Why do they keep looking at me!' she thought to herself looking away.
"No, I don't kill for pleasure… Unlike some," Galahad said seriously, a glance shot over to Tristan.
"It's not always about pleasure, sometimes it's just the job," Roxie said, not realizing she'd said it out loud. The rest of the men eyed her suspiciously. "What? I said that out loud didn't I? -they nod- Shit."
"Well, you should try it someday!" Tristan grinned to Galahad, but his eyes were directly at Roxie who was blushing about her earlier comment. "You might get a taste for it."
Bors agreed with Tristan. "It's apart of you. It's in your blood."
"And on your hands, no matter how you wash." Roxie muttered looking at her own blood covered hands, the bandages on her wrists.
"No, nonononono," The man to Roxie's back protested, "No, as of tomorrow, this will all be a distant bad memory."
"How long?" Roxie questioned her guide, "How long have you lived this memory?"
"Fifteen years give or take some months. That's how long our service, our duty to the Roman Empire has lasted, my lady" Lancelot smirked lecherously at her. She rolled her eyes rubbing her bandaged wrists.
"That's no memory, that's a lost lifetime…" She replied.
"I've often thought what going home would mean after all this. What will I do?" Gawain stated, "It's different for Galahad, I've been in this life longer than the other. So much for home, it's not so clear in my memory."
The other men agreed, as did Roxie, silently her mind wandered to when she was six, when her whole world was shattered. Bors broke her thoughts, "Speak for yourself. It's cold back there and everyone I know is dead and buried. Besides I have, I think, a dozen children."
Roxie looked at the man in shock and the rest laughed at her reaction. 'Twelve kids! His poor wife!' "I feel bad for your wife, man." She said in shock.
"Eleven." Gawain said, his eyebrow raised, Roxie's mouth just hung open utterly stunned that Bors not only had eleven children but didn't even remember he had that many.
But Bors just smirked, "You listen here, when the Romans leave here, we'll have the run of this place. I'll be the gov'nor of my own village and Dagonet will be my personal guard and royal ass-kisser. Won't you Dag?"
Dagonet was expressionless and quiet. 'Doesn't anything bug 'im?' Roxie thought.
"First thing I'll do when I get home is find a beautiful Sarmatian woman to wed." Gawain fantasized. His eyes briefly gazed at the short haired blood-speckled girl riding in Galahad's saddle.
"A beautiful Sarmatian woman?" Bors repeated, "Why do you think we leave in the first place? Mooooo. -the rest laughed, even Roxie grinned- Why not just wed Roxie?"
"Hey! Don't bring me into this. I'm hardly the marryin' type, let alone Sarmatian." Roxie commented earning smiles and laughs from her riding companions. "Really Ah'm not!"
"Sarmatian or the marrying kind?" Tristan asked a slight grin on his face and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. She recognized that look; most guys had that look towards her throughout high school and college. That lusty look that prisoners tended to have after being released from prison, she had to deal with it on a few of her assignments in the past.
"Both!"
Lancelot rode his horse closer to their conversation. "What about you Lancelot? What are your plans for home?" Bors asked as the dark haired man rode next to him.
"If this woman of Gawain's is as beautiful as he claims, I expect to be spending a lot of time at Gawain's house. His wife will welcome the company. Or I may find myself at Roxie's just as often."
"Will ya'll quit bringing me into this conversation!"
"I see, and what will I be doing?" Gawain asked his friend, a frown ornamenting Gawain's features.
"Wondering at your good fortune that all your children look like me." Lancelot grinned looking at Roxie before riding ahead to the knight commander's side.
"Is that before or after I hit you with my axe?" Gawain called after him. The rest of the knights laughed and continued joking.
"So Roxie, where is home for you?" Galahad asked the girl in his arms, his eyes gentle.
"Somewhere far, far away." She answered shortly in barely a whisper. Roxie didn't like to talk about herself; she changed herself many times over just to survive. She wasn't even sure of her real hair color or name. "Home…it doesn't exist anymore."
"No worries, girl. Me an' my Vanora'll take you in. Just like another child, you couldn't be more'n 16 eh?" Bors said comfortingly.
"Heh, you're four years off."
"You're twelve!" Gawain, Galahad and Bors exclaimed.
"No, twenty. As of last night, I think or perhaps this morning. The details of the past few days are a bit indefinite… a haze." Roxie replied. 'I don't look that young! I mean my naïve look caused some trouble in the past, but really!'
"Well, then you can wed Galahad. You're of age."
Roxie's eyes widened. "Yeah, sure… NOT! I told you I'm not the marryin' type. -turns to Galahad, who is blushing- Sorry man, but you're soo not my type."
"Then what is your 'type' lady," Tristan inquired, curious with the fiery spirit in the young girl and sass she possessed.
"Aheh… next question" she brushed off his comment, "Are we there yet? Wherever it is we're headed?"
"Hariden's wall, Rome's Britannia Outpost." Dagonet stated.
"My Gawd he speaks!" Roxie exclaimed in mock-surprise, earning a friendly grin from the quiet knight. "I'm serious, you've barely said anything; it's really disturbing."
"Then I will make it my mission to speak in your presence more often."
"Horseshit!" Bors commented making them all laugh.
They passed through the large gate of the fortress and into the stables. At the iron gate separating the stables from the courtyard stood a woman with fiery hair and a horde of children.
"Arthur, welcome back," A man at the stables greeted the knight commander, "Lancelot."
Galahad dismounted and held out a hand to help Roxie down. With much struggle and laughter from the other knights, Roxie fell to the ground with a muffled thwump and a string of curses.
"Ack! Mutha fucka!" Roxie exclaimed painfully. Galahad helped her to her feet. "Damn, how can you put up with riding so much? My ass is so sore I doubt I'll be able to sit for a week!" She tried to dust the mud and dirt from her clothes. Bors laughed and told her that he'd gotten used to it. He then led her to the iron gate where the red-haired woman waited.
"I've been waiting for you! Where have you been?" The woman scolded and slapped him as he pulled her into a tight embrace.
"Oh my little fire, such passion…"Bors said as he kissed the woman zealously. The children around them giggled as Roxie wolf whistled. When the couple separated, Bors called for his son Gilly and introduced Roxie. "Vanora my love, this is Roxie. Another stray. -Roxie glared at him, but smiled at the lady- Roxie, my lover Vanora and all our little bastards, numbers 1-11."
"You numbered them!" Roxie gaped and the lovers laughed at her expression then left her to go to the tavern followed by the horde of running children. Rubbing her rear to soothe the pain, she looked around to take in the situation she was in.
"Lady Roxie?"
"Ack!" She stumbled back. The man who greeted Arthur earlier approached her. 'What is wrong with me? I'm an assassin, damnit! Why're my reflexes all messed up!' She smiled warily to him.
"I am Jols. Arthur told me to escort you to your room."
"Huh?" Surprised, Roxie looked around for the knight commander, but like the other knights, he was gone. "Um, where is he? I really gotta talk to him."
"He said to see you are comfortable before taking you to the council room with the others. This way my lady." He said leading her into the main fort, looking to the sky she noticed the sun slowly lowered.
The fort was a twisting labyrinth of stone halls and dim torchlight. The squire was slightly surprised that she kept up with his long strides, but she only smirked. Jols finally stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and guided her into the sparsely furnished room that included a bed, writing desk and chair, and a large, plain wardrobe next to the small fireplace for heating. A layer of dust and cobwebs covered everything. He lit a candle from the tinderbox and swept away the cobwebs from the curtains and bed.
"Don't get many visitors huh?" Roxie asked grinning, "S'okay, I'm used to roughin' it."
Jols just nodded, "I'll see to it a maid attend to you." He turned to close the door.
"Jols?"
"Yes, milady?"
"Two things, one: it's just Roxie, no lady anything. I may be a woman, but never been a lady. Two: thank you." He gave her a puzzled look. "Naw, I really mean it. I mean ya could've been all jerky and pushed me into something worse like a cage, but you didn't. So thanks."
"Think nothing of it my -her eyes narrowed- I mean Roxie, Arthur has always been this kind. It's my honor to serve him. If there be anything else -she shakes her head- then I will fetch you when you've cleaned up." With that he closed the door.
(A/N: This part is in first person, because it is what Roxie feels and what goes through her head, but don't worry, it'll go back to third in a bit)
"A bath would be so nice right now. At least I won't be covered in blood and dirt." I say to myself out loud opening the heavy curtains to admit the dying rays of the sunset. How in the hell did I end up here? And why am I less reflexive than usual, I freak at every moment and my emotions and opinions are outta control! Damnit! I am a gaad damned assassin; I should NOT be so jumpy! I mean, what would my training masters say? Probably something along the lines of how weak I am… DAMN!
Unwittingly I punched the stone window sill, until I notice the pain shoot through my arm. "Ahh! Mutha Fucka!" I exclaim. Shit, I've still got the cuts on my wrists and hitting everything will not help my disposition. Pushing back my red bangs, my mind briefly lingers to the memory of what my friends used to say. "You look like an anime character!" "Haha very funny Satsuki. For your information, I happen to like this style." "What did you do to your hair?" "Shaddup Leon!" "You look weird." "Eh? So do you." "Do you always have to be a smart ass?" "Of course, Connor…"
A knock at the door broke me out of my reverie, "Wh-Who is it?" I rubbed my bruised knuckles and cross the room.
"Your maid, miss." A woman dressed in a commoner's garb perhaps eight or nine years older than me stood at my door, waiting for admittance with a large basin of steaming water and clothes over her right arm. Her mouse brown hair trapped in a thinning bun, there were some gray hairs. She's really proper I think. I move out of her way as she walks in avoiding my gaze.
"Over there's fine, thanks." After she puts the basin down, I open the door again. But she waits, "Is there something you need?"
"I am to assist you bathe Lady," she replies. I tell her it isn't necessary, but she insists that it is her job to bathe and dress me. What am I? Four? Again I refuse, but she stands firm.
"What's your name?" I ask, she tells me it is Aurora, it's a pretty name, "Well, Aurora, I can manage myself. I've done pretty damn well over the past fourteen years without help, what's another ten minutes?" I try gently pushing her towards the door ignoring her protests of doing her job. She faces me her pale eyes trying to bore into mine. Again I tell her I can take care of myself and if she had a problem against me doing that then I would like to see her do something about it… Famous last words.
But she's quick; somehow she managed to get my dirty and muddy clothes off and into the basin of steaming water. "Gwah!" I sputter as she quickly scrubs my body with scented oils and soaps of lavender. The blood, dirt and grime haze the steaming water. Soon I find myself dried and donning the gown she brought me. Stupid thing doesn't fit right, it's low and tight in the front and hips and quite long. And its light green with pink flowers embroidered on the sleeves and bodice. My reflection in the wardrobe mirror does not look pleased. She rewrapped my wrists and I put on the silver triangle pendant, a symbol of the Assassin Guild, a symbol of the elite that doubles as a small and deadly weapon put to the right pressure points.
"I'm afraid I can do nothing with my lady's hair, it is so short and oddly colored" she says brushing the knots and tangles that usually adorn my punk rock style, she keeps messing with my hair trying to tie it up with ribbons, I desperately try to move away from her. A knock at the door and Jols voice summon me.
I fling the door open and run past him. "Keep her away from me! I am not putting no fuckin' ribbons in my hair! -Aurora holds several ribbons and a comb approaching me- I said no! You've caused enough damage with the dress and all!" I hide behind Jols walking backwards protesting anymore changes she tries.
"I believe that is enough Aurora. Your duty is done for now." Jols says to her kindly and she curtseys and says she will prepare my room. I tell her that my room is fine and nothing needed to be changed as Jols takes my elbow and leads me away.
Did you like it? Hate it? I have to know!