Disclaimer: I don't own King Arthur (Duh). I do, however, own this story line. It is not stolen, and the original characters (most notably Helena and Livia) are of my own creation. The events depicted within this story are entirely fictitious. Any similarity to any person living or dead is merely coincidental.
Author's Note: Thanks everyone who's reviewed! I love you guys. We're getting some action in this chapter and a little humor. Reviews are wonderful, a little like drugs or cookies.
Chapter Four
Ever since Arthur had told her his decision to allow herself and Livia stay at his fortress, Helena had barely left her room except to visit with Livia or sneak off to the private bathhouse to soak and brood. She hadn't seen Tristan since their strange encounter after she had poured out most of her story to the knights and Arthur, and while Helena's head told her this was a good thing, her heart was aching badly. She couldn't seem to get the look in his eyes out of her head. That incredible hunger and longing that she had never seen so clearly as she had in his eyes when he stared into her own. Her feet had been rooted to the spot, her heart pounding, and she knew that as he moved forward he was going to kiss her right then and there and out in the open, and she knew that she wasn't going to stop him. But the moment that sound had rung out so clearly in the courtyard, the magic had been broken, and she had lost her guts. All that Helena could think was that she couldn't kiss him, that he couldn't possibly like her, nor she him. And so she had fled.
Now she sat in her sisters room, perched in the window, looking out while she distractedly sewed a tear in the hem of one of Livia's dresses. She was wearing a soft white gown with a long, trailing skirt which had been provided to her by Arthur and delivered to her via maid that morning. Apparently, they were to have company later in the day and he didn't want the visitors to see her walking around dressed like a man. The maid had even talked her into braiding her waist length hair back after it dried from her bath so that it wasn't worn 'freely like a savage's', which had been the maid's exact words. She had actually appreciated the little present, as her scant wardrobe could only be washed and patched up so many times before it was just a pile of thread at the bottom of her bag.
"Do you feel well, Lena?" Livia asked from where she was reading in a chair in the corner. Ever since her attack that night, Livia seemed to be doing much better, though she refused to tell Helena what she had seen. Helena supposed it had something to do with her, and decided against badgering Livia about it. Perhaps it was something she didn't want to know.
"I'm fine," she replied, turning away from the window to offer her sister a small smile. "Just a little tired. I suppose sewing is more boring than I remember it being."
Livia laughed and closed her book, setting it on the bed before swiftly gliding across the floor to sit on the other side of the window sill next to her sister. She was wearing one of her fine gowns that their mother had specially made for her, a pale blue one that brought out the color of her eyes beautifully. If Helena didn't love her sister so much, she would've been jealous of how their looks seemed to suit her so much better.
"Your wound doesn't pain you at all?" Livia asked, and Helena shook her head 'no'. "And you aren't feverish? You don't have a cold or anything?"
"No," Helena replied, laughing. "What is it? Do I truly look so awful in a dress that you fear I may be dying from something?"
"No of course not, you look absolutely beautiful. It's just that I noticed you haven't really been leaving our rooms lately," Livia said with a shrug. "I was worried maybe something was wrong."
"No, I've just been tired," Helena assured her. She hadn't told Livia of her encounter with Tristan the night Livia had her vision, not wanting to cause more tension than there already was. However, Helena didn't doubt her sister probably already knew all about it, if it wasn't from gossip, then it was from a vision. It was difficult to have secrets from her twin, especially since she could sense nearly all of them.
All but one, her brain reminded her. All but what happened when the men took you out of your prison cell that night. You've been hiding that so long it seems like it never happened.
Helena ignored her wandering thoughts, and turned her attention back to her twin, who was watching her quietly. They had never had the relationship that other twins had. They lacked the closeness and consistent love that Helena had observed on others, but instead had a different sort of relationship. They depended on one another in a way, but it wasn't in the emotional way that other twins needed one another. In fact, Helena and Livia rarely confided anything in each other. Livia had preferred to tell her friends when they were teenagers, her fame as a mystic making such people easy to procure. Helena had always just kept it inside and let it melt away after a little while, or build up until she had one little temper tantrum and then went on with her day as if nothing had happened.
In fact, a lot of the times, Helena wondered at the idea that she and Livia were sisters at all. Yes, they looked exactly alike, and shared the same parents. But it was as if their relationship was more of Livia's dependence on Helena to keep her alive, and Helena's dependence on Livia to stay alive. It certainly couldn't be a healthy relationship they had.
"It's lovely out. We should go riding today, since your wound isn't paining you at all. Galahad showed me some of the better horses in the stables, and you need to get some fresh air. You're starting to look a little pale," Livia's voice was light, as if she was trying to rid Helena of the dark mood she had settled in, and Helena appreciated her sister's efforts. Perhaps it would be a good idea to go out for a little while. Staying so close to Hadrian's Wall meant that they would most likely be perfectly safe from Woads or any other attackers unless the men in black cloaks had managed to find them again.
"Yes, let's," Helena nodded, allowing Livia to take her hand and lead her away, the dress she had been sewing falling to the floor in a heap of silk.
Livia led her by the hand through the crowds of Roman guards and the dwellers of the village within the fortress, navigating rather poorly as they had to turn around more than once. Finally, they reached the huge stables, where Helena met the stable master, a rather funny man named Jols who brought out the black stallion she had arrived on when she requested it. Helena was more than surprised when Livia decided on a tall chestnut gelding rather than the pretty mare they had stolen in order to make it to Hadrian's Wall, but didn't question her sister's judgement. She was happy to note that she hadn't seen a single knight since she left her room, and was hoping it would stay that way.
On horseback they carefully wove their way through the crowds, and finally reached the field between the fortress and Hadrian's wall. There was a light breeze, and the sun was bright, and once Helena was out there, she was more than pleased that she had consented to going out on a ride. She clicked her tongue, and her horse immediately began cantering, tossing his head rambunctiously. Livia easily caught up with her, the horse she was riding was more than adequate, and Helena could easily see why her sister had chosen it. It was a graceful beast as it cantered alongside her. The two sped across the field, racing and playing, when Helena caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. She slowed her horse down to a trot and her eyes scanned the woods that now surrounded them, worried.
"What is it?" Livia's voice was appropriately hushed, something Helena was grateful for. Her eyes kept scanning the trees, trying to detect the source of the movement, but found nothing.
"I don't know. Perhaps I'm being paranoid. I thought I – ," she was immediately cut off by an arrow flying past her nose and hitting something beyond. She turned her head in shock, her eyes immediately finding the Woad concealed in the trees, but he wasn't looking at her. He was looking at something beyond. Helena turned her head in the direction he was looking and saw that through the line of trees was a road, and the arrow that had nearly hit her had hit a man dressed in the metal armor of the Roman guard, apparently traveling with a caravan of some sort.
"Oh my–," Livia was cut off by Helena grasping her upper arm. Her eyes were stern and she fixated her twin with a strong stare.
"I need you to ride back to the fortress as quickly as possible. See if you can summon some sort of help. I don't believe Arthur and the others are there, but there are still some Roman guardsmen lingering about. Get them out of their seats and get them ready. I think we're in for some trouble," she commanded her twin, who looked unconvinced.
"What about you? What are you going to do, yell at the Woads until they go away?" Livia hissed back. Helena sighed, dropping her hand from the grip on her reigns and felt it hit something wooden fashioned to her saddle. When she looked down she found her bow and a quiver of arrows still attached to it from before.
"No, I'm going to do one better," she said decidedly. "Now get back to the fortress, now!"
Livia obediently galloped off in the direction they had come from, and Helena was fairly certain she wouldn't be hurt by the Woads. Not because they were a kind and gentle folk, but because she wasn't what they wanted to kill. They wanted whoever was in that caravan, most likely the people that would be visiting Arthur. And Helena realized that she was going to have to do something about it. Turning her horse, she headed straight through the woods, towards the road the caravan was traveling on. They had halted mid-step, the guard alert and scanning the forests, trying to pin-point where the arrow had come from.
When Helena had come bolting through the woods without thinking first, she had nearly been impaled on at least four men's swords before they realized she was just a pretty Roman girl on her horse. However, she didn't have time to introduce herself. They needed to get moving.
"Quickly now, the Woads are in this part, you must get moving!" she commanded, just as an arrow narrowly missed her. "Let's go!"
After a moment, the caravan immediately began moving again, though much more quickly than they had been before. Helena detached her bow from her saddle, stringing in an arrow and aiming it towards the woods, watching carefully for any signs of movement. She only managed to duck just in time before the volley of arrows began flying at them, taking out several guardsmen. Helena sat up and let off three arrows in rapid succession, and judging by the shouts of surprise, they had all hit their marks.
"Who are you?" one of the Roman's asked, firing alongside her.
"I'm from the fortress. We need to get you there safely. Is there anyway we can leave the carriage behind? We'd travel much faster without it," she asked, ducking another arrow. Around them, most of the guards were already dead, but the Woads didn't dare get close, though she couldn't figure out why. She shot off another two arrows and took out two more archers before lowering her bow again.
"I've been saying that the whole journey, but the Cardinal demands that we keep it, the bastard," he replied, then grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to curse in front of you milady."
"It's alright," she replied with a shrug, knocking in another arrow, but not firing it. Another volley came through, several of which pierced the carriage that most of the guardsmen had lined themselves in front of, killing them. In the distance, she could see several horses riding towards them, and she wondered if perhaps her sister had already gotten back to the fortress to alert the guard. That was, until she spotted a hawk circling over them. No. This was Arthur's doing, not Livia's.
"Faster!" she shouted, urging them on as another volley of arrows took out three guardsmen. "Go faster, or your lives will be forfeit!"
"Faster, you idiots!" the guard she had been speaking with shouted, and Helena was irritated to see they only sped up once he ordered them to. Already, Arthur and the knights had caught up with them, and it wasn't until then that the Woads began to flood out of the woods, popping out of places that had previously appeared empty. Helena was perturbed to see that she had actually ridden past a great deal of them when she had headed towards the caravan. She couldn't figure out why she hadn't been attacked.
However, she didn't have time to ponder it when the Woads were already upon them, surrounding the guards and desperately trying to get to the carriage. Helena shot arrows at them rapidly, taking many out and stealing several quivers worth of arrows off of the enemy's back as she wound her way around the rampaging Woads. She could already see Bors and Dagonet taking out quite a few of them, and not far away, Lancelot was engaged in a graceful encounter with a Woad with a leaf tattoo covering half of his face. Helena could hear Arthur shouting orders above the fray, though she couldn't see him, and she was sure Tristan was nearby though she wasn't sure where.
Helena watched in terror as a Woad charged her horse, figuring she was done for as her hands fumbled to string an arrow into her bow, when she watched the man get tackled by another Woad, who shouted at him in their strange language and proceeded to engage Gawain in battle. In fact, there wasn't a single Woad coming anywhere near her, and Helena wondered if they were being prejudiced against her since she was a woman. Then again, she had heard many stories of the Woads killing Roman women from the towns they invaded. They had no reservations about murder, and Helena didn't understand why not a one laid a hand on her.
During her musings, Helena's eyes fixed on a very familiar shape surrounded by dead Woads, but still being charged by many more. Tristan fought with incredible skill, all of his movements fluid and continuous, moving from one Woad to the next without pause, as if he were dancing. It was a devastatingly beautiful and rather frightening sight, and for a moment, all of Helena's attentions were fixated on watching Tristan as he fought. Until she saw movement beyond him in the trees, movement that most certainly wasn't friendly. Without even thinking about it first, Helena aimed her arrow and fired swiftly, the arrow sailing through the air in a graceful arc before hitting its mark. A Woad fell out of the tree dead, a strung bow in his hand, the arrow within meant for Tristan. The knight didn't seem to notice, however, which suited Helena just fine.
Breaking her eyes away from him, she took out a Woad that was about to attack Lancelot, who nodded his thanks to her before killing another with a clean slice of his twin blades. Two more died under her deft hands, one which was attempting to sneak up on the inattentive Galahad, and another that was getting dangerously close to the carriage. By then, a scant few Woads remained, and a scant few Roman guards. Amongst the survivors was the one that Helena had conversed with earlier, who looked as if he wanted to say something to her, but was caught up in a conversation by Arthur, who looked rather serious.
"Livia?" addressed Bors, who was sheathing the blades he had been fighting with.
"Helena," she corrected him, and took a perverse pleasure on the shock that immediately filled everyone's faces. "What?"
"You look exactly alike," Gawain murmured, eyes shining.
"That usually happens with twins," Helena replied, trying not to laugh at him. "Why are you all staring at me like that?"
"We were starting to think you were just a figment of our imagination," Bors cut into the silence quickly, obviously saying the first reason that came to him. "Haven't seen you in a while, girl."
"I've been ill," she lied quickly. "Is everyone alright?"
"Yes, quite fine, thanks to you," Lancelot replied, nodding to her thankfully. "You saved my neck, probably more than once. Where'd you learn to shoot an arrow like that?"
"Oh, my father's scout used to take me hunting with him. You learn a few useful things like that," she answered with a smile, trying not to blush from the compliment. She had always been rather proud of her skills with a bow and arrow, seeing as she couldn't lift a sword if her life depended on it, and she had never been taught to fight with daggers. She pointed to the lone carriage. "Is this our guest?"
"Yes, actually," Arthur replied, as if he had forgotten about the carriage, and headed towards it, opening the door. A man stepped out dressed in full cardinal regalia, his neck hung with a heavy golden cross with rubies set in it, his fingers displaying jewels the size of walnuts. He glittered almost obscenely in the sunlight streaming through the trees. Helena fought the urge to smirk. She had never seen women wear so much jewelry, let alone a man of the cloth. How utterly ridiculous.
The cardinal seemed to be surveying each of them before his eyes stopped on her, still mounted upon her black stallion, who was impatient to go out on another run, still excited from the fighting. It took most of Helena's will to keep the horse in check, but the second the cardinal looked at her, she rather wanted to run off as well.
"My, my, my, what a lovely group you've gathered, Artorius," the cardinal said, his eyes still fixated upon Helena, who maneuvered her horse backwards to get farther away from him. She felt inexplicably uncomfortable near him, for herself, as well as for Livia. If the man heard her twin was a mystic, she would no doubt be burnt as a heretic.
"These are my men, Tristan, Bors, Dagonet, Lancelot, Gawain and Galahad. And the young lady is... Helena," Arthur seemed stuck on what to say about her, or how to give reason for his presence, and Helena was all out of lies, finding that she couldn't think of one that would make sense.
"Helena? What a beautiful name. You are a Roman, I presume?" the cardinal asked, and Helena shrugged impassively.
"Sure," she replied, though it was a half-lie.
"And what are you doing out here in the midst of so much trouble, my dear?" the cardinal had approached her and literally pried her right hand off of the saddle and taken it into his own, stroking it softly. Helena tensed, and winced every time she felt him touch her, a fact that was not lost upon the knights.
"I... well, uh, Arthur and I got into a quarrel this morning because I wanted to join him to greet you, and he said it was too dangerous so I followed him out here without him knowing so I could apologize and greet you. I just happened to come across the caravan before he did," she blurted out the first excuse that came to mind. "I went out under the pretense of going hunting, and lucky I did, isn't it? I wouldn't have had my bow and arrows otherwise."
Much to Helena's relief, Arthur approached her on her other side, having mounted his horse, and stood protectively next to her. She didn't fail to see the false anger that he had quickly allowed his face to show.
"Yes, we will have to speak on this later, Helena. This is not the first time I've told you not to leave the fortress unguarded. You could get yourself killed," he said in mock-sternness, and Helena could see his green eyes shining merrily as he said it. "You vex me, woman."
"Not nearly as much as you vex me, Arthur," she replied, earning a smile from the man.
"And of what acquaintance are you with such a lovely young woman, Arthur? Brother and sister perhaps? But no, I believe your sisters are all still in Rome, aren't they?" the cardinal asked. He was still holding Helena's hand, and hadn't noticed her trying to pull herself out of his grasp. Luckily, Tristan had decided to steer his horse to her other side, pushing the cardinal in front of them, his dark gaze fixed on him in anger.
"She works for him," Lancelot answered the cardinal's query, noticing the tension between Tristan and the Roman. Helena caught the odd look in the cardinal's eyes, as if something had just dawned on him, though she didn't understand the implications.
"Yes, Arthur has been quite good to me. In exchange for my services, he allows myself and my sister to stay within his home," she added, her gratefulness for Arthur's kindness not faked a bit. They would most likely both be dead or imprisoned again if he hadn't agreed to take them in.
"Oh, I see," the cardinal was looking at her differently now, his gaze darting between Helena and Arthur suspiciously. Helena still didn't understand, and looked confused even as the man got back into the carriage, surrounded by the remnants of his guard and the knights, and they once again set off for the fortress. Lancelot and Arthur road alongside her now, Tristan taking the lead to keep a watch out for more Woads.
"Well congratulations, we were successful in convincing the cardinal that you're Arthur's concubine," Lancelot said with a devilish smirk, and Helena gaped at him.
"What on earth are you talking about. Me? Arthur's concubine? Is the cardinal mentally deficient? Or are you completely insane?" she asked, though her voice didn't raise above a whisper.
"No, I'm afraid Lancelot's quite right. But, it will probably keep him away for you for a while if he thinks we are sleeping together, though I cannot guarantee the same safety for your sister," Arthur replied, and Helena could almost hear him laughing at her, though he didn't do it out right.
"Serves me right for leaving my room," she muttered with a sigh. "Oh, I do hope Livia made it back to the fortress safely enough."
"Why? Was she with you?" Galahad spoke up this time, looking surprised.
"Yes, we were out on a ride when I saw the Woads attacking the caravan. I sent her back for... oh dear, we may be meeting up with a legion of disgruntled Roman guardsmen in a few minutes," she muttered, looking slightly worried. The knights laughed outright, and Lancelot patted her on the back reassuringly.
"Don't worry, those men wouldn't get off of their asses unless they were certain they'd get to watch us die in the process," he assured her. "They most certainly wouldn't ride out to help protect us. We've got a bit of a rivalry."
"Why? Because you're Sarmatian?" she asked, curious.
"Partially, but it's mostly because we're cooler," Gawain stepped in, and Helena smirked.
"And better looking," added Galahad.
"And much more fertile," roared Bors, and they laughed, including Helena who recalled Livia telling her about his twelve un-named children.
Now that they weren't locked in the round table room with her at two o'clock in the morning, all of the knights that she had met previously seemed much more friendly to her, influenced, she supposed, by Livia herself. Her sister was rather irresistible to most people, while Helena tended to be the one that sat in the corner at festivities and was never asked to dance. She was fine with her position in those situations. She had never been one for large crowds anyway, she found them noisy and uncomfortable.
"How long will the cardinal be staying with us?" she asked out of sheer curiosity.
"A month or so until it can be arranged for him to return to Rome," Arthur replied, then leaned to whisper in her ear. "Until then, I suppose we'll have to put up with him. You aren't allowed to hide in your room anymore, seeing as he finds you agreeable and would seek you out regardless, understand?"
"Only if I have someone else with me at all times, I refuse to be alone with that man," she replied. "Man of the cloth or no, I trust him only as far as I can throw him."
"A wise choice," Gawain commended her. "Men of his 'situation' don't often pay as close attention to following their own laws as they do to all the other people who are disobeying them."
"And people wonder why we don't like Romans," Galahad said with a sigh, looking up at the sky thoughtfully.
"Because they've all got rods up their asses, that's why," Bors replied vulgarly, then swiftly apologized upon remembering that Helena was Roman.
"Oh, don't apologize, I quite agree with you. The whole lot of them act as if they were declared emperor of the universe, I can't stand the society types," she answered him, a slight smile on her face. "Besides, I'm not completely Roman. It's Arthur who ought to receive the apology."
"No, I'm quite used to it by now. I just insult Sarmatians once a month for good measure and get over it," he replied, and Helena laughed at him.
"Well that's hardly fair, for your men certainly have the bigger egos. That single insult probably pains them much more than the hundreds they must deliver every day do you," she joked. "I imagine they must badger you about it like old women until you apologize."
"You're quite right," Arthur agreed. "Especially Galahad."
"I'll second that," Gawain volunteered. "Galahad is the most whiny of all of us, you'll see that soon, milady."
"Hey, I'm not whiny!" Galahad interjected incredulously. "I never whine! You guys are always on my backs just because I'm the youngest..."
When he realized he was whining, he immediately stopped talking and just scowled at all of them as they laughed at him. Helena had to admit that even though she was now seen as a concubine by the cardinal, a rumor that would no doubt spread throughout the fortress for the next few days until she didn't have a moment of rest, she was glad she had decided to go on the horseback ride. For once she really could ascertain the characters of Arthur's knights, and she was glad to see that she found all of them rather enjoyable.
All except one, of course, one that not even spared her a glance upon the end of the battle. Even when he had made the cardinal back up with his horse, he had not met her eyes when she tried to express her thanks. Helena didn't know what to make of Tristan, but she dearly wished that she could have something to form her opinion off of. The man was a blank slate, the only time he had showed emotions was right before they almost kissed, and when she had seen them it had been the most intense moment of her life, for she had never in her life seen emotions raging so wildly in one person's eyes.
"He's been in a bad mood lately," Lancelot explained, seeing Helena's gaze settle on Tristan's back, watching as his hawk circled above him before landing on his arm. "He was the first of us to support your staying, you know. But since that night, he's been rather irritable and off-putting. Well more than usual, at least."
"I can't imagine Tristan being anything other than completely placid," she replied flatly, her eyes breaking away from him to look at Lancelot as she spoke.
"Ah, I thought I heard you two arguing about something when he escorted you back to your room. He didn't say anything too harsh did he? Because I'll give him a good smack for you if he did," volunteered Bors, who had been listening in on their conversation.
"We all will," added Galahad in his usual youthful perkiness. Of all the knights, Galahad was the one that Livia spoke the most highly of, though Helena was suspicious that it was more due to his good looks rather than his heroics. He seemed too young to be killing people left and right. When Helena was anywhere near him, she felt terribly low-key and laid-back in comparison, though she was younger by him by at least two years.
"Oh, no. I was just being silly, expecting a real reply from him and got angry with him when I didn't get one," she replied, telling the basic truth, though she would never hint at how that scene played out exactly.
"Tristan's not very good with people, you'll have to excuse him," said Gawain. "Dagonet's just quiet, but Tristan... he can say a thousand words in one stare. And most of them are something like 'I'm going to kill you'."
"Yes, I can see that," Helena replied, and they laughed.
She didn't notice Tristan's head turn at the sound of her laughter, nor the rage that flashed upon his face for the briefest of seconds when he noticed Gawain put an arm around her shoulders as they road. By the time that Helena's eyes had found Tristan's form again, he had already turned ahead, fuming quietly as he road, though she didn't know it. However, she did notice the tension in his back, and the way he urged his horse to go faster.
I wonder what's bothering him, she thought, but shook off the idea that anything ever bothered Tristan, focusing instead on the conversation around her.
When Tristan turned back to glance at them again, he saw Lancelot give Helena a bit of a shove as they joked around that came dangerously close to knocking her out of the saddle. That was when he gripped the reigns so hard his knuckles turned white.