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: I know this chapter is long overdue! I'm so sorry it took me so long to post it, but I was on vacation in Florida and didn't get back until a few days ago, and along with an on going illness, it's been difficult to find my way to the computer, even for my dearest readers. I promise I'll be returning to my prompt self very soon.

On a side note, the beginning of this chapter is much more entertaining if you listen to 'It's Raining Men' while you read it. Somehow that makes everything at least 75 funnier than it already is.

Reviews are appreciated!

Chapter Nine

Tristan had just gotten the urgent summons to the Round Table room when he happened to overhear a conversation that would change the way the rest of his life would flow. He had been walking past the Roman guardsmen's barracks, taking his time as he didn't much feel like going into another meeting and was in the mood to go out riding with his hawk for a good while or to spend another afternoon with Helena by his side, when by some impulse he stopped near the common room door as he overheard someone speaking. Normally, Tristan wasn't one for eavesdropping unless he thought the matter to be extremely important, but something in his gut told him that this was a conversation he didn't want to miss. Maybe Helena and her little 'intuitions' were starting to get to him.

"... and she's been ignoring me for that damned scout of Arthur's, even though he isn't her very own personal knight in shining armor," came a plaintive voice that Tristan recognized as Alaric's. Neither he nor Helena had heard much from the guardsmen commander from Rome after they had become more involved, and he had assumed that Alaric was done with his pursuit of Helena.

"Well, he is a knight, Alaric. Maybe she's attracted to people like that," reasoned whoever Alaric was speaking with. "You know how fickle women are. I mean, you saved her life and all, but maybe you just aren't dangerous enough for her."

"And that slave is?" Alaric grumbled, making Tristan grind his teeth in irritation at the slight. Yes, he was technically a slave to the Romans, but not once had he been called as such. It was sickening. "I lost a good pocketful of gold paying off that man. He sent it all home to his family, too, so there's no way I can get it back. Maybe if I had let him truss her up a little bit more instead of rushing in so quickly..."

"You can't help it if he didn't scare her badly enough. Besides, the knights were in there so quickly, you didn't have time to comfort her or anything of the sort," the other man answered. "It's so hard to hire good help these days. But then again, women are so hard to get through to. You would've been better off actually letting him rape her."

Tristan didn't need to hear anymore. Without another word, he burst into the room, pushing back the one man and throwing a wild punch, catching Alaric hard in the face. The guardsman looked momentarily surprised, before he tackled Tristan over a table, sending both of them splaying to the ground, though they were quick to get up. Grabbing Alaric by the neck of his tunic, he shoved the guardsman out of the common room and out into the open, wanting more room to pound the slimy bastard into a pulp before he killed him. He punched the other man in the face before being plunged headfirst into the water trough by the man, throwing another punch and missing as his hair fell in his eyes. A large group of people had gathered, watching in interest as Alaric punched Tristan again, getting the knight in the jaw, but not deterring him whatsoever. They were even cheering them on, most of the citizens cheering for Tristan while the guards cheered for Alaric.

Feeling his anger for the bastard growing even stronger, Tristan punched Alaric as hard as he could, catching the man right in the stomach and making him double over before kicking him to the ground. Chest heaving, Alaric picked himself up off of the ground, catching a glancing blow at Tristan's arm, then managed to get him in the side with his other fist rather hard. Somewhere in the background, Helena had emerged from the tavern and was attempting to get to them but Lancelot (thankfully) had a hold on her, keeping her from getting herself hurt by doing something foolish. The gods knew that Helena had a bad habit of flinging herself into things she couldn't possibly get out of if she didn't have more luck then every man in the fortress combined.

"Wait! Wait!" Alaric pleaded, and Tristan waited a moment while the guardsman seemed to recover himself. However, he was caught by surprise when the man threw a flying tackle, catching him unawares and throwing him painfully to the ground. Alaric got one good punch in while they were down before Tristan's fist connected firmly with his jaw, sending him sprawling.

Tristan quickly got to his feet, grabbing an abandoned shield and catching Alaric in the side with it as he attempted to get back up. Helena finally managed to break from Lancelot's strong grip just as Alaric rose, putting herself between both men. Tristan was panting heavily, and wiped blood out of the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand as he stared down Alaric over Helena's head.

"What in the hell are you two doing?" she demanded. "This isn't some bloody wrestling ring you realize? There are children here."

"Bastard just came in and attacked me," Alaric defended himself, glaring at Tristan, who put a hand on the small of Helena's back very gently.

"I overheard Alaric talking about how he hired that man that attacked you in your bedroom so that he could come in and be a big hero for you," Tristan told her, his lips close to her ear. He didn't have to look to know that her hands had formed into fists.

"Oh really? Go on then," she prompted him, stepping out from between the two and staying nearby with her arms crossed over her chest, standing next to Dagonet with a look of annoyance on her face. Stirred on by Helena's approval, Tristan through another punch, tossing Alaric to the ground easily. With a kick to the gut for good measure, Tristan crouched over the guardsman, grabbing him by the front of his tunic and pulling a dagger out of his boot.

"If I ever see you near her, or this place, again I will kill you in the slowest, most painful way that I can think of, do you understand me?" he threatened, his voice as cold as death. Alaric nodded, his eyes wide with fear. He was lucky today. Not many people got to hear Tristan's voice like that, and very few of them had survived to tell others about it. Re-sheathing his dagger, Tristan rose to be greeted by Helena, putting an arm around her waist as she looked down at the man in disgust while he looked up at her in pleading. Much to his surprise, she aimed a hard kick at a place that no man should ever be kicked in before adding an caveat to Tristan's former statement.

"But first I'll take that sorry excuse for manhood you've got hidden down there," she said. Alaric looked like he might be crying. Tristan certainly felt like he might, just thinking about the absolute agony of being kicked so hard in the genitals. He fought the urge to limp out of pity for the man and allowed Helena to lead him away, not willing to go against her wishes with the mood she was in.

She led him into her bedroom, sitting him on the edge of her bed while she filled a basin with some water from a pitcher, wetting a cloth with it as she began cleaning the blood off of his face with a tenderness that had never been afforded to him by anyone before. Her hands lightly brushed his tattoos as she looked his face over to make sure that she hadn't missed any blood before Helena pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of Tristan's mouth then sat on the bed next to him, taking his hand into hers in order to clean up his bloodied knuckles. She was frowning a bit as she did so, and Tristan knew she didn't like the way the skin had ripped from punching Alaric.

"It doesn't hurt badly, I promise," he said to her as she began very gently cleaning his hand, making little noises when she could tell it hurt him even though Tristan didn't make a sound. He was so content just watching her that he barely even felt the stinging sensation as the rough cloth brushed his wounds. She kissed his hand above his knuckles before taking the next one and cleaning it as well.

"You really shouldn't have done that. Won't Arthur be angry?" Helena asked quietly as she worked, her eyes never leaving Tristan's hand.

"Not when he hears my reasoning. Ow!" he exclaimed when she got him on an exceptionally tender part of his hand.

"Sorry," she murmured, becoming even more gentle with him. "What were you doing by the guard chambers anyway?"

"Arthur called us to a meeting in the round table room," Tristan replied, watching the expression on Helena's face subtly change into one of panic before melting away into the calm that he was so familiar with.

"Do you know what for?" she asked casually, finishing with his hand and setting it back on the bed so she could stand and get some bandages for his knuckles.

"I thought I saw Livia speaking with him earlier, so I imagine you already know what all of this is about," Tristan replied, watching as her shoulders stiffened though her back was to him. He wondered if she hid emotions when she was alone as well, or if her face displayed the discomfort she was feeling while it wasn't facing him. He rose from the bed, putting a hand on her shoulder, and Helena jumped slightly as if she hadn't heard him rise. "What is it?"

"It's– it's nothing," she replied, turning back to him. "Come, let's bandage those hands."

However, Tristan wasn't about to let her get away with that, even though he knew that he'd be hearing everything about it in a few minutes from Arthur, for some reason he'd prefer to hear Helena say it first. Mostly because Helena knew true, unadulterated fact, while Arthur knew only what her twin thought he should know. He put one hand on her shoulder, the other cupping her cheek. Helena turned her face in and kissed his palm, but he could see the blatant shine of fear in her eyes. The idea that anything could scare her enough to make her show it was enough to nearly floor Tristan, and his voice was decidedly soft when he spoke next.

"What happened?" he asked. "What did Livia see?"

Helena searched his eyes for a moment before moving closer to him, wrapping her arms around Tristan's waist and resting her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her in return, running his fingers through her hair and kissing her on the top of her head. She said nothing and they stood there for a long minute. At first, he wondered if she was crying until finally she spoke up, her voice free from tears.

"She won't tell me everything, Tristan, but there's someone coming to the fortress, and it's not going to be good. She says that the battle will be long and bloody and she's not sure who will win," Helena replied, burying her face in his tunic and hugging him even more tightly.

"You aren't safe here," he said, pushing her slightly away from him so he could look Helena in the face. "We can have you and Livia out of the fortress by dawn tomorrow, I'm sure Arthur would be more than happy to supply you."

"I'm not leaving," she replied almost viciously in a tone that he had never heard before. "I won't leave you here."

Tristan sighed, "Helena, I cannot leave with you. I am bound to protect this fortress until my fifteen years are over. If I was to break that contract, we'd have more than just the men after Livia to worry about. The entire church would be attempting to hunt us down. Besides, I owe my allegiance to Arthur, I could not leave him even if I was given the opportunity."

"Then I'm staying too," Helena declared in a decided tone. Tristan sighed again, kissing her forehead and pulling her closely to him.

"There's nothing I can do to stop you, is there?" he asked her in a slightly hopeless voice, fiddling with her hair as he tried not to think about what could happen to her if she was left behind. She had never gone into detail as to what happened when the men that had been chasing herself and her sister had captured her, but just mentioning it in front of her made it quite clear that it was horrific. He couldn't let something like that happen to her again, he wouldn't.

"Not a thing," she confirmed, pressing a kiss to his jaw and burying her face in the crook of his neck, her warm breath tickling him. "I just couldn't leave you. Not like that."

For a moment, Tristan just stood there and held Helena, closing his eyes and memorizing the moment. How could something be so painful? He didn't know his heart could feel as if it was breaking at just the mere idea of someone else dying. He had been killing as a career for years now, and the loss of a single woman, insignificant to the rest of the world, could bring him to his knees with grief? As unlikely as it seemed, it was happening, and for whatever reason Tristan didn't find it as intolerable as he thought he would've. In fact, it seemed like the most reasonable emotion he had ever felt in his life.

He didn't even realize it when he started kissing Helena, forgetting about his hands as he pulled her tightly against him as he took in the feeling of her hands fisting in his hair or her soft lips as she responded eagerly to his caress. Tristan could practically hear the blood rushing through his veins, his heart was pounding so loud, and he knew Helena felt the same way as she pulled away for a moment in order to draw breath, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glassy. She smiled fondly up at him in the kind, trusting way that he had become accustomed to her looking at him with, before moving in to kiss him again as eagerly as before, hands gripping his tunic, tongue searching his mouth. It was he that pulled away this time, hoping he hadn't turned red.

"That's probably not a good idea," he warned her. "We should stop."

"Why?" Helena asked, looking vaguely disappointed.

"Because we're in a room alone and you haven't had the best..." he was more than surprised when her lips cut him off, pressing hard against his own.

"I trust you, Tristan. Whenever I'm with you, all those horrible things that happened to me... it's like they went away," she told him, her eyes bright with passion. "There isn't anyone else I'd rather be with."

"Are you sure?" he asked, moving a little closer, trying not to be eager.

"Yes," she whispered, closing the gap between them once more.

Tristan practically stumbled into the Round Table Room an hour later, much to Arthur's amusement. He had seen the fight that had erupted between his knight and the Roman guard, and after hearing about Tristan's reasoning, he wasn't about to punish his friend for perfectly reasonable anger. Arthur would've done much the same had he heard the information first. And when he'd seen Helena usher her lover off into a room to tend to his wounds, he'd been glad to wait for Tristan to return, no matter how long it took. And no matter how much snickering he heard from Lancelot and Gawain through the whole time. The strangely happy and satisfied look on Tristan's face upon his entrance had been enough to make all of that time spent waiting worth it. He was happy for Tristan, despite his own loneliness.

"You're late," Galahad reminded Tristan with a knowing smile on his youthful face.

"I got...distracted," Tristan reasoned, taking his seat and not meeting anyone's eyes. Arthur couldn't help but smile at this, but didn't say anything. Lancelot, however, had never thought on the same wavelength as his commander.

"Yes, Helena must be quite a...distraction," the curly-haired knight said with a smirk. "Seeing as your belt's gone missing and your tunic is crooked. What in the world could you have possibly been doing?"

"Leave him be, Lancelot," Dagonet warned the other knight, and gestured to Arthur. "Arthur called us here for a reason. We'll leave trivial matters for the tavern."

"Thank you," Arthur said to the knight, who nodded his bald head in reply, his eyes twinkling merrily with humor. His commander, however, could not help but be grave. After what Livia had told him within his quarters earlier, he didn't know what to think, and couldn't begin to guess what his knights reactions would be. "This morning, Livia intercepted me after breaking the fast to tell me of a recent vision that she's been having during the night. I come to you today to not only relay it to you, but to get your opinions on what should be done. There is a way that we can remain inactive in the future, though it would mean doing something that I, and I'm sure the rest of you, would be reluctant to do."

Tristan was glaring at him, Arthur could practically feel his scout's white hot glare penetrating his skin. They both knew what they would have to do in order to prevent what was going to happen from happening, and as much as Arthur hated to do this, he had to give his men the option not to fight. It wasn't their battle, after all, but the battle of two young women who had been unlucky enough to get in the way of some very angry and dangerous men. If his men didn't feel the cause was worthy... then Arthur would have no choice but to send Helena and Livia away in order to avoid the attack, a possibility that Livia had already presented to him.

"Well, Arthur, get on with it," Bors urged on impatiently. It was clear his men wanted to know what was heading towards them, and Arthur couldn't blame them. He had never given them the option not to fight before, and because of it they had lost quite a few men. However, all those times, the fights had been directed by the church, who he hadn't been willing to disagree with until recently. The new problem was as far away from the church as it could possibly get.

"Livia has had a vision of a great battle taking place outside of the fortress against the men that have been chasing herself and her sister for these many years," Arthur announced, and waited a moment for the idea to sink in before speaking again. "She says that they will come unexpectedly, and with great force but that despite the fact, we will win the battle. Many lives will be lost, though she says none of my knights will be struck down. She tells me that there will be blood, and a lot of it."

He paused again, not intending for it to be dramatic, but in order to take in the look on his men's faces. Galahad looked a little reluctant at the idea of a great battle, which would most likely be the likes of which he had never seen before. Or any of them, for that matter. Lancelot and Gawain seemed to be in deep thought over the ordeal, though his best friend had a ready look on his face that suggested that he would fight a battle, even if it wasn't his own. Dagonet and Bors appeared to have already made up their minds and were speaking quietly to one another, debating over what weapons they would take and how much they would bet as to whom would kill the most. Tristan... Tristan didn't need to think about it, Arthur already knew this. His scout would be reluctant to take up the battle under any other circumstance, feeling that it wasn't their problem to deal with, but since he had become so entwined with Helena, there was no doubt that he would be more than happy to kill her aggressors. He stared back at Arthur, his dark eyes glimmering with an emotion that was indescribable, an emotion that Arthur had never seen before on the stoic man's face.

"We do not have to fight this battle, however," Arthur finally continued, satisfied by the idea that perhaps his men were more ready for this than he originally thought. "Livia has already presented the possibility that we could send herself and her sister away from the fortress, luring the men elsewhere and keeping us out of harm's way. I, personally, am unwilling to do this. However, I am leaving this as an open forum. It is your decision, men, and not mine that will affect the outcome of this meeting. It is your decision whether or not I will step out of here in order to tell Helena and Livia they must get ready to leave, or whether I tell them that we are willing to stand up for a cause that is not entirely our own."

"You already know what my answer is to all of this," Tristan replied.

"Well, Dagonet and I are in as well," Bors said after a long moment, looking sure of himself.

"As am I," volunteered Lancelot.

"And I," added Gawain.

There was only one person left to wait for, and all of the knight stared at Galahad expectantly. He looked rather reluctant to answer, and Arthur wouldn't be shocked if the young man didn't just leave the room without giving his answer. Galahad had already been a pacifist. Fighting had never been his forte, a fact that he brought up more than once. No one would be surprised if he said he refused to fight, however they all waited patiently for his answer.

Galahad sighed, "Alright, I'll do it."

The men looked exceedingly proud of him, and Tristan rose to pat him on the back before leaving the room to tell the sisters who were waiting patiently outside. Already, Arthur could hear Livia's excited whooping and Helena's soft murmur as she spoke with her lover. He couldn't help but smile, though the prospect of battle was not a welcome one. He could only hope that it all ended as well as Livia said it would, and that the sisters would be able to live in happiness and comfort for the rest of their lives. No one deserved it more.

"Someone see to it that both sisters are trained with swords," Arthur finally said to the remaining knights. "Though I would prefer that neither is in combat, it may not be avoided and I would rest easier knowing they know how to defend themselves."