Chapter 2: First Meeting

Winter, 452 A.D.

Tristan stared impassively at the villagers of Marius' fort. They moved too slow, they would never make it. He then glanced at Arthur, who was shouting instructions at the peasants. He insisted to save everyone. As always.

There was a piercing shriek, which belonged to only one hawk. He tilted his head skywards and smiled almost unnoticeably at his friend. She gracefully glided through the snowflakes falling from the sky, and landed on his outstretched hand.

"Where are they?" he murmured, feeding her a piece of raw meat.

Her sharp eyes penetrated into his, and he sensed urgency. Just then, Tristan picked up the distant noise of drums. Saxon drums.

A hush descended on the entire village, amplifying the volume of the dreaded thuds. Tristan locked eyes with Lancelot, who was obviously against bringing the villagers along.

"Arthur."

The call of Galahad brought Tristan's attention to their commander. He was striding across the grounds towards a desolate stone building that had neither windows nor doors. It had been walled up, he could see the hint of fresh paste under a rectangle of new rocks.

Tristan nudged his dappled grey gently, and he trotted over to the stone building along with the others. Lancelot had already reached Arthur, desperate to dissuade his best friend from doing what they all knew he would do.

"Arthur, we don't have time," he said, voicing anxiety as well as annoyance.

Arthur ignored Lancelot, and turned to Dagonet, giving him a curt nod. The giant leapt off his mare and detached his axe from its strap, and strode over to the building. With a mighty heave, he brought his weapon down on the rocks, which fell instantly to his strong stroke. A few Roman guards ran over, waving their hands over their heads.

"No! Stop it!" said one, flinging himself at Dagonet.

Arthur unsheathed Excalibur and placed it menacingly on the man's neck in one fluid movement. "Move out of the way," he snarled.

The Roman nodded and backed away, trembling. Marius noticed the commotion and hobbled over, weighted under thick and rich furs.

"What are you doing?" he cried. Bors spurred his horse forward and blocked the plump man's way, his face bearing a murderous look.

"Move one step further, and I'll kill you," Tristan heard him hiss. He smirked and turned his sight back to the door, which was now open with one last blow of Dagonet's axe.

Arthur, Dagonet, Gawain and Lancelot went inside, leaving the other three outside to keep an eye on the aggravated Romans.

"I can't see why he must do this," grumbled Galahad, evidently unnerved by the growing sound of Saxon drums.

Tristan did not reply, but eyed an idle hawk hovering above the trees from the corner of his eye.

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Abigail gazed intently at the mounted men outside the stone building. She knew that they were the legendary knights of the Round Table, and she knew that she had to be careful.

She saw the man on the dappled grey staring at her hawk, the hawk that was given to her after its master was killed on the beach that fateful day. She cringed at the memory. She had witnessed many slaughters and massacres after that day, but the first sight of a man falling dead still plagued to her in dreams.

She had endured so much pain after that day the Saxons came. Fortunately, Cerdic made it clear that they would not "taint" their Saxon blood with any other tribe's. It was the only thing Abigail did not disdain about the man.

She had laid there on the tree for about an hour, watching the pathetically slow movement of the villagers. She smirked. The Saxons would have no trouble overrunning them, and that would happen very soon. The Commander of the Knights, the legendary Arthur, had obviously commanded the people to head South. Over perilous mountains, and through thick woods until they reached the safety of Hadrian's Wall.

Abigail knew the trails well. She had been scouting for a year in the Northern territory under the command of Cerdic. She knew that the journey would kill many of the peasants with the cold, merciless weather. She smirked again. Another advantage to the Saxons.

Serving under the brutal Saxons had made her immune to violence, and to death, as long as it did not involve her. She was not the timid girl she was a year ago, she was a woman now. A woman who had gone through excruciating pain and experience which had twisted her formerly gentle temperament to that of a heartless warrior's. She had learned how to use a bow and wield a sword, and how to survive in a world of savages. She knew that she had to fight to live, and she would gladly kill any other to stay alive.

Shame clouded her heart for a second, but she quickly shook it off. Fate had been unkind to her, and she had no choice. It was not her fault.

Sudden chaos in the village brought her out of her trance. She squinted, and saw a fat man, clearly the landlord, fussing around. She decided that it was time to act.

Carefully, she climbed down from the tree and dusted her only dress- the one she had worn to the beach almost year ago. It was a bit thin for the current weather, but it should do the trick. She ducked low, darting agilely between leaves and branches, till she had gotten to the village. When nobody was looking, she slipped out of the shadows of the forest and pulled a worried face. She approached an elderly and volunteered to take his heavy bag, which he gladly accepted. Then she made an excuse to return to the village, and ran to the crowd which had gathered around the stone building.

She could not see what was going on, since a large mob had assembled, but she caught sight of the scout, who was standing apart from the crowd, staring at her.

She could see his face clearly now. It was tanned, covered by scars and tattoos, almost hidden behind random, unruly braids. His sat with a natural grace on the saddle, his hawk perched on one side of his strong shoulders. His gaze was piercing, and she returned it, while making her way to him.

"Sir, what way are we supposed to go?" she asked with a fake Roman accent.

"South," came the brief answer.

"But there are mountains, I don't think my father will make it," she lied, faking a worried face.

"I can't do anything about it," he replied and wheeled his horse away.

Abigail stared at his back, then retreated a fair distance before bounding into the protection of bushes again. She found her bundle of clothes and weapons, and quickly changed, her hands clumsy and freezing. Then she whistled gently, and a bay horse appeared from its hiding place. He was taken from one of the villages they had raided, and she knew that it would be slaughtered and thrown aside when it had done its job.

Just like her.

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Hello! Thank you for SEVEN reviews! Wow, this is like, totally unexpected :D I hope you liked this chapter. It's rather short, but I'm quite happy with it. I love writing about first meetings lol. I won't be updating for a few days with a camp and school coming up, but I'll write as soon as I can!

Shout-outs to my lovely reviewers before I go :D

GalahadsFallenKnight0: Hey! Glad you liked the beginning! Hehe, I won't tell you the pairing yet, but I think it's already getting obvious… lol.

Mysticpig: I know! I had such a hard time writing this chapter, I'm not used to killing (literally) anyone. I hope you liked this chapter!

KnightMaiden: Hmm? What's wrong with Galahad? xD Lol, don't worry, rambling is love!

AngelTears1328: Glad you think it's interesting! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Andysprettylady: Aw, thanks a lot!

Kasora: -hands tissue- Aw, don't cry lol! Yeah, she falls in love with a knight, but lust? I'm not sure lol, but if she does, remember to tell me ;)

HyperSquishy: Hehe, I'm cold-blooded, aren't I? xD Hope you liked the chapter!