Disclaimer: As before please, for the love of God, don't keep making me write it out people:O) Odell and Amila are all 13th C. names – but again thought they would work well here.

All reviews, and constructive criticism, gratefully received – but no flaming please; and I will try to update regularly.

'Thoughts'

"Speech"

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KING ARTHUR:

Fallen Knights Return

Chapter Sixteen – Relationships

Lancelot, though now clearly rattled at the thought of being tied in some way to a woman he barely knew, decided he could not just abandon her. He had given San his word that he would care for the woman until she…..woke up; he would not think of her dying.

He remembered her on the battlefield, how she had fought well – and had tried to come to his aid. The way she had joined them in dealing with Germanius; nay, he would not think of the alternative.

He felt her forehead, her fever was definitely waning, and her wound was healing. He was sure she would survive; of course, the hard part then would be waiting to see how much use she retained of that arm.

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Tristan and Gawain were tending their horses when Bethan came in "Father, will you teach me to use a sword?" he looked down at the small girl, the fact she now called him father still made him smile. He knew she wasn't his by blood, but in every other way she was.

"Why?"

"So I can protect you and Mama if the bad men come again…"

Gawain looked across with interest at how Tristan would handle this….

"I see; well, we do not have swords small enough for you…."

"A sword is not so much bigger than a dagger; I can use a dagger, Mama taught me…"

"Why?"

"Mama says "being able to protect yourself, at any age, is always preferable to relying on others" she intoned, and he could believe that San would have said that; particularly after what they had found out about her.

Gawain looked at the small girl, and thought of how her mother would be desperate to ensure that she did not end as she had - his heart constricted. He would never allow that to happen, no more than the others would.

Tristan crouched down "Well, you have me and the other knights now, Bethan – we will always protect you, and your Mama will never let aught happen to you."

He could see from her face that she was not convinced "But if I can handle a sword you would not have to leave me behind - I could ride into battle with you; I do not like being left behind.

I want to be a warrior Father; I want to be like you. I am a good fighter - I am the only one that Bors' children cannot best in a fight….I would make you proud…"

Tristan shut his eyes – he was already full of pride that she felt so much for him, that she wanted to be like him. None had ever cared enough for him to feel like that before – but….he could not let her, he could not let her become a killer as he and her mother had; he wanted so much more for her than that….

But then again…..being able to protect herself would not be a bad thing, surely?

"I am already proud of you Bethan…."

Gawain smiled, he knew Bors adored the little girl as much as all of them, but was not happy that she always bested all his children – from the youngest able to fight, to the oldest.

"I do not think you should worry about being a warrior yet; but I will teach you to use a bow and how better to wield a dagger; and I could teach you to scout. You already have a good eye and an affinity with nature; I think you would make a strong scout."

He saw the disappointment in her face at first; but then watched it brighten as she realised he was willing to aid her, up to a point.

She flung her arms round his neck and hugged him tightly. Gawain watched, as the usually gruff and isolated scout, hugged her fiercely back. "Father, Father I love you so dearly…." She whispered, but not so quietly the other knight could not hear her.

Gawain left them, a lump in his throat – and thanking the day San and Bethan entered their lives.

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Later that day, Lancelot came running onto the gallery "She is awake! Hello! Anyone! The bloody harpy is awake!" This one statement proved to all that their first meeting had not gone well…..

It had started agreeably enough; Alima had gradually awakened to find herself still alive, and a man she vaguely recognised sitting in a chair looking out the window. But as she tried to move, she found her right arm useless. Panic set in and the meeting went downhill from there…..

"What sorcery is this! Why can I not move this arm! Where are my tribe! Why have you tied me to you!"

"Ah, so you are awake finally. We fought hard to save you – I think a word of thanks might be a better place to start…." She merely glared so he sighed and continued.

"But as to your questions: There is no sorcery, your arm was badly injured, your tribe are around the fort, and it is an ancient custom of my people, I think, to save your life by tying your soul to mine..."

He thought later, that in retrospect, the last line was probably not the most well thought out….

"WHAT! You have stolen my SOUL?!" she struggled to sit up with her useless arm.

"NAY! I have not bloody stolen it! I merely tied it to mine…nay, wait…what I mean is….look…wait there and I will fetch San….remember San?"

With that he ran to the gallery, after he had nearly toppled before he realised that he had not cut the tie first - cursing everything in his power that he had allowed himself to be so pathetic to worry about a harpy such as this woadish witch!

San heard him shouting and smiled; so their first meeting had not gone well! She took the stairs two at a time and reached him quickly.

"San! Thank the stars! She is a harpy, a witch, a demon!"

"Calm down Lancelot; after all, she must be nice then…"

"NICE! How can you assume she is nice from that?"

"You said the same of me - remember?"

"I do not believe it – you are making a jest; a jest at a time like this? She. Is. A. Harpy! Go see for yourself…."

San entered the room, to be confronted by Amila trying to rise.

"I know how you must be feeling" she soothed, her voice taking on the hypnotic tone she usually reserved for the children "I was where you are, not so long ago; in fact I nearly died. Without my Tristan to guide me I would not have come back. But you cannot leave this room, until we know how to help heal your arm."

Amila looked at her, she remembered her as the woman from the Roman's house – who had been tormented by such demons, and had fought on the battlefield with such ferocity. The one Odell respected and liked; as her brother she would listen to his word and his alone….

She tried to fold her arms unsuccessfully a few times, causing Lancelot to laugh until he was kicked by San, then gave up and said mutinously "I want my brother; I want Odell!"

"You sound like Ivo - and he is only 5." Bethan stood at the door, with Tristan.

"She is being a difficult patient?" He asked.

Before San could reply, Lancelot spun round "DIFFICULT? Nay, not difficult….difficult would be a good thing."

He pointed accusingly at Amila "SHE is being an ungrateful, spoilt brat of a wench – is what she is being; for the love of me San, fetch her bloody brother and free me from the curse of being her carer!"

Tristan turned away before his friend could see his suppressed laughter – San did the same; however, no one had reckoned on Bethan, with Lucan in tow.

"You should be grateful that Lancelot is trying to help you; that we are all trying to help you. I am only seven summers, but I would not speak so to those who are trying to aid me. And my Mama and Father told me you were nice - they must have been very mistaken." She glared at Amila, though her face remained as passive as Tristan's always did.

"Yeah, very mistaken" chimed in Lucan, always keen to support his friend.

Lancelot smirked at Amila along with the children, and San had to remind herself that he was a grown man…..

Bethan's reprimand brought the Woad woman up short. She looked at the child, "Who is your father?"

"I am" Tristan stepped forward. Bethan slipped her small hand into his, looking up at him with complete adoration.

"My father is a brave knight, a fearsome warrior, and a formidable scout. I want to be just like him one day…." She said proudly.

Tristan's face gave nothing away – but he squeezed her hand. San's heart filled with pride and love for both of them.

Amila took a deep breath "You are lucky to have such a loyal daughter; and I think you are lucky to have such an impressive father. I am sorry if I appeared ungrateful – I was…." She could not admit to being scared "surprisedwhen I woke up. But I would like to see my brother….please".

Bethan beamed "See? Being nice is not so hard. I will fetch Odell for you". She ran off - with Lucan in tow, as usual.

"Maybe if I had spoken to you like that, you might have listened to me…."

"YOU stole my SOUL!"

"San will you tell this bloody witch, that I did not steal her soul…"

"He is right Amila. He only did 'the tie that binds'; he merely bound your soul to his to save your life. If you had died you would have taken his soul with you…"

"She would!"

"Aye….she would." She returned her attention to Amila "he tried to save you - he sat with you for two days. That is all he can be accused of Amila; you should not be so hard on him".

Amila was shocked, but before she could respond her brother came in. "You wish to see me Amila? I hear you are not being very grateful for all that is being done for you."

"Tattle tail….good!" Lancelot congratulated Bethan and Lucan.

"I am not...it was Lucan." Replied an indignant Bethan; Tristan patted her shoulder "Come Bethan, let us go and begin your lessons..."

"I like Lancelot and she was mean to him…." Muttered Lucan, earning a ruffled head and big grin from the knight.

"Lessons?" From San.

"Father is to teach me to use a bow, wield a dagger better and train me to be a scout!"

"It was either that or teach her to use a sword, so she can ride into battle with us…" his face and voice passive, San still saw the merriment in his eyes.

"I see…well, you better get on then." She smiled at Bethan, and over her head locked eyes with Tristan "I love you…" she mouthed. He flashed a brief smile.

"Come daughter, you will not be so eager to learn by nightfall – I am a hard taskmaster!"

"and I am a good student….so you will not frighten me!"

San heard Tristan's rare laughter as they went down the gallery outside.

Odell turned to his sister "this man spent much time tending you, even using his ancient traditions to save you, and you repay him like this? I am not pleased with you, Amila; we have many, many wounded, I will have to leave you here to their care and I expect you to accept it."

He turned to San "Are they bound?"

Lancelot and Amila both looked on expectantly "Aye…to a point. Not the same as Tristan and I because they are not in love. However, they will feel a connection for all time."

She looked at the two adversaries "In my opinion, you should learn to get along……"

"You are jesting!"

"I am not learning aught with him…."

"You will not have to – I only agreed to nurse you until you woke up; though I am wishing now you had not bothered."

"Good – and likewise so am I!"

"Actually" San smiled in a way Lancelot didn't like "we have many sick and injured to care for; we can spare no one, brother. Tristan says there is nothing to report from his scouting missions, so Arthur is more than happy for you to remain here…."

"WHAT!"

"That is fine…stuck with a soul eater…."

Odell smiled at San "My sister is very stubborn."

"As is my brother…."

"Then it seems eternity will be a lot longer for them."

They left to insults being hurled at them by both parties…..

Outside he stopped her "How is her arm?"

San's smile faded "I am unsure, I will check and advise you. Have you seen Merlin or Dagonet?"

"Merlin has gone to visit his tribe and Dagonet is with Bors training his children to fight better; because, apparently, your daughter bested them in two fights yesterday."

"Ah, aye she is very good at that…Poor Bors..." She laughed. "I will find Dag and get him to help me; I doubt she will relish Lancelot touching her arm - though perhaps I should insist? It might break the ice…"

"Well, it could end up with something being broken." he laughed "I think you are enjoying this."

"It is about time my brother met his match."

"Likewise my sister; she is too headstrong. How are you? I heard what happened on the battlefield."

"I am well; I did an unthinkable thing. But I wanted him to suffer as he made me suffer, and others.

Also I was concerned they would reject me for……what happened to me. I need not have worried; Tristan is my rock, he never once questioned his love for me. The other knights too, supported me. I am so very lucky."

"Indeed, I wish I was so fortunate. But I believe one day I will meet my mate. I think Amila has met hers."

"Lancelot! You cannot mean him? But they hate each other." she chuckled.

"I have learnt it is a thin line between love and hate Sandrina; my sister will learn the same lesson." He smiled. He liked this woman, it was a shame……a shame she belonged so wholly to another.

"Well, in that case I will certainly watch them closely – I could do with some amusement!" She laughed.

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Down below Tristan was watching "Try all you want to win her from me Woad, you will never succeed." he muttered.

His lesson with Bethan was going well. He was surprised what a quick study she was; the same as he - the only difference was when she made a mistake, there was no beating for her as there was for him.

"Would you like to come on a scouting mission with me this afternoon?"

His answer was to be knocked off his feet - only this time in a hug so fierce he thought she would strangle him.

They rolled around in the dirt for some minutes - their laughter ringing round the compound.

Gawain and Galahad walked past…….

"Bested by a child Tristan - unthinkable; even if she is your own daughter!" laughed Galahad.

"What will Arthur say? His wondrous scout brought down by a 7 year old girl!" crowed Gawain.

Bethan stood as quickly as Tristan. Regarding them mutinously she ran at them with the wooden shield and dagger he had made for her; and before they knew what was happening she had attacked them! She could not best them, though she did knock Gawain over, but she surprised them with the ferocity of her attack.

"Never ridicule my father again! He is a man beyond reproach, and as his friends you should not speak of him so!" She was boiling mad.

All three men looked on her incredulously; Gawain picking himself up, not knowing what to say. She certainly had her mother's temper.

"We merely jest Bethan that is all. Your father is well used to it and knows we mean him no harm or disrespect" Galahad spoke quietly; upset he had distressed the child –for all the knights adored her.

She was a brave, sensible little soul; with a resolute spirit they admired. None forgot the picture of her waiting with Lucan for them to return that first time; nor the boy's later halting admission that it was she that was determined most to wait. Nor did they forget the way she tried to be brave on seeing her mother.

"Aye…we jest only." Agreed Gawain.

She hesitated, adopting that same stillness that Tristan had. She looked to him for agreement. He nodded "They speak true, Bethan."

"Then I will apologise, but to hurt him is to hurt me. I will not let him be injured in any way. Will you take my hand as a sign all is forgiven, and forgotten?" she offered her hand to both knights. They shook on it, and ruffling her hair went on their way.

"I would hate to meet her on the field of battle in a few years…" said Gawain.

"I would hate to meet her there now…."

Tristan stood, his face set and impassive, but too emotional to speak. No one had defended him like that in his life; no one.

"Are you angry?" She sparked him out of his reverie.

"Why should I be?"

"Because I lost my temper and tried to hurt your friends…"

"Nay, I am not angry; I am touched you love me so to want to."

"Of course I do; you gave me and Mama our lives back."

He put his hand on her shoulders and knelt down in front of her "And you both gave me my humanity; it is a fair trade."

She kissed his cheek "I love you Papa…"

"And I you." he flashed a brief smile at the endearment.

Sandrina walked up. "I hear you have been defending your father."

"They jested, I did not know."

"It was not a wrong thing, Bethan; I am proud you love him so."

"I always will; he is my father in every way that counts. I will go and wash now - it will soon be time for food and I am starving!" She ran off.

"She is amazing" said Tristan.

"She is; every day a little more than the one before."

"Come here…" She went to him and he led her into the stables; pushing her into the hay, he fell down beside her. Drawing her into his arms, he kissed her fiercely. "I love you."

"And I you…"

He held her gaze "Do I have to kill him?"

"Who?"

"Odell, the Woad; he seems much smitten with you." His voice as passive as always, but his eyes held merriment and….something else.

"You are jealous! I do not believe you can be jealous of a friend!" she smiled, laughter in her voice.

"It shows what you do to me." He muttered into her hair, hands caressing her face and neck.

She gave into his kisses, "You are the sun in my day – the moon in my night. Without you I am nothing; never doubt me Tristan." she groaned as his hands drove her mad.

"It is not you I worry about." He kissed her deeply, his hands tugging at her shirt.

"Tristan!" she wriggled away, laughing – but he could see the passion and love in her eyes "It is the middle of the day – someone might come in to tend the horses!"

He stood and swept her into his arms "Then we will go somewhere we will not be disturbed!" and carried her to their room, kicking the door shut behind them.

"Where are they going?" Lucan asked Bethan.

"I do not know; but they get all kissy about it, whatever it is…." She pulled a face.

"Ewwww". Lucan was not impressed.

"I am going scouting with my father this afternoon!"

"You are lucky; I wish I could come!"

"Shall I ask?"

"Would he agree?"

"He might…."

"Let us ask then…"

"Not now" she looked at the shut door "when they close the door, they will be there for some time. They make a lot of noise, sometimes. Lancelot says they are moving the furniture about.

We have been here six months; Tristan has been with Mama for nearly 4 of those, and there is not that much furniture in there; you think they would be fed up with moving it about by now…."

"Are they not?"

"Nay, they do it most nights, and sometimes in the day too; I hear them."

"Grown ups - they never make any sense."

Arthur, Guinevere and Dagonet were walking across the training area, on their way to the main building to discuss Amila, and overheard the whole exchange. Arthur would never know how he kept from laughing out loud.

Guinevere had a novel way; she held her nose and closed her eyes. Dagonet just stood, eyes watering, his mouth clamped shut. From the roars of laughter from the tack room, Gawain and Galahad had no intention of doing the same.

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Fate's game played on; the wheels of Destiny move forward….this time affecting father and daughter.