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 Seventeen – Father and Daughter

That afternoon, after an hour of 'moving furniture' and then eating, Bethan was thrilled that her father decided he would still take her scouting.

Her mother was not sure this was a good idea, but he reassured her that there had been nothing he had seen to indicate any more Celts were in the area. Her father felt that they had probably gone to regroup, and it would be a while yet before they had more trouble.

San watched them go, her heart in her mouth, she knew she was worrying about nothing – Tristan would let no harm befall her….nay, their….daughter. But still….

Lucan was not happy he had not been able to go. Tristan liked the boy, but it was not a general ride out – this was training. "I am sorry Bethan, but nay…..this is to train you to be a scout." She looked upset "Mayhap you can go for a ride with Lucan tomorrow."

She was mollified, the boy was not….

Lucan watched Bethan mount her horse; she rode well for a child, everyone said so. He was so proud when people said nice things about her; she was a very special friend to him.

He watched her sitting on her horse, the horse the knights had got for her - she was beaming; and he was……jealous.

They had been inseparable since she came to the fort; only parting at night for sleep, and sometimes not even then – San would let her sleep at his home or he would sleep at Bethan's; curled up together in her room talking about what they would be when they got older - both wanted to be warriors like their fathers, and mother in Bethan's case. Though Bethan wanted to be a scout now too….

But now she was off and doing something he knew Tristan would never teach him. No matter how Tristan was with Bethan and her mother, he was still the same pragmatic knight with all else.

'So were they' he thought. Mother and daughter had a chosen few they let in to their world – all else were shut out. Nicely; and in a friendly way, but shut out none the less. He knew he and his father were lucky to be one of those few they allowed in, as he always felt a sense of peace around the two of them.

He sighed 'back by nightfall' that's what Tristan had said as he kissed San goodbye, said they were only going as far as the forest. He looked into the sky, the hawk wheeled high above the two riders – it was afternoon, a nice summer's day, and that would mean the sun would set late. Still, only a few hours at best; he wandered away kicking a stone dejectedly.

Dagonet and Sandrina exchanged a look "Their devotion to each other is touching, but I hope it does not burn itself out too quickly." Dag said.

"I think this is one of those 'for life' things Dag; we'll end up related, you'll see!" she laughed and walked towards the stables, the horses neighing a greeting. Hunter in particular pleased to see her.

"Well, my lads – I am with you today, not the tavern; it is time we sorted you out!"

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Bethan rode on with Tristan - the companionable silence embracing them. That was another reason not to bring the boy – he talked too much these days; gone was the silent child, now he was a bag of chatter and nonsense. But he was just a child; although so was Bethan, and yet she was not like that.

He looked across at her; she was looking all around her, taking everything in 'Just like a good scout should' he thought with a private smile. "What do you see?"

"I see the blue sky above me, the sun on my back and the wind in face….just like my dream." she beamed, still looking about her.

"What else? Look more closely."

"I see your hawk above us; and horses hoof prints, and the tramp of many fighters on the ground. I see where weapons have been broken and….bodies I think, as there is much staining that looks like blood in the dirt."

"That is very good; what else?"

She looked up again at the horizon "I see the forest coming toward us; we must be on our guard as the forest can hide the enemy from us, as well as it can hide us from them."

"What do you hear?"

She listened intently for a few moments "Nothing, save the call of the hawk and plod of our horses."

"You learn very well Bethan".

"I have a good teacher" she smiled at him "Shall we live the dream?"

"Aye."

They let their horses have free rein, hurtling across the valley to the forest; the sun on their backs, blue sky above them and the wind in their face, the freedom that comes with being able to run as far and as fast as they wish with no one to hinder them.

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An hour later, they rode quietly through the forest; nothing untoward had happened and no signs, other than that of Woads, had been seen. Tristan was quickly seeing that he had a scout in the making that would be better than even he.

Bethan missed nothing; eyes that took in everything, ears that heard all. A broken twig, a bird twitter, a print in the dirt; she saw and heard everything. He was so proud of her, and strangely touched. Her mannerisms, the way she spoke, even the way she had her hair, were all of him; in all those ways he could say, hand on heart, she was his daughter, his blood.

The only difference between them was her huge blue eyes and her blond hair…..like her mother's.

Sandrina; it disturbed him how much he loved that woman - he had never let anyone ever take over his heart as completely as she had. Never let anyone past his defences, to see the real him inside.

She worried about the way he would treat her after the battle, after she killed that…..thing; for you could not call him man or beast, neither would treat their own kind so. She thought he would reject her for what she had been subjected to; but how could he? How could he reject his own heart, his own soul?

Deep down he knew it was the very darkness in her that drew him, as much as the light. He had done many things in the name of Rome; things that he had not felt comfortable with in the beginning – but you did get a taste for killing in the end, and he felt she understood that.

What she had done to that thing was brutal, but it was deserved even Arthur admitted that.

But no matter about all else, all he knew was she was his and he hers, heart soul and body; the last made him smile.

"If we let our guard down we are fools." Bethan looked at him.

"What?"

"You were not paying attention; that is foolish."

"Who told you that?"

"You….well, and my mother…"

"I learnt it from your mother…." They shared a smile, it was San's favourite saying "fear is good, it keeps your guard up - only a fool drops their guard."

"What were you thinking?"

"How much I love your mother; and you."

"I am glad; so you will not leave us?"

"Never….I….."

They both heard the crack of a twig - both looked in the same direction.

"Get off the horse now!" whispered Tristan urgently. They both jumped to the ground "Stay behind me and keep your eyes open."

Bethan whirled around him, her back to his back – just as he had taught her. She was frightened, very frightened. But she would not let it show. She schooled her face into an impassive mask like her father.

She fingered the dagger at her belt - just in case. Her mother's words swirled round and round in her head 'fear is good, fear is good, fear is good…'

Two Celts stepped out of the wood - before they knew what was happening Tristan was on them. He cut them down before they even realised; but then heard a sharp gasp….

He turned and saw a third had grabbed Bethan when he had moved forward to take out the other two. He cursed himself for not realising such a simple manoeuvre.

"Drop the sword, you Sarmatian pig!" drawled the man, holding a knife to Bethan's throat.

Tristan saw her eyes wide with fear, but her face as impassive as his; she moved her left hand, he saw a flash of metal – she dug her dagger deeply into the man's side….

"What the!" as he jerked, he released his grip momentarily; that was all Bethan needed - she squirmed loose, and ran….

Tristan threw his dagger and buried it in the Celt's chest - he stepped forward, relieved she was alright.

"Bethan, you did well…"

"PAPA!" she screamed as another Celt came out of the woods….

He lunged at Tristan, catching him off balance and cut deeply into his shoulder.

Bethan felt a rage she had never felt before - without thinking she snatched up the fallen Celt's knife, and lunged at the man fighting her father.

She stabbed him in the side, and as he looked down she pulled the dagger free and buried it in his chest, using both hands and all the force she had in her little body. She darted backwards and hid behind a tree as the man staggered to the ground and lay still.

She stood there for a few minutes, breathing hard, terrified beyond measure, waiting to see if any more came out of the wood - straining her ears for sounds of more approaching, but none did.

She crept out and went over to the Celts, kicking them with her boot – they were all dead. She retrieved their daggers and their own before tucking them into her belt; the dead men made her feel sick, but she swallowed hard and turned away.

She looked at her father; he had leant against a tree and slumped to the ground. She let out the low whistle he had taught her, and both horses came trotting.

She ran to him "Father? Father you are hurt….!" He was bleeding badly from the shoulder wound, and she could see wounds on his arms.

"So are you…." He gestured to her neck. She felt it and found blood on it; but it was a small cut.

"I will be well; you saved me.."

"What else would I do for my daughter; you must fetch help."

"I will not leave you."

"You must…."

"NAY! There might be others; I will not go and leave you to die - it will take too long to go there and return!"

"Obey me - Do as I say!" his voice, though pained, was angry.

"You are in no state to make me!" Hers was equally as angry.

Before he passed out, Tristan thought absently how like her mother she was……stubborn; so very stubborn.

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'What now, what now!' He was unconscious, but she had to move him somehow. Panic was beginning to rise in her; but she pushed it down. This was not the time to lose her head. She needed to be like him; always so calm, collected and detached; only then would she succeed.

She looked at his horse; he was very tall, and her father was heavier than she….

She looked at her own horse; it was shorter - she might be able to…

She hurried back to him "Father? Father, you must awake – you have to help me."

He stirred "Go…leave me…"

"Nay! Work with me!" She helped haul him to his feet – together they staggered to her horse; he managed to get onto it, but only just.

She walked to his horse; they stared at each other "I need to ride you. Will you let me?" The horse stood passively.

She took that for a yes, and so started to clamber onto him. Suddenly all the hairs on her head seemed to stand on end….and the hawk came to rest on a tree branch.

It regarded the small girl and her injured friend, before she flew to her. Bethan automatically held up her arm for her to land on. She was heavier than she'd expected.

"I must get him home;I have to get him help!" the bird looked at Tristan as he started to sag in the saddle.

Bethan turned, and quickly pulled the reins on her horse to bring them side by side. She propped her father up…

'This was impossible! Nay, nay it was not – Lancelot told her nothing was impossible. This was her father and she would not let him down.' Gingerly keeping the horses' level she tried to move off. He immediately started to slide again.

Tears of frustration and fear pricked her eyes, but she would not let them fall. 'Calmly, calmly….think!'

An idea occurred to her; she moved her arm and the hawk wheeled into the sky, screeing. she got the horses level; then tugged at her father so that he fell to the side, this time she let him, and with a lot of effort managed to get him over the horse in front of her.

Balancing him with one hand she looped the reins of her horse over the pummel of his saddle. "I am sorry, this is a heavy burden I know; but please help us…" she murmured to his horse.

The horse moved off…….

Slowly, oh so slowly, they made headway. Her nerves hanging out of her skin, adrenalin pumping through every vein, her eyes and ears strained for every noise, every movement. Her mother's words still in her mind 'fear is good, fear is good…keep your guard up, keep your guard up'.

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Eventually they cleared the trees – she heaved a sigh of relief; now at least she would have a better view of any approaching trouble. It suddenly occurred to her that this is what her father did most days, when he wasn't fighting – she had always thought he went riding to see if the enemy were about, she never thought of him actually engaging them. She felt so proud of him….

Slowly they headed back to the fort – it was a slow process that nearly had Bethan screaming with frustration, but she knew enough about healing from her mother to know to jolt her father around would be disastrous.

The hawk wheeled high above them, keening – occasionally it would float near her, and she found it strangely comforting; as if it were trying to let her know she was not alone.

But her thoughts tormented her 'It was all my fault; he had let his guard down because of me. Been so keen to save me, and now look what happened; I will never forgive myself….if…if…

NAY! do not think of that…DO NOT….he will not….God would not be that cruel to us…we love him…please God, we love him so much….'

Thoughts like this accompanied the solitary rider and her burden on their homeward journey….

0-0-0-0-0-0

Back at the fort, a wind whipped round Sandrina….. Gawain watched her face pale.

"What is it?"

"They are in trouble!"

"Who? Who is trouble?"

"Tristan and Bethan!" She ran to her horse…

"I will get the others…. KNIGHTS!"

They came running, except for Bors and Dagonet who were on watch "What is it?" Galahad asked.

"Sandrina feels that Tristan and Bethan are in danger - and you know her 'feelings'…."

Lancelot touched her arm "it will all be well sister; they will be alright."

The anguished look she gave him, caught his breath "I cannot lose them brother; I cannot lose them to the darkness."

Lucan took off, his heart in his mouth…. 'Not Bethan, not his Bethan….!'

"FATHER! FATHER! YOU MUST COME!"

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Finally they reached the fort; it was dark now, but they had reached it. Bethan almost cried with relief; but would not give in, there was still much to do.

"HELP ME!" she called, panic now plain in her voice "OH PLEASE GOD, HELP ME! For he is all the world to me and he cannot die….!"

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Dagonet and Bors watched the little procession approach the gates in the darkness; two horses and a rider with what looked like a large bundle laying over the horse, and exchanged confused looks.

Just then Lucan came screaming to the steps making Dagonet look away, at the same time Bors noticed the hawk…… and then heard Bethan's clear voice crying for help….

"What the….! DAMN! OPEN THE GATES! OPEN THE BLOODY GATES!"

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Fate's game takes a new turn, father and daughter's part still to finish this time; the wheels of Destiny move forward once more….