Disclaimer: As before please, for the love of God, don't keep making me write it out people:O) There is a genuine Celtic practice of meditation (called anal-duccaid; "breath prayer") it is a poetic way of resourcing personal power and discovering peace; a harmony between body, soul and earth. The internal landscape used by the mystics is called "the Cromlech of Meath" in which the Celtic mystic may meditate.

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 Twenty-Three – Battles

The following morning Dagonet went in search of Merlin. He explained about Ilara, and the shaman agreed to help. "You like her?"

"Aye, aye I do; she has a sweet nature for someone who has been through so much Merlin – she reminds me of….." he stopped himself.

"Sandrina?"

"Aye, I suppose so; but quieter – and not just because of her voice. She just seems more….gentle."

"She is not a warrior as Sandrina is…."

"Nay, nay she is not; will you come now?" he did not want to talk about Sandrina to this man, who seemed to see right into his mind.

"Take me to her…"

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After inspecting the salves Dagonet had, he agreed they would be best for the scar. However he had drinks that would help her voice, but not bring it back to what it was before.

"You will lose the whisper child, but your voice will still be quiet".

"I will have a voice even so?"

"Aye."

"I will be content with that, it is more than I have; thank you Merlin, you are most kind." she bobbed her head as he turned to leave.

Dagonet put a hand on her chin, and lifted her head up "do not look always at the floor Ilara. You have nothing to be ashamed of; and you have the sweetest face I have ever seen. Stand tall and be proud…."

"Aye, you have very pretty eyes" agreed Lucan "Bethan says they are the window to the soul; and yours must be violet, because your eyes are."

He sighed "Bethan is sad at the moment; San is having Tristan's baby, and Bethan is worried Tristan will not love her anymore. He is her father like Dagonet is mine; we are not blood, but we should be. I told her all would well and so did Merlin, as well as her mother and father, but she is still unsure.

I give her lots of hugs and keep telling her she will always have me."

Ilara hugged him on impulse "you love her very much, do you not?"

And surprisingly, he hugged her back "Aye, very much."

As Merlin left, Bethan came racing into the room "Lucan…guess what Lancelot did! He….Oh, hello – you must be the lady Mama made friends with last night." huge blue eyes regarded her "Is Dagonet courting you? I hope so because he is so sad these days, and that makes me and Lucan sad because we love Dag, do we Lucan not? All the children do, truth be told." Lucan nodded enthusiastically.

She looked conspiratorially at Ilara and whispered "he is very good with children; which apparently is good husband material, is not that right Lucan? That is what Lynette said about Thurston."

Dagonet blushed bright red "I am not courting her!" then seeing the shocked look in Ilara's eyes "Not that I would not – but I do not want the other knights to get the wrong idea, if they thought we were courting we would never hear the end of it." He smiled.

She ruffled Bethan's hair "Well, it is nice to meet you Bethan – I am Ilara. So what has Lancelot been doing? Is he the one who has the black curly hair?"

"Aye, he is. Well, he and Amila must have had another mess around fight, not a real one, at least I do not think it was - anyway, he is dangling her over the gallery by her legs and she is screaming blue bloody murder what she is going to do to him, but she is laughing too!"

All four rushed outside to watch, as they went Dagonet reached out a hand to Ilara and lifted her chin again "head up, be proud – you are beautiful. No one is better than you; you are as good as all others..."

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Amila woke in Lancelot's arms as she did yesterday morning. She beat him awake today and was able to watch him sleep.

She stroked his face with her fingers; he always looked so content when he was asleep. Though the haunted look had finally been leaving his eyes in just this past day; she noticed it most last night and believed what he said to her as they had made love - or as all the knights had taken to call it 'move the furniture around'; she smiled..

He had told her he loved her – she had believed him of course; in the heat of passion many things can be said, but not truly meant. But he had said it again afterwards, she told him it was too soon – they had only known each other for a few weeks, but he was insistent. She had smiled and held him, wanting him to know she cared for him too. But still she had not believed him.

His eyes opened; and sleepy brown ones met wide awake hazel ones, before he growled "come here" and, pulling a possessive arm around her waist, hauled her closer still to him.

"Go back to sleep, Alima, tis only dawn…."

"I do not wish to…"

"Well, as it is only daybreak enlighten me as to what you do wish to do?"

She ran her fingers down his bare side, making him shudder "you are insatiable woman!" he grinned into his pillow.

A quick movement and suddenly he was over her – his eyes passionate and holding a warmth of feeling in them that made her hold her breath. Then his lips crashed down onto hers; she was going to be playful, she was going to mess around – but now all she could think about was how this man, who infuriated her so much, filled her heart with joy too. Her hands wound their way into his hair…….

He lifted his head "I never understood Tristan and San until now" before kissing her again.

As he his hands travelled over her body, all she could think was 'does he mean it?' She knew what he was talking about, Tristan and Sandrina were completely and utterly devoted to each other - was he implying the same of them?

She tickled him to make him release her "what the…!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, the great Sir Lancelot brought down by a tickle from a maiden - mayhap we should arm the Celts with feathers!"

"Why you little…" they began to tickle and shove each other, he was laughing and so was she and she felt suddenly at peace. As if this is how it should be for them….

"OWW! That was my knee!" she grimaced.

"Sorry, sorry!"

"You are not bloody sorry at all!"

"Who says?"

"Me …." She wriggled out from under him and darted for her clothes.

"I know what you are doing – you are trying to avoid loving me; we have had three weeks in all to fall in love and I think we have." he lunged and she dodged him again, grappling to get her breeches on.

"Nay my lady; you have no cause to leave and so must stay!" he grabbed her legs; and she only just managed to grab his shirt and pull it over her head as he pulled her outside, himself only wearing his breeches which he had somehow managed to drag on in the scuffle, and dangled her over the gallery…

"Tell all about here I love you!"

"Nay….Lancelot!" She was screaming and laughing, completely exhilarated, trying to stop his shirt from falling over her head "I will gut you like a fish! I will…I will….think of something unspeakable to do to you, I swear it!" she screamed with laughter again.

"Tell them I love you and you believe me!" she glanced up and, despite the laughter, she could see a serious light in his eyes.

The laughter died in her throat "you do love me, do you not? How can you, so soon?"

"Because, you are the most lovable, infuriating and impossible woman I have ever met in my life! But if you were not with me now, I know how empty it would be. Three weeks of living in Hades, is not really that soon - trust me!"

"HE LOVES ME!" She cried out "I think he loves me…" she said more quietly; her eyes full of tears he hauled her back over the banister and gathering her into his arms went back to his room, kicking the door shut behind him.

The crowd of knights and others that had gathered below let out cheers and hollers; the door briefly opened as Lancelot took a bow with a wicked grin and was hauled back inside by a female arm, then it slammed shut again.

Amidst all the mayhem, Odell stared for a long time at Sandrina "watch him" Tristan said to the other knights present, indicating the Woad "I do not trust him."

"Well, that is it for a while now for them" sighed Bethan to no one in particular "did you see the looks on their faces? That is like the look my mother and father get – they will be shifting their furniture for hours now."

All heard her, though she never understood the sudden laughter that reverberated round the compound - Lancelot and Amila, wrapped in each others arms in his room, were oblivious.

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Dagonet escorted Ilara back to the room he shared with Lucan. He had slept on the floor the night before, and Ilara felt very badly that he had, whilst she had shared the only bed with the boy.

"Dagonet, I am so grateful to you for taking me in, but it seems wrong that you should take the floor in your own home whilst I sleep in the bed. When I agreed to stay with you I thought you had more room to accommodate me, I am so sorry."

"I cannot see any other way.." he smiled, his green eyes resting softly on her.

"Well, I could now find my own lodgings…I…I would still be able to sit with Lucan, but retire at night to my own room."

"Would you be happy with that?"

"I….um….well…"

"I wouldn't…" Lucan piped up, pouting and taking Ilara's hand "I like you Ilara, I like you living with us. I wouldn't like it if you left".

"I would not be far Lucan, and it would only be at night - but it is so nice that you care…." She knelt and hugged the little boy.

"I still want you to stay – what say you father? Persuade her to stay with us…"

"Lucan, it is Ilara's choice…"

"What…what would you do if I did stay? Is there a way round the sleeping situation? That is my only concern Dagonet, I would not leave you otherwise; you have been too kind to me…"

"Nonsense, I have been only a friend… but I could bring a cot in from the old Roman soldiers stores, would that help?"

"Oh yes, that would work wouldn't it? Yes, yes!" she clapped her hands, her face lighting up…..Dagonet laughed.

"It is good to see you so happy Ilara, over such a simple thing."

"And you father, that is the first time I've heard you laugh in a long time – unless it is with the children".

Both Dagonet and Ilara blushed…

"Would like to walk for a while Ilara? It is such a nice day…I have some time before I need to be on duty.."

"Yes, yes that would be nice – thank you Dagonet."

He held out his arm, and she shyly took it – with Lucan running ahead, this was how they made their way around the fort and back to their room. True to his word, Dagonet slept on a cot that night.

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A few days later, Sandrina saw Ilara and was surprised to hear her voice slightly improved, her whisper had now become a low voice and she seemed delighted.

"I am very happy – Merlin and Dagonet have been helping me with it…it will never be a normal voice, but I am content. Though the salves and drinks are revolting!"

Sandrina laughed out loud "I well remember the ones that Merlin used on me a year ago; sometimes I thought the cough, as bad as it was, was preferable to the drinks and salves I was given!" The two women laughed together.

"How is Dagonet? I have not seen him for a few days.."

"He is well….we…..we have become good friends. He is a good, kind man Sandrina. I cannot think how some would reject him…" she stopped herself from saying more, but too late, her new friend frowned.

"Reject him? Who would reject him?"

"I….I have said too much….it is not like he had indicated anyone in particular to me." Ilara lied, cursing herself.

"I will speak with him….I cannot believe any woman he has declared himself to would refuse him! Dagonet is a wonderful man and an honourable friend…"

"He has not declared himself…please Sandrina….please I beg you, do not speak of it to him. He is a proud man and only spoke to me in confidence as I confided in him about my own loss…." She sounded desperate.

"I will not mention it Ilara, if you do not wish it…but Dag is very dear to me, and I would defend him to the death…" Sandrina frowned.

Ilara looked at the other woman and realised she had no idea she was the object of Dagonet's affection. "Do…do you think he could ever think fondly of another?"

"Dag? He should – God knows he deserves to be happy Ilara. He is my best friend and I want him to be as happy as Tristan and I…" she sighed "he has been so sad lately and I worry for him. I would dearly love him to be with someone who makes him happy."

Ilara felt sorry for Dagonet, she realised that he loved someone who was completely oblivious to his feelings. She could not blame Sandrina for it; she was so wrapped up in her feelings for Tristan, that she was unaware of Dagonet's – but that didn't mean she had to like the way the situation had made Dagonet so despondent.

She liked San, but didn't like the heartache she had put Dagonet through. But still, the other woman had introduced them...……without her, they may never have met.

"I will speak with him and try to cheer him then Sandrina."

San hugged her "Call me San, all the others do; and thank you Ilara, thank you. I'm sure you will be a great comfort for him…..I only hope I never find out who this woman is…."

Ilara smiled as she thought that San saw her every time she looked in a mirror.

They walked on laughing about nothing, and talking mostly about Dagonet. The more she heard of the gentle knight, the more she liked him. She realised what a decent and honourable man he was; she had met precious few of them in her life, the only other was her husband.

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Lancelot and Amila were cuddled together in bed, his arm draped over her side, holding her against him possessively - even in his sleep. Dawn slowly crept into the room and the light shining in Lancelot's eyes woke him; he moved slowly so as not wake the woman sharing his bed.

He raised himself up on one elbow; watching her sleep, he wondered at the turn his life had taken. Before she came he had had a boring existence, only punctuated with the pain and longing brought on by his feelings for Guinevere.

But now, now he felt like she had freed him. She really did drive him to distraction – both with frustration and ….love. He could say it now, even to himself. He did love her, he knew that San thought it was too soon, he knew even Amila thought it was too soon.

But the fact they had been together almost constantly for a month now was made it possible to him; it had only been a fraction longer for San and Tristan after all.

Her long lashes fanned her cheeks as she slept, her hair spread across the pillow. His heart filled with emotion just looking at her. His hand traced her cheek, so lightly. He smiled, she looked so angelic and yet he knew as soon as her eyes opened mayhem for him would reign; he never knew what she was going to do next – yet that was what he loved the most about her.

All he really knew for certain was that she cared deeply for him; even though she had not told him she loved him, he did not feel too hurt - he knew she was concerned that he had not resolved his feelings for Guinevere. But he felt that side of him waning; his thoughts and feelings for her, each day they lessened.

He knew San adored Amila for that fact alone, but also because she knew she would fight him at every turn and not be bowed by his charm or humour.

He stroked her cheek, before leaning down to her ear "never leave me; all I ask, is you never leave me…." he whispered; letting his lips trace a butterfly light trail down her neck to her mouth.

"I will not…" her eyelids opened.

"Wench! How long have you been awake?" he chuckled.

"Since you touched my cheek….." She grinned at him.

"I love you…"

"So you keep saying…"

"You do not believe me?"

"I….do…..but I worry….I worry that you….." she hesitated.

"Still care for Guinevere?"

"Aye…"

He kissed her passionately, "I do, but not as I did….each day it lessens and my feelings for you strengthen Amila. I love you; but it is up to you if you believe me." His eyes clouded slightly.

She could see she had hurt him again, as she did every time she questioned his feelings for her. Well, not the feelings themselves; but the strength of them. But if he would ask her, she would speak true.

She caressed his face, she knew she cared for him; but could she tell him? She leant up and kissed him.

He tried to resist her; she felt his body tense against hers. Her tongue gently teased his lips, her hands run up and down his back before wrapping themselves in his hair as she knew he loved.

She felt his body relax, the typical growl of passion rising out of his throat as he gave in to her. "What you do to me Amila….oh, what you do to me…" he groaned into her mouth.

"Tell me…."

"You drive me mad, with frustration, passion, love; my life would be empty without you now…." His lips snaked across her skin.

Her nerves were hanging out of her flesh, his lips were creating havoc in her mind "Lancelot.." she gasped "Lancelot…. I love you as much…."

His lips stilled, "What?"

Her eyes flew open 'Oh Goddess, had she said it out loud! She had said it in her mind to him so many times – not just when they were making love, but sometimes when he looked at her a certain way or laughed with her, even at her; sometimes even when she was mad she would say 'I love you'. A hundred time since yesterday mayhap……but never out loud…never out loud.

He raised his head "what did you say?"

She closed her eyes; she could feel the colour coming into her cheeks… "Naught; I said naught…"

"Aye you did; you said you loved me… Look at me Amila, look at me."

She reluctantly opened her eyes; expecting to see triumph, humour – but instead saw a grin and ….hope ….and worry. "Do you?"

"Aye" she sighed "aye, I do. I have fought it, I have. Every step of the way – I do not want to get hurt if you suddenly decide you want Guinevere more than I. But you won Lancelot, you beat me – this one time, you beat me. I love you – I love you with all my heart, body and soul.

You frustrate me and infuriate me – but you also make me laugh and make me feel needed, more than even my own blood could. I love you – so there, now you know…" she sighed.

She suddenly found herself being crushed to him, his lips smothering hers……she kissed him back, her heart railing against her mind; squashing the doubts - but deep down she wished she could believe he felt the same.

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It was a week later that fate and destiny decided to take a hand. Issues were forced to the surface and more than one at this place was about to find their lives irrevocably changed.

Merlin started it. One morning there was a knock on her door and Sandrina found the Shaman stood there "Merlin! Enter do – how are you? I have not seen you for a few days, is all well with you?" She embraced the elder man, the only one among them to ever do so.

"I am well Sandrina – I have been away conducting 'anal-duccaid' seeing her confused look "it means 'breath prayer', it is the way we Woads meditate – we go to an out of the way place and visit 'the Cromlech of Meath', it is our own internal landscape; the way we connect with our deepest selves. I have had much to meditate on…." He seemed burdened.

"Is there aught I can do to aid you?"

"Only hear me out. I have wondered if I should tell you this, but it seems now I must – for if I do not, Odell will and it is better to come from me."

"What is it?" She was becoming concerned "Is it Tristan, or the others? Will he, Lancelot and Dagonet return to dust now? I could not bear to lose any of them!"

"Nay, nay – calm yourself; nay, that charm is safe. Only destiny controls their end of days now.

It is to do with you that I must speak. I have watched you - and you know I think you an elemental, your Briton heritage stronger than even you knew in you?"

"Aye I do, for you have spoke of it often enough over past months."

"Then sit child and listen to me. You may yet avert disaster for Odell."

"Disaster? What has he done to invite such concern from you?"

"He defied Destiny, tried to alter the path she laid down – but now quiet, and listen to me.

Your mother never spoke of whence she came, did you believe her Sarmatian?"

"Nay, I was not certain to be sure – but I was fairly definite that she was not Sarmatian. But it was never spoke of; though she was indeed different. Stronger and harder compared to the other women of our tribe; she had ways about her that were distinctive to her also."

"That was because she was a Briton, a Woad. You know this; as you say, I have said it to you so many times…." He sighed "but what you do not know is that she was not taken from just any Briton tribe; it was mine. Her father and I were brothers; your mother was my niece. Odell and Amila are the grandchildren of our sister. I alone survive now; but their offspring live on. You are descended from chiefs…."

Sandrina was struck dumb "You are my….uncle?"

"Aye…..but also your chief."

"I will not leave Tristan, I WILL not!" She leapt up from the bed she was sitting on.

"Hush, hush child - I would not expect, nor wish it. Unlike Odell I accept Destiny's plan for you. I see your life here; I see what you accomplish for her. But I think it is time you knew your blood ties. There may come a time when you will be called upon to save them."

"Do Odell and Amila know?"

"Odell knows; has done, since the battle. Amila has no knowledge – they were both brought up on stories of their older cousin and how she was taken, but nothing more. Amila has forgotten much over the years, Odell forgets nothing.

Amila needs to know as you do – I will speak to her and send her to you."

He said no more and left – leaving San in a state of shock.

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What felt like hours later, but could have been no more than a quarter of an hour, the door opened and Amila came in.

She perched on the chair opposite San. "I hear we are related?"

"Aye" San continued to stare at her hands.

"Are you angry?"

"Nay, not angry - confused. Actually, confused and angry!"

"Why? Why angry? Do you not want to be my blood?" Amila sounded hurt.

"Aye, I do; of course I do!" she patted the younger woman's arm reassuringly "but why did Odell not tell me when he declared himself, told me he wanted me to leave this place – leave Tristan, Lancelot and Dagonet; take Bethan away from the only father she has known?

It would have made naught difference to my feelings, I love Tristan and nothing will ever change that, but it would have explained much!" her voice was rising as was her temper.

"Wait - Odell did what!"

"He told me he had feelings for me, and wanted me to leave with him; Merlin was to speak to you about it, ask you to ensure Odell left me be."

"He did not. But Odell should not have spoken so, he knows how it is between you and Tristan; what did you tell him?"

"I told him I would never leave Tristan or my life as it is now. I am happy here; I told him that I could no more stop breathing, than I could leave."

Tears filled her eyes "I could not leave this fort Amila, I could not!

All that I hold dear in all the world is here: Tristan, my lover – father to my daughter, and father of my unborn babe; Dagonet - my dearest friend in all the world; and Lancelot….." she closed her eyes briefly before continuing.

"Lancelot – if ever there was a way to have my own brother back by my side, it is this. Sometimes I believe Hunter sent Lancelot to me, to take his place." The tears, rarely shed in any way, this time fell "one brother sending another to me.

You, Odell and Merlin are my blood, aye – but so are they!

Gawain and Galahad, Bors Arthur - all friends and brothers too; I could no more leave any of them than I could ask the sun to come down from the sky!

How could I leave them! Moreover how could I take Bethan from the only father she has known; and worse, deprive Tristan of the family and unborn child he has come to love more than his own life!

So I told him to cut me down where I sat before him; for that was the only way he could make me leave, not only Tristan, but the others too."

"You did well and right…" tears were on Amila's cheeks "I would not expect you to forsake the ones you have come to love. No more than I would leave Lancelot now. But why did he wish it so?"

"He said I could be a great Shaman, as great as Merlin!" she scoffed at the thought "Me? Nay, I would never better him – for there is no one like him, and when he passes never will be again. The world will lament the passing of two men Amila: Arthur and Merlin. How can I be as powerful as he?

But Odell thinks if I am amongst the Woads then I will be, and Bethan after me. He said I must go, I refused. But I wonder what he will do; and now Merlin says he told me this in case I need to save my blood - he says Odell has made an enemy of Destiny!" she was both upset and angry now, "why should I once again have to be the one to solve this problem? I am so tired of always being the strong one…."

Despite her anger, she knew she would have to choose her blood if it came to saving Odell; but from what or who?

"Naught, Odell will do naught" Amila interrupted her thoughts "he has rolled the die and the game is lost to him, though I will counsel him if you wish me to. But if he has made an enemy of Destiny, then I fear for him."

Sandrina sighed "I am sorry to be distressed so – it is not like me….more like it is the babe I carry, making me emotional." They hugged and laughed. But deep down both women had a deep sense of foreboding….

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It was noon when a rap sounded at the door, and Sandrina was confronted by Odell.

"I have come to embrace my blood, cousin." He said as he stepped into the room. Sandrina tensed as he approached her "Nay, do not fear me – I will cause no further harm to you."

"I do not fear you Odell; so please do not flatter yourself so!" She stood defiantly. "You should have told me of our blood tie."

"I am sorry if I caused so much heartache to my own blood" he smiled "That was not my intention, I merely wanted you to come to your tribe, your family. I care for you deeply Sandrina – I had to try to make you understand.

I wanted you, I admit. But you have made it clear now that I have no place with you". He smiled grimly.

"You do, but only as part of my family, Odell. I am sorry, I belong to Tristan. But you are as much my blood as he and the others are."

"It seems I can ask for no more than that…"

"Regardless of whether you ask or not, I can offer no more."

"But they are not your blood; they…."

"Are my blood - I cannot explain to you what they mean to me; especially Lancelot, Tristan and Dagonet. But they are of me, my kindred; even Bors, Gawain, Galahad and Arthur. They are my tribe; would you not do the same for yours?"

"Aye, I would; your choice is made, I understand." He turned to leave, but was stopped by her hand on his arm "my choice was always made; you just did not wish to accept it. We are family, which means much to me – I will always protect you; is that not enough for you?"

"It will have to be; at least I will have you in my life…" he went to touch her cheek, stopped and left the room.

Sandrina sighed and sat on the bed, sometimes life was too difficult. That was how Tristan found her when he came back from his scouting an hour later.

She had fallen asleep on the bed, he kissed her awake, before she had a chance to say anything "Arthur wants us to come to the meeting room."

They arrived to find all assembled there. "Knights." Began Arthur "Tristan has found signs the Celts have regrouped and are coming this way.

I fear another battle is upon us. This I know is not what you wish to hear, but we must secure this isle for all Britons. I only pray we all survive this trial - we all have much to return for."

"How long do we have?" asked Lancelot.

"A few hours at most, possibly less before we need to engage them, we must ready for battle. Knights! We ride in one hour…"

As they all went to the door, Bors muttered "about bloody time, I need a good fight!"

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Ilara, with Lucan and Bethan in tow, greeted Dagonet "Is all well?"

"Nay; we ride to fight in one hour – Ilara…….I…."

She put a finger to his lips "You will return to me Dagonet – I cannot believe that fate and destiny brought our paths together only to separate them now."

"Return to you?"

"Aye, please stay safe for me….and Lucan. We would both be lost without you." she smiled.

He said no more, just hugged her and the boy tight – the promise of the future suddenly bright for him. They would have much to discuss when he returned, and he would return to them - his family.

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Amila was waiting for Lancelot "Is everything alright?"

He shook his head "Nay…we go to battle…"

"Then I will go to."

"Nay, you must stay – San will not be able to fight, she is with child; Tristan will wish her to remain. You must protect her."

"Since when did my cousin need my protection? And what Tristan wishes is not always what will happen!" she said angrily.

"Cousins? You are cousins?"

"Come, I will explain…" She drew him away from the others slightly.

Guinevere spoke to Arthur, he grinned "Knights…there is something else to say – obviously we will be two warriors down."

"Two?" From Gawain.

"Aye, Sandrina will not be able to ride with us, as she is with child – and neither will Guinevere……….for the same reason."

A shocked gasp went round the room. Guinevere smiled "it is true; I am carrying Arthur's child." Before muttering under her breath "though I cannot see why I cannot fight!"

Amila looked straight at Lancelot, expecting to see pain and/or disappointment on his face. Instead he was smiling; she breathed out the breath she had been holding. Forgetting she was mad at him she hugged him; he looked confused until realisation dawned "Idiot!" he whispered into her ear.

"Congratulations; not just to our King and Queen, or our commander and his lady, but to our friend and his wife! Let us hope you have a son - we have far too many bossy women here already!" He laughed, as Amila punched his arm, along with his fellow knights.

Arthur had been concerned as to Lancelot's reaction, as had Guinevere. They had both seen Lancelot's developing relationship with Amila. Arthur had been relieved; but to begin with Guinevere had been jealous, before realising that she had no right to feel such emotions. The man was not able to be with her, why could he not be happy with someone else?

She realised she was letting those feelings die. She would be a mother to Arthur's child, all else was naught to her now. Her husband and her child only were paramount; she wished him well. Maybe the day they could be friends would come sooner than they thought.

Someone who was not laughing however, was Sandrina…."Why can I not fight! I went through much more than a battle when I was carrying Bethan!" she was spitting mad.

"Yes, and you nearly died. I will not risk your health; it is best you stay here." said Tristan with finality.

"For who exactly!"

"For us all; including you and the baby."

"And I have no say in this! My body, my baby and I have no say as to what I can and cannot do!"

"May be your body, but it is our baby; so nay, you cannot. If you were not pregnant I would want you riding at my side….but…"

"Being pregnant means that I suddenly lose my brain and ability to fight!"

"Nay, but I do not want to lose you and the baby!" he was becoming angry now.

Arthur stepped between them "Tristan stop digging…"

"What?"

"The hole you are digging for yourself; you are not helping – the more you order her, the less she is likely to obey. Sandrina, he means well - you cannot fight whilst pregnant."

Tristan went towards her, but Sandrina swept past him; her angry steps sounding out into the courtyard – her parting comment only "I HATE men!"

All of a sudden, Guinevere and Alima followed her – feeling she was up to something they could help with. Knowing she would not obey the men.

"Oh, well done!" sighed Lancelot "Thank you Tristan - now they are all pissed at us!"

Arthur rolled his eyes "Come knights, time to ready for battle." He would speak to Guinevere on his return, if he could not have a moment before they rode.

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The three women congregated in the tavern, after congratulating Guinevere, they muttered darkly about the men. Vanora approached them and they told her of the knights' decision.

"I am a KNIGHT!" Sandrina cried angrily "I should ride!"

"I am a Woad warrior – why should I not fight!" Said Guinevere.

"I am not even pregnant, and I have to stay behind to protect you!"

"WHAT!" the other two chorused.

"That is what Lancelot said; how do think that makes me feel!"

Vanora looked at three women and smiled "They love you and wish to protect you only. The same reason you wish to fight….you want to protect those you love. I do not fight, neither does Ilara here – but we do not fuss like children about being left behind, as you do."

The women at the table quieted, but Vanora could see them deep in discussion "They are planning some mischief" she said to Ilara, with a laugh "I pity their men folk!"

The three women finally agreed to compromise, they would watch from the battlements, and if the battle seemed to be going badly then they would ride out and fight.

"Ilara – we wonder if you could act as a shield for us?"

"Why?"

"We need to ready our things in case we are needed" and they explained their plan.

"So long as you keep Dagonet safe" she smiled "I will aid you."

All the women put a hand on the table, linking them together "Sisters?" Asked San.

"Sisters…" the other three agreed.

Another die was caste.

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Two hours later it was obvious the battle was not going well for the Woads and the knights; though they may still triumph with a little help, the four women felt. They stood on the battlements able to make out the worst of the fighting.

"Do we ride?" Asked Amila; Ilara standing next to her watching out for Dagonet intently.

The wind whipped round them, Sandrina knew what the answer would be.

"We do!" agreed San and Guinevere. Guinevere turned to the others "Should we survive this battle; I doubt we will survive our men's tempers!" She laughed. Ilara laughed at the thought of Dagonet being 'her man'; but felt he was now slowly becoming hers.

"We shall cross that bridge when we come to it." Amila pointed out "one battle at a time, sisters, one battle a time!"

Vanora witnessing this exchange thought 'there will be hell to pay on their return….they might well wish they had died on the battlefield!"

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As they reached the battlefield shouting the battle cry of the knights, they saw them look at them in horror. Lancelot, Arthur and Tristan glared at them – but were quickly engrossed in the battle once more.

The women fought hard and long. All cutting, stabbing and thrusting - quickly moving through the Celts; Sandrina found herself near Gawain.

"You are likely to be in serious trouble San!" he grunted as they passed "Tristan looks like he might kill you himself!"

"I will not let any of you die – he will have to accept it!" she shouted above the din of metal on metal, and the screams of the dying around them.

The wind carried her around the battlefield. She threw her dagger when she saw two Celts advancing on Dagonet, it struck one in the throat; Dagonet took the other. He smiled his gratitude – but shook his head in despair that they had disobeyed the others.

She grinned as she spun on a Celt pushing both her other dagger and her sword into his stomach, turning and pulling them out at right angles….he was dead before he hit the ground.

She threw her other dagger into the back of a Celt about to seize Guinevere. The other woman dipped her head in thanks.

The wind whipped around her and she ran forward cutting and hacking into the men around her.

Suddenly her heart was in her mouth; before her were two men fighting for their lives. Both surrounded, she reached for a dagger; thinking to at least remove one of the enemy, for one of them, to give them a better chance.

She realised both her daggers were gone. She whirled around screaming "KNIGHTS, KNIGHTS!!" But saw at once that though they would be safe, the others would not be able to aid the men in front of her.

She had a stark choice; with the wind whirling round her, she knew she could only save one - knew it deep down in her soul.

She hesitated, indecision freezing her to the spot. Still killing the enemy around her almost automatically – she looked from one to the other……

She could either save Lancelot - her brother in everything but blood or……Odell, her blood kin – her family; her link to her dead mother.

With a scream of agony, frustration and impending loss she rushed forward…….

She found herself casting an agonised look to Odell as she rushed forward - he nodded sensing her choice.

"GO TO HIM SAN! HE IS YOUR BLOOD!" Cried Lancelot….

0-0-0-0-0-0

And so the wheels of Destiny move on…. The fates of two resting in her hands….