Okay, I really must apologise. I meant to upload this chapter a week or so ago, but unfortunately my family is going through some very distressing issues that take up a huge portion of time and energy from everyone concerned.
So I'm sorry about the wait and hope you all enjoy this chapter xD

Outside Lancelot's chambers, Arthur and Lancelot exchanged another look.

"I do not think that Honor likes our new healer," Lancelot said, quietly.

"Hush, Lancelot. She is here to try and heal Honor," Arthur shook his head.

"I do not trust her really Arthur," Lancelot sighed. "There was unrest in Honor's eyes as she looked upon Padmé."

Arthur shrugged. "We cannot assume things that we do not know, Lancelot."

Lancelot growled. "Still…"

Time passes

"Lancelot, pacing will not help. Padmé will let us know when she is done," Arthur looked pleadingly at Lancelot as Lancelot passed in front of him yet again.

"Arthur," a feminine voice softly sounded.

Both men looked over to the door of Lancelot's chambers expecting to see Padmé there, when they saw that the door was shut, they looked around until their gaze fell upon Guinevere who was standing further down the corridor.

"I heard that there was a healer here now, looking at Honor. I came to see if I could help in any way at all," Guinevere glided over to Arthur and slipped a hand through his arm.

"Not at the moment, my dear. Padmé – the healer – is in with Honor at the moment. All we can do is simply wait," Arthur patted her hand and smiled down at Guinevere.

"Lancelot," Guinevere pouted, looking at the dark knight.

"Aye?" Lancelot replied, abruptly.

"What is the matter? You seem tense."

"What do you think is the matter Guin? I'm worried about Honor!" Lancelot stopped pacing and ran a hand through his hair.

Guinevere visibly winced. "Sorry," she murmured.

---

"I was sent for," Padmé smiled gently. "Arthur sent word to Cristiano, who sent for me to come and heal you."

"Cristiano! He knew, he knew and he did not come himself!" Honor gulped.

"Ssshh, no sweetling. No names were mentioned in the actual letter. Arthur simply stated that he would like Cristiano to recommend a healer to try and heal someone who seemed to be past help. That was all." Padmé cooed gently.

"You…you out of all people were sent to heal me? Why you? Why?" A tear slid down Honor's face.

"We have past regrets that we must face Honor. Can you at least let me try and help you? Please? For Cristiano?" Padmé sighed, toying with the end of a piece of her hair.

"I don't need help," Honor shook her head and turned her face away from Padmé.

"Well…will you help me fulfil what I was sent here to do at least? Let me examine you, so then Arthur and Lancelot and anyone else who is interested can be satisfied about your physical state?" Padmé asked, gently. "Honor? Please?"

Honor slowly looked at Padmé. "Just examine me? nothing else?"

"If you wish it," Padmé nodded slowly.

Honor sighed. "If you must. Please…be gentle though, I've already had half the population of this country poking and prodding me in the past week alone!"

Padmé chuckled. "Come now, surely it isn't that bad?"

"Oh, indeed," Honor muttered, "men who are old enough to be your great-grandfather, muttering away as they poke you with a stick. That is not bad then."

Padmé smiled slightly, hearing Honor's mumbled complaints. She rubbed a soothing hand over Honor's shoulder. In her thoughts, she was of different mind. Why did Honor have to snub her?

---

Lancelot shared a look with Arthur yet again. Sighing, Lancelot strode away from his door, striding out of sight, and then came back.

"How long will the examination take?" Guinevere asked Arthur, curiously, walking ot a window and looking out to watch what was happening below.

Arthur shrugged. "It depends on the amount of physical harm done to Honor."

"The healers found all the physical ailments and healed them…didn't they?" Guinevere asked, turning around to face Arthur.

"Who knows if Padmé found something," Lancelot began.

Lancelot's chamber door suddenly opened and Padmé walked out, closing the door softly behind her.

"Well?" Arthur and Lancelot looked at her anxiously.

"Physically she will live," Padmé hesitated.

"Mentally?" Lancelot breathed.

"There is a cloud hovering…" Padmé began.

"Is she well or no?" Lancelot strode over to Padmé and glared at her furiously.

"No, she is not, Lancelot," Padmé said, looking Lancelot in the eye. "And I do not know when and if she will be well."

"What is wrong?" Arthur asked, walking over to join Lancelot.

Padmé sighed. "I wish I knew, Arthur."

---

"She is very good-looking, is she not?" Gawain hooted, happily drunk.

"Who?" Dagonet looked over at Gawain.

"The healer, whatever her name is… Padmé…that's her name," Gawain replied, grinning happily.

"I think Lancelot will claim her before you even have the chance to consider it," Bors grinned. "He was watching her closely. Very closely indeed."

"And I was not?" Gawain blinked.

"You were about to kill her," Tristan stated simply, slipping a piece of an apple into his mouth.

"I was about to eat her," Gawain grinned, slapping his ale cup down on the table and smirking around at his fellow knights.

"Aye, of course you were," Bors said, sarcastically.

"Where be Galahad?" Gawain asked, suddenly realising that his usual bosum companion was no where to be seen, from where he was sitting at the table at least.

Tristan paused in slicing another bit of the apple with his dagger, and used his dagger to point in the direction of the bar. "They disappeared together. Galahad and Phaedra."

Bors winked around at the knights. "Aye, and I will be bound that they will not be needing a single bit of help from any of us."

The other knights sniggered, save for Tristan who calmly and deftly popped another bit of apple in his mouth.

Tristan stood up. "I will go and see Arthur. You lot had better become sober fairly quickly as you might be needed for something."

As Gawain started to protest about becoming sober, Tristan smoothly cut him off. "It is the morning after all, Gawain."

Dagonet stood up. "I'll come with you Tristan. I have no wish to become drunk at the moment."

"Talk about brothers-in-arms. Won't even support you in forgetting everything," Gawain muttered, pulling another cup of ale towards himself.