Well, I must say, that as much as I wish I could claim Galahad and steal him away to my lair, I am forces to admit that I have no ownership on his part. Now Harte and Ryker on the other hand... Oh, and Wynne

I want to thank all those who took time to review, and those who put it on alert, and those who put it on their favorites. I enjoy the praise I get from it, be it imagined of real ;)

To my reviews!

the.dead.addict Prologue - Actually, I read one that was similar afterI had posted the first chapter.. I kicked myself after.. took me so long to think of it, too... Chapter 1 - There's your update, though I'm not sure why you like it XD

softly descending Thanks for the tip. English is now italisised.

I am working on the next update, but who know when it will be done.


Fallen Angels Of A Darker Time

New Arrivals

(Note: ItalicsEnglish)

2:30 pm.

The room really was quite plain, stone floors, walls, and roof. It was sparsely furnished, a small wardrobe against one wall, a bed against another, a fireplace beside the wardrobe, and a table and chair at the end of the bed. She had already examined the door, the window, and the woodworking on the wardrobe and bed, and had been so kindly instructed to stay put. She snorted, and shook her head, then turned back to her examination.

Wynne looked up from studying the floor as a knock sounded on her door, echoing through the silent room. "Come in." She called out without thinking, and looked up as Arthur entered. She nodded in greeting, and gestured to the chair. He was followed by Lancelot, and Wynne raised an eyebrow. They had both removed their armor, now in only their shirts and pants. They wore long boots, reaching up to the middle of their calves. Lancelot looked smug, smirking brightly as he gazed around the room. He seemed to take the absence of her katanas in, and glanced over to where they stood propped against the wardrobe. Wynne felt it unnecessary to point out that she still wore her sais, and stood, crossing her arms and spacing her legs apart.

Arthur took in her pose calmly and nodded once. "You need not fear, lady. We will not harm you unless you give us reason." He said, his voice close to monotonous. Arthur sat in the chair she had motioned to, and she resumed her position on the side of the bed. Lancelot looked around and seemed to sigh dejectedly, then walked to the wall, leaning against it and taking out a dagger to clean beneath his nails. Wynne watched him until she felt that he could do no harm, at least none that she couldn't foresee, and turned her gaze to Arthur. He nodded once and then looked over at the katanas, as if judging them. "You are quite the weapon master, Lady. Wynne, Bors was saying, I believe?" He waiting until Wynne's nod of confirmation, and then continued.

"We were all quite impressed when Dagonet told us of your prowess with your blades there." Wynne nodded impatiently. "And you can obviously understand us, if you cannot converse with more that a minimum of words." Wynne nodded again and looked at her feet, surprised to see them swinging above the floor. She glared at them and stopped, turning back to Arthur. He continued as if he had not seen her facial expression change. "My men and I believe that you could be a good instructor, teaching the woman combat for times of ambush and war." He paused as if waiting for her answer.

At least, that was how Wynne saw it. She raised an eyebrow in disgust. "No." She said simply, digging through the limited dictionary in her mind. "No woman. Boys." She challenged, looking directly at Lancelot as she said it, as if calling him that, instead of a man. He glared at her and then turned back to Arthur, switching his position from his back against the wall to only one arm, holding himself up with that arm.

"Arthur, as I said, she must be ill in the mind." Wynne stood angrily and strode over her finger pointed out. She hit him squarely in a pressure point under his shoulder, and smiled at the surprise on his face as his whole arm, the one supporting him, collapsed under him, causing him to fall right into the wall. Arthur stood quickly but Lancelot waved him away. Wynne crossed her arms.

"No" She said, pointing her head. Arthur's eye widened and he looked at Lancelot. He seemed to splutter slightly, and then he stood straighter, looking at Wynne quickly.

"How did she do that?" He asked, "She is so small, and yet you just dropped." He continued, his voice showing the disbelief. Lancelot glared at Wynne, his dark eyes smoldering, and then burst out in a big grin. Wynne's jaw dropped and she stared right back. 'Bloody hell, this man is thick.' she thought, surprise showing all over her face. She hurriedly clamped her jaw shut and muttered 'Hmpf' before walking back to her bed. Lancelot turned to Arthur and stood straight, flexing his arm again.

"I don't know how she did it, but she seemed to paralyze my arm. It just lost all movement, all strength." He said, praise written over his face. "Even if she just teaches us how to better our tavern fighting, I'd go learn from her." Wynne rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, a string of dark curses, in the language the men spoke. She had always been better at remembering how to speak curses than anything else.

Arthur seemed to blush, and Wynne realized that the language she had been using would very likely be used only in close confidences, not even in taverns unless by a drunk. She shrugged and reached into the pouch at her waist, her utility belt, and was surprised to feel Ryker's dagger. She did not remember packing it on the night she had been to meet Harte, but she couldn't really remember much at all of the night. She frowned and pulled it out, admiring the curves of the deadly blade, the ebony black metal shining in the light that seeped from the window. She used her fingers to trace the carving in the metal and sighed. She looked up and saw Arthur staring at the blade appraisingly.

"Black Will…" She muttered, and tucked it into her belt next to her sai. She reached back in and her fingers enclosed upon the necklace that Ryker had given her. She let go, leaving it in the pouch, and felt her fingers brush against hard metal. She frowned and closed her fingers around the item and pulled it out. Arthur and Lancelot had dismissed her, going back to discussing her teaching the men. Wynne looked up at them and then opened her hand. There, nestled into the curve of her palm, sat the medallion. She looked up at Arthur quickly and tucked it back into her pouch and was just looking back up when Arthur turned around, nodding, to speak with her again.

"Well, lady, how about a deal. I will ask Dagonet to teach you our language, and in exchange, you will teach anyone who asks, women or men both, your fighting skills. You will train with my men, and will keep this room, free of charge, in my men's quarters." He looked at her and frowned, then nodded, holding out his hand. "How does that sound?" He asked, his brown eyes watching her, causing her almost to flinch under that unwavering gaze. She thought it over, and shrugged. She had had worse deals in her time, ones she had not had the option to refuse. She reached out her hand and shook, her grip tightening just before loosening. This not only gave her a reason to keep up with her practice, it also supplied her with a place to sleep, food to eat, and gave her a chance to find herself some information.

She stood and ushered the two out, pointing to the bed as she realized her fatigue. They left quickly, and Wynne pulled off her suit and boots slowly, crawling into bed reluctantly. She had barely closed her eyes when she was fast asleep, her eyes fluttering softly, her breath slowing into a rhythmic exchange, in and out, as she slipped into dreams.

6:00pm

A beeping went off by Wynne head, and she reached out to swat at the alarm clock. She lay there, her arm swinging, meeting nothing but air, her brows furrowed as she slept. She opened her eyes groggily and groaned as she remembered what happened the day before. The beeping was her watch, securely clasped around her wrist. She frowned at the item, sure that she had not had it the night before. "What the hell… God, I need a drink…" She murmured, swinging her feet over the edge of the bed, and wincing as her side strained, the stitches paining her. She cursed again and frowned, then stood up and dressed in the black suit that had been folded in the belt pouch. "Tight black pants, tight shirt… God..." She muttered as she thought of the knights, a few who had been giving her lascivious glances the day before. Sure, the suit was good for when she needed unencumbered movements, lightweight and fitting tightly so it didn't tangle in any gadgets she happened to be using. However, it didn't do so well for crowded surroundings.

She dressed, leaving the top buttons on the shirt undone so it was somewhat loose. She tied her boots tightly, and tucked in Ryker's dagger. She buckled the belt along her waist and tucked in the sai, then stood contemplating her katanas. Finally she sighed and shook her head, then headed to the door. She stopped and looked at the table, though, and the amulet sitting on top of it. Her locket lay beside it, the diamond and ruby group shining nearly as brightly as the diamonds embedded in the amulets metal. She stared at it and then clasped her locket around her neck before heading out the door, the amulet tucked securely into her belt.

The tavern wasn't far from her room, and was already filled with bawdy comments being thrown between men, a crowd milling about, about three tavern maids serving all. She glanced at one redhead and saw her smile, a warm smile, and then looked around. She noted the knights all at one corner, and then headed to an empty table in the opposite direction. Her hair was up in twin buns, hair falling carelessly where it was to short to be securely in place. The redheaded tavern maid walked over slowly and eyed Wynne. "'Ello, lass. You be Wynne, am I right?" She asked offhandedly as she poured a mug of wine for Wynne.

She frowned at the woman and sat straighter, looking around. The maid laughed. "Oh, bless you, lass. Bors told me it was your name, is all." She smiled at Wynne kindly. "But I must tell you, you won't remain hidden long in this place. Everybody knows all others, and all knows everyone else's business." She said, smiling once more before turning and walking away. Wynne sighed and slumped into her seat.

"Oh, hell…" She murmured, propping her fist up, her elbow planted onto the rough table. Her forehead planted onto the fist, eyes closed, she tapped her fingers on the table, muttering under her breath "when I open my eyes, I will be asleep in my bed," over and over again. She didn't hear the footsteps approaching her table, and only when someone sat at the table did she open her eyes, reaching for the sai at her waist. She relaxed her muscles when she saw only Dagonet, the giant of a man staring at her. He nodded at Wynne and then pointed to her mug.

"Mug. Say it." he said shortly. Wynne frowned, her gray eyes searching the room for anyone close enough to listen. She hesitantly forced out the word, stumbling over each syllable, each letter sound. Dagonet frowned. "Say it again." He said. Wynne frowned and repeated it, frowning as she tried to arrange the sounds correctly.

Dagonet didn't concede, instead instructing her to repeat words throughout the night. He kept her there until he finally needed to sleep, and led her to her room. "Lady Wynne, goodnight." He said, dipping his head slightly before heading off down the hall.

Wynne entered her room and lay upon the bed, frowning and repeating the words over and over again. She finally desisted when her watch said 12:30, sitting up on her bed. She went over and grabbed her katanas, then headed out to the courtyard. She unsheathed the weapons and began exercises, flowing from one stance into the other in what would seem to any viewers an exquisite dance.

"The River Undercuts The Bank," she said under her breath as she moved into the stance, followed by "Arc Of The Moon," and "Tower Of Morning." She ignored the sounds coming from the tavern, and concentrated on the stances, closing her eyes and feeling out the familiar exercises. The Grapevine Twines slid into Parting The Silk, which swiftly changed into Lightning of Three Prongs. She opened her eyes at the sound of footsteps, followed by someone clearing their throat. Wynne glanced around the field and sighed when she saw the tall form that watched her.

"Not bad, Lady." He said, his brown eyes twinkling even in the little light there was. Wynne rolled her eyes and turned away from the arrogant being that was Lancelot. "You seem to talk a lot when you do that." He said, watching her, following her movements as she practiced her stances. "Why?" He asked. Wynne stopped and looked at him.

"Name," She said. She then slipped into a starting stance. "Snake." She said, saying the only word she knew of Snake Slithering Through. She followed it with another, muttering the name of that as well. Lancelot nodded.

"I see, Lady. And, I must say, I wouldn't mind learning from you. If only to watch you as you demonstrate." He muttered, smirking at her. Wynne glared at him, and then sheathed her katanas, drawing out her sai. She began juggling them, then balanced them on her index fingers, her back to Lancelot. He moved around her to her front and grabbed one of the sai, studying it. He frowned as he looked at Wynne, then back to what must have been a strange weapon. Wynne glared and snatched the weapon back from the man.

"Don't." She said, returning to the center of the field, then beginning with her stances for those weapons. Even more graceful than her exercises with the katanas, she concentrated, ignoring Lancelot as she spun, ducked invisible attacks, and jumped. She stopped, crouched, one leg extended, the other tucked underneath her, and heard Lancelot's retreating steps as he left. She smiled and then started once more.

Two months later.

9:30 pm.

Wynne sighed and dismounted from the foul beast called a horse. The knights demanded that she was instructed in riding, for the day that she would accompany them upon their missions. She still insisted she could accompany them on foot, and they just laughed. Wynne frowned at the ground in front of her as she walked slowly to the tavern. Her butt hurt and she felt like killing someone, although she didn't care who it was.

She turned into the tavern and waved at the knights, in their usual spots, Galahad and Gawain playing their throwing game, Lancelot womanizing and gambling, Bors and Dagonet talking over their numerous mugs of alcohol. Geraint and the one called only Talon laughing as they discussed, likely, Wynne's unfortunately experiences called riding training. She glared. She would just have to increase their training so they felt pain as she did when she first started training. Shows what you get when you try to keep things simple. She was better at talking, although she still hesitated on some words, her mouth not forming them as well as she might have had she been speaking it frequently since she learned it.

She stopped by Vanora, and looked darkly at the two that supervised her lessons. "Geraint and Talon are making my life hell." She said, looking back at Vanora. The redheaded tavern maid, who had first greeted her at the tavern, was Bors' lover, and the mother to his five children. The only woman around here that Wynne could stand, as well. She wasn't one of the simpering wenches that frequented Lancelot's bed, and not one of the women who avoided her like the plague because she wore pants and shirts, specially made.

Vanora smiled at her pityingly, patting her on the shoulder. "Child, they only wish for you to learn it before their next trip, 'tis all. No gutting them." She added, teasing. Wynne laughed and walked to Galahad and Gawain, just as Galahad was about to throw his dagger. Wynne pulled out her sai behind him and threw it idly, landing in the center of the chair they used as a target. Galahad turned to look at her, frowning. Wynne laughed.

"Oh, pretty Galahad. You will get wrinkles." She said tapping him in the center of his forehead. Gawain burst out laughing, and Galahad spluttered, trying to get her back. Wynne laughed again, went and got her sai, and turned away, slapping Geraint on the head as she passed. An indignant 'Hey!' came up behind her, and the sound of chairs squeaking across the ground, then a small. 'Oh, it's her.' and guffaws as he sat again. Wynne chuckled and walked across the room.

She went to her table, surprised to see a man sitting at it, facing the opposite direction. "Pardon, sir." She said. "You are in my table." She said, frowning as the words came out wrong. The man turned to her and raised an eyebrow, smirking. Dark, straight black hair fell over his eyes, and the dark blue that stared at her irked Wynne. Very much like Harte… Wynne's eyes widened and she spoke, her voice halting as she spoke, English. "You. How did you get here." She said, glaring and fishing her sai out of her belt.

The man glanced around once, then gestured to a chair. "Take a seat, baby." He said, smirking. Ah, the ever present smirk. Wynne glared and stood, her feet spread apart and her sai just under her hands at her waist.

"I asked you how you got here." She said shortly, gritting her teeth together. The man laughed and sat back in the seat, placing his feet upon the table. His eyelashes covered his eyes as he stared at her, making Wynne forget everything that had happened the last two months, remembering a time in a small outdoor café not to long before. "Are you going to answer me? Or are you a little to unprotected here." She asked, sneering. He shook his head.

"Oh no. I just missed you, babe." He said. "As to how I got here.. I have no idea." He shrugged and Wynne stopped herself from grinding her teeth, and pulled out her sai.

"Around here, weapons are accepted as the norm. I am accepted, and any I gut are ignored, thrown out of the town, and I am commemorated as a hero." She said, twirling her sai around her hands, seemingly completely absorbed in the movements. "I advise you to leave me alone." She stopped in the middle of a spin, her hands held at an uncomfortable angle. "Or else I may have to follow up on my threat and sheathe this in your throat." She turned on her heel and walked out of the tavern, fuming.

"Of course he would show up here.." she muttered, swearing slightly as she made her way to the stables.


Ooo.. Who is 'he'? Virtual cookie for any who can remember.. Any kind. GrinsAnyways, like I said, I am working on it, but I am also working on my HP story. Hope you don't mind the waits in between the chapters!

Anyways, as always, R&R

'Til next time, B.