REVIEW RESPONSES:

Sorceress of Rohan: Thank you very much. I've sort of just started to figure out how much I really do love writing, and I won't give it up just because of one mean review. I'm glad you plan to start writing again…it's a really great thing, and hey, the only way to get better is to keep going, right?

Sorceress Misha: Haha…I've had two Sorceresses review today. Thanks and I'm happy you enjoyed.

Marianna: Haha, that's good, I'm glad you're happy about it continuing. I just had exams as well…its so hard to resist the call of fan fiction when you've got study time…

Evenstar-mor2004: It's a definite possibility…that's all I'm going to say as of now.

Raz 42492 Well, at least I know people actually like Lena. Lol, thanks.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: This is pretty soon, no?

Tracy137: Well, here's more, and I'm glad you liked the way I did it. I felt like I relied on the movie verse a little too much…but I was feeling lazy. MAD PROPS to you for saying mad props…okay so I've pretty much killed that now.

Choices

Chapter 11: A Stroll Down Memory Lane

Most of the Knights had wandered off to bed. The Woads, who had been instructed by Guinevere to remain with the caravan until their arrival at the wall, had slept around their own fire, apart from the rest of the people. As Etta and Fulcinia did not want anyone in the sick wagon, Lucan was sleeping with Alecto in the Roman's wagon. Arthur had, most generously, made room for Guinevere on his bedroll, and the pair slept side by side.

Lancelot, however, could not find sleep. He remained by the fire, contemplating the earlier conversation and the things he had learned.

"Seers die young." — It kept replaying itself in his head, over and over.

The Knight shifted uncomfortably, and looked to the wagon that housed both Lena and Dagonet. Suddenly, he was overcome by a dire need to speak with Lena, if only to reassure himself that she was all right, and would not be dying any time soon. He looked around quickly, making sure everyone else was asleep, then made his was quietly to the cart.

He poked his head into the wagon, and began to climb in. "Who is that?" Someone hissed. Lancelot froze. "Guinevere?" It was Etta, whispering in the dark.

"Guinevere?" Lancelot muttered back disbelievingly. "It's Lancelot." He whispered in reply, slightly annoyed that Etta had taken him for a girl.

"Well I can't see you over there!" Etta defended herself. "And what are you doing here? No one's allowed in, go on, get out!"

He ignored her command. "Where's the Roman woman?" Lancelot asked instead.

"She went to go check on Lucan and Alecto." Etta answered, shuffling over to him. "Why are you still here?"

"I wanted to see Lena." He answered honestly. Etta gave him a pitying look. "How is she?" Etta sighed and crawled over to Lena, Lancelot following behind her.

"Not well." Etta wasn't one to sugarcoat. "She broke into a high fever not long ago, and has been in and out of consciousness ever since." Etta reached down and felt Lena's forehead. "We can't seem to get her to cool down." The woman spoke more to herself than to Lancelot.

Lancelot felt a sudden pang of guilt over not having asked about Dagonet. "And what about him?" He nodded in the direction of the sleeping knight.

Etta smiled. "Surprisingly, he's doing quite well." She let out a short breath. "You'd think it be the other way around." She mused looking down at Lena. "But perhaps she was weaker than we thought, you know, from the prison." Lancelot nodded. "If that's the case…the girl has quite a talent for acting all right…trudging through the snow…" Etta shook her head.

Suddenly, Etta's stomach let out a loud grumble. She groaned a little and held it. "Hungry?" Lancelot asked with a smirk.

"No." Her stomach growled again. "Maybe."

"There's still food out there." Lancelot informed her.

"But I can't—"

Lancelot cut her off. "I'd be most happy to wait here, Lady."

Etta looked at him doubtfully. "Really?"

"Really."

"Fine." She started to make her way out of the wagon, all too happy with the thought of food. "But if anything happens get Fulcinia or I immediately." Etta added before disappearing

Lancelot let out a long breath as he sat down beside Lena. This little excursion was supposed to have made him feel better about Lena's health…not worse. The knight shook his head. He didn't like worrying. He didn't like the fact that he was worried. He especially didn't like the idea that Lena made him worry so easily.

"Then don't worry." Lancelot looked around, surprised, before realizing it was Lena who had spoken to him. She was propped up on her elbows, staring at him. He hadn't even notice her wake.

"Why would you think—" Lancelot began to ask.

"Do not pretend you aren't…you look awful." She stated, lying back down.

"You're one to speak." He joked, putting a hand on her forehead. She was burning. Lena waited for him to move his hand away but he never did. Instead he began to push back some of her dark hair in an idle manor, not realizing the kind of small gesture he was making. They sat like that for several minutes, until the Knight noticed a sudden change in Lena's breathing.

"Lancelot—I—I," She grabbed her throat suddenly, struggling to breath. She threw back her shoulders as her chest heaved erratically, her lungs fighting for oxygen. Lancelot was over her in a second, a hand on each of her shoulders, trying to keep her calm. Looking to her face, he noticed for the first time that her eyes were changing. This wasn't the pure white he had seen in the morning though; this time they were clouding, fading almost to white, and then returning to normal, over and over.

"Lena what—" He never finished the sentence though, because as Lena froze, her eyes finally crossing all the way into solid white, so did he.

They were standing in a small field, close to a congregation of village huts. As Lancelot looked around frantically, he realized he was standing beside Lena, who was looking as healthy (and able to breath) as ever.

"Lena, what the hell is going on?" He demanded. "Lena?" She didn't respond. "Lena?" He tried grabbing her arm, but she couldn't feel it. He realized, with some confusion, that Lena had no idea of his presence. Lancelot heard shouting and, following Lena's gaze, noticed what it was they were watching.

A small girl, probably younger then 8, was being screamed at by her father, it appeared. "You will do exactly what I say, when I say, do you understand, girl?" The man shouted angrily. "No more of this running off because you don't want to!" The girl didn't answer. The man reached down suddenly and forcefully grabbed the girl by either arm, lifting her painfully off the ground. This elicited a terrified scream from the girl. Her father shook her hard as he continued to yell. "Do you understand me!" She didn't answer again and the man shook more forcefully. "ANSWER ME!"

"Please don't make me!" The sobbing girl begged. "Please, Father, don't make me!" She cried harder. The man let go of one of her arms and used his now free hand to slap the girl.

"Sir!" Lancelot called out, trying to intervene. "Sir, please—" He realized, however, that the girl and father didn't see him either. No one saw or heard him or Lena here. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. Lancelot looked to Lena, hoping that something would change. She was staring determinately at the man and little girl, her mouth in a tight line, her jaw clenched shut, her fists balled at her sides, nails digging into the palms of her hands. Lancelot had never once seen her look this angry. It was frightening. Suddenly, Lena began to march away, in the direction of the village. Lancelot looked back to the screaming father and crying daughter before following.

"Where are we?" He shouted after Lena. "Where are you going?" He knew she couldn't hear him, let alone answer, but it felt like he needed to ask either way. Lancelot continued to follow as Lena made her way through the small community. They passed several people, none of whom seemed to register their existence in the town, as Lena trudged on.

Soon they came upon a small hut, which Lena entered without hesitation. Inside were 10 or 11 men, who all seemed to be impatiently waiting for someone. Lena found a spot on the wall, and Lancelot uncertainly stood beside her, as she seemed to wait as well.

"Where the bloody hell is the girl?" A particularly unattractive man asked. "Like hell I'm going to pay him for making me wait here!" Some of the others grumbled in assent.

"Friends," The same man they had watched berate his daughter earlier appeared at the door. "Terribly sorry for the inconvenience." He spoke glibly. Lancelot furrowed his brow. How had Lena known he would show up here? "My daughter is ready, and believe me, the small price you pay for her talents is sure to be well worth it." He pulled the girl out from where she was hiding behind him, and pushed her into the small room. "Ipetus, I believe you were here first." Lancelot watched uncertainly as the father forced his daughter into a chair and gestured for Ipetus to come forward. What the hell were these people doing?

At the urging of her father, the girl reached out and touched Ipetus' hand. She concentrated for a moment before both of them froze. The girl's large eyes turned a shockingly clean shade of white, and Lancelot felt his stomach knot.

The girl was Lena.

She had known the man would come to the hut, because it was her hut. He looked around at the home in confusion. These weren't Woads. He looked to Lena, and saw still, the same immense anger he had before. That man, standing there watching greedily as his daughter, as Lena, was forced to read the future, was her father. Lancelot looked at the little girl. She was frozen for a moment more before snapping into life.

"Don't sell your surplus this fall." She said quietly. She had considerably paled.

"What do you mean don't sell my crops!" Ipetus demanded. "How the hell am I supposed to turn a profit?"

Little Lena shook her head. "Your family will starve in winter. Save your food." The man stared at her blankly before walking to her father and handing over three coins.

"Come again." He smiled falsely as Ipetus left. Lancelot watched as little Lena went through the same ordeal for each person present, in the end earning her father a hefty sum of gold. The man shook the small purse filled with the recent makings by his ear, smiling as if the jingling sound were music. He beamed before patting his daughters head. "At least some good can come of having a freak for a daughter." He smiled yet again, unaware of how the words cut her. "Rest, my little money maker," He added. "We'll need your talents again tomorrow." He let out a happy laugh before exiting the hut.

The fully grown, present day Lena left her spot on the wall once her father had disappeared. She knelt in front of the younger version of herself, who was still sitting in her chair. The little girl looked sickly and tired. Lancelot noted that, even as she had screamed and cried, the girl had looked much better in the field than she did now. He understood what Guinevere had been talking about; he had just seen, ten times, what a drain it was for Lena to use the sight. He couldn't imagine 15 years of that.

"Why doesn't he love me?" The girl asked shakily to herself, quiet tears streaming from her eyes. It was the last thing either Lancelot or Lena heard from her before being ripped back into reality.

Lancelot shook his head and backed away from the Woad. Lena was coughing violently, having just regained the ability to breathe properly. Though the sight had felt lengthy, in reality it took no longer than ten seconds, in which time Lena's body had continued to find difficulty in taking in air.

"How—" Lancelot asked disbelievingly.

"It must be the fever." Lena choked out. "Strange things happen when I am not well." Her coughing eventually subsided and her breathing returned to its normal pace. "You saw as well then?" She asked.

"Yes." His eyes were darting back and forth, searching her face in the dim moonlight. "What was that?"

"A memory. My memory." Lena answered quietly; uncomfortable knowing Lancelot had seen that part of her past.

"But you're a Woad." He stated suddenly. "That wasn't a Woad settlement."

"I didn't know I was a Woad until I was in my seventh summer. My parents left their home for a Roman ruled village." Lena explained then coughed nervously. She didn't like talking about her parents. "My father was opposed to Merlin." Lena bit her bottom lip. "I—I'm sorry I dragged you into that…I know you dislike the entire—"

"No, no," He interrupted, still backing away. "Don't apologize." He was almost out of the wagon. In what little light there was, Lancelot could make out Lena's desperate eyes. She did not want him to fear her.

"Lancelot, please!" But he was already gone, walking to his bedroll at breakneck speed.

You see, it was not that Lancelot feared Lena—or even Lena's sight for that matter. It was not fear at all that had driven him from the wagon that night. Lancelot was simply too ashamed to face Lena. Because, as he'd seen her eyes pleading with him to stay, all he could think of was the little girl asking why she was so unloved. And as she called his name, all he could hear was his own voice, that night in the forest, when he himself had called her a freak—just as her father had done. And he remembered his own thoughts upon the discovery of Lena's sight; when Tristan had believed her and Arthur had seemed convinced, how he had, for an instant, let that voice in his head say what it truly wanted to say. It had told him that she was strange, that she did not belong around the fire joking with Galahad and Bors, and that he had condescended to feel for someone as bizarre as Lena.

And Lancelot hated that. He hated himself for ever feeling that way. Because it was unfair and wrong and undeserved in everyway. As a heavy sense of guilt wound its way through his chest, Lancelot gave a frustrated sigh. He wanted to show her that he didn't feel that way any longer. He wanted to show Lena that he wasn't like the people who had treated her so poorly.

He wanted to show himself as well.

Okay guys, I hoped you all liked it. I feel like Lancelot was VERY out of character…I don't know, if anyone has anything to say on that I'd really love it, because I'm sort of uneasy with the way I've written his part this chapter. The next chapter might not be up for a while (I've got to go to my dads this week and I can't really write there) but I'll try to have it up ASAP. Thanks for reading!

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