A/N: I hope you all enjoy this! Starts immediately after the last! And thanks so much to all my reviewers!

"Talk?" Shyare began nervously, suddenly not so in need of sleep.

"Yes, about the new child..." Tristan replied, not looking her in the eye.

Shyare visibly relaxed, she slumped against the wall, crossing her arms, "It's the name isn't it? I promise we'll sit down and find one, I'll talk about it right now even!"

"No, it's about the parents," he cut in a low voice.

"The parents?" Shyare repeated curiously.

"I'm just going to say it," he started in a rushed voice, for him at least, "The father is Lancelot."

"Yeah. Right." Shyare said with a laugh, he may sleep around with a lot of women, but how the Hell would he have fathered the child of a woman in a remote village?

"I'm completely serious," he continued, ignoring the laughing, "She lived here about a year and a half ago, a local. She left suddenly, her father had found out she had been sleeping with one of the knights. Lancelot."

"Oh my," Shyare said, placing a hand over her mouth, "Do we still take her in? Do we make Lancelot care for her? Does he know?" she ranted off, confusion and hundreds of thoughts clouding her mind.

"We give Lancelot the choice to raise her," Tristan replied after a moment's thought, "He knows she's his daughter."

"Why didn't he speak up then!" she asked angrily.

"I don't know," the Scout replied, his tone still calm, but he ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

"Well, that's just irresponsible!" she continued ranting.

"We'll talk to him in the morning," Tristan decided, "He'll be available then."

"Available then?" she asked incredulously, "Why not now?"

Shyare stormed off before Tristan could stop her. She went into the now familiar hall way. Harshly knocking on the door, no one answered. Shyare tried to open it, but it was locked. She stepped back and roughly kicked it, breaking the weak hatch. She stomped into the room. But stopped suddenly, seeing Lancelot in a position with Lena that he had always wanted to have Shyare in.

Lancelot was the first to come to his senses, throwing a blanket over himself and Lena. Shyare's jaw dropped. She suddenly threw a hand over her face to block the vision, running from the room in full sprint. She reached the balcony where she had left Tristan. He stood there with a knowing look.

"MY EYES!!!" she yelled dramatically, the image still fresh in her mind, unable to be erased.

She attempted to climb up on the ledge; maybe suicide could be her escape. Tristan grabbed her by the waist, pulling her to solid ground.

"Hell would only let you see that image for an eternity," Tristan scolded, "And who would that leave the children with as an adult figure...Gawain?"

"Hey!" she said angrily after a moment of rolling his words through her mind, "How do you know I'd go to Hell?"

"It's just a guess, for all you've done your life is professional theft," he said with a shrug, as if that were beside the point.

"I suppose," she began slowly, "But that picture won't leave me be!" she made an attempt for the ledge again.

"You'll get over it," he said while throwing her over his shoulder and making his way to her room.

"How do you know?" she asked angrily, "I'm sure people have died from witnessing that."

"All of the knights alive right now have unfortunately laid eyes on that act," Tristan grumbled, "None of us are in an early grave."

"What about the other ones?" she asked as he opened her door.

"Only Kay," he said while dropping her on the bed. He was out the door, about the close it when he added, "He 'accidentally' fell off the Wall."

Shyare stared at him with an open mouth. He smiled to himself, waving before closing the door. Shyare groaned; the image wouldn't leave. She fell back on the bed, placing a pillow over her face. Lancelot would be the death of her.

A/N: I hope you all liked this chapter! I apologize for it being so short, but hey, the humor is back! Please review, no flames. Was this good or bad? I need opinions!