DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE ....

NOTES: Thank you soo much for all the reviews. I cherish every one of them!!

Hope this makes up for he short chapter before!!!

WITHOUT ARMOUR

"You could have let me die....." Lancelot said quietly after a while, when the silence had already grown heavy between them. "My life was in your hands, if my failing might one day be a risk to Arthur, you could have just let me die."

Morgianna met his gaze, holding it for the space of several breaths. Then she shook her head lightly, her face and eyes still unreadable.

"That choice was never mine to make." She crossed her arms under her chest, hugging herself as though she suddenly felt cold.

"My brother loves you, Lancelot; More than kin, more than blood, more than honour or reason. The mere thought that it was not his life he was risking when he went against the Saxons never occurred to him until he saw you close to death, until he saw Tristan's broken body. The thought still tortures him.....the thought of being reckless with another life than his own. Among his knights, his family ....you are the first and he holds you above all else."

She took a deep breath, looking straight into the knight's eyes.

"Sometimes I think you both love like this, like brothers because it is the only way you know how to love one another. It is never good to love someone more than you love yourself. But in the end it matters not ...that choice was never mine and my brother may be weaker, but also so much stronger for it. It is done."

Lancelot stared at her for the longest time, not sure what to say or what to do. For a moment the impulse of hurting her was incredibly strong; to rage, to hate, to accuse .....But he had wanted to know and nothing he could do would make her words unsaid or less true.

It was so easy to blame her, but in his heart Lancelot knew that most of his anger was directed at himself. He had needed her to say these things, needed somebody else to spell out what he felt inside, so that he could not hide from himself. And she would just stand there, tall and proud, so much like her brother and yet, so different in her determination, in her disposition.....

Lancelot understood what she had seen so clearly, that there were things that Arthur would not do as king; things he would refrain from, lengths that he would loathe to go to. She could be ruthless, because it was something she had been taught to be. She might not like it, might loathe herself for it just like her brother would, but she would do those things none the less, if they had to be done. Arthur would die to save just one of his men......but his sister would lie, plot, deceive or kill for him.

A long, hard look passed between them that spoke more eloquently than words of the things they both knew and understood. And Lancelot could see that fleeting shimmer in her eyes that told him that Morgianna could see herself through his eyes and how much she dreaded what she saw.

It might not have been her choice to save his life, but at least a part of her had been relieved to share the burden of knowledge with another.

They could not afford to be enemies, they had to be allies, not just for Arthur's sake, but for their own .....

It was almost as though he could hear her whisper those words that she would never say out loud.

I cannot do this alone ...

Another bout of laughter floated over from the feast and made them both turn their heads to see Arthur and his young queen raising their cups to another toast.

They could see Arthur putting an arm around Guinevere's waist to pull her against his side almost instinctively, leaning down to better understand what she was laughingly telling him before he answered her, laughing too. Morgianna shrank back, deeper into the darkness that was cast by the tall tree as her brother's eyes swept over the celebrating Britons and woads.

"You are hiding from him." Lancelot said, not a question but a simple statement of fact.

"Would you really want me to bless their marriage bed?" she whispered back, arching a questioning brow at him.

Lancelot pressed his lips together and looked away, trying to reign in on his confused, conflicting emotions. What she saw when he looked up again, made Morgianna draw a shuddering, almost frightened breath. She stepped back until her back was against the tree.

In the blink of an eye the heat of his anger and despair had turned into a very different kind of fire. He tried to make sense of it all in the only way he knew how; attempting to fuse his conflicting emotions into something he could understand, something he could control, something he knew how to handle.

He moved in close in an almost threatening manner, leaning forward slightly as though he was trying to see her face in the dark, as though to whisper in her ear, but from the look on his face Morgianna could tell that was not his intent.

She put her palm up against his chest, to push him away, but the part of her soul where the young girl, who had seen his face in her dreams long before she had possessed the capacity to discern her visions meanings, still lived, stilled her attempt. Under her hand she could feel the steady, reassuring beat of his heart....so strong.

There was no smirk on his face now, no non- committal smile as his warm breath brushed over her face.

Lancelot moved his hands to both sides of her waist, not pulling or pushing, just resting there before he dipped his head down, leaving her enough time to step away.

Morgianna let her breath out in another calming flow. His lips met hers in a slow, almost tentive, yet probing kiss.....

As though he was testing the waters before closing the distance between their bodies. Not breaking the kiss Lancelot moved forward slightly and his arms came around her, pulling her up against him. For a moment Morgianna struggled against herself, her better judgement, her instinct. She could hear her own blood rushing through her veins, her pulse thundering in her temples...and she was overwhelmed by fear that made her want to run and hide.

This was it, this was the pinnacle moment she had foreseen, the comprehension that had shattered all the dreams of home, love and family the little girl she had once been had entertained; to hold the one thing she had seen in her dreams and understand that no matter how close she might be .....it was something she would never own, that would never be hers.

This was the fire that would burn her to a cinder....the blow that could cripple her, but she was so tired of running, of being strong, tired of planning and fighting.

So she moved her head to the side, her cheek resting against his.

"This will not make you happy....nor me. It will not make you forget."

She could feel the movement of his shoulders as he shrugged, his hands moving over her back, sliding into her hair.

"But it might be enough ...." He whispered into her ear, his voice raspy. Still standing close, holding her in the circle of his arms, Lancelot looked at her from up close, examining her face, her eyes. She looked back at him, framing his handsome face with her hands. They could be a comfort to each other this night, be what they both needed so desperately....to not feel alone.

"What will you have of me?"

" A night without armour .....yours and mine."

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In the golden light of the candles, Lancelot wondered how he had ever thought of her as plain.

She lay next to him, on her side, watching him watching her while his hand idly wandered up and down the curve of her hip. Her raven hair spread out around her like warm, liquid black silk.

The sounds of the feast had finally died down until there was nothing left but the silence between them, no words, just deeds .....Warm skin.

Now that Lancelot looked at her after all their passion and need had been satisfied, he found that Arthur's sister was still beautiful. She had been an equal partner, not a girl but a woman who had known how to give and take.

She watched him intently, with a golden fire in her eyes that implied that she thought him just as beautiful, just as intriguing and appealing as he had found her to be.

And the thought crossed Lancelot's mind how easy, how simple things could be if he could love her, if there could be a way ....

A shadow passed over Morgianna´s face and she closed her eyes. When she opened them again there was a trace of pain there, that had not been there before and he knew that she must have read some of what he was thinking on his face or in his eyes.

"I cannot make you love me, Lancelot. There is no magic for that."

"Really?" he asked, reaching out to take her hand. He had seen it in her eyes, felt it in her touch....a part of her loved him. It was the reason she had feared to save his life, the reason she had dreaded the day they would meet.....a part of her had longed for him.

If her powers could make him fall in love with her, make him forget the other face he saw in his dreams, could make him forget how much he wanted what he should not want ....if she could make him forget and love her, they would all be safe, they could all be happy.

" Is there truly a limit to your powers such as this?" he asked with a laugh, clothing his question into a joke as he propped himself up on one elbow to better look at her.

"Why would you ask?" Morgianna asked quietly, watching a self deprecating smile stretch his lips.

"On our travels through the empire...." Lancelot said, his voice even and calm, "and also this land we heard tales of many a man completely bespelled by a woman's beauty and charms, the lures of a gifted witch. Men who lost their minds, forfeited their land, their fortunes, even their lives for just one more glimpse of that face that made them forget everything and all...."

He looked at her intently, waiting to see if his story could coax a reaction from her and Morgianna could read the plea in his eyes. If she could tell him that it might be true, that she could make it so that he loved her instead .....Then all could be well. And in her heart she knew that if the solution were this easy, none of them would have to suffer.....but it had never been as simple as that.

"Magic can do many things...." Morgianna whispered, each word heavy on her tongue as though they were made of lead.

"It brought Tristan back from the land of the dead....and now you mean to tell me it cannot give birth to love?"

"Everything has its price, Lancelot!" Morgianna tried to pull away from him, but he held her hand tight in his, his other weighing down on her waist, willing her to look at him.

He was not one to beg, he never had been, but in his yes she could see the conflict springing to life again, the fight in him to do right by his king, his friend and the pain of knowing that his own feelings might one day betray him.

"Name it, Morgianna.....whatever it is you shall have of me."

She shook her head, her throat so tight it hurt.

"Have you no love for me?"

Morgianna stilled, staring at him in utter desolation and confusion. The desperate, raw look in his eyes was enough to break her heart.

I have loved you all my life .......

It changed nothing. He was offering her what she had dreamed of as a young girl, when she had still believed that the handsome young man that haunted her dreams was the prince, the hero who would one day come and take her away. But she was not that young girl anymore, she knew better now.

" My powers.....magic as you call it, can do many things. It can stir desire. It can make you long for your lover's touch, make you crave it like a starving man craves sustenance, like the drowning man struggles to reach the shore ...."

Morgianna whispered in an attempt to explain. Her voice becoming low and husky as her hand reached out to brush over the plains of his stomach, bringing his breath in a throaty gasp due to the heat that sprung from her hovering touch. Lancelot's eyes widened in amazement, but Morgianna´s smile was bitter and sad.

"This power may touch the body, may bewilder the mind. It may make you believe that you love someone, but it can never touch the heart. No matter how much you wish it, it can never make you feel it, not in truth."

She pulled her hand back slowly, caressing his body with her eyes as she had done with her hands not too long ago.

"Making someone believe himself in love in such a way is nothing more than an illusion. It can make you believe, but it will never be real....not in your heart"

"Maybe even the illusion of love is better ...."

" No..." Morgianna shook her head, sadly, sitting up. She reached for a woollen cloak, pulling it around her shoulders tight enough to hurt. Suddenly she felt more naked in front of him than she had when they had been making love.

"You do not understand. A spell like that is not just mere illusion, Lancelot ....it is ..."

"A lie?" he asked her with that familiar challenge in his voice, the expression on his face now just as guarded and closed off as hers usually was. He had opened himself to her, had laid his fears bare at her feat and asked her to help him as only she could ....and she had denied him. It was all there and Morgianna understood his anger, but she also knew that he did not understand her reasons or he did not want to understand.

"Slavery...."she answered him and the word seemed to slither through the room like a poisonous snake.

Morgianna wanted to reach out to him, but was afraid that he would shrink back from her, so she remained sitting there, looking at him so very still.

"You told my brother once that you detest everything that brings a man to his knees. And now you of all people would ask for something like this, because you think it will cool your desire for another, make you forget and give you peace of mind. But you do not know what it is you are asking for...."

Looking at him staring back at her with narrowed eyes, Morgianna knew that even though it lay in her power to give him what he wanted, she would not, could not bring herself to take that step....no matter what it might cost them in the long run. She could not bear the thought of seeing him like that.

" A spell like that...." She whispered, her voice toneless now that all her feelings of warmth and comfort were seeping away from her like that passion she had felt, leaving her cold and sad. " ...it will not bring you the peace you long for. A spell like that would not bring you to your knees, my brave knight. It would make you crawl."