Disclaimer: I don't own King Arthur or any of its characters. The King Arthur movie is the property of Touchstone Pictures. There is no copyright infringement intended!

I do own the story itself and the characters of Lirianna and Non-King Arthurian types

It is based on the 2004 movie and my own imagination! I do not intend to rip off any other writer; therefore if this premise has been done before, I'm sorry this is unintentional

WARNING: BAD LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE, ETC., SO READ AT YOUR OWN PERIL.

All reviews, and constructive criticism, gratefully received – but no flaming please!

Chapter 2: Afraid of the Unknown

Lirianna leaned wearily into her worn saddle. She was tired, and so was Kale. The snow that had started as a light swirl, had turned gradually into a soft powder, before ending in a snow and rain mixture that cascaded down, creating a slick icy pathway that was as unpleasant as it was dangerous. They needed to stop, and soon. Although, Lirianna knew that it would be best if they pressed on, despite this fact. The Saxons would not rest until they found them; and with all the extra people crowding the road, their journey was slow and tedious. It would not be long before their enemy was quick on their heels, and she just prayed that when the time came, that the experience of these soldiers of legend was not just hearsay.

She stopped by the carriage that was pulling Guinevere, whose pale face shone through the wooden slats of the wagon. She was sleeping, that was good, Lirianna thought silently. Friendly eyes met hers through the bars. It was the big man again. He was tending to Lucan. His instant devotion to the boy was endearing.

"Hello", he called softly to her.

Lirianna inclined her head in acknowledgement.

"How is the boy", she asked in return.

The man looked down at the quietly moaning form of the slight child. "He burns. A fever has taken a hold of him."

The concern in the man's voice tugged on her cynical heart. "Lucan is a strong boy", she said finally, "the blood of Woads runs in him. He will overcome the darkness of heat, mark my words."

The man smiled gently up at her, nodding once at her comment. "My name is Dagonet", he said.

Lirianna smiled in return, the first genuine smile she had bestowed on anyone in a while.

"Lirianna", she returned.

Again he simply nodded. He seemed to her to be a man of few words, which was perfectly fine with her. She wasn't one for conversation much either, or at least she wasn't much anymore. With a final salute to the man, Lirianna pulled on Kale's reins, leading him forward.

Her eyes glanced up at Arthur and his handsome, mysterious friend with the unruly black curls. Both were peering back at the cart carrying her sister, and at her it seemed. Her clear eyes met theirs' boldly with a quirked brow of interest, causing Arthur to turn back around with a slight shake of his head, and the womanizing one to throw her a slight smile and a hazy-eyed look of lust. Lirianna bit back a laugh, choosing instead to kick into the flanks of Kale, and race past the two towards the front of the line. She knew these lands, and she knew that there was a small, secluded forested area up ahead. It would have to suffice for shelter for the night. Because, as much as she wished to continue on until they reached this mysterious wall of the knights, Lirianna knew that the people could not continue on much more without a proper rest.

She noticed a dark figure farther ahead, and almost instantly recognized it as the man from earlier. The one with the piercing eyes and black slashes of tattoos under them. Tristan. A bird, a hawk at that, was perched companionably on his forearm, and he was talking to it in a soft, gentle voice. The hawk rested comfortably on her perch for a few seconds more, before taking off in a graceful flutter of swift wings into the swirling snow and ice. He sat stonily still on his horse watching the animal in the air, his posture a perfect form, even to her who sat ramrod straight herself on her own mount.

"Why do you defend the Woads?", he asked suddenly, not even bothering to turn around towards her.

Lirianna held her breath. How could she even begin to answer a question like that?

"Wouldn't you defend your people", she asked simply.

He turned then, to cast curiously quiet eyes on her. "They are not your people."

The statement shocked her, as she inhaled quickly, a mistake she knew. It was a move that gave her away.

"I don't know what you are talking about", she answered curtly, moving to pass him.

"Hmm, never figured you for a liar", he said softly to her retreating figure, his words as faint and cold as the snow on which they floated.

She stopped suddenly, her violet eyes filling with a sadness that she had tried to hide for years now. Turning slightly, her profile facing him more than her actual face, Lirianna allowed a lone tear to trickle down her frosty cheek. "They are all the people I have now."

The words were sorrowful, and they hung between them like a thick curtain.

He will never understand, she thought to herself.

She will never trust anyone enough to let them understand, he thought to himself.

Each wrapped up in their own thoughts about each other, to notice the fast approaching knights on horseback.

"We'll camp here tonight", Arthur said, intruding suddenly into Lirianna's solitude.

She looked up at Tristan once more through wet lashes, catching his sharp eyes already on her. She let her gaze drop, before pounding off in the direction of the trees, sending snow and ice to fleck the faces of the knights behind her.

"I like that one", Lancelot said with a smug, self-assured smile. "Think I'll…"

Tristan glared up at him, his eyes boring into the assured dark orbs of his brother knight, "Don't even think about it".

Bors snorted a laugh, "Horny little bugger", he said under his breath, causing Gawain and Galahad to share a short smirk with one another.

Lancelot looked over at the group, his black eyebrows arching into sharp slashes above his eyes, "If you like her so much Old Scout, maybe you should go after her yourself".

Tristan said nothing. No twitch of a brow, no smirk of his lips gave away that the man had even heard the comment. There was not a movement from the still scout, except for the quietly twitching knife in his right hand and the tightly grasped green apple in his left.

Arthur threw up a silent hand, "Knights", his commanding voice said in a low tone.

Bors laughed once more, a blunt, harsh laugh before galloping off towards the sheltering trees. Gawain and Galahad were fast on his trail, each laughing heartily at the scene they had left behind them.

Arthur cast brilliant green eyes on first his best friend, and then on his best scout. "We have work to do. Keep away from the girl if you must."

Lancelot smiled good naturedly, "Come on Arthur, I'm not really interested in the girl."

"Then best leave her be", Tristan spoke up. For one that hardly spoke, his restrained voice was being heard more and more today.

The curly-headed knight inclined his head, "Only because you've asked so nicely Tris".

"Lancelot, … Tristan", Arthur warned the two, before following the trail of people, and the wagon holding the frail girl woman with the sharp tongue, named Guenievere.

Lirianna smiled proudly at the makeshift shelter she had created for herself. The lean-to tent was held up by a huge, ancient oak that sat firmly in the middle. A roaring fire in a stone pit was at one end, a pallet and bedroll at the other. And there in the center, between the tree and the blazing heat of the fire, was a crude wooden tub William had snuck into the small cart of his. Goddess Bless Him, Lirianna thought fondly of the wizened, old man. The clean snow had melted in the tub, and now stood luxuriously warm thanks to the fire. Rising steam beckoned the weary young woman with its curling tendrils . With a sigh, she gratefully stripped of the mud-caked, dirty black leather and slipped between the satiny warmth of the water. She unrolled her tightly bundled curls, marveling at how long her hair had gotten. Its midnight tips floating around in the sudsy water. Lirianna wanted to soak it all away, to just sit in this steaming tub for hours, but knew that wasn't an option. She had to check on Guen, as well as Lucan. And something to eat wouldn't be a bad idea either. Scrubbing her grimy skin and even dirtier hair, Lirianna was pleased at the bright pink glow her skin had become as she stepped out of the tub and into a deep crimson gown. Brushing her wet curls back from her face with her fingers, she took a deep breath and lugged the heavy tub out into the still falling snow. Two dark figures in the shadow of the the nearby trees caught her eye. It was Guenievere and that knight, Lancelot. Hrmph, it didn't appear as if her sister needed to be visited on her sickbed afterall. With a small smile to herself, Lirianna stood up, tugging at her cloak for added warmth. She just hoped that Guen would be careful, no matter what she did, or rather who she did. The chill of the air nipped at her face, and caught itself in her now glossy curls, blowing them about her head like a dark and sinister halo.

Tristan sat with his back to the tree, Bors to his left, Gawain to his right, and Galahad directly in front of him. The fire, on which a few rabbits cooked, blazed between them all, but it created little warmth against the cold air. But it didn't matter, not to him, not to any of them. They were used to discomfort. It would all be over soon though, all of this. And then they could actually get to live for once. A sudden movement, a glimpse of floating dark hair and swirling red fabric flashed against the trees. And the sight suddenly filled Tristan with more warmth than any mere fire could do. It was her. The girl with the bright eyes, and even brighter sword. She made his very blood boil. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman, especially a woman as beautiful as her. That is if he had even been with one that could compare in the least. At this point he didn't care that he was older than her by surely almost ten years, he didn't care that he was a Sarmatian knight and her a supposed Woad. No, all he cared about was the way her breath caused her full chest to rise and fall, the way her hips swayed seductively without her even knowing it, the way her rounded bottom filled her clothes, whether it be black leather or a flowing red gown. He felt his desire flame, felt it grow hot, so hot he was sure it melted the very snow beneath him.

"Hmm", he heard Gawain murmur beside him. "Will you look at that? Now there is a beautiful woman if ever I have seen one. Think the Sarmatian women will be half as handsome as she?"

Bors snorted into his wine cup, " She's s'alright I suppose".

Galahad looked over his shoulder, before staring back moodily into the flames. "Aye, she's pretty. Although, she scares me a bit you know. Too quite for a woman, too hard for one too."

"We all know how you like your women soft Galahad", Gawain spoke again, a chuckle in his voice as he turned the spit over the fire carefully.

"S'coming over here ye know, so shut it", Bors said again.

Four pairs of eyes looked up quickly, each focusing on her as she approached.

Lirianna took in a quick breath. She felt uneasy, nervous almost. Though, she wasn't quite sure why.

"Hungry", the blond one asked her, indicating a place on the log beside him and the multiple brazened rabbits that cooked above the open flame. They smelled delicious, causing her mouth to water in anticipation.

She nodded once, before sitting down quietly beside him.

"I'm Gawain by the way. And that there is my cousin, Galahad."

The young looking one shot her a wary eye, before bestowing a slight smile and an inclination of his curly head.

"Bors", the big one said, not even bothering to raise his head from his cup.

"Lirianna."

She said it quietly. Not saying anything else. She didn't know what else to say: 'Hello, I'm a Woad. Your enemy I suppose. Although, not really. Because, according to your dark scout over there, I'm actually lying…' She didn't picture that conversation going over too well.

They all sat in silence, listening to the fire crackling and the nearly done rabbit spitting and sputtering its juices into the flames. Her eyes darted to the scout. Tristan's dark eyes were molded to the fire, until suddenly they were not. They were staring back hard at her. She felt that bottom drop feeling in her stomach again. Her teeth clamped down on her lips agitatedly, as her breathing came in short puffs. How the hell could this man do this to her? Never. Never had she felt like this before. And she hardly even knew him! Other than the fact that his eyes shone a pure fire, and that his long, lean body was perfectly at home atop a horse. She knew that his sword was not just a piece of metal, but rather an extension of his whole body. He was devoted to his brothers in arms, and would defend them to the death. His soul was wrapped up in a bird, and his mind was wrapped up in a war that was not his. He was brave, and true, and loyal. And mostly, when he looked at her like he was now, he made her forget who she was, and made her want to be in his bed and under his body.

"Lirianna", Gawain said, handing her a cup of wine and a piece of the roasted hare.

She blinked rapidly, before taking the food and drink gratefully. Her stomach rumbled loudly as the smell of the succulent meat rose up to tempt her nostrils.

"Sounds like someone's 'ungry eh", Bors said loudly, winking at her as he dug into his own food with relish.

Oh she was hungry alright, but not for some mere brazened rabbit. No, she was more hungry for something, or rather shall we say someone. And that thought terrified her, something no scout should ever be,