Author Note: Sorry for the delay everyone, been a bit of a manic week. Anyways, here's another 2 chapters for you - yes 2 chapters! lol. Glad you're all still enjoying it as much as I'm enjoying writing it, and remember, reviews are always greatly appreciated. I love to hear what you guys think about Dante and the ideas you have! I try to include all ideas in my stories, wherever possible (and give the credit where its due, of course) so if any of you have any particular scenes you wish to see, let me know and I'll see if I can work them in to the general storyline somehow :)

Enjoy

...

Two hours later, Dante felt even worse about the whole situation with Gwaine. Now there was so much going on inside her head that it felt like it was about to explode. One minute Gwaine had been ranting and raving about her kissing another man. THAT she could handle.

But then he'd turned things personal, and right now, that was the last thing she'd needed. Why did he have to be so complex? What did it matter if she hadn't loved him? She'd needed him...didn't that count for anything? But when she'd needed him the most, he'd let her down. Now here he was, back in her life again, acting like nothing had ever happened between them.

Everything crashed about inside her head like a storm in a teacup. And that incessant pounding on the door wasn't helping, either.

Wait.

Someone was knocking on her door?

Leaping up from her chair with a start, she quickly wiped away the last few tears from the corners of her eyes with her sleeve, then called for whoever it was to enter, hoping that she didn't look too much of a wreck.

And speak of the devil, Gwaine himself stuck his head round the door then, smiling softly. "May I come in?"

"Erm...sure..." she shrugged. She hadn't expected anyone to come knocking, and even if she had, Gwaine was certainly the last person she'd have expected anyway. She'd assumed he was off somewhere drowning himself in ale to take his mind off things.

"Is everything alright?" he asked after an awkward moment of silence. Dante turned her back on him again, so he couldn't see her face, but he knew that she'd been crying again anyway.

"No," she sighed truthfully, shaking her head.

"Is it because of our fight?"

"No," she said again, though this time he knew it was a lie.

"I didn't mean to hurt you..."

"It's fine, Gwaine."

"No it's not. If I upset you...if I hurt you in any way..."

"It's fine, honestly," she said at last, turning back to face him, her hands clenched into fists. She was clearly frustrated, and he felt his heart ache at the sight of her looking so helpless and vulnerable again. "At least I know where we stand now."

"And where do we - " he started once more, but she cut him off with a fierce glare.

"Please, don't go there again. Not now."

"But - "

"I think perhaps you should leave."

"No."

"What?" Her voice had dropped very low, and he knew that he was treading on very thin ice, but protecting people was part of his life now, even if it meant protecting them from themselves. And if he left Dante in this mood, he had no doubt in his mind that she would most likely do something stupid or regrettable. She needed help, whether she'd admit it or not.

"I said no."

"Don't you dare, Gwaine!" Her voice rose again in anger, but he stood his ground as she stormed towards him, looking for all the world like she was going to hit him. But she held back at the last second, realising that he was bigger and stronger than her, and that it would be a very unwise idea.

"Go on," he encouraged, holding his arms wide and inviting the first shot.

"No," she retorted, stubbornly folding her arms across her chest and turning away again. Then she unfolded them, then folded them again. "I don't want to."

"Of course you don't. Because you don't know what you DO want, do you."

She froze then, and he knew he'd struck the nail right on the head.

"What the hell would you know about what I want," she snapped eventually.

"I know nothing about what you WANT. But I know what you NEED right now."

"Oh really, and what is that?"

"To hit something."

"Like what?"

"Me."

"I'm not going to hit you!"

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not!" She glared over her shoulder at him.

"Yes. You are," he said again, taking a step towards her.

"Why am I?"

"Because I'm going to let you."

Whatever retort she'd been ready to throw back at him never came, as she stared at him in surprise. "What?" she said at last, confusion replacing the frustration momentarily.

"You're angry. You need to hit something. So hit me. Come on, you've already done it once. What's stopping you now?"

"I'm not going to hit you," she repeated, though she sounded less sure now than she'd done previously - like she was seriously considering the idea, at least.

"You will," he promised, reaching out to poke her in the shoulder.

"Stop it," she growled, stepping back. But he simply followed, continually poking and pushing her, trying to provoke her.

"Stop it! Gwaine, I order you to stop! Enough! Stop it! Leave me alone!...PACK IT IN!"

When he refused, she clenched her fists once more, and he knew that he was getting to her. When she finally snapped, however, he wasn't quite prepared for how fierce her attack would be.

The fist to his gut had him bending double, gasping for air. It wasn't so much the fact that it hurt, as such. It was more the surprise of it. He'd expected her to go for his jaw again.

She now stood over HIM for once - breathing heavily, trying to control her anger. He grinned at her wryly.

"Is that the best you've got?" he taunted, standing up tall again and tensing, prepared this time.

She hit him again. And again. And again. He could feel all the anger and frustration draining with each blow, and finally she stopped, breathing hard, her expression softer, now...with none of her earlier anger left.

"Better?" he asked and she nodded, then sighed.

"You're a fool."

"Why?" he asked, smiling.

"Because you'll have one hell of a bruise in the morning."

His face fell then, realisation dawning. He'd never thought of that before. Still, at least now that Dante had vented all her anger, she was no longer a danger to herself or anyone else. So it was worth it, he decided eventually.

"I can live with that. But can you?"

"What?" She asked, confused.

"Your hands. How will you explain that?"

Glancing down, she realised that her knuckles had been ripped to shreds by Gwaine's chainmail and her hands were now soaked in blood.

"Oh," was all she could think to say right then, surprised that the pain had not yet registered.

"Look at the state of you," he sighed, reaching out to gently probe the back of her hand.

"Ouch! Gwaine!"

"You really don't know how to fight, do you."

"And your point is?"

"My point is, Dante...if you insist on getting yourself into these scrapes, then you'd better at least know how to survive."

"I've survived this far," she stated defiantly. "I know how to defend myself."

"Yes, but you're careless. You won't last much longer if you keep up this reckless attitude."

"Oh, and I suppose YOU could teach me?"

"As a matter of fact...yes. I could."

"Right," she scoffed, glancing own at her knuckles, gritting her teeth as finally the pain hit.

Gwaine noticed her wincing in pain and gently led her to the seat in front of the fire. "Let's get you cleaned up. And then I will teach you how to stay alive."

"I don't need your help."

"Just humour me, Dante. Please?"

Knowing that he was right and she was just being stubborn, she sighed and nodded. So far she'd been lucky. But someday her luck would run out - of this she was certain. So she didn't protest when Gwaine disappeared from the room to gather a few supplies from Gaius, in order to treat her wounds.

...

"Here," Gwaine said, returning again sometime later with a bowl of fresh water, an armful of bandages and some cloths. Setting them on the table beside the chair Dante was currently sitting in, he pulled out another chair, sat down and very carefully took one of her hands - the worst looking one. She must be right handed, then, as this was the hand she favoured most. Her knuckles were raw and painful, oozing blood each time she flexed her fingers.

"That's quite deep," he said, examining it. Every time he touched a certain area, Dante yelped in pain.

"Sorry," he muttered, reaching over to the table and grabbing a small bottle that had been hidden amongst the bandages. He popped it open and sniffed the contents, pulling a horrified face as Dante, oblivious to this, dipped a cloth into the bowl of warm water and very carefully began to dab and wipe at the dried blood around the wound.

Watching her for a few moments, Gwaine eventually took the rag from her with one hand and simultaneously tipped exactly four drops of the bottle's contents into the bowl.

"Now, hold still. Gaius said this might sting a little."

"What wi –" Dante started to ask, but was cut off mid-sentence by a sharp stinging sensation across her knuckles that was so strong, it brought tears to her eyes.

She squeezed her fists so tight that her nails dug into her palms, causing even more blood to ooze from the wounds, and her jaw was clenched so firmly that it hurt – but not nearly as much as her fists.

"OUCH!" She finally managed to gasp as the tears rolled freely down her cheek.

"Sorry. But I did warn you," he replied, raising her hand and kissing her fingers lightly. "Besides, better to be safe than sorry. Needed to make sure all the dirt was out."

Dante sank back into the chair, feeling suddenly very nauseous. She had to physically fight back the urge to throw up, and felt very light headed, needing to take several deep breaths, just to slow her racing heart and try to stop the trembling.

"Easy...easy..." Gwaine said gently, handing her the cup of wine she'd poured herself as she'd waited for him to return. "Here..."

It took her the best part of the next ten minutes to recover from the pain, but once it was over, she looked down to inspect Gwaine's handiwork, and couldn't help but be impressed, despite how agonizing the entire process had been. "You should have been a physician."

"Nah," Gwaine smiled as he placed a small wad of cotton over the cut, which didn't look nearly so bad now that it had been cleaned up. "Physicians don't get all the glory."

He began to wind a bandage round her knuckles, in a very meticulous way, so that – she was both surprised and pleased to find – didn't hinder her movement. He took great care in what he was doing, and Dante sat back, watching his hands move delicately as he tied off the loose end.

"What is it with men and glory?" She asked as he started on her other hand. "Glory above sense and above reason?"

"Don't deny that you finds knights more desirable than physicians," he challenged. Her only answer, however, was another cry of pain and he glanced down, realising that he was pressing the rag a little too firmly across the wound. "Sorry! Sorry, I didn't mean to - "

She glared at him, taking a rather large gulp of her wine, and he quickly decided that perhaps this was not the right subject, just now.

"So, what are you interested in learning?" he asked as once again, he very meticulously wrapped her hand in a bandage.

"What can you teach me?" Her teeth hadn't unclenched yet, so her voice sounded distorted, but he still caught the general gist of what she'd been asking.

"Well, how to stay on a horse, for one thing."

"Did Arthur tell you?" She groaned, but he laughed again, shaking his head.

"You forget that I've known you for nearly thirteen years. You never were very good at staying on a horse - even back then."

"What can I say?" she shrugged, failing to hide her grin. "It's a talent of mine."

"It certainly is," he agreed. "I've never met anyone as accident prone as you."

"Like I said...it's a talent," she shrugged.

"Yes well, that doesn't answer my earlier question."

"Which was?"

"What would you like me to teach you? Standard weapons would be too heavy for you - and yes, I'm saying it now. It's because you're a woman. Simple fact that you can't deny...women are not as strong as men. BUT - " He quickly added when he could see she was about to protest again. "Women are faster, more agile. I can teach you to use that to your advantage. So, I guess the question should really be what would you prefer? One weapon, or two?"

"You mean two together?" she asked thoughtfully. "That could be...interesting."

"Alright then. When do you want to start?"

Again she appeared to consider for a moment, before grinning at him. "Why not now?"

"Now? Dante, it's getting dark."

"And? It's not always going to be light. I can't pick and choose when I get myself into trouble."

He laughed again, shaking his head as he began to gather up the remaining rags and bandages, along with the bowl of scarlet water. "Sure you can use those hands?"

"Only one way to find out," she shrugged, flexing her fingers. "Besides, what's a few more bruises to add to the collection?"

"You have got quite a collection," he agreed.

"I've got so many bruises, they have names and families," she joked. And then she glanced him up and down for a moment. "Take your shirt off."

"Well hello there," his eyebrows rose suggestively, but she glared at him.

"I can't train in a dress...and dresses are all I have. Give me your shirt to wear."

"Ahem...I do believe the Lady is forgetting her manners," he teased, even as he began to undo his sword belt and slide the chainmail from over his head, followed by the padded and linen undershirts.

"Please?" she asked, batting her eyelashes and giving him huge puppy eyes.

"Damn it woman," he grumbled, unable to resist it whenever she pulled what he'd nicknamed 'that look'.

"I expect you'll be wanting my breaches next."

"Yes please."

Now it was his turn to give her what he called 'the look'. Though in his case, it was more of a smoulder. "In that case, come and get them."

He wasn't expecting the kiss, and froze in shock as she darted forwards, pressing her lips softly against his. As it lingered and deepened, and he lost himself in the moment, he didn't feel her hands undo the belt round his waist. Nor did he feel the sudden draft as his trousers fell round his ankles. As she broke away from him, a very satisfied smile on her delicate lips, and placed a hand on his bare chest (careful to avoid the already developing bruises) he realised his mistake.

"Dante!" He laughed in disbelief as she pushed him back onto the chair and began pulling his boots off. "Is now really the time for this?"

"Absolutely," she nodded, pulling his boots off, followed by his breaches. Then, sitting herself lightly on his knee, she placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned forwards. He expected another kiss and placed his hands on her slim waist, ready to pull her closer.

What he wasn't expecting was for her to tilt her head away and whisper in his ear instead as she ran a hand through his hair, sending a tingle down his spine.

"I'll meet you in the courtyard in fifteen minutes. Don't be late."

Then, rising from his lap, she slapped him lightly on the cheek, turned and walked away, leaving him sitting on the chair in nothing but his underwear as she went into her bedchambers, closing the door firmly behind her.

He sat speechless for several seconds, barely breathing. Then he snapped back to his senses.

"Spoil sport!" he called after her. And then all the colour drained from his face as he glanced down at his almost completely naked body. "Erm Dante? What am I going to wear?"

"I'm sure you've got plenty of clothes in your own room," she called back.

"Yes but, how do I GET to my room without being seen?"

"Run?"

"I'm in my underwear!"

"Then run fast!"

"I'm going to kill her," he grumbled, looking about for something in the room to help him. Unable to come up with anything even remotely suitable, he closed his eyes, counted to ten then darted from the room, praying that he would not be seen on the way. "I am actually going to kill her!"

...

"Who was that?" Gwen asked in confusion as something - or rather someone - streaked past her, Elyan and Percival. "And why didn't he have any clothes on?"

Percival and Elyan merely looked at one another knowingly.

"Gwaine," they both said in unison.

"Do I want to know?" Gwen asked.

"He annoyed Dante," Elyan explained.

"Well, Dante did start it," Percival corrected.

"Yes, but Gwaine didn't have to do what he did. Perhaps that's Dante's way of getting her own back?"

"Perhaps," Percival agreed.

Gwen stood looking between the two like someone watching a tennis match for a moment before eventually she interrupted.

"Shouldn't we do something?"

"Yeah," Elyan nodded in agreement, looking to Percival, who grinned. "Don't piss off Dante."

...

Inside her bedchambers, as she changed into Gwaine's stolen clothes, Dante couldn't help but smile in smug satisfaction, imagining the look of pure horror on Gwaine's face as he ran from her room.

There was something oddly satisfying about stealing a man's clothes, she decided. Especially when he was then forced to run through half the Citadel, just to get back to his own chambers, whilst trying not to be seen. Maybe that would teach Gwaine not to be so cocky in the future.

But then again, this was Gwaine.

So perhaps not.

Still, seeing what lay under all those layers of clothes wasn't exactly an unpleasant sight, and the thought brought a blush of colour to her cheeks. He certainly hadn't been so...toned ten years ago. He'd been a scrawny, lanky teenager, just a few years older than herself, with a pathetic attempt at a beard and no muscle what-so-ever.

If, ten years ago, he'd looked even half as good as he did now, she may have had second thoughts about not wanting to marry him. Whichever young lady's heart he stole one day...she'd be a very lucky lady indeed.

Not that Dante was jealous of course...

Well...

Maybe she was, a little. But he never needed to know that.