Author Note: Hey again everyone...I have had some major brainwaves over the weekend, most of them concerning this very story. I've been reading up on the legend of King Arthur, and it's many variations, and whilst the tv show Merlin has dramatically altered some aspects of the legend, I believe I have found a way to at least reference parts or work them into the story elsewhere...some of the famous stuff and some of the not so well known stuff, too. So keep an eye out, see if you can spot the particular nods to the legend over the next coming chapters :)...

Anyways, back to the story at hand, and whilst everything seems pretty normal (or as normal as life in Camelot can be with a raving mad witch hellbent on claiming the throne from her brother, and a warlock who conspires with a dragon and hides his secret from everyone even as he continues to serve the man who may well remove his head personally if he ever found out) can the peace truly last?

...

For the next four months this continued - each spare moment Dante and Gwaine found together, he would teach her not only to defend herself with her dual blades, but how to attack with them as well. He also taught her how to stay on a horse with much more success that she previously would have had (though she still fell off occasionally when she wasn't paying attention to what she was doing), and in return, she would accompany him to the various balls, feasts, festivals and other various social gatherings that were continually held at Camelot.

She was not dating him, of course (and made that perfectly clear on more than one occasion) and was merely accompanying him as repayment for his teachings. In the end, he gave up asking if she would ever love him or return his affections in any way, because she always avoided the question some way or another, or would suddenly throw a major strop and refuse to talk to him for the rest of the day. So, for the sake of peace, he'd learnt to just accept her as a friend and nothing more.

Just like the castle had come to accept that the Lady Dante was actually quite competitive, especially when she and Gwaine got carried away.

Today was no different, and the pair of them were causing quite a spectacle down in the training grounds.

...

The wooden training sword slid through the air, catching a few stray strands of her hair that had been dangling in front of her face, and she leapt back like a cat finding a snake, snapping a kick at his knee. It didn't connect, but it did force him back half a step. She flung herself away, falling and rolling on the dry, almost dead grass, kicking up a cloud of dust as she came back up again with the wooden sword he'd knocked out of her hands.

Now both of them had a pair of short wooden swords once more – substitutes for the real short swords that they sometimes chose as their weapons of choice in combat - or at least Dante did. Gwaine still preferred the more traditional long sword, but he'd always humour her during their training sessions by wielding the same weapons as her, so she could not accuse him of cheating, or having some kind of unfair advantage.

Whirling, slashing at empty air as she tried to get more speed behind the attack, she silently cursed to herself as he twisted aside. But then she realised that it was ok, after all. She had enough room to breathe now, stepping back cautiously. Every time she shifted weight, it was to sure footing.

Gwaine glared as he dropped into first guard, sticks held firmly but not tightly, one in front, one down and to the side in a ready stance. There was a thin trickle of blood where she'd caught him in the face, just above his left eye, beads of crimson threading down his nose.

"Hurts huh?" she said to Gwaine, her eyes never leaving him as she tried to judge his next move. He didn't like having his backside handed to him on a plate, and she could see the frustration and anger in his eyes – anger at himself for allowing a girl to beat him.

Mind you it had been a lucky shot. Although, even so, she was getting luckier all the time, these days. Years of fighting without the proper training had given her a reckless, almost careless style, and more often than not, she'd only truly hit her mark through luck rather than skill. But since her time here in Camelot, studying the other knights and training with Gwaine, she'd become wiser to the much more refined art of combat.

She'd learnt not just to swing and hope, but to aim and to time her strikes with her opponent's movements.

Gwaine didn't rise to her taunt, but darted forwards instead, and their wooden swords collided with a loud crack. But a slight dip in the grass cut off any further advance he could have made by twisting his foot to one side. He yelped slightly, losing balance and Dante pressed her own advantage, driving him back across their makeshift training area. For the first time she got the impression as he tried to fight back against her momentum that he wasn't holding back and being careful.

She pressed even harder, then flicked one wrist to the side. With a loud crack, one of Gwaine's swords went flying. He snatched his hand back, as if burned and she read his intent in the way his weight shifted. So she flung herself forward, sticks blurring as she tried not to give him a chance to make a move. He wove his one remaining sword in a defensive arc, warding off her attacks and taking a step in the opposite direction. If she could keep him away from the stick he'd dropped, she might stand even more of a chance.

Their footsteps became drumbeats on the parched earth and dead grass, and Gwaine had to work furiously, spinning his sword in a figure of eight movement to knock away each of her attacks.

The stone wall that separated the grassy lawn from the gravel track up to the Palace was coming up soon, and there would be no room for him to retreat unless he did something fancy. If he did, she was going to have to react within a split second.

So she continued to press him further back, determined not to allow him any kind of advantage. They weren't just sparring now – it had ended up like it usually did – with one of them honestly trying to hurt the other, almost as if proving a point that they were the better combatant.

The wall was upon them now, six foot of solid, heavy stone casting a shadow over them as Gwaine, sensing he was about to lose his momentum, threw himself to the side, rolling away – his reflexes much too swift.

Dante couldn't keep up with the movement and stumbled forwards, falling against the wall. In one fluid motion, Gwaine was back on his feet again, wooden sword pressed across the back of her neck. If this was a real sword he was now wielding, one forwards motion would remove her head from her body, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Breathing heavily, leaning against the cold stone wall in front of her, Dante graciously accepted the defeat, dropping her own wooden swords and yielding the victory to him. Ordinarily, if this was any other opponent, he'd have let them walk away then, or even congratulated them on a well fought fight. But not Dante. Oh no, this opportunity was far too good to miss.

Dropping his own wooden sword, just as she finally turned to face him, he lunged at her, tickling her mercilessly.

"Gwaine!" She shrieked, writhing and squirming, trying to get away. "GWAINE!"

He did not relent, however.

If anything, her protests only caused him to increase his attack, until she was reduced to a giggling heap on the floor.

"Say it!" He demanded as she tried to curl herself into a protective - and incredibly giggly ball.

"Say what?" She gasped as he finally reduced the assault to allow her to speak.

"Say that you're sorry for busting my eye open, and that you yield to me because I'm obviously the better swordsman than you."

"Of course you are, you've had years of practice!" She exclaimed, fighting to get her breath after the attack. "But yes, I yield."

"And?"

"And...?"

"And you're sorry that you...?

"That I...what?" She grinned, knowing she was letting herself in for another round of torture. But she was a stubborn creature by nature, and never gave in easily - no matter how much torture she was forced to endure.

And sure enough, the tickling got worse, as he went for the spot at the back of her neck.

"No!" She shrieked, wriggling and squirming desperately to try and escape. "You git!"

...

Across the training grounds, Leon and Elyan were watching the entire scene, but only one of them was finding it amusing.

"Why don't they just kiss and be done with it?" Leon sulked, turning away as Dante's peals of laughter rang through the air, along with a few curses damning Gwaine's existence.

"Jealous, are we?" Elyan asked, one eyebrow raising.

"Not at all," Leon replied curtly. "I'm merely stating that not everyone wants to see those two flirting all the time. It's quite off-putting. Especially as they are not even romantically involved. She is free to choose any man she desires, and yet she spends her entire time flirting with Gwaine."

"Then doesn't that tell you something?" Elyan asked, even more amused by Leon's jealousy than he was of Gwaine's tickle-attack on Dante.

"Like what?" Leon huffed.

"Well, like perhaps she HAS chosen her man, and it happens to be Gwaine. She's just playing hard to get."

"To what point and purpose?"

"The thrill is in the chase, my friend," Elyan grinned, patting Leon on the shoulder. "Never the capture."

The only response he was dignified with then was a loud huff, before Leon stormed away, muttering something about needing to polish his armour.

"What's up with him?" Percival asked, arriving just in time to see Leon skulking away, whilst across the field, Gwaine was finally helping a scarlet-faced Dante back to her feet.

"Dante-envy," Elyan shrugged.

"Ah," Percival nodded. And from the tone of voice as he said that one single word, Elyan somehow got the feeling that he knew EXACTLY what Leon was feeling. Glancing up at the huge giant of a knight, he smirked. So that was three of the five round table knights that Dante had so far managed to enchant. Who would be the next to fall under her spell?

...

When she awoke the next morning, Dante could barely move, and at first assumed that something was terribly wrong.

She was paralysed!

Someone had enchanted her, and she could not move...but the only person she knew with magic was Morgana. Why would Morgana do such a thing?

But then, as she began to wake up and come to her senses a little more, she realised that in fact she wasn't paralysed at all - the fact she could feel her toes wriggling and could clench and unclench each hand into a painful fist was also a huge giveaway.

And then the aching made its presence well and truly known to her, and she half groaned, half laughed, remembering what had happened.

"Milady?" Kahlee, the new maid assigned to Dante from now on, asked in concern as she peered into the bedchambers, having heard the sounds of movement from her mistress as she'd woken.

"I'm alright," Dante replied, squinting her eyes closed and urging her aching muscles to behave and do as she willed.

"Are you sure, Milady?"

"No...but it'll wear off. Tell me Kahlee, have you ever engaged in a sword fight with Sir Gwaine?" Dante asked as she sat herself upright, very slowly in the bed, learning from experience not to rush these things.

"I can't say that I have, Milady."

"Hmm, well, word of advice, should you ever consider it...don't. He cheats."

"I'll bear that in mind, Milady," Kahlee chuckled as Dante swung herself round to sit on the edge of her bed. Then she suddenly remembered what she was wearing, and how this probably wasn't such a good idea all of a sudden. Gwaine's borrowed shirt and breaches weren't exactly very ladylike attire, but when training with the knights, this was all she had to wear (because as she continually insisted, she couldn't be expected to fight in a dress, and Morgana's armour had mysteriously vanished. It was nowhere to be seen, though Dante had her sneaking suspicions that Morgana may have had something to do with that).

Kahlee eyed her Mistress' odd choice of clothing for a moment, but wisely chose not to comment, which Dante was grateful for.

"What would you like to wear today, Milady?"

"I dunno. You pick," Dante shrugged, then winced and yelped causing Kahlee to spin on the spot, alarmed. When she saw Dante massaging her shoulder, however, she relaxed and turned back to rummage through the large wardrobe again.

Pulling out a shimmering pearlescent cream gown, she held it up for Dante to see. "This one, Milady?"

Dante paused, studied the dress for a moment, then nodded her consent, standing awkwardly, one hand holding the back of her head gingerly as she moved to stand behind the wooden screen. Kahlee waited patiently as Gwaine's shirt and breeches sailed over the partition, then handed the dress over to replace them.

When she emerged again, now dressed in the shimmering gown, her hair loose and flowing freely over her shoulders as she ran a brush through it, Kahlee couldn't help but smile. How Dante could go from looking beaten, tired and worn one moment, to radiant and shining the next with just a simple change of clothes and a quick wash with the bowl and cloth that Kahlee had provided was beyond even the maid's comprehension.

"So, anything I should know for today?" she asked as Kahlee gathered the shirt and breeches so that they could be washed.

"There is a woman requesting an audience with the King. I believe she's his manservant's mother - says she has some news about King Lot."

This caught Dante's full and undivided attention then. "When is the meeting taking place?"

"Everyone is down in the throne room now, Milady. I believe they are just waiting on the King. And Her Majesty said she'd appreciate your presence, as well."

"Thank you Kahlee," Dante said quickly as she headed for the door. "I'd better not keep them waiting, then."

"Have a nice day, Milady," Kahlee bowed her head respectfully, then carried on with her duties as Dante made her way down to throne room, where a crowd of nobles, knights and other officials had gathered, waiting for the King.

...

Hunith was eager to see her son again, but she couldn't help wishing that for once, it was under better circumstances. Since coming to Camelot she'd only ever been able to see him when times were dire or situations had become desperate. Today was, unfortunately, no exception.

He wasn't in the room when she first entered - in fact she'd been alone (save for the guards who had escorted her in) for a good ten minutes or so before finally news began to spread of her arrival and the room began to fill with people - some she recognized from past visits, and some she didn't know at all.

But then Gaius had entered, offering her a bright smile and a warm hug, and suddenly she hadn't felt so alone.

Merlin wasn't far behind, and had given his mother an even bigger hug, telling her that no matter what happened today, everything would be alright. She'd stood with him and Gaius for a moment, debating whether or not to tell them her situation - after all, did she really want to repeat herself? - But then the timely arrival of the Queen had spared her from having to make this decision, for which she was grateful. As Guinevere had taken her seat and smiled warmly at Hunith, the old woman was amazed that this was even the same young lady she'd last seen in Ealdor, over a year previously. Back then, Gwen had been desperate, helpless and alone, outcast from Camelot and with nowhere else to go.

A year later, she was now Queen of Camelot, married to a man who loved her dearly, adored by the people she now ruled and surrounded by her friends and family. Hunith smiled back, proud of Gwen and how she'd changed her stars. Just like Merlin, she'd made a life for herself here in Camelot, and she was benefitting greatly from it.

As was the Lady Dante, she noticed, as the young woman swept into the room from one of the back doors behind the throne a few minutes later. With a quick muttered apology to Gwen, she moved down to join the other assembled nobles, before finally allowing herself to look at the assembled crowd. Hunith wasn't the first face she looked for, though this didn't surprise the old woman in the slightest, considering a lot had happened since their last meeting. Dante was now looking ravishing in a pearlescent gown that was, in all honesty, fit for a Princess. And she looked like a Princess too.

Like Gwen, she was now a complete contrast to the first time she'd met Hunith. Just a month ago, she'd stumbled into the village of Ealdor, starved, exhausted and wild eyed with delirium. She'd raved about Lot and how she'd been his slave, and how he'd chased her after he escape. Hunith had taken pity on the poor girl, not knowing at the time that she'd been descended from a long line of nobility. It wasn't until later, when news reached her of Arthur's actions defending her at his birthday feast that Hunith had found out that she was more than just an escaped slave. To look at her as she'd stumbled into Ealdor, you'd never have known it.

Still, time at Camelot had done wonders for her. Whilst she still bore the fading cuts that had marked her soft features, she'd lost the wild eyed, desperate look. She'd also gained a healthy amount of weight so that now she was not a pale shadow of flesh and bones any longer, but rather a slim, elegant young woman with glowing cheeks and a spark that Hunith imagined would be hard to extinguish. Her training with Gwaine had also given her a healthy amount of muscle, that added to her lean and elegant figure.

"Beautiful, isn't she," Merlin whispered into his mother's ear when he saw her staring at the newest arrival, who was now in conversation with one of the Lords about something or other. From the looks of things, he'd just offered her an invitation, which she was politely declining.

"Indeed she is," Hunith nodded. "Has she...spoken to you at all?"

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked suspiciously.

"Well, when she came to Ealdor, I told her to seek you out, in particular, if she ever came to Camelot. I thought it was about time you found yourself a nice young lady to settle down with..."

"Mother!" Merlin groaned as Gaius made a very poor attempt of disguising his chuckle as a cough, which attracted Dante's attention. Spotting Hunith standing with Merlin, she smiled, excused herself from the Lord (who's cheeks had coloured with embarrassment at her rejection) and slipped across the room to join them.

"She's way out of my league," Merlin muttered before she reached them. Then he nodded his respect to her, as did Hunith and Gaius.

"Lady Dante, it is good to see you looking so well," Hunith offered, by way of an introduction, and although it took Dante a moment to recognize the face, she finally beamed in delight.

"Hunith, welcome! You're looking wonderful yourself."

"You're too kind, Milady."

"Oh please, just Dante will do," Dante grinned, waving an imperious hand as if waving away her title.

"I was just saying to my son how it's about time he found a nice young lady to settle down with," Hunith started conversationally as they waited for Arthur to finally arrive.

"Mother!" Merlin started again, and Dante laughed.

"Oh, look at him blush. Bless him." She patted Merlin's cheek lightly.

"Are YOU with anyone, currently, Lady Dante?" Hunith pressed.

"Alas, it is complex," Dante sighed, glancing across to where Gwaine was standing with the other knights. "But whilst I cannot offer Merlin the pleasure of MY company, I'm sure there are hundreds of women who would gladly fill that role. After all...he is an excellent kisser."

Leaving that sentence to linger, she made her excuses and slipped back to the flock of noble women who she was apparently supposed to be standing with. Not that she wanted to, of course. Staying with Merlin and his mother seemed the much more appealing option, but a fanfare had just started from somewhere to herald the King's arrival, so she supposed she'd better get back to her rightful place.

"Did she say what I think she just said?" Hunith whispered to Merlin, who couldn't help but grin then, despite the humiliation she'd forced him to endure just minutes before. Even Gaius looked intrigued by this comment.

"I didn't tell you?" he asked the old man smugly, as Arthur made his entrance.

"Tell me what, exactly?" Gaius hissed as the three of them bowed to the King.

"I kissed Dante...Well, to be exact, she kissed me. But it's the same difference, when you think about it."

Gaius' exclaimation of disbelief was cut off by a sharp dig in the ribs from his apprentice, seconds before the room fell silent and Arthur took his seat beside Gwen. Then the King motioned for Hunith to step forwards.

"Good luck," Merlin hissed to her. He had no idea why she was here, but he somehow got the feeling she'd need it.

...

To say that Dante was in a foul mood after Hunith's explanation would be the understatement of the century, as she stormed away from the room, seething with an unexplained anger, just an hour later.

She'd held her tongue through the whole meeting, though it had been clear to Merlin who'd been constantly looking from her to his mother and back again, that a storm was brewing in her eyes. Her clenched fists and tense body language were just the very first indicators of her rising temper, and Merlin wondered just what it was, exactly, that had riled her so much.

Looking from Gaius to his mother, he wondered if he should perhaps run after the young woman. But then, seeing Gwaine peel off from the group of knights and start after her, he sighed, deciding against it. If Dante truly was in a storm over what had been said in the meeting, then let Gwaine take the wrath.

"Merlin, perhaps you should show your mother where she can find some food," Gaius said quietly. "She must be hungry, after the journey."

"It's alright," Hunith replied, shaking her head. "If you want to go after the Lady, It's fine."

"No," Merlin said eventually, after serious consideration. "I'll let Gwaine take the wrath. You haven't seen one of her tempers. They're becoming quite legendary." He smiled wryly, extending an arm to his mother, who took it graciously. After all, she wasn't as young as she used to be.

"What could have made her turn, so suddenly?" Gaius wondered, as the three of them left the hall together, heading back towards Gaius' chambers.

None of them knew the answer, but down in the courtyard below, Gwaine was just about to find out.

...

"Dante?" He called, hurrying over the stone courtyard just as she was about to mount Gringolet (who one of the stable boys had hastily readied for her). Seeing as she hated riding, Arthur had been against the idea of giving her a horse of her own, so on the very rare occasions when she did go riding, she'd borrow Gwaine or Percival's horses instead (as long as the knights did not need them at the time).

Today it was Gringolet's turn, and sensing her foul mood, he decided that the wisest thing would be to stand still and behave for a change.

Somewhere at the back of Gwaine's mind, he noted the irony, and made a mental note to get cross with his stubborn, fiery mount more often, if this was the reaction he was granted with, each time.

"Dante! Hey, wait up! Where are you going?"

"For a ride," she snapped, swinging gracefully into the saddle and gathering the reigns as the stable boy quickly checked all the necessary straps and made all the adjustments for her. "I need to clear my head."

"Clear your head? What is wrong with you?" He challenged, standing squarely in front of his own horse, effectively blocking the way. "What's with all the anger?"

"That bastard's gone too far this time!"

"By bastard, I'm assuming you mean Lot?" Gwaine ventured. He was rewarded with a feral snarl in answer, and stepped back, shocked. Dante took this opportunity to drive her heels into Gringolet's sides, turning him sharply and galloping out of the courtyard, before anyone could stop her.

Whilst she still hated riding, she had at least improved enough that this simple action no longer caused her to grip the saddle or a hand full of mane in fear, and she was more competent at staying in the saddle now too.

Gwaine watched her go, wondering if he should pursue, just to ensure that she wouldn't do anything foolish. But then, he knew that the best thing to do when Dante was in one of these moods was to stay out of her way and give her space. If he followed her, he'd only make the situation ten times worse.

So, very reluctantly, he forced himself to turn away from the direction she'd disappeared in, and walked calmly back into the Citadel. These moods of hers could last for hours at a time so he'd give her till nightfall. Then if she wasn't back by then, he'd go looking for her, whether she liked it, or not.