AN: Hey everybody, sorry for the wait, took a long time to write this cause I don't really have much to spare. Anyway, happy holiday's to you all and enjoy!

There was a soft rustling from behind him. It was the only reminder of how he was no longer alone even though everything he had helped to build up was left behind all in a single moment's decision. Of course, in the end it was worth every single thing, he had no regrets and that thought was only solidified when he felt someone distinctly feminine sit down next to him and gently place her head on his shoulder.

"What are you thinking about?" Guinevere asked

"Hm, I was just wondering if we made the right choice," Lancelot replied

"Oh, I see, worrying about everyone already? It will be fine, besides you aren't the only warrior in the round tables employ," she replied with a small smirk. They had this conversation many times before, but it never ceased to amuse her to some degree. Loyalty was simply one of Lancelot's many traits that she both admired and disliked from time to time.

"Bah! Such thoughts are for those with no confidence in their friends abilities," he responded easily, waving a hand as if to ward off a foolish notion

"Or the thoughts of a man devoted to the other people who have taken part in his life's journey."

The words were barely audible over the rustling caused by the slight bite of autumn wind. The chill felt like nothing when the body next to him seemed to move impossibly closer, so close that he began to wonder if they ran the risk of merging into one being for the rest of eternity. Of course, who was to say that it wouldn't be a pleasant experience should it occur, no one he knew had ever done something like that.

He turned his head just slightly to look at his wife face to face. It was hard to remain focused on his thoughts with her so near to him, their faces seemingly centimeters apart, her warm breath brushing over his lips like the ghost of a memory long since forgotten. The decision was made in a moment, without a second hesitation or caution. Their lips simply seemed to meld together of their own accord, neither person being capable of staying away from one another. The kiss began to deepen slightly but only just, almost like a silent plea for thought before raw emotion began to take over which as usual went unheeded.

Lancelot rolled over toward her to further their endeavor but stopped suddenly. He backed away from her quickly and listened intently all around them. Gwen began to speak, not understanding why he was suddenly on edge but his hand rouse up and covered her mouth before she could make a sound.

"Clink"

"Clink"

"Clink"

That was it. The singular most heard sound in his entire career as a warrior. The sound of armor plates hitting each other when even the smallest movement was made. One of the few disadvantages to heavy armor was that it had no way to quiet the grating metal when one wished to ambush another. It was something that he had hoped not to hear on any part of their journey but that's the funny thing about stuff like that. When you absolutely wish for a bad event to not occur, it happens anyway.

Then there was another familiar sound, this one almost silent but no less ominous. Lancelot quickly brought Guinevere to the dirt. She gasped in surprise when feathers sprouted out from the ground just to the right of her face. The arrow had missed by inches. Instantly, Lancelot was up and running for the wagon that blockaded a part of their camp. That sudden realization and the fact that she was currently on his shoulder didn't even register before she was inside the back of the makeshift shelter. She blinked as her husband pulled out his long sword.

He calmly looked at her, and after a brief moment said," Don't move an inch from this spot."

Without waiting for a response Lancelot turned and sprinted into the trees just to his left, hoping to find some cover. The only warning he received was a slight glint of metal flashed in front of his face. Reacting purely on instinct he back-stepped away from the dagger and made a slash for the assailants arm. His sword met with the soft tissue of wrist, easily cutting all the way through. The would be assassin let out a scream as he looked at his severed hand, but it quickly turned into a low gurgle when Lancelot drew his blade across the man's neck.

He quickly glanced around in time to see two more people rushing towards him. The one on his right had a long pole-axe while the other, on his left, sported a basic sword and shield combo. Lancelot turned on his heel to the left and sprinted the short distance hoping to catch the man off guard. The plan only partially worked because the man obviously had no footing but still managed to block with his shield. Lancelot staggered, having placed too much force behind the blow and had to roll under his opponent's retaliatory strike which was aimed to lop off his head. He popped up behind the unstable swordsman and almost casually slid his blade under the man's back plate and into his heart. Without waiting another moment, he viciously ripped the red sword from its one living scabbard and let it fall to the ground.

Another look told him that the archer from before had circled around and was now a little ways behind the man with the pole-axe. Now it was time to wait and let his enemy come to him. Thankfully, it did not take long. The soldier let o a battle cry as he charged up to him. He made a wild sweeping cut for Lance's torso which was easily avoided by stepping backwards, however he didn't let up. Another overly big chop came swinging down trying to cut him in half. Lance waited until the last moment before performing a similar roll to earlier. The pole-axe gave a satisfying thump as it entered the ground. This time he dropped his sword on the ground as he pulled the disarmed soldier into a full nelson. He forced the man to turn just in time for him to take an arrow straight in the stomach. He let out a loud grunt of pain before slowly going limp in Lancelot's arms.

"Damn pansy, you even have plate armor on too," He muttered to his semiconscious human shield.

The archer who was now in front of Lance quickly placed another arrow on the string. Less than a second later the volatile projectile skimmed across Lancelot's check and ear, drawing a bright red line. He sighed ignoring the superficial wound, I don't have time for this, he thought. Then with a grunt, he lifted his hostage over his head and heaved him at the archer who was no more than fifteen feet away. Caught by surprise, he had no time to react. Falling to the ground, he immediately tried to push his comrade's body off of him. The sudden resistance that met him was all he needed to know that his life was coming to an abrupt end.

Only moments later, Lancelot stood from the pair of bodies, a bloody knife now in his hand though it could usually be found in his boot. A small sigh escaped his lips. The simple fact that these men seemed well prepared and equipped probably meant that they weren't mere bandits. A scouting party perhaps or simply a group of deserters from some previous conflict, neither of which he felt terribly comfortable fighting through alone while trying to protect Guinevere at the same time. That meant that they would have to turn around. Of course that really wasn't an option either because according to all of the citizens in Britannia at the moment, they were on the king's execution list. Gwen for treason and he for stealing the Kings supposed wife. Of course the King in question knew that was far from true but to return meant damaging Arturia's face value before the entire world unless she chose to execute them which was also a possibility. She was one to take duty above all else, even if it meant killing her lifelong friends in the process.

He shivered slightly at the thought and turned to move back into the clearing. Picking up his sword as he went, he made a rapid inspection before stepping out of the forest. It appeared that there was no one else around. That was exactly what he was hoping for. Lancelot quickly picked up his pace over to the covered wagon where he had put Gwen. A slight shuffle inside eased his mind just before he stepped out in front of the wagons open face.

Almost instantly, a burning pain erupted in his shoulder causing him to stumble back. A slight glance down told him that a crossbow bolt was sticking out just under his shoulder blade. Looking back up, he saw another man come out of the wagon. He was young for a soldier, but there was no doubt to what he was. He had the eyes of a murderer.

The other man dropped a small hand crossbow of to the side and drew the short sword at his hip. The two fighters looked at each other for a moment before colliding. Lancelot blocked the first swing off to the right before lunging in to strike with his elbow. His assailant surprised him with his speed and ducked under the blow, bringing his sword across again to slash Lance's waist. The sharp blade barely cut the skin before meeting with the steel of Lancelot's long sword. The man's eyes widened, realizing his mistake. Fortunately, Lancelot saw it too and took the opportunity; a satisfying crunch greeted his ears when he smashed his foot into the assailants face. The man quickly stumbled back, trying to keep his balance. After a few moments, he began to stand, obviously reappraising Lance's abilities.

Once again, Lance raised his blade and began to attack but stopped as the other man raised his hand.

"You are the one called, Lancelot, are you not?" he asked, his voice clear despite his broken nose

The question caught him off guard. Out of all the people in the world, he had known who he was.

"I am called Gren. My father was Readwald." he continued, not waiting for a response.

Lance's eyes widened," So you are the one leading this incursion then. What happened to your father? I remember his well; he gave us a good run for our money last time we fought."

"Unfortunately, I am not the one in charge of anything but this squad you wiped out. Only a few weeks ago, a man came into our camp and demanded that the elder's assist him with a ritual far from our camp. He returned covered in blood and claimed that they were attacked by a group of British soldiers who killed all of the clan elders. My father, who had final say, chose not to believe him like the rest of e clan, only to have the man challenge him in single combat. With some strange magic, he killed my father and took control of the Saxon's through popular control. The tribes wanted revenge. He said he would give it to him," Gren explained

Lancelot sat digesting the news. It would make some sense as to why a future elder would be on a scouting or assault group. A usurpers first task is to usually get rid of the line of succession. "So, why tell all of this to me?" he asked.

"A descent question I am telling you this because my father always said that you and your king always fought with honor, not deceit. What that man did was not within our own form of honor, the rest of the clan seems to ignore that. I, however, will not forgive him for what he has done. He is less than the shit on my boot and I want to deal with him accordingly," Gren stated, almost casually.

"I see, so you were hoping to get me to let you meet with the king in hopes of making some alliance of sorts," Lancelot guessed.

"Exactly, I would pull the Saxon's out of British territory in exchange for you removing the usurper," Gren replied.

Lancelot nodded. "Seems like a fair deal to me, assuming that you keep your side of the bargain."

"I think we both know that I will. We cannot afford another war as we had previously with this nation. At least not right now. You have to understand though, when the opportunity presents itself, I will not hesitate to attack this country, once this agreement is said and done," Gren commented grimly.

"I understand, one must do what is best for their country when you are its ruler, and I am sure that King Arthur can relate to that more than anyone," Lance conceded," However, there is something else I must ask you. Where did the woman who was with me go?"

"Just before I got in the wagon, a pair of soldiers pulled her out of here and started leading her toward the pass where the rest of the army is. I can tell you that they weren't men under my command so beyond that I do not know," He answered.

"Fine, I must go after her, it is my job to protect that which is mine and in turn, I can give you a letter that was intended to be sent back to Britain to inform the King of our arrival. Go to the capital along the marked path on this map," Lance told him, handing him a map from one of the boxes in the wagon. "As soon as you arrive, tell her you have a message from a long distant friend, when you give the message to her, explain all you have told me and I am confident that he will comply in order to remove the threat."

Gren nodded and accepted the envelope and map held out before him. He started to move past Lancelot only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. "If I find out you lied to me about where that woman was taken, not even the maggots in your grave will recall the slightest thing about you."

With that, Lancelot let the man go. When Gren finally entered the forest, he let out a breath that he hadn't notice he held. The look in that man's face was one of Satan himself. Suddenly he was very glad that he had chosen the path he was on. If the King of Britain could control such a volatile man to such a level of discipline as his father has claimed, then that man must be truly strong. If he could get more men like that to help with his goal, there was absolutely nothing that could stand in his way.

Lancelot stood in the now empty clearing. He would need to leave as soon as possible if he wanted to catch the kidnappers before they reached the main army. He wasn't a fool. He knew what kind of things soldiers did to women during a campaign. Even though it was grounds to be executed in the Kings army, it wasn't unheard off for the less disciplined ranks to take their fill of all the plundered cities had to offer. Unfortunately there was one thing he had to take care of first.

Lancelot gritted his teeth as he pressed against the piece of the bolt still sticking out of his shoulder. Luckily it was in such a position that it wouldn't snag on any bones, otherwise he would have to dig it out as Arthur had done for Shiro. That was never fun. With a grunt, he felt the tip of the bolt press through the back of his shoulder and separate the skin. He reached over with his other arm and found the point just barely sticking out. That was one of the problems with getting hit by a crossbow. Bolts are much shorter than arrows so you couldn't always push them all the way through.

After a few moments of inspection, Lancelot picked up a small stick from off the ground and placed it against the end of the bolt. He took several small, rapid, breaths and one large one, which he held, before plunging the stick into the open wound, pushing the bolt another inch out of his back. Quickly pulling out the bloodied piece of wood, he threw it to the ground without another thought. That would have been too painful. He reached over once again and gripped the bolt easily sliding it the rest of the way out before throwing that away too.

He quickly grabbed one of his spare shirts and applied pressure to stop the bleeding. Before long Lancelot ripped a clean section of the shirt off and used it as a makeshift bandage. That will have to do for now, he thought before rising from the ground where he had unknowingly sat down. Better treatment will have to come later; right now there are more important things to do. At that moment, anyone who looked at him would have been very afraid. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. They were the eyes of a man out for blood.