Another King Arthur story that has just been waiting to get out there. This one is going to be a lot longer than all other stories I have ever written, template chapters have already been drafted and it is already really long, but good stuff too! I am going to incorporate a lot of the King Arthur legends into this story, as many as I can manage and try and follow what really happened so expect familiar characters! Also, because I'm sad, I may make a few Disney crossovers with stories, so no copyright intended anywhere, I own absolutely nothing save for characters of my own creation, so please don't sue me, I have no money at all anyway! Hope you all enjoy, please review to tell me what you think and that way I can post more chapters faster. Love to you all!

*Warning - Mature content, I strongly advise children DO NOT read this story.
**Warning - This may get pretty soppy romantic at stages, but I'll try and keep everything interesting. Just saying.

Stepping ashore the figure quickly strode forwards as if intent on reaching a focused destination though in truth, they had no idea where they were going. All they wanted was to get away from the ship before they were found out. Dressed in ragged trousers that came to their knees and a filthy shirt with more holes than believed possible, the barefooted traveller jumped over a barrel that was rolling at them, loose from its comrades then hurried along.

Anaya smirked as she bit her lip, keeping her head low with the broad rimmed hat hiding her features from view. She had sailed for several weeks disguised as a boy and the fools had never even suspected a thing. Gripping her pack strap tightly, all of her precious belongings tucked safely away in that one bag. Sliding into a port tavern, Amaya stole away upstairs, remaining unnoticed as it was the drunk hour, which meant no one would really be paying much attention to her regardless.

When she found an unoccupied room, Amaya poured the water from the pitcher over her feet in the basin to wash away the grime and dirt before doing the same to her arms, face, neck and hands. Once she was clean Amaya changed into more comfortable clothes. She wore soft fabricated breeches, a thick woollen shirt and a leather jerkin whilst keeping her chest bound tightly to hide her figure then pulled on a cloak once she had tied back her hair.

When loud footsteps and the sound of shrill giggling reached her, Amaya grabbed her belongings then dived under the bed, using the dark cloak to further hide in the shadows. The door burst open and the two voices, one deep and one pitchy, resonated into Amaya's mind as the wet noises of lips crushing one another joined the excited rumblings of their throats. They murmured some lover's words to each other, one kicking the door shut then locked it behind them as the man carried his companion to the bed.

Amaya rolled her eyes. If she had not been used to sharing a tent with her parents, this would have completely disgusted her. The bed sagged as the couple fell back and Amaya slowly scooted further under, glad that she was slim otherwise she would have been crushed under the weight. Obviously the man, or even the woman, were rather sizable. "Make me your wife, I shall give you ten score of sons." The woman gasped as her dress was torn open.

"I do not think my wife would be too pleased if I took another to replace her." The man chuckled and Amaya would have snorted had her situation been different. The woman, who actually sounded rather young, screamed as she was taken rather ruthlessly though she groaned from the pleasure. Yawning Amaya blocked out the sounds of their lovemaking to go to sleep, knowing that her journey was far from over. Surprisingly easily, she fell asleep.

Only the cracks of light spilling in through the window awoke Amaya, making her blink away the sleep then pause to listen. She heard the heavy breathing of a man and the lighter breathing of a woman, both in sleep. Slowly she eased herself out from under the bed, rolling onto her front then got to her feet, shouldering her pack. Glancing at the naked couple, she frowned. He was practically crushing her, how was she able to abide his heavy weight on top of her?

Shaking her head Amaya walked over to the door, unlocked it then slipped away, not bothering to close the door behind her. Descending the stairs boldly Amaya stepped outside into the morning, pale pallet paints inking across the sky in soft hues as the sun peaked over the ocean's horizon. Turning around, Amaya sought out the merchant travellers.

Asking around she did not stop until she had found one destined for Camelot. The merchant dealt with fine fabrics and jewels, his portly belly and many ringed fingers displaying his wealth more so than his fine robes. "Merchant." Her voice was lowered into a soft whisper, one that could easily pass for that of a young man. "I am in need of work."

"Work you say? I need no helpers. Be off with you."

"I have no intention of helping." She replied simply, keeping her face blank as her hood remained low over her features, the rim brushing against the bridge of her nose. "I can offer your goods protection for coin."

"Protection you say?" Inwardly Amaya scowled. This man was obviously brainless. "How? You have no weapons."

"But you do." She parried simply. "Give me a blade and I shall show you my worth." The man stroked his long beard thoughtfully, frowning at Amaya as she remained perfectly still.

"I already have an escort."

"I am better."

"Prove it." With a snap of his fingers, three tall, broad shouldered men muscled their way forwards with clenched fists. Amaya dropped her bag from her shoulder and swung it upwards, smacking the first in the chin then turned, lashing out with a foot to strike the second in the gut. Both went down with a loud cry, groaning as Amaya then ducked under the third's swing, her cloak flying out elegantly as she moved around behind him then kicked out his knees, striking him on the back of the head so quickly that the merchant's mouth dropped open. As the final opponent sank to the ground, Amaya gave a deft little bow with a satisfied smirk.

"Fools and brutes."

"You're hired." He agreed instantly, rubbing his hands together. "I shall pay-"

"One hundred gold pieces and the inclusion of food." Amaya cut him off and his jaw went slack once more. "And for every wound I may, though unlikely, sustain, I will require ten gold pieces more. Agreed?" His mouth flapped open and shut, gaping like a fish as Amaya stepped menacingly closer. "It is a fair price. Admit it, you underpay those oafs, no?" With a long sigh he waved his hand.

"Fine. But if anything happens to my precious cloths or jewels, you shall get nothing." Rolling her eyes Amaya nodded then walked towards the wagon, glancing over the horses that were tied up there before selecting one. The merchant said nothing but grumbled under his breath, kicking the other three men to their feet before climbing into his carriage.

Rubbing the horse's face and neck, Amaya murmured a few words in her native language and the ears swivelled forwards. "I shall not name you, for our time together shall be short." Amaya whispered. "So instead, I shall address you as friend. Is this agreeable to you?" Snorting softly the horse turned his head and Amaya smiled to herself before swinging up onto the gelding's back, patting the dark grey coat with dappled flecks before easing him forwards.

Soon he acute ears picked up the sound of the merchant's snores from within the carriage so she moved forwards, walking by the main wagon with her head fixed forwards. She could feel the heated glares of the three men on her back as well as the curious glances of the other hired hands but she ignored them all, remaining focused on the path ahead.

When they left the coast and headed inland, Amaya started to scout ahead, especially when they reached a woodland area. She took a bow and quiver from the supply wagon before riding ahead, listening and looking for any signs of danger but found none. She was becoming impatient. All though it would take several days to reach the fort, it was looking to be longer with this large haul slowing them down. She considered riding on ahead and just leaving them, stealing the horse but one hundred gold coins called to her and so did the protection of others around her. It was too dangerous to travel alone. Especially for a woman.

When she returned back for the fifth time to the wagons, Amaya passed some of the time by admiring her mount. She had chosen him because of the obvious lack of Roman blood in him. Where most horses had rounded noses, muscular bodies and more attractive looking features, this horse was different. He had a dished face and a sweeping neck, his mane rather bristly and course though his tail was long and flowing. He had high steps, a proud gait, as well as large brown eyes that just glowed with intelligence. He was not Roman, which was why Amaya had instantly known him to be the better. A secret jewel.

He picked up his feet so naturally, even in walk. His trot was smooth and fluid, barely moving her in the saddle which was ill fitting but she did not mind that for now. Perhaps with some of the gold she was to earn she would buy the horse and have a new saddle made for him. As well as a smooth trot, the gelding also had a flawless counter, transitioning easily between the two and holding the rhythm easily, never missing a beat. "Come friend." Amaya murmured, picking up the reins and with it, her horse's head lifted. "Let us check the road behind us."

Her father had always taught her to look back just as much as you looked forwards. It protected your back and kept an eye on your enemies. Using her feet to curl her horse around, Amaya trotted back, passing the trio of brawny brutes who all growled as she passed though she paid them no mind.

After a while she eased into a canter, sitting back in her seat as her mount carried her back a small way where she checked to make sure no one was following before turning around and heading back at a leisurely trot. The woods were thick but the path was well worn, allowing the light to filter through and turned its dust pitted length into a firm golden shade.

The day wore on slower than the pace of a snail, making Amaya yawn from time to time until finally they were ordered to stop and rest for the night. They were out of the woods but another lay not too far away so they camped in a field, the servants hurrying to set up the merchant's extravagant tent.

Knowing that she would receive trouble from the three men she had defeated unless she made amends, Amaya took a flask of wine from within the carriage without anyone noticing then approached the mercenaries as they camped around a fire. She nodded to them then held out the wine in a peace offering. They stared at her, frowning before one of then reached out and took it with a small grunt. She turned to leave but he stopped her. "Join us."

"I must find food." Amaya answered simply, using her deeper voice but another replied with a gruff voice.

"Share ours." Bowing her head in thanks Amaya stepped around and sat down opposite them, assuming a manly posture by slouching forwards and resting her elbows on her knees, clasping her hands together between her legs. "So where'd you learn to fight like that?"

"My father." She answered truthfully as they all shared the drink but when they offered it to her, she shook her head. "He trained me every day."

"Our pa did that. Beat us up until we were big enough to fight back." The first grunted then swigged on the wine before handing it to his next brother, who spoke.

"And after that, we used to beat him up every day." He drank a quick mouthful then handed on the last of the drink to the eldest brother who snorted.

"Then one day he was dead." Smirking slightly Amaya nodded her head.

"Mine too." They shared a quiet laugh, none saddened by their sires' passing. "Liked to hit my mother. When she fell and never got up, he moved onto me. I learned from him, every trick and move before driving my sword through his chest." There was silence for a while until the eldest brother held out a chicken leg to Amaya, who took it then tore off the flesh hungrily, savouring the taste of real meat on her tongue.

"You come from the sea?"

"Over lands." She replied with a mouthful of food, not caring for etiquette or manners as her stomach screamed for more. "Past Rome."

"Rome is everywhere."

"Past Rome." She reiterated simply, gnawing on the bone as she sought every last scrap of meat before tossing the bones into the fire and her hands were then filled with more meat. "Rome isn't everywhere."

"We only ever see Rome."

"Not everywhere." Taking a deep breath Amaya pulled her cloak closer around her against the cold that was beginning to settle in as the summer sun's radiance was snatched away by the biting wind that had suddenly picked up. "My home is still free in our hearts. We are not Rome, we are free."

"Rome burned our farm then raped our sisters when we were only a few winters old." The youngest muttered under his breath, growling darkly. "Everyone one of them now has a bastard." Amaya felt a pang of sympathy for the band of brothers, earning their keep and the keep of their family. The youngest, who had pale ginger hair, focused on the figure with curiosity. "What's your name?"

"Amar." She answered simply. "And yours?"

"Nukan." He answered then inclined his head to the second older brother with strong grey eyes like moonlit sliver. "And this is Garett and my eldest brother Eli." Nodding my head to them I did not reply, drawing them in wordlessly. They were all similar in looks, with the pale reddish blond hair, grey eyes and square jaws but there was always something slightly different to individualise them. Nukan had wider lips, Garett had a crooked nose and Eli's hair was longer, cut choppily at his shoulders. Finally Amaya spoke.

"You all sleep. I shall keep watch." With that she turned her head away, settling for listening to the forest and the wind snapping through the trees. In the distance she heard the call of a bird and she instantly smiled, lifting her head. The falcon soared overhead though Amaya could not see it. She listened to the powerful cries before it flew away to its nest.

The night was long and Amaya listened intently to every breath, whether it was from man or wind, until the flames began to dim down to embers. Her bow rested on her legs, an arrow knocked and ready to fly should the slightest sound cause Amaya concern. Though everything was silent. Perfectly still save for the occasional snore, grunt or turn of a sleeping man.

Appeased, Amaya began to allow her thoughts to wander to her journey ahead of her. Camelot, the city of new hopes and a better future for the kingdom of the Briton people. A kingdom of glory and riches, legends and stories that were whispered around warm hearths whilst people sipped on frothy ales. Camelot, home to King Arthur, Queen Guinevere and the knights of the round table.

Where her brother may or may not be alive. It had been seventeen years since they had parted, her smaller brother being torn from her arms by a Roman who had then backhanded her across the face, drawing blood from her lip. She had fought back despite her mother's pleading, leaping for the Roman and tearing him to the ground by yanking on his cloak. Her little brother, who had only been eight at the time, had begged them to not hurt Amaya as she was wrestled to the ground, taking two of their strongest men just to subdue her.

With a wince she remembered the flash of pain across her back as they cut her open, the wound bleeding quickly and left her too weak to chase after her brother to reclaim him. She was lucky to have escaped with her life. Her parents had tended to her wounds and to her tears at her failure but she made a promise to herself, to never have a child. Never to have a son that would be torn away from her.

Amaya had waited. Waited for fifteen years for her brother to return, who was only three years younger than her. After a year of his not returning, her mother had died of a broken heart, weeping herself to their grave though she had been very sick for many weeks beforehand. Her father had died several years previously when a strong fever took the clan, taking many lives with it. With most of the men gone, taken by sickness, the clan had disbanded and gone in search for somewhere else to reside.

With nowhere else to go, Amaya had taken up all that she owned and started the long walk to follow her brother's sixteen year old trail. First she had gone to Rome, charming her way into the bed of a high ranking Roman lord who gave her the details of her brother's location and morality status in exchange for her virtue. She had knocked him out before he could even rest an oily hand on her person.

Briton. Her future was Briton. Her brother was there, still alive and well. She was unsure whether she was happy or furious with him. Elated for him being alive, enraged that he had not returned home. He had better have a good excuse. She had heard the stories and always glowed with pride at their legendary achievements. Living through hell, delivering the land of Saxon infestations, bringing peace and order to the country…Amaya could not wait to be reunited with him.