A/N: Thank you everyone for the lovely reviews on the last chapter. I very much appreciate the feedback. This chapter turned out a bit longer than I was expecting, but I suppose that not a bad thing :)

I hear your whispers
Break the silence
And it calms me down
Your taste on my lips
Your salty kisses

They say I'm seeking up the danger
That one day you won't let me go
(I'll drown, you'll take me down)

I need you Aquarius
Enchanted I will have to stay.
I feel you Aquarius
'Cause you don't see, set me free
You call to me Aquarius
(You call to me, you set me free)

Chapter 3 – Don't Fall

Guinevere was utterly and completely bored. She had been moping about the castle all day long, looking for something, anything to do. The life of a queen was far too often filled with endless solitude in waiting - waiting for what exactly she was not entirely sure. Arthur had been gone on business for the past two days, leaving her to wander about the stone walls and invent ways in which to fill the day. She had already harassed the kitchen staff enough; she was certain they were downstairs, cursing her name at this very moment. Not that she cared. She was the queen; it was her right to question any and every little thing that occurred within the walls of the castle.

The midday sun was shining on Camelot and Guinevere was still searching for a way to bide her time. In all truth, she was really searching for any sort of excuse to not think of him. Only two nights had passed since their last encounter in the forest, but her thoughts had been constantly plagued with the dark knight. She wondered how long their affair would last? When she would meet him again? Was his mind just as plagued with thoughts of her? Would their secret be discovered? Did he imagine her, when he was in bed with his wife, as she did with Arthur?

She was infected - he was the disease and she knew all too well there was no cure. Not that she wanted to be cured, but how on earth could she properly fulfil her duties as queen if she was in constant longing for Lancelot's forbidden touch? Everything was so much simpler when they were alone; but she could not live her life alone with him. She had but one life to live – this one. Guinevere had gone over it again and again in her mind, and still was unable to reach any sort of solution. Best to not think on it for now, she conceded. Not that that would accomplish anything, but she was too fully aware that there was nothing at all she could do to remedy the situation.

The thought of bothering the kitchen staff once again tired her, so instead Guinevere decided to enjoy the sanctity and quietude of the gardens. Camelot housed a most splendid greenery and though the queen much preferred the green of the open forest, the castle's gardens would suffice for now. As she made her way down the stairs, Guinevere could not help but reflect on the events of last night's dinner in the hall.

Without Arthur there, she was the lone regal figure in the great hall, and though the knights respected her greatly, they all considered her a comrade and a dear friend after all these long years together. In turn, she quite enjoyed their company and felt most at ease joining in their discourses and constant ribbing of one another.

The prime focus of last night's jest just so happened to be her favourite knight of all – Lancelot. At first, she only quietly smirked at the severe treatment the dark knight had to endure. But she soon found her voice joining in with her own rabid comments, all in jest of course. How she utterly delighted in teasing him.

"Lancelot, do you recall that time you fell down the hill, chasing down that Saxon bastard?" Bors was laughing at the recollection.

"I did not fall! I told you I was pushed." Lancelot bravely attempted to save his honour.

"Who the hell pushed you?" Gawain interjected. "I saw the whole thing myself, there was not a soul behind you."

"Ah," Guinevere laughed, "So this is the incident in which you earned the name Sir Tripsalot?"

She smirked at him, utterly adoring the way in which the blood rushed to his cheeks, painting them crimson.

"I did no such thing! I was pushed, I swear to you!" Lancelot was getting angry now, which only increased her desire to torment him even further.

"Perhaps you did trip? Will you concede that?" Guinevere playfully continued the game.

"How many times must I tell you. I did not trip, I was pushed!" Lancelot raged against her.

Oh how she loved torturing him! It was all just a game and he knew it, but he responded in exactly the fashion she so desperately desired. The way in which his full red lips curled into that angry sneer, his eyes closed into those seductively piercing slits, his soft dark curls bounced upon his shaking head. It was his reaction, more that anything else, that fuelled her to continually poke fun at him for the silliest of things.

"Are you quite sure Lancelot? It does not seem a very knightly thing to do to trip and fall. But perhaps it was a fallen branch, or a fallen apple that caused you to stumble?"

The sound of the word apple leaving her lips caused Lancelot to quickly bite back his tongue from responding. Instead his face became an even darker shade of red, and he slowly shook his head at her, finally realizing how this devilish queen of his had been gently mocking him this whole time.

But there was one person seated at the table who had missed the joke.

"Oh that's not true! If Lancelot said he was pushed, then surely he was!" Elaine cried out in defence of her husband.

Gods, would the woman ever shut her mouth? If Guinevere had but a thread and needle with her, she would have sown Elaine's lips closed herself, and thoroughly relished in the task.

Guinevere exited the interior of the castle to the smell of sweet pine and flowers. She walked to her favourite place of the garden - the water fountain bearing the statue of the blessed goddess. The second she spied the blonde hair of the girl sitting on the bench in front of the fountain, the queen almost turned back to leave, for it was the last person on this earth she wished to speak with.

"Good day my queen," Elaine called sweetly.

Dammit! It was too late now to turn back, and Guinevere had no choice but to respond.

"Good day, Elaine," Guinevere replied as kindly as her voice would allow.

"Would you like to go for a walk?"

"No, thank you I ..."

"Oh please! Let us go for a walk." Elaine was practically begging.

Guinevere's patience was lost and she did not have the desire to argue with the woman, so instead she nodded in acquiesce. It would be pleasant to get some fresh air outside of the castle walls, she convinced herself. And hopefully, Elaine would not have the need speak at great length, as she was normally prone to do.

The two ladies walked around the grounds of the castle, Elaine constantly chipperring away in her sweet voice. Guinevere was only half-listening to the girl, but managed to nod and agree at the appropriate places, such that Elaine was never the wiser.

"Let us go to the wall, shall we?" Elaine asked.

Guinevere nodded on cue. She really didn't care where they went. She was enjoying the fresh air if nothing else; though her company lacked a thing or two to be desired. As they made their way to the wall, Guinevere soon realized why Elaine has wished to come here – Lancelot was on patrol-duty.

If there was one thing worse than Elaine's company, it was Elaine's company in the presence of Lancelot. The queen could do nothing but watch as Elaine rushed into her husband's arms, kissing him warmly. Guinevere suddenly felt ill as her stomach somersaulted, and she had to bite back the acidic bile that rose into her throat. The sight of them together was revolting; yet as much as she wished to avert her eyes, her gaze was transfixed upon the pair. As if sensing Guinevere's discomfort, Lancelot untangled himself from Elaine's embrace and bowed his head.

"Good day my queen. To what do I owe the pleasure of such a fine pair of ladies?" he asked with a smile, his dark eyes shining brightly in the midday sun.

Fine pair indeed. Men would kill for a second in either of the ladies' company, and Lancelot had the complete and utter adoration of not just one, but both of them. Did he have any idea just how lucky he truly was? Perhaps he did realize his fortune, or perhaps he needed to be reminded of it?

"Your wife requested my company. Though it is pure happen chance that our paths crossed." She answered him with as neutral a tone as she could muster.

"Indeed? And you had no idea that I was on duty today at the wall?" He asked, still with that grin painted on his face.

"No. If I had known, perhaps I would have coerced Elaine to walk on the opposite side of the castle grounds."

Lancelot's smile quickly changed to a frown at her reply. Elaine looked confused, yet she quite often had such an expression upon her face.

Why was the queen acting so wickedly? Why did she have to pretend she wasn't utterly thrilled at the sight of him? Part of her enjoyed teasing him, in acting completely indifferent in his presence. But in all truth, her current attitude was not merely an amusing ploy meant to tease him, nor a simple ruse to avoid speculation. She was jealous. Jealous of the two of them together. Jealous that his wife could kiss him out in the open, and she could not. And that was the true reason for her cruel words; and Lancelot was not fool enough not to realize this.

"My dear, I will see you later. I must return to my duty" Lancelot said to his wife. Averting Guinevere's gaze, he placed a kiss on Elaine's forehead.

Elaine's lips turned down into a pathetic frown, "But Lancelot, we have just arrived! Surely you can spare a few more moments."

"Come Elaine. Stop distracting your husband from his duty." Guinevere harshly reprimanded her.

Elaine looked like a small child that had been slapped across the face at some awful misdeed. Guinevere could clearly tell that the woman wished to say something further; but Elaine was not foolish enough to refute her queen's direct command.

Guinevere smiled inwardly. Sometimes it did pay to be the queen; to have every bidding she uttered obeyed without question. She had overwhelming power and it was thrilling; though she was not the type to abuse it. Well, not too often anyhow.

With one final glance at Lancelot she turned her back to leave, with Elaine trotting behind like a lost puppy following their master.

The two women made their way back to the castle in silence. If nothing else, at least Guinevere's tone had shut the other woman up; and for this the queen was grateful. Though instead of her annoying rambling, Elaine had found something even more irritating to do. Every few feet they walked, she would turn and gaze back across the grass at Lancelot, who was undoubtedly watching the pair's return to the castle.

After about the fifth time Elaine turned her head to look back at the wall, Guinevere had had enough. What in damnation is she looking at! Can she not go one single minute without looking at her damned husband?

Guinevere made a tragic mistake then, and let her anger and jealousy dictate her actions. She herself turned around, to see Lancelot smiling at the two of them. That man, damn him. That smile of his caused her heart to flutter in her chest. She could not help herself but smile back at him, knowing that the grin painted on his face was for her and her alone. She was too preoccupied with Lancelot's distant charms to hear Elaine cautioning her to watch her step.

And the next thing Guinevere felt was her arms scraping across the dirt and her face sniffing at the grass. She had tripped and fallen, and not elegantly so at all. The queen lay on the ground in a tangled heap of her own long limbs. Her blood was boiling; she was so angry at herself. Guinevere felt a fool and knew that she looked the part as well.

"My queen! Are you alright?" Elaine voiced with concern.

"I am fine!" Guinevere growled back as she proceeded to disentangle herself and rise as gracefully as possible from the grass.

She did not need to turn her head to know that Lancelot had seen her falling. She could feel his dark eyes burning into her back. She would not turn to face him and instead felt the warm blood rushing to her face. With a final hissing snarl, the queen stormed back to the castle, not even bothering to notice if Elaine was following her stride or not.

That evening the queen did not grace the great hall with her presence at dinner. Though her fall earlier today had not damaged her physically, her pride still needed time to recover. She was in no mood for the teasing she was sure to endure on Lancelot's behalf. Instead Guinevere had her meal brought to her chambers and after consuming her dinner alone, she lay on the bed staring up at the stone ceiling.

In her solitude, the queen's mind conjured up a myriad of thoughts – all of which were centered around that forbidden first knight of hers. When would she see him again? How would she send him a secret invitation this time to meet her? Only two days had past since she had last felt his embrace, and she was already longing for his touch. She replayed their last encounter over and over again in her mind – vividly recalling each and every moment, kiss and touch they had shared. The queen knew her lust was wrong, she knew her thoughts were so shameful, fantasizing of the dark knight – here in her and Arthur's chambers. Dammit! She should be thinking about her husband in her quiet moments alone, not his first knight!

Guinevere heard a knock on the door and cursed to herself, who is it! She was in no mood for company. Maybe if she would ignore her visitor they would simply go away? After a few moments the knocking began again and with a sigh Guinevere rose from the bed, noticing that the candle she had lit earlier was already half burned already, signalling that many hours had past since dinner.

She opened the door to find the last person on this earth she was expecting, but the one person she had been desperately wishing it was. Wearing his black leather pants and a white cotton shirt, open at the chest exposing his tan skin, the dark knight's frame crowded the threshold of her chambers. Just the mere sight of him caused Guinevere's knees to threaten to buckle underneath her. He had a deeply mischievous grin painted on his lips, and his hand was resting on the wooden frame of the door while his dark eyes implored her to bid him entrance. Glancing quickly down both lengths of the corridor to ensure there was not a soul present, Guinevere moved aside, silently inviting him into her chambers.

"I came to see if you were alright," he smiled brightly at her, though the coy gleam had still not left his eyes. "I was most concerned when you did not come to the hall this evening for dinner."

She glanced at him questioningly before moving closer to the bed, putting a safe distance between them. She could not trust herself around him, and her and Arthur's chambers was the last place she would ever wish to succumb to his overpowering charms.

"I am quite well. Thank you for you concern, but it is unfounded." She convincingly replied.

"Are you sure my queen? After that terrible fall of yours earlier I feared you may have injured yourself." That impish grin of his only grew larger as his words caused her lips to turn downwards into a tight frown.

"I am fine Lancelot. I simply lost my footing and stumbled. Nothing more." She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks.

He was enjoying this immensely she could tell. After the ribbing he had endured the night before, she could not blame him of course.

He moved but a few steps closer to her before speaking again. "Are you quite sure my queen? If there is anything I can do at all to alleviate any discomfort you may be feeling, please do not hesitate to tell me."

Rolling her eyes, she responded, "I was not aware that you were well-skilled in the healing arts Lancelot."

He laughed loudly at her haughty retort. Her tongue was as sharp as his and he thoroughly enjoyed their verbal sparring matches. It was not everyday Lancelot found another person who could match his quick wit. But the queen was his equal in this regard, which was one of the many qualities about her he found so appealing.

He walked even closer to her now, until she could almost feel the warmth of his body.

"I possess many skills that you do not yet know of, my queen," he replied, his dark eyes locked with hers.

He was completely seducing her, and he had not even touched her yet. It was his eyes and his voice that tightly grabbed her hidden desire for him, and swiftly pulled her passions to the surface.

She did a most foolish thing then, and allowed herself to be swept away by his powerful tides.

"Well in all truth, my back does ache quite a bit."

It was a game - a gloriously sensual game and she had just placed her piece onto the board, countering his last move.

"Does it? Well, let us see if I can not alleviate that awful ache of yours."

Lancelot closed the gap between them and moved his hands around her to rest on the small of her back. Her pulse had quickened to a now feverish pace and she simply waited to see what his next move would be.

He moved his head closer to hers and she felt her lips parting in anticipation; but instead of the feel of his mouth against hers, his breath tickled against her ear as he whispered, "Lie on the bed, my queen, and I shall attempt to quell whatever pain ails you."

Not here. Oh gods, this should not be happening here. But it was. And she was letting it happen. Guinevere was past the point of no return. Indeed the second she had allowed him to enter the chambers she had sealed her fate. Guinevere was lost, and if this what what being lost felt like, then she never ever wished to be found again. She soon found herself lying on her bridal bed just as he had instructed.

"Turn around. I cannot reach your back from that position," he teasingly smiled, still standing next to the bed.

She, once again, obliged to his commands, and turned to lay on her stomach facing the door, closing her eyes in delightful anticipation of whatever Lancelot's mind had in store for her.

Guinevere felt the bed sink slightly as Lancelot's body moved closer to hers. Suddenly she could feel his muscular legs pressed tightly against her hips, and his body firmly rested on her backside, as he straddled her from behind. In the next instant, her body was completely aflame as his fingertips kneaded into her back, massaging her tight muscles into utter submission. She could not stop herself from moaning aloud at the feel of his hands on her body, though she was silently begging for him to remove the thin material of her dress so that she could feel the full force of his powerful fingers caressing her skin.

As if hearing her thoughts, Lancelot began tugging at her dress, moving it farther down her back to expose more of her soft skin to his touch. Lancelot's warm finger soothingly stroked her naked flesh, as she felt him lean forward to whisper into her ear.

"Feeling better, my queen?"

"Mmmm" was the only reply her lips were able to utter. Guinevere was thoroughly relishing the sensations his fingertips provoked in her. The warmth from his hands travelled down to her belly before settling between her legs in an aching throb of desire. The feel of his breath across her neck caused her hips to buck in response, crashing against his hard arousal.

That was all the answer Lancelot needed and a seductive grin passed across his face. He continued massaging her back, moving from her tense shoulders, slowly down to where the material of her dress covered her buttocks. His fingers teasingly played across her skin, eliciting soft moans to escape from her lips.

Lancelot pushed his body tighter against her and she could feel his hard manhood pressed tightly against her. Guinevere slowly moved one hand to reach around her back, and still with her head pressed tightly against the sheets of the bed, began slowly unlacing his black leather trousers. Her desire for him was overwhelming and she forgot where she was. The only thing her mind could process was the feel of his hard body against hers and his hands on her flesh. She was not concerned that they where here - in her and her husband's chambers, on her and Arthur's bed. Fully submerged in the dark knights tides, she wished to drown in him, sinker further and further into the abyss of their passion.

Her lover suddenly stopped his loving caresses, and a moment later she felt his body completely cover hers as his head settled against her neck. Guinevere turned her head so that their lips could finally meet, and just as his cool tongue entered his lips, she felt his hard manhood slowly poking at her wet opening. Moaning aloud into his mouth, she sucked at his tongue as he slowly pushed himself inside of her. Her hips angled to allow him complete entrance and she gripped the bedsheets tightly in anticipation.

Lancelot's mouth was pressed up beside her ear, so that she could hear each moan, each pant that escaped from him lips and he pushed himself deeper inside of her. Guinevere's hips joined his rhythm perfectly, and clenching the bed tightly, she bit into the sheets, suppressing the loud groan that was threatening to overtake her. In response, Lancelot's teeth sunk hard into her shoulder, as he thrust himself harder inside her tight, wet flesh.

Perhaps it was the achingly stimulating position the two lovers were entwined in; or perhaps it was the fact that they were making love in such a forbidden place, not just in the castle, but in her and Arthur's sacred bedroom; whatever it was, it only fuelled their sinful passions and made the encounter even more delicious than any of the others. Lancelot's hands were firmly gripped around hers, and she squeezed them with delight, bucking her hips even harder against his. His hot breath on her neck, his warm chest on her back, his muscular legs wrapped so tightly around hers. Gods, it was better than anything she had even felt before in her life. Meeting his panting lips again, she breathed in his sweet breath as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge. Her moaning became louder now, and he captured each sound in his open waiting mouth, savouring the desire he so elicited in her. With one final guttural moan, her whole body shook, as if struck by lightening, and she screamed into his throat.

Panting loudly into her ear, Lancelot slowly disentangled himself from her, laying aside her on the bed. He gently stroked her hair while softly kissing her full red lips. Guinevere smiled radiantly at her lover, staring into his deep brown eyes, eyes she craved for, eyes she saw whenever she closed hers. He was angelicly beautiful, and the queen adored him. Every single thing about him.

There were words on the tip of her tongue, threatening to spill, yet she stopped them, just as she had stopped him of uttering them, their first time together. Instead she spoke the only words she could allow herself to say.

"Thank you, my knight. You have indeed alleviated each and every ache in my body."

Lancelot smiled at her, that glorious smile of his. That smile that she would long to see throughout her days, that smile that caused her heart to sing with joy, that smile that calmed her very soul.

"Did I not tell you that I am well skilled in many areas." Lancelot replied with a coy grin.

Kissing her softly on the lips once more, Lancelot spoke the words she so did not wish to hear, though she knew they must be spoken nonetheless, "Good night, my most beautiful queen. Sleep well."

Guinevere rolled onto her side, watching her lover dress, and with a final smile he exited her chambers. With the smallest of sighs, Guinevere disrobed and donned her nightdress, before burrowing herself under the covers. It did not matter if she wished him to stay that night, it did not matter that she did not ask him to, for she already knew the answer to that question.

"Goodnight, my Lancelot." she spoke aloud, though he was already gone. I shall dream of you tonight, and hope that you shall of me as well.

I relinquish
To your powers
From your grasp
I just can't hide

I missed the danger
I had to conquer
You made me feel alive

They say I have to be aware
That one day you won't let me go
Take me down

I long for you Aquarius
I need to be with you again
I fear you, Aquarius
My destiny 'till the end

-Aquarius, Within Temptation

A/N: I am having far too much fun writing this story. Once again, I am sorry, but not that sorry about my treatment of Elaine. It's all the queen's doing, not mine!