Alrighty then, we have an update. I want to take a moment to thank my new and wonderful beta: rae-rae89. Thanks so much for all your help and wonderful suggestions. Thank you also to everyone who reviewed, I appreciate everyone's comments and thoughts….keep them coming!

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She had never believed in fairytales as a child. Sure she enjoyed Fiona's tales of valiant men who always saved the innocent fair maiden from an evil villain. She enjoyed listening to the enthusiasm in Fiona's voice when she would speak of timeless love that ran deeper then their souls. Fiona had often said that it was this pure love that always won in the end. It was why the brave man was always able to find his love and defy the odds against him in order to save her. However, the true value of the lessons had been lost on young Keela as she was more inclined to spend time with Fallon and Oran wrestling in the mud with her father.

It was when she got older that Keela began to understand the underlying meaning of those stories. She had thought it was folly that a love so deep could run between two people. It seemed unnatural to her. She was convinced that was the reason people made up such stories, as if dreaming about it could make it seem more real since it was so unattainable.

It wasn't until she learned more about her mother and began to pay attention to her father's reaction to the mere mention of her mother's name that she began to doubt her initial thoughts. It was the love that shone in her father's eyes at the mere mention of her mother that planted the seed of doubt; after hearing the way her father spoke of her lost mother as he told her endless stories was enough for Keela to believe that her father had found that kind of love with her mother. Fiona had been right all along. True love was rare, but it did exist. It had existed between her mother and father. It was the same love that she saw in Arthur's eyes when he watched Guinevere or when Dagonet looked at Fiona. It was a deep, all consuming love that tied one to the other, that made the world they lived in more bearable. It was also a love that made one forgive, no matter how treacherous the transgression.

So it was, in that instant, when the hairs on the back of Keela's neck began to prickle and stand on end alerting her to his gaze on her person that Keela knewit would be that love that forced her to forgive. It all became sadly clear as to the reason she had been so affected by his actions; she loved him. She loved him with all her body had to give. She loved him with such fierceness that she would gladly give her life for him. And he despised her.

Curling her arms tighter around her bent legs, Keela attempted to steel herself as she heard him approaching. She thought back to the day they had wed when she had promised herself that she would not allow him to break her. She thought back to when she had promised herself she would not care that her husband loathed her. She thought back to all the times when she willed herself to hate him. And it all made sense as to why each attempt failed. She loved him and that was why it hurt so much.

He was behind her now, no doubt greeting a nickering Mona and relieving Demon of his burdens so the huge beast could graze freely. Keela closed her eyes, feeling her flesh tingle and her insides twist with anticipation to his nearness. However the feeling was tainted. Previous events clouded her mind and she felt the familiar sting of hurt and anger bubble forth. Despite her feelings for this man, she was not so lost in them to simply let herself brush aside all the hurt that was still eating away her soul, piece by piece. She loved him, she would no doubt forgive him, but that time was not right now.

Lancelot could delay no gave Demon a finalpat on his rump as his stallion butted his head into Mona's flank. He chuckled as the mare turned and flashed his stallion a glare that rivalled her mistress before nipping at Demon. Watching as the two steeds trotted away from the pair, Lancelot took a deep breath as he turned and looked down at Keela who had yet to greet him. Her crouched posture was stiff and uninviting; her eyes looked hard, cold and vicious. He could swear that the soft mixture of brown and green had now become a dark shade of swirling anger; a hard current that was ready to drown him. She looked beautiful in her anger. "Keela," he greeted as he lowered himself next to her on the large stone she rested upon.

Keela didn't look at Lancelot but simply nodded to show she heard him. She continued her gaze at the murky pond as she wondered where to begin. There was so much that needed to be said and yet, she couldn't bring herself to find the words to begin. So, she simply sat, her mouth clamped firmly shut while she waited for him to start, knowing when he did, she would surely end it.

Lancelot's eyes scanned the clearing around him, his seasoned senses unable to keep him fully aware of all and everything around them. It was a habit that had become so ingrained over the years that even when there was peace with the Woads, he was still unable to feel fully at ease in such a heavily wooded area. When it became clear that Keela was not going to address him, Lancelot tore his eyes away from their surroundings and stared at her profile. "I am sorry," he breathed out, his pathetic apology irritating even him. He really was unableto think of anything more appropriate to say.

That was not what she was expecting him to say and Keela let out a mirthless laugh. "Your apology means nothing to me at this point in time Lancelot; so do not bother with such useless words," her tone was dry, tired and she still made no move to look at him.

Lancelot sat up straighter and stared at her through narrowed eyes, irritated that these Irish women doubted his honour. "I do not throw those words around lightly, my lady, so you better damn well realize I mean what I say," he hissed, his irritation and anger getting the better of him. He was uncomfortable, immensely so. He didn't deal with these types of situations well; in fact, he couldn't ever remember a time when he had to deal with such.

This time Keela snapped her head around and returned his glare with one of equal force. "You expect me to believe that?" she questioned incredulously, an eyebrow raised as she levelled him with a look that spoke of her doubt. If possible, her eyes became even harder and Lancelot was still stumped by how beautiful she looked while angry. She looked fierce even. "Your words are empty and meaningless for your actions speak otherwise," she retorted, her brows furrowing as her eyes narrowed further in challenged. She dared him to disagree with her, dared him to contradict her.

Lancelot rose to the challenge as his eyes flickered over her features. He was not used to women speaking against him and once again he cursed the gods for sticking him with the only one who seemed to have no problem with it. "You believe me to lie?" he questioned, his tone rising in warning. He may be many things, but a liar was not one of them; and he certainly did not appreciate being accused of beingone. Sure, he had deliberately hid the truth, but that didn't make him a liar in his mind.

Keela shook her head in annoyance and looked back out towards the pond, exasperated that he could only focus on the fact that his pride was being questioned. Typical, she grumbled to herself. "Lancelot, you and I both know that actions speak louder than words. So I refuse to accept your apology. I have no reason to believe you for you have given me none," came her sharp reply. She didn't dare look at him. She was so angry she feared might even remove his lying tongue; or better yet, another appendage he held so very dear. It was invigorating to feel her body tingle in its anger as opposed to the depressed gloom that had been weighing her down. Anger she could handle.

Lancelot clenched his jaw in frustration. She was right. She was always right, and it was driving him mad. Yet he had to respect her and her ability to stand up to him. It was not a feat many could say they hadaccomplished, women especially. He knew he was intimidating, dangerous; many men wouldn't even look him in the eye, yet Keela had no qualms with making him look and feel like a fool. "Look," he breathed out, slouchedand tired of all the fighting they seemed to do. "I understand that I have not been the best...husband" he paused, the title feeing foreign of his tongue, yet not as unpleasant as he had assumed. That surprised him.

He had also been surprised during their last council meeting at the anger that flooded his veins when Conner and Pontius had treated Keela with such blatant disrespect. The audacity to insult her right in front of him, the King and Queen, had sent his insides into a fury of rage urging him to take the lives of those who dare utter such words. It was even more of a surprise when he verbally threatened as much and declared her as his wife. He had never felt more invigorated knowing he had protected his woman, defended her. For no matter what anyone said, she was his. He had realized thatwhen his entire being felt as if it were coiling into itself when Fiona threatened to take Keela away from him.

Keela turned to look back at Lancelot and stared at him indignantly, her eyebrow raised condescendingly. Lancelot nodded, letting out a sigh before tearing his eyes away from her and looking out at the pond once again. "Alright, I have been unworthy in every sense of the word," he uttered feeling not only embarrassed but surprisingly bare. He disliked feeling unworthy, but even he couldn't deny the truth to Fiona's words that he was unworthy of Keela, unworthy of being her husband.

Keela stared at Lancelot in surprise, watching him clench his jaw in discomfort. She could only imagine how difficult it was for him to say such a thing. It was easy to tell the dark Knight was not accustomed to such speech and she found herself softening knowing that he was trying, making an effort. "Tell me why then?" she pleaded softly, wishing to understand how her presence could displease him so. "Why am I so hard to live with?" She swallowed the pooling saliva in her mouth as she fought to form her final question. "Why am I so hard to love?" she whispered so quietly,her eyes falling away from his rugged features and looking behind him at the grazing animals that had no cares in the world.

Lancelot tilted his head to regard Keela; he was sure he was not meant to hear her last question, but it was as if the meadow carried it right to him. "It is none of those things, Keela," he breathed out, willing her to believe him. She once again would not meet his eyes, only shifted them to gaze at the small flower and the finger she brought up to trace its petals. He could feel the resentment his statement earned though as her jaw clenched tightly shut, her muscles twitching at the force. She again didn't believe him.

Lancelot brought a hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose knowing he was going to have to divulge much more than he ever intended. It was either make her understand and give him a chance or risk Fiona taking her away. "Keela, I...," he paused trying to speak the words that he had never even dreamed of uttering.

Keela slowly tore her eyes away from the delicate flower and looked him straight in the eyes, her face now sad and pleading with him to explain his treacherous actions. "I never dreamed I would marry; truthfully, I wasn't even sure I wanted to," he began, his deep voice surprisingly hollow and empty as he prepared to bare his soul.

Keela cocked her head to the side and opened her mouth but snapped it shut when he held his hand up for her to keep quiet. He was sure he would never get out what he knew he had to if she interrupted. Obediently, Keela closed her mouth and nodded for him to continue. Taking a deep breath, Lancelot looked back out at the pond before them knowing he wouldn't be able to look at her as he spoke. "I was taken from my home when I was no more than 12 winters. Ripped from all I knew and taken to fight for a country not my own and in a land that was flooded with demons." He looked around, taking in the dense forestry, absentlyremembering a time not too long ago when he would have feared for his life sitting alone in these woods.

The tone of Lancelot's voice had Keela completely riveted. She shifted her weight to face Lancelot fully, having a feeling that what he was about to share with her was something no one had ever had the privilege of hearing.

"There were 40 of us to start; 40 men with the youngest being only 7 and the oldest 18." He paused feeling his insides clench whenever he remembered the fallen who never deserved to lose their lives in such a way.

"I knew what to expect, for my father had groomed me from infancy. I knew that I would become a knight, at one time I even looked forward to it." He let out a bitter chuckle at the naive child he had once been, running through grassy plains playing Knights with other boys. "No amount of warning could have prepared me for the horrors that awaited me," he muttered darkly, his eyes having taken a faraway look as he brought them to another time.

Keela bit the inside of her cheek, her eyessoftening in sadness as she quietly listened. Their world was a dark place. Most people, despite their status, never knew anything but poverty, war and heartache. She felt her heart reach out to the man that was forced into the darkest of places at such a young age. She wanted to tell him she could sympathize, in a way. For she herself had not had as easy a childhood, as she suspected Lancelot assumed. She knew what it was like to have a childhood stripped away as they were forced to grow too fast. But those were tales for another day, another time.

Lancelot's eyes flickered to Keela's briefly before looking back at the calm lake. "By the time we were done training, we were down to 35. I was 14 when I was forced into my first battle." He paused, still feeling the repercussions that fateful day had on him. He would never forget their faces; the screams and the pain that haunted him at having to take someone's life for the first time. Keela watched the emotion play across Lancelot's face as he relived the no doubt traumatizing day. She had to clench her fists into the folds of her skirts to stop them from reaching out and gathering him to her in hopes of somehow taking the pain away from him and transferring it into her.

"I will never forget watching in horror as dirty men painted in blue attacked mere boys," his tone was laced with painful sadness, and Keela's tears began to blur Lancelot's form as she listened to the gruesome tale.

"We were unprepared. It was a routine patrol in an area that had not seen any Woads for at least 12 months. There were 10 of us…," this time his voice cracked and he swallowed the lump that was forming as the day replayed right in front of him.

"It was worse than watching cattle being slaughtered by a pack of ravenous wolves. Three of us walked away and barely at that," his voice trailed off, once again taking on a hollow, lifeless tone as the image disappeared and his hand absentmindedly reached up to the large scar that ran from his collarbone to his chest. He had been imbedded with an axe that day, his armour having barely saved his life.

This time, unable to stop herself, Keela reached out and gently eased her hand on top of the one that rested on edge of Lancelot's folded knee. Lancelot looked down and stared at her smaller hand as it rested on top of his. It amazed him how much smaller her hand was compared to his large one. As if the appendage had a life of its own, his hand turned over and he laced his fingers with hers gripping tightly to her as his body suddenly filled with a warmth that he had never experienced.

Taking a deep breath, and looking back over the pond whilekeeping a firm grip on her hand, Lancelot found the courage to continue. "I changed after that," he stated bitterly. "I have always been headstrong, determined and strong willed. But after that battle all the joy in my life, the last shred of innocence, truly evaporated and all I was left with was self preservation. I grew bitter, cold, and cynical." Lancelot looked at Keela expecting to see her nodding her head in agreement with his description; however, she was looking at him with nothing but understanding and tenderness. For a brief moment he felt himself stiffen with anger, wanting to snap at her for even thinking she could understand what he went through. However, as if sensing his darkening mood, Keela's calloused thumb began rubbing soothing circles along the side of his palm and he was surprised to feelhis anger dissipate with each stroke.

Closing his eyes, Lancelot knew he had to continue and vowed that he would never talk of such things again, for he had not been prepared for the onslaught of emotions that were threatening to turn him into a raging bull. "For 15 years I watched my brothers die. Each day I grew further and further into myself only finding solace in my brothers company and the warmth only a woman can provide. It was all I had, all that kept me sane, grounded." He chanced to look at her now, and surprisingly breathed out a sigh of relief when he saw the same understanding on her face, her thumb still rubbing his skin ever-so-softly.

"I tried to better myself everyday. Arthur and I would spend hours training, determined to never let anyone or anything best us." His lips curled slightly as he thought of his dearest friend and all they had been through together. He knew, just as Arthur knew, that neither would be alive today if it weren't for the sacrifices the other had made to ensure such. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Arthur, nothing.

"For two years it was just the 6 of us. We were the best and it showed. Though, there were many times when we nearly lost one of them. But we fought, for it would be unbearable to separate us now." He heaved a heavy sigh as he pushed away the memories of times where they nearly lost Dagonet, Tristan, Bors, Gawain, Galahad and even Arthur.

"When we met Guinevere…" Lancelot paused and tightened his grip on Keela's hand when she attempted to remove it at the mention of their Queen. He was not about to give up the effect the warmth her touch was having on his fridge heart.

"I was immediately enraptured by her beauty." He saw Keela wince out of the corner of his eye and this time was unable to stop Keela from wrenching her hand from his grip. His brow furrowed as she once again curled into herself as if the words he were about to tell her would surely unravel her.

Sighing, he looked back out at the pond, watching as a dragonfly fluttered around the surface. "I had never met a woman so enticing," he began, entranced by the small insect's movements, and completely unaware of his nostalgic, longing tone. "She was strong in every way. She was dark, dangerous and represented everything that I hated." He tore his eyes away from the dragonfly and stared up at the grey clouds that were moving slowly to the south.

"I fought with myself and the pull I felt towards her. I was convinced that she was sent to destroy us, starting with Arthur." Lancelot looked back down at the pond, still unable to look at Keela, and plucked one of the flowers from its floating pedestal.

"She spoke of things she did not know, dreamed of things that would not happen and preached of a world that would never be. She was as ridiculous as Arthur was," his voice had dropped, tinged with resentment as he focused his attention on tearing the silky pedals off one by one.

"I suspect that is why they were so drawn to each other; the ridiculous ideas they shared." Keela shut her eyes as she noted the twinge of bitterness that lingered in his voice as he spoke. She didn't know how much more she could handle.

Lancelot dropped the last pedal and simply stared at it before him; the vibrant white now tainted by the dirt that marred its beauty. He turned his hands over and looked at the filth that covered them and then looked at the ruined flower, not at all failing to see the irony between the flower and the woman who sat quietly next to him.

Sighing, Lancelot brushed the pedals into the pond. "But she was also fierce, passionate, dangerous and mysterious even. She challenged everything I stood for. She made me question my beliefs, my morals; a feat which no woman had ever accomplished before," his tone was quiet, barely above a whisper, as both knew the words he was speaking were taboo for simply thinking and surely blasphemous for uttering. "I had never had anything more than a silly woman want to spread her legs for me."

Keela was unable to look at him; she didn't even want to chance a glance. Instead, she stared where Mona and Demon were now grazing; white and black standing close, side by side and in utter peace. They were complete opposites. Demon was exactly that: a demon, practically breathing fire when angered. The animal would let no one other than Lancelot, and surprisingly her, near him. He bit, kicked and ragedat anyone else. She could just imagine what he was like in battle, and assumed it was probably as fierce as she imagined Lancelot to be. Mona, on the other hand, was calm, soothing and warm. Yet at the same time, her mare held no fear and was loyal to a fault. She would follow Keela even in death. Such striking differences, yet utterly beautiful. Painstakingly, it was her and Lancelot she saw when she looked at them.

"It wasn't long until I found bewitched by her. I was angry for feeling that way and yet I soon realized that I would never feel that way for another. So, I once again lost myself in other women, enjoying the pleasure they gave me, always imagining it was her." Lancelot was looking at the back of Keela's head now, willing to see her eyes so she could know just how hard this was for him to say.

Keela laid her head on her knees and continued staring at Mona and Demon, drawing in their beauty in order to survive. She couldn't stand to listen to this; it simply cut too much and hurt too deeply. It certainly helped that she had a better sense of understanding Lancelot. Women had been a release for him, a way for him to keep grounded and stay alive when most found themselves unable to. Women had provided him the comfort he needed and she wouldn't fault him or them for that. She knew she shouldn't be hurt he had allowed himself to love another woman, but it did. Her female jealousy couldn't help it. She also couldn't help but wonder what was so wrong with her.

She still wouldn't look at him and Lancelot found himself growing more and more distressed over that fact. Here he was baring himself to her in a way he had never done with another, not even Arthur, and she couldn't look at him. Swallowing the urge to simply give up and leave in a cloud of anger, he stared at her golden hair that still blew slightly in the wind. "I was content with watching her and my best friend make a life together. I had accepted that I would never love another and to tell you the truth, I didn't want to." He saw the shudder ripple down her spine at his words and the ache to see her face, to know what she was feeling, grew even more intense. He wasn't telling her this to hurt her, simply to understand.

"Then you came," he whispered softly while letting out a gush of air.

Those words swirled around Keela's head, the implications of them taking a moment to sink in. Ever so slowly, as if she were to move to fast the moment would vanish, Keela turned her head and looked at him with wide eyes as he levelled her with the intensity of his stare.

Holding her shocked gaze, Lancelot continued, hoping that she truly understood what he was telling her and just how important she was to make him even attempt it. "I dreaded, loathed, the idea of marrying you. I even threatened to return to Sarmatia," he chuckled and shook his head as her eyes narrowed and her spine straightened. "Yet I cannot and will never abandon Arthur and all we have built here," he said evenly, his head tilting in the direction of Camelot as he spoke to emphasis his point.

Keela looked away from him again and he chastised himself at how his words must have sounded to her. He let out a deep breath, feeling utterly depleted and drained, though he was still fiercely determined to get through to the fair-haired woman before him. "I was taken with your beauty the instant I saw you," he found himself looking past her as he watched Demon and Mona, "and I hated you for it." He heard Keela's sharp intake of breath and couldn't bring himself to look at her for fear that seeing anymore of the hurt he had caused would surely eat him alive.

"Your very presence calls to me. You have no fear in speaking back to me, you defy me, you irritate the sanity out of me and at the same time you cower from me. I don't know what you do to me, you have infected me on a level no one else ever has," he said all in one breath before tilting his head down to look at her. She was sitting as straight as her position would allow and was staring at him with a look mixed with disbelief, shock, and dare he suspect, hope. He inclined his head in her direction, his dark eyes boring into hers, hoping they conveyed just what his words meant, what he was really saying.

"I didn't want to care," he said softly since he was so close to her, cocking his head to the side slightly as he regarded her, "didn't want to give my heart to another. Guinevere had it, she was all I had ever wanted and I despised you for trying to take it away," he saw the pain flash through Keela's eyes at his words and leaned back, running a hand through his hair in irritation athaving caused so much turmoil with his selfish actions.

"So, I sought comfort in others...," Lancelot swallowed still seeing her features contort in pain and quickly explained. "I didn't want to feel these things, couldn't stand the thoughts that plagued me. I needed the peace, the relief," his voice was rising as each word left his mouth, his face contorting in anger, not towards Keela she noted, but towards the situation itself.

Then his face suddenly softened and his piercing dark eyes seemed to deflate as he let out a sigh. "But, you were always there. It was your face that I saw, your voice that whispered in my ear and your caress that I felt," his voice trailed off, his admission seeming to still all around them.

"I am ashamed to admit that I have disgraced you since you have arrived. I have certainly done nothing to make you feel loved and welcome; my behaviour is inexcusable and I understand if you hate me," he exclaimed, deliberately leaving out the option for her to leave for it certainly was not one. She could hate him, but he was sure he could change that with time. He let out a loud, shaky breath as his eyes flickered to her. Her eyes still hadn't changed and he felt himself relax when he didn't see a hint of hate. Life seemed to be holding its breath waiting for Keela's reaction.

Keela only blinked at Lancelot as he waited for her reply to all he had said. Truthfully, she didn't know how to react. She went from anger to hatred to sympathy to understanding to love then to anger again. She didn't know whether to be insulted or to love the ridiculous man. It was simply too much. What he was saying couldn't have been true, could it? Was he really battling with himself this entire time? She asked herself as she turned her head to look back over at Mona and Demon hoping for a moment to collect herself.

She felt for him though, understood his pain, for she had not been much older when she herself was thrust into a world she was not ready for. Fiona had been right, yet again, she realized. Lancelot had been reacting in the only way he knew how. Where that still did not forgive the fact that Lancelot had betrayed her, it certainly aided in her understanding what truly compelled Lancelot to behave the way he did. She still didn't know where this left them though. What had he decided? Was she simply a curse that had been inflicted upon him and he was determined to thwart her by using other women? Was that why he was telling her this, so she could live with the knowledge she was not who he wanted and he would continue his course of life? Taking a deep breath, she turned and looked at Lancelot. "What are you trying to say Lancelot?" she asked quietly, her entire being stilling as it waited for him to speak the words that would either shatter the last shred of her sanity or give her the chance to crawl out of this self loathing hole of despair.

Lancelot watched as this time his hand reached out and pried an arm free from the grip she had on her curled legs. He took her hand in his, holding her delicately calloused hand, and marvelled at how soft it was. She had a few pale scars running along her wrist, knuckles and even a few on her fingers and he found himself frowning, wondering what caused them. Had she been hurt? Did she have other scars? There was so much about her he didn't know. Looking back into her uniquely beautiful eyes, he knew what he wanted. "I want another chance Keela. I want to be a husband you deserve, the husband your father led you to believe I could be. I want to know you." His words held such conviction, such determination Keela had a hard time doubting him.

But she did. She didn't feel reassured. Sure, she had a better understanding of him and his behaviour, and she appreciated the effort he put forth sharing that part of himself with her more than he would ever know. But like she had said, words were easy. It was his actions that would convince her of his true commitment to them. Still, she couldn't find fault in them. She felt herself believe on some level that he would stand true to them and show her he meant them. She just hoped this time he wouldn't let her down, for she firmly believed she wouldn't be able to survive it. Closing her eyes, she marvelled at the feel of his rough thumb as it stroked her knuckles and drew from that. She would try as well, but he had to understand that his actions had consequences, despite what he said.

"You hurt me," she declared, her voice dripping with said emotion, her eyes opening and divulging all she truly felt.

Lancelot felt the full force of her gaze hit him like that of a blunt object. It tore at him to see such a look on her beautiful features and wondered just why he fought her for so long. She was such a striking creature, a rare beauty of their time that was gifted to him and all he could do was curse that gift and shame it. He looked away, feeling the bitterness and resentment swirling within.

She could tell he was brooding as the silence lingered on and knew that those three simple words had had a profound impact on him. "You don't deserve another chance," she continued, staring into his dark orbs as they snapped to hers. She could see the apprehension on his face, the fear that she wouldn't give him another chance after such a heartfelt declaration. She knew that if she were to deny him, he would never open to another again and he would truly be ruined.

"This entire time you have acted selfishly and thought of no one but yourself. You didn't care about me, about the women you used for your own selfish reasons, and you certainly didn't care about the effect your actions would have on Arthur, Guinevere and the others," she bit out harshly, unwilling to placate him just yet with words of understanding as to the excuses for his actions. He needed to know that he was not and never would be the center of Camelot and the world did not revolvearound him and the demons he fought. She felt that Lancelot failed to realize that everyone had demons, some equal and maybe worse than his.

Lancelot blinked, amazed at her ability to scold him like a child. He had certainly acted like one but no one ever spoke to him in such a manner. Sure the other Knights had no qualms with telling him that he was acting like a horse's ass and delivering a well placed and deserved right hook, Galahad being the latest testament. But what cut deep was that she was right on so many levels. He had been selfish. He had held so much against her, blamed her for the effect she had on him, blamed her for not being Guinevere and blamed the others for putting him in such a position.

Keela watched as Lancelot deflated, his features darkening as he no doubt continued to brood within. She continued though, needing him to know just how much she was affected when all he seemed to focus on in his speech was himself and how he felt in all this. "I can understand how hard it was to share everything with me and I want you to know that I thank you, for I can only imagine just how difficult it was for you," she said softly, her eyes shining with her gratitude as she brought her other hand up to encase Lancelot's between her two.

Lancelot marvelled at the feeling of having both Keela's hands hold his as he thought over her words. It was hard for him to share with her. He would rather run into battle swordless than have to do anything like that again, for Lancelot was not a man to share himself so deeply with others, anyone really. He didn't talk of such things and he was grateful that Keela seemed to be able to distinguish that. He was sure the only reason he had gotten it all out was because she was the one listening.

Keela lifted her hand that wasn't laced in Lancelot's strong grip and curled her fingers under his chin, raising his head so he could look directly at her. "And where I fully sympathize and understand your explanation for why you acted the way you did, I will certainly not accept the excuse," Keela tore her hand away from Lancelot's chin when he recoiled as if she had physically struck him. She watched his eyes darken and knew her words were being taken as a personal insult.

Lancelot opened his mouth with the full intention of burning her with words in response to her implication; however, when Keela held up her hand indicating for him to give her the chance to speak, he had no choice but to comply. She had granted him the same understanding and it was only right he do the same.

Sighing gratefully that he was giving her a chance to speak, Keela continued with her tirade. "You may be dense and conceited enough to believe that my feelings were not relevant in the matter," her tone was still soft and Lancelot felt the hurt she felt in her words. "I understand you were reacting in the way you only knew how." She gave his hand a squeeze, her way of telling him just how much she understood and he once again felt like a child for reacting so quickly to her previous words.

"But you must understand that all you do effects others. You must understand how it felt for me," she implored. She didn't feel the need to elaborate, and knew that he understood when his eyes dropped and his shoulders slumped. And he did, he finally did at that moment when everything Keela said sunk in and he allowed himself to view past events from her perspective. What a bastard he had been.

"But," he perked up and stared at her with baited breath as a slow smile curled her plump lips. "I want to give you anther chance," his breath left his body and he felt a swell of hope.

Keela's smile grew when he returned hers. "I want you to know me and I want to know you further. I want to make this work Lancelot. I too didn't want to marry, but I came into this marriage willing to put in an effort, willing to try. You have lost my trust and although I will give you another chance, I still don't forgive you nor will I accept your apology until you have proven to me that you stand by your words." Her words were not hateful, there wasn't an ounce of anger laced in any of them and once again Lancelot was dumbfounded. She truly was unique in every sense of the world for never would he have imagined a woman such as she so willing to forgive, so willing to accept him for all he truly was.

"I understand," he said, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it softly, grinning at the light blush that painted her pale cheeks. "I will do my best to prove myself to you," he vowed, his voice echoing across the pond with his promise as he lowered their hands, refusing to let go just yet. He had never simply held a woman's hand before and finally deducted the warmth was something only Keela would ever be able to provide.

Keela met Lancelot's eyes and smiled. It was small and she still had the traces of hurt in her eyes, but it brought him hope.

******

Well, what do you think?