Hello reader! So this is my first delve into the world of Camelot…just sort of dipping my toes in the water. I've pretty much got this whole thing planned out, but I get discouraged when I no get reviews…so review! Even if you just want to say it was a steaming pile of horse manure…that's cool… I promise not to cry enough to ruin my keyboard.

I don't own anything but my computer…so don't sue…cuz you won't get anything except a beat to crap laptop;) ps- this is an unbeta-ed piece so excuse any mistakes. C3PO won't review my work anymore…I haz a sad…

The enemy of my enemy is my ally

There was so much blood. Enough blood to bathe in for weeks at a time; so much so, that the faint of heart would suffocate on the smell of it alone.

He reveled in it.

The blood streaming along the pitted and mud-ridden ground was the life source of a foe he had defeated; but, it was more than that. Having the power, nay, the skill, to rid others of life swiftly was…godly.

There was no right or wrong. There was only what was asked of him…what had to be done. There was no salvation for those who led "good and pure" lives. There was no such thing as "sinless", so why waste the energy with pretense?

Leontes had tried to surrender his soul to his Christian god and what had that accomplished for his immortal soul? Death. A death that was long and drawn out; prolonged by the poison of his emotional turmoil. He had tried to purge himself of sin by wedding his "pure" bride, to what end? To find that purity does not exist in this world save the innocence of babes? To find that painfully obvious when the treachery of his venomous wife finally penetrated his all too virtuous armor?

Gawain had no such blinders keeping him from seeing the true ways of the world.

If the sword of battle at your front did not fell you, then the poison-ridden arrow of politics and distraction would find a way to lodge itself in your back. Even with two swords, Gawain could not always defend both sides, so he kept his mind trained on the arena of death. Here he was a god. In society, he was a novice at best.

Let the king be concerned with the sullied political arena; best leave the killing to those who understood it.

Gawain had no desire to leave his blood fueled sanctuary anytime soon.

"We only wish for the wildings to be gone! We care not how it is done or who we must bind with to do it, but they must be swept from these lands!"

Someone behind the Pict King cleared his throat and the king spun on him like a beast possessed, only to come up short when he eyed the man responsible. The Pict King now cleared his throat and resumed his seat at the table.

"Your lands, I mean, your majesty."

Arthur sat stunned at the turn of today's events, but made no notion of it in his outward appearance. He was calm and collected as always.

When he woke this morning in the cold comfort of his bed, he had been fully prepared to face whatever sorcery Morgan could conjure. He was prepared for the ever looming threat of civil war between his protectorates. He was even prepared to answer the questions over the ever growing concern for Merlin's disappearance and what that meant to his subjects. What he was least expecting and had not been prepared for, was to have the Pict King, Hardte, at his table, in Camelot, discussing the terms by which his faction of Picts would ally themselves with the "boy-king" to dispel the wildings from England forever.

As far as Arthur could tell, this was a brilliant idea. He needed to get rid of the wildings at some point to protect his people anyway and the Picts, themselves had also been a problem on his ever growing to-do list. They were savage and primal and had no respect for royalty nor its law. In fact, Arthur had been vaguely surprised that Hardte spoke English; but the Picts were warriors, through and through, and it was just poor strategy to not know the ways of your opponent. He would later ponder about how much more the Picts had learned while observing them, but the time for queries was not now. Now was time for decisions.

"Let's say I entertain the idea of taking your lands under the protection of Camelot, what do expect from us as your hosts?" The question seemed innocuous enough, he hoped against hope that their requests were not too outlandish. They could be a very strong ally if they conceded to Camelot.

"All we ask is that wildings be driven from our lands and that they understand that to return would be unwise. We want the full protection that Camelot has provided for other tribes and lands. We are willing to negotiate the price to retain our traditional…rights."

It was obvious to Arthur that Hardte had rehearsed this particular speech, but was still fairly impressed that he was able to pronounce the advanced vocabulary flawlessly.

"And what price would that be?" Arthur wondered, both in his head and aloud.

Hardte's expression was unrecognizable to Arthur. He seemed as though he were in a sever amount of pain…or had swallowed something that had disagreed with him, but attempted to mask it with grim determination.

"We would have a marriage between our clans..er..houses." Hardte seemed displeased with the idea of marrying anyone from his clan to anyone outside of it, but had been persuaded that it was the best course of action to bind his clan to the best protection Camelot could offer.

"I'm sorry, Hardte, did you want me to marry one from your clan?" Arthur asked cautiously. He highly doubted he would, could, give up Gwen for this alliance.

Hardte's expression did not change from the same sour expression.

"No, but we would require it be one of your highest ranking men. We will accept nothing less for our princess." Hardte stressed the last word, as if trying to nonverbally communicate how much he disliked the idea of marrying his daughter to someone not of their clan, much less, not of royal blood; but as earlier, gave the impression that he had been overruled by his fellow soldiers.

Arthur could sympathize with being pulled in opposing directions by friends and advisors and was impressed by the Pict King's ability to sacrifice for his people's safety. The Picts had suffered cruelly by way of the wildings…this was probably his last resort.

"Let me make sure we understand each other, Hardte. You will ally with me, ground our banner in Pict land, marry your daughter to one of my champions as a show of good faith, and in exchange, we will eradicate the wilding threat from your lands and continue our protection of Pict lands for the foreseeable future?"

Arthur waited for a reply on the edge of his seat, metaphorically. Hardte seemed to be puzzling over some of the verbiage until one of his blue-painted men behind him tapped his shoulder and murmured something to him. Hardte nodded to his men and looked back at Arthur who had never felt so small in his life than he did in this moment with the Pict giant staring him down.

Finally, Hardte nodded towards Arthur and extended a blue-painted arm. Arthur knew a remarkable small amount the Picts and their traditions, but he got the distinct impression that if he shook this beast's hand, he would be traveling to the far north to wipe out hundreds of wilding men and sacrificing one of his men to a Pict bride, but he needed this alliance. He shook Hardte's meaty hand and immediately started the mental debate of who would be submitted the daughter of the Pict King.

So I realize it's not worthy of an M rating yet, but just one little review and I promise to introduce Gawain's bride (if you didn't figure that out yet….i'm sorry for you) and make this fic worthy of it's rating and the tv show that inspired it in the next chapter please review! I'll give you cookies and a pillow that cold on both sides!