Hello Reader! I am back with my next chapter; finals were killer, and suffering a concussion definitely didn't help in getting myself to the computer. Sorry for the delay!


"So Bors, what do you do when you're not fucking my cousin and babysitting the bastards?" Bors practically spit out his whole drink at that.

"You certainly have a way with words, don' ya lass?" Was all he could get out without choking a second time.

"Heard that one before. Anyways, you're a knight, which entails what exactly?"

"Ah, pretty much being a dog for the Romans. They tell our Commander Arthur where to go, what to do and such, and then we do it. Along the way Woads usually fall to mine and mine brothers' swords, but never really too much problems or drama."

"I see. So are those the fools you are talking about?" Bors turned to look where she was pointing, which was the knights table looking a little more rambunctious than usual. Lancelot with two women, Gawain encouraging Galahad into a knife throwing bet, with Tristan and Dagonet being the other ones sober enough to notice the attention placed on them. Dagonet simply raised his tankard in greeting, while Tristan continued torturing his apple, eyes pinning Margaret to her chair. "Charming lot they seem, though how you got my cousin I'll never know."

Before Bors could take offense, Vanora swooped in with a kiss on his cheek. "Because he's the best one of the lot of course. Plus, you have the letters to prove it Mags; he never did stop pestering me 'til I accepted his advances."

"Tha' I do." With that, Margaret gave a kiss to Vanora's forehead, all the while slipping a dagger out of her sleeve. Just as Tristan made to hit Gawain's knife, she released hers, sending in spiraling over the knight's heads to hit dead center on Gawain's with a solid thud. Of course, not expecting such an onslaught from a non-Tristan direction, all knight's tensed, heads swooping in the direction from wince it came only to find a smirking female nursing her mead.

"My lass, you sure have a hand on you. Where you say you learned tha'?" "I didn't Bors. Now, why don't you introduce me like a good bloke instead of leaving me out to dry, hmm?"

As this was going on, Margaret had no idea what was going on in the knights' heads, and Bors was too drunk to care per usual… or maybe just too high on the drug called Vanora to notice. It seemed as though their eyes dilated as they watched new pray with fresh interest. None but Tristan had accomplished such a feat in their pack, and the surprise brought forth a rush of adrenaline for a fight; a fight of claim, which would lead to much more interesting activities, which would definitely include utilizing those skilled hands… then again, maybe is wasn't adrenaline…. Seeing the female leaning against the bar, they were able to better assess the woman closer up, with less people obstructing their view. Indeed, she was a fine specimen with larger thighs from having to grip a horse over long periods of time which were unobscured by the leather breaches she wore to provide more movement and protection. Her breasts, though nothing like those of the bar wenches they privy to, was discernable due to the tunic and leather vest wore. Though once they made it past the neck, they were hook, line and sinker. Unlike other women they had seen who hated and were disgusted by the thought of scars marring flesh, making for a very awkward roll in the hay, she seemed to wear hers with pride. Her scar across the bridge of her nose helped to frame her eyes like an alluring mask, while the three claw marks across her left eye made one imagine war paint, giving her a more dangerous vibe, ensuring a difficult but all the more worthwhile challenge if one should proceed. Most of all, a strong and beautiful mate is hard to come by in this day and age making her all the more valuable and desired.

Of course, being men, their intense scrutiny of her figure, practically avoiding direct contact with her eyes, left her very unimpressed with much to be desired. There is no doubt that these men were strong and attractive, probably stars of future fantasies, but first impressions are important to her. While Bors passed, his brothers seem to live only by using their Little Knights as radars for their next conquest. Even when they made it past her figure, they went straight to the scars; like what the hell? Going and making a girl all self-conscience without saying a word was a feat, and to say that there were 5 Adonis-like males lacking the mental capacity to break through the fog of lust and mead with full attention on her… she couldn't figure out if she should be embarrassed, angry, flattered or disappointed.

Looking past the group, she pointed and yelled, "my goodness! She has no clothes on." That of course turned all heads except Dagonet, who only raised an eyebrow and smirked as they met eyes. She could tell this one was going to be fun to get to know.

As the others turned back with disappointment written on their faces(except Tristan of course; he just butchered his apple with a little more annoyance). They turned at the sound of clapping, immediately pulled in with green and blue globes in the goddess' face that stood before, only for their thoughts to change modes at her accented voice slightly heavier than that of Vanora's. "Wow. Trully, the wonders of a man's mind is something to behold", and at the sound of Bors' load laughter, they watched as she pulled his head down by the ear. "Oh Bors, don't act all cocky; you looked too, don't deny."

"Nay, I did no such thing. Twas' simply looking over there already I was" and the other ear was grabbed.

"You pig, I sawr it too-" and, per usual, Vanora was shut words were swallowed by Bors' mouth as he lead them to the back for a little more privacy as he made sure his lover knew she was his only.

"Wow, I guess I'll have to get used to that" said Margaret, disgust distinctly portrayed on her face. "Anyways, I am Margaret and I would love you all to stop thinking with yours dicks and actually introduce yourselves so I know who has spent our only time together eyeing me like a piece of meat", her point emphasized by how Galahad and Gawain watched her ass as she walked to grab her forgotten dagger from the game. Pulling out the other two, she walked back to the G squad, handing them to each with the hilts toward their owners, "I believe these are yours?"