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Beginnings

Summary : It is the time of King Arthur - High King of Britain - and his brave and trusted Knights.
Rating : G
Characters : All Seven
Universe : Camelot
Disclaimer : None of the characters are mine. If they were, they'd be naked more often.

Authors Note : Authors Notes : This is the first (and possibly only) story in an Arthurian AU that has been bouncing around in my mind for a while. I've long had a fascination with the Knights of the Round Table and when I first discovered Mag7, my warped little brain automatically began associating the Seven with the Knights. This is what happened. Please read and review. If I get enough good feedback (and some new plot bunnies) there may be more.

For the first time in months, peace reigned throughout the land. The Picts, the savage animal-like tribesmen from the north, had kept to their frozen wastelands, leaving the farmers and villagers of Northern England to relish in the quiet. Although attacks from the north were constantly rumoured, the unusual peace allowed time for weapons to be forged and food to be stored.

To the south, the inhabitants of Camelot spent the precious time to rest and recuperate. Many lives had been lost from the fighting and many of those who survived were badly wounded. Arthur Pendragon, High King of Britain, had gathered as many of his knights to him as possible, filling the courtyards and halls of the huge castle with the sound of laughter. Outside the wind may howl and the rain beat down, but inside the heat from the open fires and the jugs of wine kept the occupants warm.

Arthur, in direct opposition of the many tales told of his prowess in battle, loved nothing more than to spend the evenings sitting with his Knights and their women, discussing tactics, singing songs and enjoying good food. This evening was no different to any other. A lute player, who's reputation for being one of the best brought him into the service of the King, stood in the corner of the room, reciting song-stories of heroism, gallantry and love. Food was continually brought in from the kitchens, an endless supply of freshly hunted meat, sweet fruit and warm bread, along with wine and mead. The knights helped themselves to the food, grateful for the lack of formality that Arthur seemed to enjoy as much as them. All present were capable of spending hours dressed in their finest apparel, making small-talk with strangers who vied for their attention, but none particularly liked it. They could all be as noble as the next man, but the truth was that they preferred the company of each other to that of Earls, Dukes, Ladies and Duchesses. The camaraderie of the fabled Knights of the Round Table was second to none, and each member found himself privileged to be a part of it.

The sounds of the weather echoed throughout the stone castle, but the knights seemed oblivious to Mother Nature's tantrum outside. Sir Wilmington was, as usual, enjoying the attentions of two of the serving wenches, one sitting on his lap and the other feeding him grapes from a large fruit bowl. His reputation was renowned and probably well-deserved, but there was one thing to remember about him - he as a gentleman first and foremost. He may tease and flirt with the ladies of the castle (and many of those throughout England), but he respected every one of them and would never attempt anything truly despicable. One of the girls leant over and whispered something in his ear. He gave a hearty chuckle and pulled her closer, bestowing a small kiss on her cheek - earning himself a lighthearted slap.

Sir Tanner and Sir Standish were sitting at the long wooden table, engrossed in a game of chess. Sir Tanner had only recently learnt the game from his fellow Knights and was proving to be extremely adept, providing an interesting challenge for Sir Standish, who was known throughout Camelot as being the most skilled player. The two knights sat in silence, both concentrating hard. Sir Tanner was determined to beat his friend, who, in turn, was determined not to allow that. Sitting alongside them sat the blond lady-in-waiting, Mary Travis, who gave a small sigh. She often spent time with the knights, pretending to understand the game, but in reality, her only interest was in the handsome knights that were playing.

Unusually, neither Sir Jackson or Sir Sanchez was present; the former was visiting one of the local healers who had offered to teach him the basics of his trade. The healer was thrilled and honoured that someone as important as one of Arthur's Knights was interested in his trade that he was willing to teach the good knight everything he knew. Sir Sanchez was in the chapel, conversing with the Lady Guinevere. She had recently expressed some unusual opinions about the nature of belief and the most religious of the knights had offered to spend some time with her.

Arthur sat together in silence with one of his knights. Although he had always claimed that the knights were all equal in his eyes, he held a certain affection for Sir Larabee, one of his first knights. Tall and slim, with light coloured hair, Sir Larabee could not have been any different in appearance to the King, yet the two were often mistaken for kinsmen. The two were able to sit together for hours without a word uttered between them, conversing only occasionally when the situation demanded it. They felt comfortable like that, and Arthur understood that despite his quietness, Sir Larabee was always aware of their surroundings. The man had an uncanny ability to understand everything that was happening around him and to sense problems with the other knights. This was probably why he had become an unofficial leader to many of the knights when Arthur wasn't about.

Over the sounds of the lute, footsteps could be heard rushing along the corridor outside the Grand Hall. A servant entered the room and rushed towards King Arthur, bowing as he approached.

"Sire, My apologies."

Arthur waved a hand, indicating for the servant to continue.

"There is a young man at the main gate. He says he wishes to become a knight."

Sir Larabee let out a small chuckle, knowing what would happen next. Arthur had a weakness for young men who wanted to prove themselves. Inevitably, Arthur would knight the man and would send him on some fool's errand to the North. Within a few weeks, the message would come back from the new Knight's squire informing His Majesty that the Knight had died valiantly in battle - fighting the Green Knight, or the Blue Knight, or the Black Knight or somesuch nonsense. The truth was usually that the newly knighted man had discovered that the honour of being one of King Arthur's Knights was not as much of an honour as he expected. Here in Camelot they were revered, but outside the walls of the city, they were treated with the same disrespect as warriors from another country. While peasants loved the Knights, there were enough people throughout the country who hated them and would see them killed.

Sure enough, purposely avoiding the knowing look from his companion, Arthur asked for the foolish young man to be brought to him.

Unwilling to miss the show, Sir Wilmington shooed the wenches away and moved to join Arthur and Sir Larabee. Likewise, Sir Tanner and Sir Standish ended their game, claiming a draw on this occasion, and turned to watch the door. To her eternal disappointment, Mary was quickly dismissed and headed down to the chapel to find her mistress.

Moments later, the same servant returned, followed by a man dressed in what was obviously his best clothes, although they were now dripping from the rain that poured down. The britches were well-worn and showed the signs of having been patched on many occasions. The tunic was plain in both colour and style and hung down too far, reminding several of the knights of a small boy playing dress up in his fathers clothes.

This is no man, Sir Larabee thought to himself, wondering what could make a boy no older than seventeen years wish to become a knight. He looked closely at the boy, silently seeking answers and receiving none save the excuse of innocence that was held locked inside eyes as wide as a newborn colt.

Awkwardly the young man approached Sir Larabee and bowed. He stuttered, unable to string the words together in the correct order. From his vantage point, Sir Standish laughed out loud. "Such eloquence our young visitor has!", only to receive a glare from his friend, Sir Tanner, who felt a twinge of pity for the boy. It wasn't that long ago that he too had approached the King to beg for the chance to serve.

The boy blushed bright red and coughed to clear his throat, intending to try again.

"Before you start, boy, I'd suggest you greet your King," Sir Larabee indicated Arthur who sat beside him, not commenting. It was a mistake that many made when they first met the two of them, for it was Sir Larabee who had the appearance of royalty about him, a single look from his cool green eyes frightening many an enemy. In opposition, Arthur had the appearance of a kindly uncle, with his perfectly groomed beard and a warmth that Sir Larabee could never acquire.

The young man dropped to his knees, horrified at the mistake he had made, clearly expecting to be struck down for such an error. His dark hair dropped over his face as his head bowed and he closed his eyes, awaiting the blow of a sword to his neck.

"Stand boy and explain your presence."

Slowly, the boy opened his eyes and looked up to see the King watching him. He stood, his knees shaking more than he had ever thought possible and he took a deep breath before he spoke.

"My name is John Dunne, your Majesty. I have traveled from a small village in the far south to become a Knight of the Round Table."

Sir Wilmington spoke. "You? Why you're barely old enough to shave, boy. What makes you think you have what it takes to become one of the greatest knights in the world?"

Proudly, John replied, "I have been riding horses since I was barely from my mother's breast. I have practiced swordfighting every day since I received my first wooden sword as a child. I have no family left and I want to be a knight. I want to serve the King and protect my country from the invaders."

Arthur looked at Sir Larabee, an unspoken conversation occurring in the silence between them. After a moment, Sir Larabee sighed and Arthur stood to face the boy. Slowly he drew his sword, the infamous Excalibur, from its sheath and commanded the boy to kneel in front of him.

With tears in his eyes, John did has he was commanded and felt the gentle tap of the blade on first his left shoulder and then his right.

Loud enough for the sound to reverberate around the great hall, Arthur's voiced boomed.

"Arise, Sir Knight. From this day on you shall be known as Sir Dunne, the youngest knight."