Standard Disclaimer applies; King Arthur and all that is related to the legends and movie are so not mine. It'd be great though. Ah well, stuff you don't recognize, like the ideas and such, yeah that's mine. Anyways onto "Blood Heritage"

Summary: AU and goes somewhat with the movie and with my own twisted mind. A crazed believer in the Legend of King Arthur seeks the strongest descendents of the Legendary Knights of Camelot to serve a secret society. Through using an unstable spell, one of them gets pulled through the slipstream of time. Now she must protect her past to save her future, but is she able to overcome the chaos and ice of her present?

Warning: Bad Language, Violence, Some Sexual situations. If you don't like this DON'T READ!

A/N: some notes -actions during speech- "speech" 'thoughts'

Time, a concept that can not be controlled or altered, jumped or paralleled by any conventional means other than that of the imagination. So, I thought.

Then, where do legends come from? How is it that everything fit so well in its place in time in the stories we're told as children? They are just stories, so time has no meaning…

My family died when I was six, I lived with some distant relatives until I divorced them and went on student welfare at twelve. Outrageous, right? Most people thought so, but the judge granted my petition.

No… that's not right. Yes, my family died when I was six, but I didn't live with relatives; in truth we weren't related in any way, those were just the lies they fed me until I was twelve. But I'm grateful for them in a way; they trained me and groomed me to be self-sufficient. They made me a thief, a rogue, I was a professional at twelve and I got better, became the best, a part of the infamous Whisper Men, the best of the best of thieves. I would get hired out for the most difficult and expensive jobs, my morals for theft were clouded for the love I had for the family that was not mine, until the day I learned of their lies.

But I digress, and that was five years ago. I'm still on student welfare, that's my cover for now. And I take the name Rose Pearl, it sounded pretty and a little plain, but again that's just my cover. After I left the Whisper Men, I was recruited to the Red Sun Guild of Assassins. I wasn't afraid to kill, I'd done it before if things got too difficult on a theft… you do what you have to. In the Red Sun, everything was more difficult. There I have become the elite, awarded the silver assassin's pendent and highest honor. I was given the codename Black Phoenix and the emblem of the Red Sun. The tattoo marks my skin, and now they own me. My skills have made me the highest paid assassin in the Underworld of illegal enterprise. I'm not saying I like that job, actually killing turns my stomach, but it's just a job and only a job.

This is my life now, I go to high school, and I'm seventeen, I have friends, good grades but no clubs; like I said this is all just a cover. Who really needs that shit? When it's all over, nothing will matter and like a red sun I fade away.

Over the past eleven years, my name, hair, occassionally my eyes and residence have changes more times then I can count, disappearing from everything just to stay alive. I'm not heartless when I say that I wouldn't flinch if someone threatened the friends I make along the way. They're all phony anyway, and I'm passed the grief and I've steeled myself against it when I was six. I do what I must to survive, and I'm the best at what I do, hard heart and all. So, maybe I am a heartless bitch, but I can live with that, enough has been taken from me to care anymore…

Running through the building, I search for the target: a middle-aged man, balding, owner of a big corporation, one of the big bosses of the underground. His death is worth a good 10 million dollars, not too bad considering that he is just one man. He's pissed himself and I know I'm getting all the closer, all the closer to ending this night. The target's bodyguards lie dead at my feet as he whimpers in a corner of the building begging me in French and English to spare his life offering me anything I want.

"Anything I want?" I ask in a hoarse whisper behind my mask, the target nods enthused thinking I will spare him, "I want the past eleven years back." His eyes widen at my statement before I deal him the final blow. His warm blood splatters my black cat-suit after I sliced his head off with my naginata, a Japanese pole arm similar to a halberd, "You shouldn't promise what you don't own."

Before I take my leave I brand his corpse with that of the Red Sun and Black Phoenix, a thing of protocol I guess, but a simple beheading, he deserved worse. He sold girls around the world as sex slaves, so you see I'm not totally without morals. Those that taught me instilled some goodness in me. And getting paid is just a bonus.

Later that night, I vomit the scant lunch I had in my bathroom. The killing still makes me sick and always had. Student welfare provided me this apartment, thieving furnished it, assassinating gave everything style, oh and that music store job I have… another cover. I have to pretend that I am self-sufficient until I attend college. Rinsing my mouth of the horrible taste, I glance at the clock. Thank God the guild provides for transportation or else I may have never made it back from Nova Scotia, it would have been all too suspicious if I were not in school Monday because I was there.

My friends are due within a few hours, ugh, another sleepover. I hate having them, but I have to keep up these fucked up pretenses. Why do they always choose my place? Oh yeah, no parents, they treat it like a good thing. It's not; I wish I had parents too.

The hot water washes over me, wrapping me in a comforting warmth, the other tenants complain about my hot water use and threaten to raise my rent unless I conserve the hot water, only I don't care, they can't do it to me because the government won't let them. Turning off the hot water and wrapping a fluffy beige towel around myself, I open the curtain to greet the steam; instead someone stands there smiling pleasantly.

"Bob." I say monotonously, my face a blank mask.

"Margaret. Or is it Dolores, now? You change your name so often, I don't know who you are," Bob said. There's a layer of sweat or steam on his forehead, his graying blond hair has receded back more. He leaned against the towel rack next to the sink, crossing his arms across his chest and smiling that pleasant and sickening smile. Although his body is quite lean, the years have not been that great to him.

"It's Rose. What do you want?" I tighten the towel around me, my hair dripped water on my bare shoulders. Bob groomed me to be the best thief; he said he was my uncle and he loved me like a daughter. He lied.

"I just wanted to see how my best girl is holding up."

"Bullshit. Thieves and assassins have no business together, so get out."

"Ah, but now we do. I have a job for you."

"Fuck off you bastard!"

"The owner of King Industries, I'm sure you've heard of him. Man thinks he's God or something, I want you to get something back that he took from me." He continues, ignoring my outburst and examining his nails as though they were more interesting. My eyes narrow, looking for a hint to his game.

"Hn. A thief robbed, how ironic. Let the thieves take care of their own. I'm an assassin." The towel shifted and I adjust it.

"I sent Avery, and Gomez, they died. They don't have your skill," His grin widened, fucking horny old cretin! I raise my arms as though stretching and rest my fingers on the shower curtain pole; curling them, I pull down the pole, the curtain falls from the pole and I strike him soundly on each side of his neck and against the point between his eyes. He groans painfully as he falls to the floor.

"When I say get out, I mean get out!" I say icily, the layer of sweat/steam runs down his face and stain his collar. He chuckles, and says that he was just leaving, then starts to crawl away eyeing the "weapon" in my hands cautiously. Opening the door of my bathroom he turns to me again and says that he'll come back some other time when I'm ready. Pft. Like I'm ever ready for his visits, the last one was when I was fourteen at my music store job. Over my initial anger and hatred for the man I finish getting ready and then plaster on my happy façade for those I pretend are my friends. My friends manage to push all thoughts of Bob and his job for me out of my mind.

(A/N: momentary third pov)

"Well? Did she take the job?"

"No, she's still not ready. Do we try again?"

"In three years, we must have her! She is the only one left."

Three Years Later(A/N: back to first pov)

I'm on a job… it's my birthday and I gotta kill some shithead for some reason. Isn't that just peachy. My rent went up with the appointment of a new governor for California, so I took the fucking job. Well, that's not really the reason, I've just got a lot of stress to deal with. At lease I can take it out on someone, even if it is my twentieth birthday. This guy is worth a good 5 million, it's a hack job really, I go in and out, there's not much resistance from this bastard, and this suit kidnapped children and shipped 'em off to Asia or something for sex slaves. He knew what he was doing, they always do. Another righteous assassination, that's a moral point for me. My stomach hasn't turned; I guess I'm getting used to it.

Back at my apartment, I vomited again. Shit. I take a quick hot shower dry my short red on black hair and then I dress in a black sleeveless tank, black Dickie's flood pants, various accessories and I lace up my Converse Chucks. I put the essentials in my pockets and make a move to grab my backpack. I'm in college now, full scholarship to some California state university… I don't really care, because what happened after I cleaned up and started to leave my flat is more or less the point. Something hits me hard and everything went black

I wake up hours later with a throbbing headache, fuzzy vision and cold metal on my braceletted wrists. Wait! Metal on my wrists? Blinking I see I'm in shackles, suspended mid air in a circular stone chamber of some sort. My arms are sore from the unnecessary weight. Twisting my hands I gauge the difficulty of the bonds, blood slowly trickles down my bare arms. I stop as I hear voice approaching and pretend to be out cold still, the iron door I didn't notice before opens admitting two figures. I barely crack my eyes open to see my captors. One I can somewhat recognize as Bob, the other is unfamiliar.

"Why does she bleed! I specifically said she wasn't to be harmed! Bob, you try my mercy!"

"Sir, I assure you she didn't have cuts like that when I brought her in, she must have wakened."

"Does that -points to my limp body- look awake to you BOB!" It sounded like someone was angry, what the hell is going on? "Wake her, but gently. She is important to the ceremony." Ceremony? And his footsteps fade behind the iron door.

"Alright Rose, wake up, I know you too well to know you're faking it. So wake the fuck up!" Bob bellowed as the chains that suspended me lowered my body to the floor. Cold stone greeted the bare skin of my legs and I pretend to be shocked and more than usual alert.

"Wonderful room service ya got here, Bob. I don't recall the bacon and eggs with a side of splitting headache my order." I say shortly, adjusting my clothes and taking in my surroundings the shackles clink against my bracelets.

"Get up and walk; we don't have time for this."

"For what? I don't work for you any more." I answer, but he roughly pulls me by the shackles and my wrists bleed more. I avoid wincing at the pain and follow/fight Bob down a torch lit stone corridor. "What the fuck is going on Bob? -He doesn't answer- Damnit Bob, if you won't tell me anything at least tell me where the fuck I am!"

"Shaddup Rose!" Bob strikes the back of my head and the metallic taste of blood pools in my mouth, I spit a huge bloody lugey in his face, I guess the blood in my mouth was good for something. He hits me again, and gets scolded by the man from earlier.

"Stop! Stop! She is important Bob! -He turns to me- My dear, dear girl, how badly are you off? Oh your wrists will heal, you won't feel a thing. Ha-ha none of you will. It will be a blessing to have the legendary knights under my control. Consider yourselves honored." The little nothing man said, he work a brown woven cowl, medieval shirt and breeches, basically something you'd find on a monk in Dungeons and Dragons or something.

Bob drags me kicking, yelling and bleeding from the wrists around a large hole in the stone floor. I take in my surroundings through my anger, another circular stone room, about fifteen or so men and women ranging in age, the youngest looked to be thirteen, the oldest about twenty-eight or so. One thing we all had in common was the shackles and the surprised if not frightened looks to the man in the brown cowl. Only I felt pure anger and hatred.

Before I could say anything, some muscle-bound guy I can't see, stuff a dirty rag into my mouth, it reeks of blood, I'm not the only one, and the rest of the shackled people undergo the same treatment. Tears streamed down the little boy's face and the other women scream while the men try to fight. I feel my anger and hate rage inside me, but I am helpless. I am loosing blood and will probably be unconscious again.

"What's wrong Rose? Lost the will fight? I'll help you, I promise it," My guard whispers in my ear and covertly slips a piece of metal in my hands. The cowl man stands above the hole in the floor on a platform chanting, I work the shackles that bind me. My thief training takes over. From the orifice in the ground a blue fire rises higher and higher. What the hell is going on!

"COME TO YOUR VESSELS SOULS THAT DEFENDED YOUR KING! HEAR MY PLEA AND FOLLOW ME!" the cowl man yelled as he cut his hands with an ancient dagger letting the blood feed the flames. My chains are off and I pull the wad of blood stained cloth from my mouth. My guard and I fight the other guards as I try to free the other prisoners. The blood on my hands makes the task slippery and difficult as I try to fight off weariness and the guards. I barely noticed the wisps of something pass me by. Ghosts? I don't know, but the cowl man and Bob are yelling, why can't I hear anything! I feel so cold, what the hell? I start to sway as I released four people from their chains.


I turn to my guard/savior… he's cute! But why does he seem to be getting taller? Then I realize I've fallen into the blue flames. I expect the burning, the acrid stench of my flesh melting from my bones, but instead it's cool and gentle wrapping my body in gentle caresses and warmth. I calmly welcome it as I'm falling through the stone hole.


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