wyndewalker (wyndewalker) wrote in twistedshorts,

Fic: A Xander In King Arthur's Court

Title: A Xander Comes To King Arthur's Court
Author: Wyndewalker
Xover Fandom: King Arthur
Series: Xander in King Arthur's Court
Challenge: twistedshorts August-Fic-A-Day - Day 8, 2013 Trope Bingo Round 2 - none
Authors note: none
Rating: R for violence
Warning: There is some mildly graphic violence on par with what's in the movie.
Word Count: 1,640 according to Word
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to King Arthur or Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  All rights belong to their owners and I merely borrow the characters for your amusement.
Summary: Xander gets pulled into Glory's portal and ends up in the middle of a different battle. Luckily the side he chose won and wasn't inclined to just kill him on the spot.

Killing another one of Glory's scabby little minions with his battleaxe, Xander found himself with a little breathing room. He eagerly took advantage of it wiping at the sweat on his brow while surveying the battle. With Glory currently out of commission they weren't losing but he didn't know if they were really winning either. Standing around wasn't going to get it done so he hefted his axe to wade back into the fray.

"Xander! Look out!"

He heard Willow shout his name, had just enough time to find her terror filled face before something felt like it had slammed into his back. All of his muscles seized up holding him immobile. It was followed by the sensation of flying as he seemed to be yanked backwards into the air. There was a brief blinding view of jagged white lightning then he was slamming into the ground on his back, knocking the air out of his lungs.

Once he could breathe again and the spots had cleared from his eyes, Xander found himself staring up at a canopy of trees. Weak sunlight filtered through; enough to tell it was daylight out. This was definitely not where they'd been fighting Glory. Suddenly he heard voices shouting and the sound of weapons hitting against each other.

Xander struggled to his feet before heading in that direction. He hoped it was the others, relocated with him; if not maybe someone could tell him where he was.

Barging through the trees, Xander found himself in a battle right out of Robin Hood or something. There were eight guys in armor mostly on horseback and shouting in English against at least three dozen leather wearing guys in blue war paint speaking something Xander thought he might recognize a word or two of. As he watched a knight guy with shaggy brown hair was pulled from his horse by several of the blue guys.

"Galahad!" A knight with long dirty blonde hair shouted. He was too far away to do anything though. Xander wasn't and he didn't like uneven odds.

Letting out a shout, Xander charged, swinging his axe. His first swing took off a guys raised arm just below the elbow making Xander want to throw up. His second swing struck another guy in the chest with a meaty thunk. He almost lost his lunch right then but knew it would be suicide to give in to the urge. Instead he kept mentally telling himself, they're really demons. They're really demons. It was easier than admitting they were human.

He soon found himself fighting beside the blond knight, who'd finally arrived and yanked Galahad back to his feet. The blond had shaken his head and huffed with Galahad let out a battle cry before chasing after another opponent.

"I'm Gawain," the blond introduced himself as he used his own two axes to take off an opponent's leg before striking him in the chest.

"Xander," he responded taking out another guy. No other words were spoken for several minutes as they concentrated on fighting. They were joined by a dark curly-haired knight viciously wielding two swords.

"Gawain," the new knight nodded, slicing one opponent's throat open while running another through.

"Lancelot," Gawain acknowledged.

"Who's he?"

"Calls himself Xander."

"Huh. Where's your idiot half?"

"Ran off after a Woad," Gawain gestured with his head.

The sound of a hunting horn in the distance had everyone freezing. The blue painted guys seemed to growl but a second call of the horn had them melting away into the trees. In seconds the only ones left were Xander, the knights and the dead.

Xander let himself relax then hissed at the burning pain in his arm. He'd barely managed to look at his wounded bicep before Gawain was pushing him down onto a nearby log and ripping open his sleeve.

"Who's this?" An unfamiliar voice asked from behind Lancelot making the man start. He turned to glare at the wild looking knight behind him.

"One of these days, Tristan," Lancelot grumbled. "Gawain found him. A Briton perhaps.

"Who's this?" Yet another knight asked, joining them. Xander was really beginning to hate that question. This guy looked like he might be in charge with his shiny armor and red cloak.

"His name's Xander," Gawain answered, cleaning Xander's wound. "He saved Galahad's life, Arthur."

"Then we are in your debt, stranger," Arthur nodded his head slightly in what might be a bow. "How came you to this battle?"

"Uh, I was over that way," he gestured with his free arm, "when I heard the battle. I got here just in time to see the blue guys pull Galahad off his horse. I thought he could use a hand."

"Where are you from?" Arthur asked, ignoring the look Lancelot was giving him. "I don't recognize your accent."

"California. Ow." Xander glared at Gawain who'd finished tying off the bandage on Xander's arm. Gawain smirked at him.

"You'll live."


"Where is this California?"

"In the US," he answered. "How's Galahad?"


"Is fine," Galahad announced for himself, hobbling over to the group. Dagonet followed after him with an amused smile, reaching out to steady the younger knight when he almost fell over. Gawain was immediately on his feet, guiding Galahad onto the log next to Xander, ignoring his protests that he was fine.

Arthur waited until Galahad was settled before continuing to question Xander. "This U S, is it in the southern part of the Empire?"

Xander's head shot up, his eyes boring into Arthur. Slowly he looked around the group. Gawain. Galahad. Tristan. Lancelot. "Arthur?"


"Oh, hell no," Xander muttered, going pale. He wasn't the smartest Scooby but he wasn't as dumb as they thought he was either. "What... what year is it?" He managed to get out.

"The year of our Lord 466. Why?"

The Knights watched with some alarm as Xander turned even paler then a sickly green color before lurching to his feet and turning so he could throw up behind the log he'd been sitting on. Galahad tried to shuffle to the side a look of mild disgust on his face. Once he'd finished emptying his stomach, Xander sat on the ground, leaning back against the log. Dagonet handed him a waterskin.

"Something tells me that wasn't the answer he was expecting," Lancelot commented. He ignored Arthur's warning look.

"No shit, Sherlock," Xander muttered hearing Lancelot.

"Lancelot is correct. That's not the year you were expecting," Arthur said as if Xander hadn't spoken. "What year do you believe it to be?"

Xander rubbed a hand tiredly over his face. He knew they weren't going to believe him but he didn't think he'd be able to get away with lying to them either. He suspected he was screwed no matter what he did.

"You're not going to believe me," he finally answered.

"Try me," Arthur insisted. The others looked at him expectantly. All except Tristan that is. He appeared to be more interested in the hawk on his fist. Xander suspected he was probably the deadliest of the knights.


Shocked barely described the looks on the knights' faces. Gobsmacked, to use a Giles-ism, was probably closer. Although Lancelot quickly turned from shock to suspicion. Xander was beginning to suspect paranoia was a way of life for Lancelot.

"He's lying," Lancelot insisted. "Or he's mad. Either way I say we let the Woads have him."

"No. He saved Galahad's life when he didn't have to. I won't leave him behind."

"You cannot mean to take him back with us, Arthur. Your precious Romans will never stand for it."

Xander's head shot up again in surprise. He just knew he was going to give himself whiplash at this rate. "Hold up. Romans? You guys are supposed to be British. You're Romans?"

Most of the Knights sneered or snorted derisively. Lancelot jerked a thumb at Arthur. "He's a Roman. We're," he gestured at the others, "Sarmatians. Forced to serve the Romans due to a pact made with our ancestors after they were defeated in battle. How do you know our names but not our ancestry?"

Xander shrugged. "You guys, King Arthur and his Knights, are legends in my time. Stories told to kids to teach them about honor and loyalty. But the stories I know kind of put you somewhere in the 14 or 1500's. Not 466."

"King Arthur?" Lancelot snorted looking to Arthur who let out a long suffering sigh. "I'm not bowing to you."

"Nor would I ask it of you, my friend. Clearly the stories have been heavily changed over time."


"This isn't the time or place," Arthur cut him off. "We've lingered too long as it is. Bors, Percival?"

Bors shook his head. "He didn't make it."

Arthur sighed looking back to Xander. "Can you ride?"

"Ride? A horse?"

"I'll take him," Tristan announced causing the others to look at him in surprise. He just stared back. Finally Arthur nodded.

"Let's go, men," he said moving to his horse. Dagonet and Bors lifted Percival's body onto Percival's horse, strapping it down for the trip. They were soon all mounted with Xander seated behind Tristan, holding on for dear life.

He let out a yelp when the horses were nudged into a trot then a canter. Xander clutched tighter at Tristan; his eyes squeezed shut. Had he kept them open he would have seen the knights smirking at his obvious fear.


By the time they were in sight of the wall Xander had begun to relax somewhat and was able to look around. "What's that?"

"Hadrian's Wall," Tristan replied. "Home. For now."

Based on their comments from before Xander realized Tristan was referring to the knights but it applied to himself as well. Until his friends found him this was home.

For now.

The End
Tags: !2013 august event, author: wyndewalker, fandom: king arthur
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