Hi everyone. This is the promised OT3 murder mystery, that I've had "advertised" on my profile page for months now. Sorry for the wait, but I wanted get enough done so that I can promise you that this fic will be updated regularly, every week, on the dot.

Because this is a very long fic that will stretch out over several weeks, I think it's only fair to give you some basic information concerning what happens before you invest all your time and energy into reading it.

This is an AU fic that takes place two years after the finale of S2. Since S3 holds no interest for me whatsoever, please keep in mind that this story begins after an entirely hypothetical passage of two years, in which the events during this time period are deliberately left vague. Anything that may or may not happen in canon S3 is irrelevant. All bets are off as to who lives, who dies, who hooks up and so on during these two years. "Traveller from the West" is canon only up until the finale of S2 (which means that Marian is still dead, sorry. However, I will be dealing with certain circumstances and consequences surrounding her death).

It is basically a murder mystery/friendship fic set in the Holy Land, taking place after Allan returns there in order to be reunited with Will and Djaq. Obviously things don't go entirely smoothly, and the three of them are caught up in circumstances that threaten both peace and their own lives. Although there are several chapters told from Will's point of view, this fic mainly belongs to Allan, and I've attempted to move his story of redemption and his relationship with Will and Djaq to (what I hope!) along its natural continuation. There will be plenty of Allan-angst, Will/Djaq fluff and lots and lots of scrummy OT3 goodness.

You don't need to be familiar my other fics in order to understand what's going on here, though I do sometimes bring in little details from them which will resonant more with those who have read them. The most important one worth mentioning is the piece of yellow silk that Allan is carrying around. As told in "A Scrap of Yellow Silk," it's a scrap of Djaq's yellow dress that he's been carrying around for the past two years as a reminder of her.

I unfortunately didn't have time to make this even remotely historically accurate. Any history buffs out there will find this lack of accuracy utterly infuriating…I should know, because I'm one of them. However, it's not like the show has a good precedence to this sort of thing and I'm hoping it won't be too much of a big deal for you: my focus is on the characters and the mystery.

Finally, this is dedicated to everyone who is heartbroken that Will and Djaq won't be appearing in S3, and who know that Allan rightfully belongs with them, and not some blonde floozy. Below is the prologue: next week we'll be up and running with chapter 1!

Prologue

Judging from the expression on the face of the man, he was finding death much to his liking. There was no sign of any injury on his body, neither was their any grimace of pain or terror on his face. If it wasn't for the pallor of his skin and the tiny trickle of blood oozing out from beneath his hair, one might have thought he was in the midst of a pleasant dream – possibly one about a sweetheart. On the whole, he was the most contented-looking dead man Allan had ever seen.

He rose slowly, feeling dizzy and heavy-limbed (though that might have just as much to do with the wine than with his discovery) and simply gazed down at the man who a few hours ago had been the centre of attention; the self-appointed entertainment of the evening. Allan was vaguely aware that others were joining him in the tiled hallway; he could hear cries of alarm, moans and gasps, and a soft thud as no one intervened in a fainting woman's short journey to the floor. But he didn't look up. The figure laid out at his feet had hypnotised him, and he couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes away.

"Allan?"

The familiar voice broke him out of the spell, and he looked up at Djaq, all but unrecognisable in her feminine night-gown, looking back at him with a frightening blend of confusion and suspicion on her face. Will left his place at her side in order to kneel down beside the dead body and check it carefully.

"He's dead," he announced to the assembly. "A head wound."

The words may have been redundant, but their finality put an end to any lingering doubt that still flickered in the minds of the hopeful. The tone of the assembled guests swiftly descended from soft mutterings to dark rumblings. Allan opened his mouth and gestured helplessly, knowing that even Djaq might not comprehend what he was trying to say this time.

But as the crowd gathered around, peering down at the dead man in fascination - as though his death had been orchestrated solely for their own amusement - Allan felt a familiar sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The feeling that this; the latest mess he'd stumbled onto, would once again be construed as his fault.