"We all know and it's fine."

Galahad finished adjusting his saddle to give his friend and fellow Sarmatian knight his full attention. Gawain was studying him earnestly as if he wanted him to believe the sincerity of his words.

"Know what?" Galahad asked honestly. He had really had no idea what Gawain was talking about, the young warrior racking his brain for any reason that required such understanding from not only Gawain, but the entire company it would seem. Apparently that wasn't the answer Gawain wanted or was expecting, the long hair knight huffing in irritation, like Galahad was putting him on.

"No need to play coy, Galahad. It doesn't suit." Gawain sighed. "Are we not friends? Brothers in arms?"

"Yes, we are. All that and more, but I have really no idea about you are going on about." Galahad gave his fellow knight a strange look, confused further still by the sour expression he got in return.

"You and Tristan." Gawain said rather dryly, clearly not amused.

"What about Tristan and I?" Galahad laughed, relieved it was nothing serious until his friend's face told him that it was. Realization was painful for both men.

"Oh great green gods, you seriously haven't noticed. You two are supposed to be our archers, looking out for our backsides!" Gawain groaned, running his hands down his handsome face in mock despair and frustration.

"Tell me what you mean when you say that!" Galahad could feel his cheeks beginning to burn if he certain about what Gawain was implying.

"What about our archers?" Bors grunted, coming up to join the pair. He was followed closely by Dagonet.

"Fair Galahad is unaware of any interest from our dear Tristan." Gawain told the others, making Galahad reconsider their friendship.

"That's a frightening thought considering how much time they waste ogling each other." Bors laughed low and rough, the sound quietly echoed by Dagonet, the large man shaking his head in amusement.

"I do not ogle. Anyone. Especially Tristan." Galahad snapped, knowing that was untrue as soon as he said it. In battle, it was his job to watch all the men, including Tristan. It was just that Tristan happened to be the only other true archer in their little band. How could he not watch? The man could shoot out the eye of a Woad at well over a hundred paces in the dark, and when he chose to dismount to engage the enemy in battle hand to hand, Tristan moved like a dancer. He never wasted a motion, never mistimed a step or strike. If death was an art form, then Tristan was a master of his medium. He could make even the grim horror of killing another person beautiful, reminding Galahad more of a snake more than the hawk the other equated Tristan to.

"And Tristan doesn't take any special notice of me either, so quit being foolish." Galahad said, trying to appear more interested in tending to his horse than continuing this ridiculous conversation.

"No special notice? I don't know about that." Gawain said, giving the young knight a considering look. "He sharpens your weapons for you. I can't say to say. Can you, Bors? Dag?"

The other men shook their shaven heads, looking highly amused as a strange weight began to settle in Galahad's stomach. Though it was a group effort, each man was ultimately responsible for the upkeep of his weapons. Their survival hinged on it. A slightly dull blade that glided over armor at the wrong moment instead of piercing it or a faulty arrowhead that failed to hit its mark could make all the difference in battle. More often than not though, Galahad would find his sword, lance, knives, and arrows maintained and even perfected by the tattooed archer. Tristan's talent with a whetstone bordered on the supernatural, and no blade was keener after his attention to it.

"Yes. That is why no matter what season, Tristan somehow always manages to bring back a brace of rabbits whether it's his turn to hunt or not." Bors chortled, making that sinking feeling in Galahad's belly hit bottom with all the subtlety of a thrown stone in shallow water.

"I like rabbit." Galahad mumbled, meant more for himself than directed toward the others.

"Yes. We know." Bors laughed, the others adding their own voices to it much to Galahad's chagrin. It died down when they were joined by the rest of their band. Arthur, Lancelot, and Tristan returned from hunting, their horses loaded with gathered and caught provisions.

"Well, will you look at that. If it isn't Tristan, and what have you brought for us today?" Bors asked, Dagonet choking with laughter behind him as Galahad grew red in the face. The answer was hanging from Tristan's side, plain as day and twice as fluffy.

"Rabbit." Tristan gave his companions strange looks, gesturing down to the fresh brace of meat tied to his saddle.

"Oh. Rabbit. Imagine that." Bors choked out the words between rough bouts of laughter. Dagonet couldn't keep a straight face any longer either, using Bors to keep himself upright.

"Galahad, come back!" Gaiwan called after his friend, the young knight's blush marking his ears and the back of his neck as well as he abruptly abandoned all their company. "Where are you going?"

"To get some water." Galahad snapped over his shoulder, refusing to look back as he strode off. He could feel a gaze locked onto the nape of his neck. Galahad had a good idea who it belonged to, but didn't have the courage to meet it at the moment.

"He's going to hate himself when he realizes he forgot to collect the skins." Lancelot shook his head. Arthur sighed, motioning to Gawain.

"Go help him and bring the water skins along you. Keep him from doing something foolish, like drowning himself. We'll finish setting up camp." Arthur ordered as he side looked his other archer, the stoic warrior's expression unreadable. Saying and offering nothing in word or gesture, Tristan stared after Galahad's retreating form long after the young knight left his sharp sight.

OoOoO

By the time they returned to camp laden down with full water skins, a tedious yet necessary chore, Tristan was not there. Secretly, Galahad tried to look about for him, a small part of him hoping that Tristan wasn't there while another yearned for the other man's company if just to clear up this misunderstanding between them. The others' grins told Galahad that he was not being as covert as he would have liked, the observation souring the young man's face, especially when he noticed what had been made for their dinner that night. A rabbit stew was just about done cooking up over the fire, thick with meat, roots, and barley.

"About time. Took you long enough. What were you two doing? Washing each other's hair?" Bors grumbled, taking one of the skins to drink deeply from it. "I was dying of thirst. Tristan, used the last of the water to make your favorite, Galahad, before starting the watch."

Galahad swore silently under his breath, wondering how long things like this had been going on without his awareness, how long he had been shown favor by the older man. He wondered when Tristan had started courting him, and what he could have done to gain the quiet warrior's notice.

"Funny that. I could have sworn it was your turn for first watch tonight." Bors poked the young knight who glared sullenly back at him.

"Well, that was kind of him." Gawain smirked, helping himself to some of the food. "I can't remember the last time he did that for any of us."

"Pity that he took none for himself. It's rather good, don't you think?" Lancelot smirked around his mouthful, shooting a sly wink to Arthur who considered his men, his beloved knights. He bore them no ill will about any decision that ran this personal. If two of them could find some sort of happiness in among all this death and blood that was their existence then who was he to ruin it.

"Bors and Dagonet, take care of the horses. Gawain and Lancelot will see to the weapons, and I the armor." Arthur ordered, keeping his look of amusement to himself. "Galahad, please bring Tristan his dinner. I don't want him distracted by hunger."

Gritting his teeth, Galahad did as he was told, knowing this was his leader's blessing to a relationship he had not even known about, or even conceived as possibility until today.

"You better come back soon and not make me come looking for you. I'm not getting shot full of holes because you two were too busy fucking each other to keep watch." Bors grunted.

"No worries there. You snore so loud they could shoot you dead in the dark without even really trying." Galahad threw over his shoulder in parting.

"I do not snore!" Bors snapped, finding no support in Dagonet or anyone else for that matter. All in the company had been woken up at one point or another by the rotund man's deep bellow of a snore.

"You and air must be having a long, ongoing disagreement then." Gawain laughed, tossing his whetstone in the air to catch it.

"I don't snore." Bors grumbled to the horses who offered no opinions back on the matter.

OoOoO

Picking up out the paths through the forest, the ones left behind by deer, badgers, and the occasional Sarmatian knight, Galahad made him way to where he assumed Tristan would be. The man was their cleverest scout, moving like shadow and smoke over any terrain. If he did not wished to be found even by them, there was no hope in trying.

This land was one of the safer places to make camp with water at their back, and ridges of rock at their sides, leaving only one real path in and out of the secluded clearing where they took their rest. Protecting the Wall meant patrolling all that it bordered from time to time, all 80 roman miles of it. It also meant a lot of long, dull days on horseback and even colder nights in lost places, interrupted by brief moments of bright death in shades of steel, red, and Woad blue.

"Up here." came a low voice from high overheard, Galahad looking up to see dark eyes regarding him through branches.

"I brought you food. I'll trade places with you so you can eat." Galahad offered, moving off to the side so that Tristan could swing down. The man did so as silent as an owl. This part of their territory was usually free of Woads, far too South for their kind, but they couldn't be too careful. They had lost others needlessly assuming such things before.

Trying to quickly hand off the wooden bowl so that he could climb tree and take Tristan's place, Galahad found his hands caught and held, just for a moment. Tristan's larger hands overlapped his own, the older man's callused palms warm despite the chill in the night air. Forgetting how to breath, Galahad could only stare down at the darker fingers lacing over his paler hands, unsure of where to take this…thing….whatever it was… happening between them.

The decision was not left up to him though, Tristan taking the bowl from him to drink the broth from its rim, his dark eyes meeting Galahad's blue own as he did so. It was intense that look that burned in those sunlit amber brown orbs, Tristan leaving all the words for Galahad to speak if he chose to, if he had the courage for it.

Licking his lips, his tongue feeling too dry and clumsy even in this small effort, Galahad gathered his wits about him. He was about to make a dangerous decision, one that could change his life forever. Tristan was not the type to lightly love or fritter his loyalty away.

"I could stay…" Galahad found himself start to say.

"No." Tristan stated calmly, finishing his meal to hand the bowl back to Galahad. "Go back."

Stepping away as if struck, Galahad bowed his head to hide the hurt look he knew he couldn't keep off his face. For something so new and undefined, it felt raw when wounded, more so than it should. Salvaging what was left of his pride, Galahad turned to leave, Tristan already back up in the tree. He almost missed the words that floated downward upon him light as snow fall and soft as the moonlight that tipped the world around them in silver.

"Galahad…" was enough to make the young knight pause and look up though he couldn't see his fellow knight.

"It is not that your company would be unwelcome…" Tristan said, his words a whisper of wind in the dark."…I would find it too distracting."

"Then I guess I'll just have to keep you company another night. When we are back at the Wall and we can both afford to be distracted." Galahad said slowly, tentative in his proposal. He wasn't even sure what he was offering anymore. He waited for an answer, knowing that he would not be able to leave without one. It came as he knew it would, after a held moment.

"That would be welcome."

OoOoO