Title: Hero
Rating: PG (violence)
Summary: A hero's face hides more than it shows; a price paid - things that will never come back. A hero hides the shadows of a man.
Warnings: um..typoes?
Author's notes: This is the sequel to Legend gasp. It's more Arthur-centric than Legend was, since that one seemed to focus on Lance not forgiving himself. Nope, this time it's a little different. You don't have to have read Legend, but it probably helps haha. Enjoy.

Chapter 1 – A Hero's Fate

It's been so long, oh, such a long time
Since lived with peace and rest
Now I am here, my destination
I guess things work for the best
And I know that my time is coming soon

-Thief: Third Day

A thin pillar of smoke rose above the tops of the trees, reaching up to the sky. The winter snows were receding, but it was still cold south of Hadrian's Wall. It would be cold for many more weeks. Arthur Castus stretched his leg out sitting next to the campfire; the cold was harsh on his healing wounds. Wincing slightly, he lightly touched his side and poked the dying fire.

"Are you all right?" Lancelot paused, putting Hadrian's saddle on the ground next to him.

"Stiff, that's all," Arthur grumbled, poking the fire harder.

Sighing, the knight pulled a brush out of Hadrian's saddle bay and gently started brushing the large bay's back. "It's too cold, perhaps we shouldn't have-…"

"Lancelot," Arthur cut him off sharply, "I'm fine." He despised being fussed over…both of them did. Only this time it happened to be Arthur who had been wounded instead of Lancelot, the irony of the situation.

"You push yourself too hard," Lancelot started, "It hasn't been long since…"

"I know," Arthur sighed, looking up at the clear sky painting in the pastel colours of sunset. "It's been a month and a half, this is a quiet patrol."

"You can't be sure of that," Lancelot patted both horses and crouched next to his captain.

Arthur rolled his eyes, a half amused-half annoyed grin crossing his face. "So looking after me gives you the authority to question my orders?"

Lancelot looked hurt and stared into the fire, "And being a Roman in command of lowly Sarmatian knights makes you superior and invincible."

The silence was deafening. Nerves were frayed, pride bruised, emotions strained. "I didn't mean it like that, Lancelot," Arthur said softly. A chilled breeze brushed by them as if the elements were reflecting the words spoken. The Roman shivered, but the Sarmatian didn't.

"You're cold, sir," Lancelot commented flatly.

Arthur sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," he repeated, slightly louder.

"And I'm only looking after you, Arthur."

"I said I was fine."

"Why do you treat me like a child, like I can't do anything?" Lancelot questioned, frustrated. His dark eyes looked deep into the paler ones of his friend. "Why do you do this? You watch over me, but when it's my turn, you shrug it off as if I can't step into your territory as a friend, Arthur, a friend!"

The Roman shivered again. "Because it's my duty to protect you," he replied softly, but the weight of the words hung heavily, "Because to me, you are a child. Not that you can't do anything…you can. But you are a child because of that 16 year old boy who pledged his service and his friendship. You will always be that boy to me, not some emotionless warrior."

Lancelot clenched his jaw, "A boy. I am a boy to you."

"You don't understand…" Arthur started.

"No, apparently not," the knight stood up and simply walked past the horses into the dark woods until he was out of sight.

"Lancelot!" Arthur shouted after him. He would be back, there wasn't a question of that, but it was the manner of his departure. Arthur sighed again, rubbing his face. It had been a particularly long day, riding most of the time, and as the day went on, the more and more Arthur's side ached. He would be the first to admit it made him grumpy. Now he had dug himself deeper into a hole and hurt Lancelot. No matter what he said, it made things worse. Darkness surrounded the camp, the fire cast it away, but a shadow remained over Arthur's face.

The next day began no differently, it would be another long ride. Lancelot had only uttered a few words that morning. Any attempt at apology wasn't heeded by the knight, his mind was set again. He could be like this at times, Arthur knew. It didn't make things any easier.

It wasn't until they were ready to move out that Lancelot dropped his mask of frustration and hurt. Arthur had lifted Hadrian's saddle onto his back, and as soon as it was on the horse, the Roman clutched at sudden pain in his side.

"Arthur?" Lancelot was there automatically, "Are you all right?"

"It's..nothing," Arthur winced.

"It's not nothing..." he trailed off, "Let me see." With the events and words of last night still in his mind, Arthur unwillingly lifted the side of his tunic. Lancelot gently unraveled the bandage. The healing wound, if it could be called that, was an angry red. It had never looked completely right, there had been a jagged edge, but now it looked even worse. The knight lightly touched it; Arthur pulled away with a hiss of pain. His next move was to touch the captain's forehead. "It's infected, you have a fever. We should head back."

Arthur jerked away from the hand on his forehead. "We only have another day's ride until we turn back anyway," he protested, letting his tunic down again. "And your hands are cold."

"You wouldn't even question if I were in your place, Arthur."

Slowly, he nodded. Truth be told, he felt awful, and had so since they left. The wound on his side was in a bad place anyway, it had been hard for the healer to keep clean. Not to mention whenever Arthur moved it pulled at the skin, that couldn't be helped. It was an invitation for infection.

"He's a traitor, sir, he not only gave the Woads our positions, but he murdered two of my men! By law he should be executed."

"Not without a trial."

"I am the trial. My eyes are the trial, I SAW him!"

"And how do you know he wasn't trying to protect his family? He could have been scared? Did your men attack anyone here in the village?"

"No, sir, never."

"This man has a family, we owe it to them to make this fair. Justice will be served either way."

"Justice will be served if you execute him now, sir, I wouldn't lie about a matter such as this."

"My orders stand. If you disobey them, there will be two trials instead of one, am I understood?"

"Yes sir…"

"Good. Then you are to take him back to the fort. We will meet you there the day after tomorrow."

"Yes sir."

"Remember my orders, do not take matters into your own hands."

He sighed, "Understood, sir."

The sky was just as clear as the day before and the sun shined down upon them, but did nothing to warm the earth. Every breath created a small cloud in the freezing air. Lancelot glanced up through the trees as they rode. "The sun is out, it should be warm, not cold," he grumbled.

Arthur smiled slightly, "But of course it doesn't happen that way, it would be too easy for us."

"Of course," Lancelot replied in the same sarcastic tone. The path they walked was a narrow one through the forested hills. To loose ones' footing could be disastrous. Hadrian and Lancelot's horse, Conquest, were used to it however. Neither of them were spooked easily. But of course, everyone has their bad days.

The dark bay, Hadrian, stumbled as they trotted along. Had Arthur been better than he was, it would have been nothing, but as it happens, he fell forward against the horse's neck, twisting his side. Hadrian registered the weight shifting forward and tried to compensate as Arthur attempted to regain his balance. However, with the morning dew in such the cold weather brought frost and ice. The horse's rear hoof slipped and he did all he could to stay on his feet. Unfortunately, Arthur couldn't react in time and fell off, hitting the ground hard.

Lancelot practically jumped off of Conquest at first hearing the startled hooves behind him. "Arthur!" he abandoned the two horses to look after each other and knelt beside his fallen captain.

Arthur's face had turned a sickly shade of pale; his grey eyes were squeezed shut. It was terribly fortunate that he didn't roll down the hill, which was populated with many trees, nearly impossible to miss. But by the same token, he had landed on his wounded side. "That.." he hissed rolling onto his back, "Was not good."

As Lancelot lifted his dark green tunic, blood was just beginning to stain the white bandaged underneath. The knight cringed. "No, it wasn't good," he replied. "I don't think we can ride to the fort today anyway, this will need to be taken care of."

"There's a village to the east," Arthur whispered painfully, "I don't think it's far."

"I hope not…" Lancelot said, positioning himself to help his friend up, "This is going to hurt, I apologize in advance."

In Arthur's mind, it not only hurt, it was agony. The fire that burned and throbbed in his side flared, even going so far as to reach his leg which hadn't given him much trouble until now. His vision clouded and he nearly passed out. The next thing Arthur was aware of was being atop Conquest with Lancelot's arm across his chest. His lip was bleeding, he must have bit it when he was moved.