"Bring some water over here will ya?" The farmer asked Molly. She looked at the Mirror that was placed in the man's house, such a rare thing for someone of her social status. Her hair was a little longer than what she remembered it being, and the clothing even more odd. She wore a dark brown dress, with rough fabric that she couldn't even begin to wonder what it was made of. Two straps came up to her shoulders, and the chest line of the dress started right above her breast, allowing not even a single bit for the imagination. Underneath it a white thick cloth that ran just barely under her collar bone.

There wasn't much going on around the farm, everyone was busy at work, making sure the fields were well plowed, she knew they needed a good harvest to get through the winter.

Not far from where she was staying an artesian well poured water above ground proudly. Going as high as 4 feet in the air, the buckets she brought from the farm was weighing heavily down upon her shoulders.

She looked up at the sky and noticed that the sun was still blaring out, her work day almost done, she wondered to herself that perhaps she could actually get a bath going today for herself.

Laying the two buckets down, she quickly untied them from the pole they were hanging and let them fill up underneath the fountains. Once filled, she tied the buckets back up, then placed the wooden pole on her shoulder, and went to stand up.

A man, tall in stature was only about five meters away was dressed in full metal armor, with an arrow in his arm, and one lodged in his stomach. He slanted backwards on his horse, his hands lightly grasping to his horses reigns. The horse was only trotting, she knew that it was an initial run that its master had commanded, but he had lost the strength to continue that simple command.

"Sir, are you okay?" She heard herself speak. The man issued a stopping command once he reached her, his strength dwindling fast. She dropped the buckets of water.

"I fucking hate crossbows." He muttered and fell off the back of his horse. His body slammed down on the ground, luckily on the side of his right arm, the one without the bow lodged in, the arrow in his stomach however slanted under the pressure and twisted to the side.

Blood crept through his armor, she could tell that his wounds were grave in nature, and he would be lucky to last it through the night.

She wondered if he was French, he had to be since he spoke her language right? He carried the French accent, She knew the English were sacking towns nearby, could this man be one of the people that fought on the side of the French?

He turned himself to lie on his back, the arrows still pierced into his armor and no doubt his flesh.

"Are you English or French?" She asked, this time hoping to hear his accent one more time just to be careful. She prayed it would come out French.

"That's the first time I have been mistaken for an Englishmen. Please get help milady, I do not have much strength left in me." She could tell instantly he was French, most Englishmen had a hard time carrying such a thick and well pronounced accent. Especially one that sounded so similar to this side of France.

"Get up!" She yelled, as she grabbed on his good arm trying desperately to pull him up on his feet. She looked around for help, and yet no one was near the well. Very few people were brave enough to wait out the battles. Most of them expected the worse.

The man struggled but was finally on his feet again, bracing his back he placed a foot in the foot holder on his horse, and she pushed his other side of his body so he would sit properly.

"I'm too weak ride, I need to rest." He uttered meekly.

"Nonsense, you will get plenty of rest soon enough." She responded sharply. Jumping up on his horse behind him, she grabbed his reigns and placed her arms around him to keep him from falling off again. He started to slide off, pressing up against her arms, she then pushed him back up in the sitting position.

"Wake up! We don't have a long ride ahead of us, you can make it." She urged him, and then gave the horse a slight kick. Within moments they were at the farm.

"Jean! Help me!" She screamed, within a matter of moments Jean arrived, the man that owned the farm.

"Dear god….is he French or English?" He asked, almost afraid to find out the truth.

"I'm French!" The man yelled, now clearly getting irritated, Getting down the horse was going to hurt like hell most likely.

Molly knew that he had to ride for quite a while with the arrows lodged into his body, it was a miraculous that he was alive, never the less still conscious. Jean quickly went to his left arm, and placed him under it causing the knight to scream in pain. Molly went to his right side, and placed his arm under her, they both almost literally had to drag him inside and place him down on the bed.

"Help me get his armor off." Jean commanded, both Molly and him took off his breast plate, then his metal pant legs.

"Claudia, get Prior Philip!" Jean screamed, the prior acting as the town doctor had more experience than anyone on what to do. If he wasn't able to get the man healthy again then Molly knew he was a lost cause.

Now this time they both lifted his head, and pried off his helmet.

"My god, he is beautiful." Molly whispered to herself. Gabriel turned his head and moaned in pain. His hair came down to his shoulders, he was clean shaven with black hair, and brown eyes.

"I sure in hell don't feel it." He replied, looking at Molly in her eyes.

"Silence young man, just lay there and conserve your strength. A man of god will come and do gods work on you if the good lord is willing." Jean spoke, trying to ease Gabriel's worries, instead a sharp look of fear entered his eyes. Before he could reply the door banged opened, and the elder prior stood at the way.

"The boy is in grave condition, I don't know if he will make it through the night." Phillip announced.

"What do we do father?" Molly heard herself ask.

"Jean, go get some cow manure, if he is to keep his arm and close his stomach wound we will need to bring on the puss. I will get some rags, so I can spread it over the wound."

"Yes father." Jean replied and ran out of the room.

"Prior, what about me?" Molly asked.

"Stay with the boy, he seems to take a liking to you. He needs all the hope he can get, I will be right back." Both the Prior and Jean both left, sure to return at any moment, Gabriel looked up at Molly as utter fear was in his eyes.

"Please, don't let them do this." He half groaned, half whispered out of his mouth, pain very evident in his voice.

"They will help you!"

"They will kill me, I beg of you milady, please don't let them." Gabriel answered, this time his hands reached up and grabbed one of hers.

"What should we do then? The Prior has more knowledge than I ever could hope to have." She heard herself say.

"Do you have a battle surgeon?"

"No, we have not one in this whole village." The Prior and Jean both came back in, the Prior carried a cloth and set it down by the counter right next to the candle and bed. Jean was holding a cloth in his hands and the stink coming from it made it very obvious as to what was going to happen next.

"Please, I beg of you." Gabriel asked once more, this time with tears forming in his eyes looking up at Molly. Feeling regret already, she hoped that she would not be making the wrong decision.

"He doesn't want help." She revealed.

"Nonsense young girl, every young man strives for life." The prior tried to explain, Instead Gabriel just lifted his finger and pointed to him in a midst of pain.

"I just don't want help from you." The Prior just stood there for a moment, his brow slanted down as he stared at Gabriel intensely. Not sure of what to make of the situation. Was this man really defying the hand of god?

"Then may god have mercy on your soul." The prior responded darkly. Not wanting to bother another minute of his time he squinted angrily at the man, wanting to take another good hard look at the pathetic man that dared to call himself a knight, and then he walked away. Back towards his monastery where he would no longer have to deal with the imbecilic that he had to today.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" Jean screamed at Molly, she just stood there in shock, not realizing exactly what she had done. Jean face was getting red in anger, he couldn't dare to believe that she would actually turn down the church. Who the hell does she think she is!?

"I…..I was just doing what he asked me too." She stated weakly.

"How dare you place blame on a man that is half delirious, a knight at that!" Jean screamed, he grabbed her by her dress, and reached back with his hand.

"If your hand strikes milady, then prepare to lose it." Gabriel spoke up, drawing more energy than he could afford to lose, regardless it caught Jeans attention. He turned to Gabriel, shook his head and left the room. Molly just looked down at Gabriel who was clearly still in overwhelming pain, it as a wonder that he had not passed out yet.

"Now what?" She asked.

"Grab the bolt in my arm, and break off the shaft. You will need to pull it out." Molly reached over and grabbed the wooden bolt with both of her hands and broke it in half, making sure the tail end was snapped away from the shaft. Gabriel tensed up a little, due to the movement of the bolt it caused a surge of pain. Gabriel then gave Molly a nod, and she grabbed the bottom part of the arrow underneath his arm and pulled it free. His screams she swore could be heard from kilometers away.

"Quickly, I need you to stick my sword in the fire, once it gets red hot I will need you to lay the backbone of the blade on my wounds. It needs to be burnt shut." Molly did exactly as he told, Gabriel did his best to press his arm against the bed, and using his unhurt arm pressed down on a clean piece of cloth on his wound to try and prevent blood from seeping out.

"Listen carefully Milady. After you take care of the wound in my arm, I may pass out due to the pain. Do not panic, just make sure the sword is back in the fire, red hot. Once it is done, just do the same thing to my stomach."

"Okay, are you ready?" She asked. Gabriel just responded by nodding his head yes. Grabbing a pillow with a good hand, he stuck it in his mouth. She pulled the sword from the fire, she could feel the custom grip against her hands, the slight rings around the handle pressing against comfortably against her palms. Pointing the blade down, she laid it belly side on the top portion of his arm. Gabriel half screamed and half cried in reaction. Tears of pain were starting to roll down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She heard herself plead.

"Don't be sorry, do the bottom portion now, before I lose my nerve!" He responded, she flipped the blade over, and laid the other flat piece down on a board that she placed on the bed. With one swift motion, Gabriel slammed down his arm on the blade, the smell of searing flesh made Molly want to puke, yet she held her resolve, knowing that the knight needed it the most. Gabriel once again buried his face in the pillow, screaming at the top of his lungs. Molly returned the sword back to the fire place, and placed the blade once again on the flames. She just stood there and stared at Gabriel, unsure what to say to her next.

"Anything I can do for the pain?"

"Ale, if you have it." He grunted. Then he peered into Molly's eyes, and grabbed her hand once more. Tears of pain were now almost freely pouring out of his face. She still couldn't believe that a man no older than 20 would be going through so much pain. It seemed unnatural.

"I'm sorry, we don't have any."

"I know, I was just hoping."

"The sword is ready to go again. Are you ready?" Molly asked, and her answer was given as Gabriel just gave her a silent nod. Reaching down to his stomach, she grabbed the wooden pole and yanked it out of his stomach as fast as she could, this time Gabriel didn't bite down on anything, his screams of bloody murder was echoed throughout the house. With a quick reaction, she didn't bother to think of it, instead she reached into the fireplace and grabbed the handle of the sword, and placed the belly of the blade on his wound, his screams turned into fits of screaming and crying. Instantly Molly threw the sword on the ground, glad that it was over. Reaching over she grabbed one of his hands and gave it a squeeze, as he returned it she almost regretted that decision as she thought he would break her hand.

"I'm sorry." Gabriel looked up at Molly and said, letting go of her hand. Molly just rubbed her hands together, trying to get feeling back into them. She was glad that it was not broken.

"What happened out there?" Molly asked, motioning to his wounds. She was obviously very curious.

"A rider came to the castle, telling us that Morlaix was under siege. All the knights started to gather their weapons before any of us knew exactly what had happened. We rode five hundred strong, up against three thousand English. We were completely enveloped within a matter of hours, we had to fight our way out. I don't know what happened to my men…..." He spoke with a glint of sadness as he described the situation.

"what about your wounds?"

"I received the one to my arm almost at the beginning of the battle, the one in my stomach was during our retreat. Our commander in arms fell before the blade, I was the most senior fighter there. I ordered the swordsmen, spearmen and knights to charge into their weakest line formation. Trying to break through, during our charge, a Crossbow man did this." He said as he looked down at his stomach.

"The people of Morlaix?"

"Still under siege I'm afraid." Molly just nodded her head.

"If I make it through the night, then I shall be fine. Once my strength returns I should be on my way. I'm sorry for any unconvinced I have caused you."

"You should get some rest then."

"Thank you Milady, I'm in your debt."

"If you want to repay me Milord, live."

Molly woke up, she could feel her head drenched in sweat. Looking over next to her, she noticed Gabriel sleeping peacefully, the sun almost down, ready for the night to reclaim the skies once more. The dream was too real how was this possible? She could feel every moment, the things that she was thinking in those dreams. It just didn't make sense.

She traced her hand up Gabriel's shirt, she could feel his stomach, hard with muscle, but barely toned with muscle. Her hand guided itself as to where the wound was, right then she felt the burn mark.