Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: At last, the chapter that I've been waiting to write for so long! This chapter has a couple of things going on at once, but I couldn't see a way to separate them without having two really short chapters. I decided to leave them as one long chapter instead, so I apologize if it's lacking cohesion. Also, as usual, I haven't used a beta for this one, so I apologize for any mistakes as well.

Chapter 7: Coming of Age

"Arthur." Arthur looked up from a map he was examining with Tristan to see Dayn looking at him nervously from his seat across the table. The knights had just finished breakfast and, while some of the younger knights had left, a majority of them remained at the table, polishing off the last of the fruit and ale as they talked amongst themselves. Arthur noticed Dayn biting his lip nervously and he frowned, feeling an answering sense of misgiving at Dayn's expression.

"Dayn, I sincerely hope you're not about to warn me that an angry Roman is going to charge in here and demand restitution for damages you've caused. It's entirely too early in the day for that," Arthur said seriously. The others who remained at the table—Tristan, Bors, Roland, Gawain, Dagonet, Ingram, Aldric, Caderyn, and Lancelot—chuckled at Arthur's reply, most of them half-listening to the conversation between their commander and the youngest of them while still managing to continue their own conversations.

"Um, no, that's not it," Dayn answered him, fidgeting in his seat as he garnered his courage to speak.

"Then, what is it?" Arthur asked distractedly as he turned his attention back to the map.

"Well, I was wondering…when can I have my sword? You let Galahad have his when he turned thirteen. I've been thirteen for two weeks now, and well, you haven't said anything…I really want my sword, Arthur," Dayn said imploringly.

Arthur pushed the map away and looked up at his youngest charge with serious eyes. To be honest, he'd been waiting for this conversation for some time—dreading it actually. It came as something of a surprise that Dayn had waited as long as he had.

"I haven't brought it up, Dayn, because I'd like you to wait." The quiet mumbling between the knights stopped, everyone frozen with a mixture of surprise at Arthur's decree and worry at how Dayn would react. Everyone knew the boy wanted nothing more than to finally have a sword to call his own, and now they wondered if the young Sarmatian would be able to handle the news that he would have to wait.

"Wait! Arthur, I've been waiting! Why won't you just give me my sword? You promised me I could have a sword!"

"You're not ready, Dayn."

"What more do you want me to do to prove myself? I can already beat Galahad and Jarek at swordplay—what more do you want from me! I'm ready, I know it!"

"Dayn, it's not your skills that I'm worried about. It's your control, or lack thereof that concerns me," Arthur said calmly, not ruffled by Dayn's temper. "You're reckless, and that can get you hurt or killed. There's a responsibility that comes with carrying a sword, and I'm not convinced that you understand that yet."

"That's not true! You just don't want to give me my sword."

"Dayn, Arthur merely wants to make certain you're ready," Roland said supportively, offering Dayn a friendly smile. But Dayn was having none of it.

"Shut it, Roland! You made a promise," he said, turning back to Arthur, "and now you want to break it—you're no better than any other Roman," he sneered.

"This is not about keeping my word, Dayn. You will have your sword, just as I promised, when I think you are ready for the responsibility it entails."

Dayn stared at him, fury filling his gaze as his vision started to turn red, and Dagonet eased out of his chair, preparing to step in if Dayn lost his temper. Out of the corner of his eye, Dagonet could see Aldric doing the same, for both men were well aware of Dayn's ire when he was riled, and neither wanted things to get out of hand.

"I'm sorry, Dayn. Perhaps next year," Arthur said softly, not unkindly. Dayn shook his head, not wanting to hear Arthur's excuses or his meaningless promises.

"You can keep your promises, Arthur—I don't want your empty words…I don't need anything from you," he said coldly, shoving his chair aside and striding out the door, angrily lashing out at a vase that rested on a nearby pedestal on his way out. The vase hit the floor, exploding in a shower of broken pottery as Dayn stormed out of the room.

The knights silently watched him go, each of them sharing looks of concern before Dagonet looked to Arthur.

"I think one of us should go after him, Arthur. No telling how much damage he'll do when his temper snaps."

"And I think we all know how likely that is," Lancelot added, aiming a pointed look at the broken shards of the vase on the floor.

"Go after him, Dagonet."


Dayn slammed open the door to the quarters he shared with the younger knights, rage warring with hurt inside him at this betrayal.

"Hey, Dayn, did you get your sword?" Galahad asked excitedly as he saw Dayn come through the door.

Not trusting himself to speak, Dayn shook his head, casting his eyes down at floor as he fought the turmoil in his heart.

"What's the matter, Dayn? Did Arthur say no?" Strephon sneered, eliciting laughter from Jarek and Uwain, even as Galahad and Cei looked on in alarm.

Dayn's vision went red, and with a blood-curdling yell, he lunged at the older boy, knocking him into the wall. Strephon hit the wall headfirst with a thud, falling limply to the floor. Jarek and Uwain started forward, but at that moment, Dagonet ran in with Bors at his heels. Bors shoved the others away as Dagonet focused on grabbing Dayn. The wiry thirteen-year-old fought his grasp, kicking and fighting to break Dagonet's hold, and Dagonet was struggling to maintain his grip.

"Dammit, boy, stop fighting me or we're going to have to lock you up somewhere," he grunted, his arms constricting around Dayn's chest. If I can cut off enough of his air, then mayhap he'll calm down a bit, Dagonet thought, hoping they wouldn't have to resort to locking Dayn in the garrison prison again. Having done that once, he didn't think any of them were too eager to do so again.

"LET GO!" Dayn yelled, even as his gasped for air. He stopped fighting as he labored to pull air into his lungs. Dagonet loosened his hold somewhat, knowing that if Dayn was lucid enough to speak, then he was capable of controlling himself again. Of course, that's assuming he wants to control himself, Dagonet thought grimly, knowing well that the depths of Dayn's rage ran deep.

Dayn jerked out of Dagonet's grip, and picked up a small stool off the floor and slammed it into a post, feeling the wood shatter into pieces before he threw what was left of it to the floor. Having released some of his anger, he no longer wished to be around the others, where they could stare at him, knowing he had failed to get his sword. He headed for the stables, ignoring the sounds of Dagonet and Bors calling him back.

Anger and hurt warred in his heart, and Dayn bit his lip, too ashamed to look for Jillian even though he desperately wanted to talk to her. I can't tell her that Arthur said I wasn't ready—I can't. She'll think I'm weak. He'd looked forward to getting his sword for so long, and now everything was ruined.

Arthur lied to me. He said I'd get my sword, and now he won't give it to me. And the others…They've betrayed me, all of them. Even Caderyn. Reaching the stables, he climbed up into the rafters, nestling into a dark corner the same way he'd always done. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, burying his face in his arms as he struggled not to give into the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes.

There he remained, until the sun began to set, thickening the shadows in the stables until darkness settled around him. And still he wasn't ready to leave. How can I face them when I don't have my sword and they all know why? They'll think I'm weak. But then, they must already think I'm weak, because they let Arthur say I wasn't ready, and none of them argued with him. Pain squeezed his heart, and Dayn felt the ache in his chest as he fought to control the hurt and betrayal he was feeling.

"Dayn?" At the sound of Caderyn's voice, Dayn lifted his head, peering down to see Caderyn staring back up at him. "Come on down, Dayn, it's late." Dayn wanted to stay in the rafters, but he couldn't find it in him to argue. Brokenhearted, he slowly climbed down, refusing to look Caderyn in the eye as he walked past. Caderyn attempted to put his arm over Dayn's shoulder in a comforting manner, but Dayn shrugged him off, walking silently ahead of him, his posture one of utter dejection.

"Dayn, you'll get your sword one day," Caderyn called after him, honestly trying to cheer him up. But Dayn shook his head, not responding as he trudged towards his bed. Caderyn stopped, staring after him sympathetically as he watched Dayn slowly make his way to his quarters. Dagonet appeared behind Caderyn, and the younger knight cast a look over his shoulder at him before turning back to watch Dayn once more.

"What do you think? Is he alright?"

"I'm not sure, Dag. That sword is all he's wanted for so long, and now that Arthur's said he can't have it yet…I just don't know."


The following afternoon, Dayn finally made an appearance at the table for the first time since Arthur's decree, and he sat down without a word, stoically ignoring the silence that had fallen when he'd entered the room. He reached across Dagonet's plate for the bowl of fruit that sat nearby, refusing to acknowledge anyone as he pulled out a clump of grapes.

After a few tense moments, the others quietly began to eat once more, each of them waiting for someone else to break the awkward silence that had filled the room. Most of them were waiting for some sign of trouble, watching Dayn with wary eyes as they ate.

"Dayn, you didn't show for your sparring lesson with Lancelot this morning. Why not?" Arthur asked as Dayn silently plucked the grapes from the stem he held.

"Because there's no reason to," Dayn answered, narrowing a cold look at Arthur.

"Really? And why is that?"

"Come, Arthur, let's not pretend anymore. We all know you're not going to give me my sword, so why waste my time?"

"Dayn, perhaps you would do better to practice rather than blame Arthur for your lack of control," Lancelot said pointedly.

"And perhaps you would do better to stay out of it, Lancelot," Dayn replied angrily, feeling his face heat up. He looked around the table at each of the knights, wishing that someone, anyone, would come to his defense. But each of the knights dropped their eyes back to their plates, silently concurring with Lancelot's assessment.

Dayn dropped the grapes back down on his plate and came to his feet, feeling hollow inside.

"Dayn, sit down and finish eating," Arthur said with a sigh. "You and I can discuss this later."

"You know, Arthur, if you never intended to give me my sword, then you shouldn't have given me hope. It was wrong of you." He turned his back on them and walked out as quietly as he'd come in, leaving a stunned silence behind him.

"Arthur, somehow I get the feeling that this little problem isn't going away," Lancelot said dryly.

"That's because this goes beyond a mere sword," Caderyn cut in.

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, turning a questioningly look on Caderyn.

"Think about it, Arthur—Dayn is angry, yes. But it's more than that. I think we've hurt him."

"What mean you, Caderyn?" Arthur asked.

"Arthur, think about it—by not giving him a sword, you've all but said that he's not good enough. That he's somehow less because of it."

"Caderyn, that was not my intention. He's young, and his control simply isn't what it needs to be for him to carry a sword."

"Yes, well, I don't think he understands it that way. And I think he's hurt that we didn't speak up for him."

"Speak up for him?" Lancelot asked. "Why should we have spoken for him? Arthur's right about him not being ready, Caderyn," he finished.

"Yes, but we're all he has, Lance. None of us said a word in his favor, and I think he feels like he can't count on us. He feels inferior, and by not speaking up for him, we implied that we feel the same way about him."

"Gods, we need to sit him down and talk to him," Aldric said, rubbing his eyes wearily. "If he thinks that, no wonder he's angry at all of us."

"Don't you think you're assuming a bit much there, Caderyn? It's a mere sword," Ingram pointed out defensively. "I think you're placing more importance on it than there is. Dayn is hot-headed—we all know that. Of course he's angry when something doesn't happen the way he expects. This will pass just like it always does."

"Just keep telling yourself that, Ingram. Wait and see," Caderyn replied confidently.

"Arthur, the fact of the matter is," Bors began, "a lot of us are hot-tempered, but that didn't stop us from getting our swords. We've all been known to get a bit carried away when we're angry. So why is Dayn any different?"

"Because, Bors, none of you suffers from battle madness. You've all seen how he responds in sparring exercises—if he loses his temper, he loses complete control over himself, and it's all but impossible to reach him. Now can you imagine him in actual combat? Right now, I have my hands full trying to keep Dayn from fighting, because the slightest insult can set him off. If the merest of offenses can spur him to fight, then what do you think he'd do with a sword in his hands? I don't want that on my conscience, Bors. Dayn must wait."

Bors couldn't really argue with Arthur, because he knew as well as the others that everything Arthur said was true. He fell silent, and grabbed for the ale in front of him, pouring a healthy amount into his cup. I need a drink. Anything so that I don't have to come up with a solution to this.

"So what do we do?" Aldric asked, bracing his arms on the table as he leaned forward.

"Teach him control," Arthur said simply.

"Oh, like it's that simple," Lancelot said sarcastically. "And just how are we supposed to do that?" Lancelot asked. "He never listens, and he scorns almost everything I tell him."

"Spend time with him, Lancelot, and set an example for him. He learns from watching us, and if he sees you controlling your own temper, then perhaps he will emulate you," Arthur replied. Everyone's eyes went to Lancelot at Arthur's suggestion, most of them trying not to laugh at the thought. Lance had a bit of a temper himself, and it was a well known fact that he didn't always do the best job of controlling it.

"Arthur, there are days when I loathe you," Lancelot said dryly, his mind on the future torment that spending time with Dayn would no doubt produce.

"All of us need to make an effort to spend time with Dayn—he needs us to be there for him," Caderyn said slowly.

"We're all going to the tavern later this evening—get him to come along," Bors offered. Everyone nodded their agreement, not knowing that the evening would bring with it a whole mess of trouble.


The evening began like any other. Caderyn and Gawain managed to convince Dayn that they sincerely wanted him to join them all at the tavern, and he reluctantly agreed to go.

"Dayn, we know you're upset about the sword," Gawain said quietly as they sat down at the table of their favorite tavern with the other knights, "but we'll help you."

"Yeah, we'll make sure you get your sword. And think of it—if you keep practicing in the meantime, you'll get even better than you already are," Caderyn offered with a smile.

"And the better you get, the less reason Arthur will have for keeping you from your sword," Gawain added.

"Dayn, I know for certain that Arthur is going to give you a sword," Tristan spoke up quietly.

"How do you know?"

"Arthur already has your sword made. I saw it."

"He showed it to you?"

"No. But I'm good at getting into places I'm not meant to," he replied, pulling a small knife from his pocket to peel an apple.

"What did it look like?" Dayn asked, perking up a bit at the thought of his sword.

"You'll just have to wait and see."

"You know, Tristan, you're good at sneaking around and all…if you wanted to sneak in and get my sword for me, you could do it," Dayn hinted.

"No." Dayn didn't argue, knowing it would be futile to argue. No one argued with Tristan, because nothing ever came of it.

With a sigh, Dayn fell silent, his momentary hopes dashed despite having his faith in his fellow Sarmatians renewed.

The other knights relaxed and began to fall into their usual sport of drinking and wenching, paying little attention to Dayn. The younger Sarmatian didn't really mind the inattention though, as he was caught up in his own thoughts. Hearing the door open, he looked up, and he suddenly felt as though he'd been doused with frigid water.

A cold rage welled up inside him, so different than the usual hot flood of anger that he was used to. He watched a trio of Romans take seats at a table near the far wall, his eyes on the last one to sit down. As they sat around the table, laughing and flirting with the tavern maids, Dayn felt a strange sort of detachment, as though the rage was not his own, and he slowly settled in to wait. For hours, he watched them, his eyes never leaving the trio as they started to get drunk. Now, a voice seemed to whisper to him, the word reverberating in his mind. He slowly turned to look at Caderyn.

"Caderyn, can I borrow your dagger? Just for a moment."

Perhaps if it been one of the others that he'd asked, he would not have had such an easy time of it. But it was Caderyn, and Caderyn was drunk enough that he wasn't inclined to think the matter through.

"Sure, Dayn," he said good-naturedly, his words slurring a bit as he reached for the dagger at his waist. Dayn took the dagger with a smile, sliding the dagger from the scabbard, feeling the cold steel rest comfortingly against his fingers. He slowly slid back from the table, coming to his feet resolutely as he stared at the Romans for a long moment.

None of the Romans noticed as Dayn came to stand behind them, or at least, none of them noticed until Dayn grabbed the one he'd been watching by the hair, jerking the man's head back. He slid the dagger up to the Roman's throat, preempting any struggles, even as the others stilled, watching him lean forward to whisper into their comrade's ear.

"Hello, Claudius," Dayn murmured, his voice deceptively friendly. "It's been a long time."

"What's wrong with you, boy? Are you daft?" one of the other Romans asked in bewilderment. Dayn ignored him, his eyes remaining on the man he held at knifepoint.

"If you slay me, my companions will see you dead," Claudius warned him, hoping the threat would be enough to stay Dayn's hand. He knew well enough that he was just drunk enough to have a hard time maintaining his balance, and the presence of the dagger was enough to put the odds in his younger opponent's favor. "Think on it, boy," he urged, even as Dayn tightened his grip, refusing to hear him.

No one had noticed that Dayn had left the table until Tristan glanced up to see Dayn's seat empty. His eyes scanned the room, finding Dayn immediately, and Tristan suddenly reached out and grabbed Lancelot.

"What's he doing?" he asked, lifting his chin in Dayn's direction. Lancelot turned, his eyes widening as he watched Dayn approach one of the Romans from behind.

"Damn it, Dayn, no!" Lancelot called, but his voice hardly carried over the noise of the tavern. The other knights looked up, following Lancelot's gaze to where Dayn stood, and most of them came to their feet as they watched in a mixture of bewilderment and horror. Lancelot started forward, only to be pulled back by Tristan, who shook his head.

"No, Lancelot. He must decide for himself."

"Decide what?"

"Whether to make the kill or not. We all have to make that choice—to kill or not—and Dayn's moment has come."

"Are we going to let him do this? He's far too young to make that choice, Lancelot," Aldric said quietly.

"Yes, I know. But Tristan's right. The moment is here, and we must stand aside and let him choose." And so they waited, all of the Sarmatians, to see what choice the youngest one of them would make.

"Five years ago, you killed my brother," Dayn was saying softly in the man's ear. "Do you remember? You laughed then. Well who's laughing now?" Dayn said coldly.

Without waiting for an answer, he slid the dagger across the man's throat, slicing neatly through his windpipe. Dayn stepped back, watching with indifferent eyes as the Roman fell to the floor, vainly trying to breathe. There was no movement as everyone stared, entranced, at the Roman who was choking on his own blood. Dayn remained there, unmoving, until the man finally stilled. He wiped the blade on the man's tunic before calmly walking back to where the knights stood silently.

"My thanks, Caderyn," Dayn said, handing the blade back. He walked past them all, and out the door without looking back.

"Tristan, we take care of the others tonight," Lancelot murmured, looking at the remaining two Romans who were beginning to snap out of their stupor, murderous intent in their eyes. "No one can know of this," he said, looking each of the others in the eye before turning to Aldric. "Aldric, take Caderyn and Gawain and get rid of the Roman."

As the older knight led Caderyn and Gawain away, Lancelot and Tristan made for the two Romans who were hurrying for the door in pursuit of Dayn. The two knights looked at one another, communicating wordlessly—when they got the two Romans out of sight, they'd dispatch them quickly.

Dagonet came to his feet as Lancelot and Tristan disappeared, turning to face the rest of the bar patrons even as Aldric, Caderyn, and Gawain hefted the body up off the floor.

"No one will speak of this!" he yelled, the flames of a nearby fire causing his already imposing figure to seemingly loom over everyone menacingly. He looked every person in the eye, memorizing their features in case he was forced to come looking for them. If any one of them should speak of what had transpired, he would find out. One by one, everyone looked away, unable to meet his gaze, and Dagonet knew for certain that they would never speak of this night. For well they knew that if they did, it would be the last thing they spoke of.

"Arthur can know nothing of this," Dagonet said softly as he turned to the remaining knights. "Jarek, Strephon, Uwain…if one of you speaks of this to Arthur, I'll kill you myself."

"Dayn just killed someone without cause! Why are we protecting him?" Jarek hissed, staring angrily up at Dagonet.

"Because he's one of us, the same as you. And we protect our own."


A/N: Ok, so I could end the story there, but several of you have mentioned that you would like to see a bit with Orainne. So let me know what you all think—do I end the story now or keep on with a few more chapters?

chiefhow: Ok, so I'm struggling with what I can do with Jillian now that I've created her. She's not really in "Peril of Secrets," which suggests that she's gone by the time Dayn in around 17 years old. The question, then, becomes what do I do with her? Anyways, glad you like the Lancelot exploits—sounds like the title for a fic, doesn't it: "The Exploits of Sir Lancelot." LOL.

Artemis Darkclaw: Hey, thanks for the review Artemis. I haven't forgotten Fynncara—I've probably mentioned that several times, but I feel terrible that I haven't gotten a chance to look at the next chapters of your story. I'll do my best to get another few chapters read this week, ok?

ModestySparrow9: I'm glad I'm not the only one who finds Dayn cute…of course, his cuteness is fading now, as he gets older. He's really starting to display his more aggressive behavior now. But I love him anyway. LOL.

Camreyn: If you read the note I posted above to chiefhow, you'll notice the difficulty that Jillian is posing for me. She was useful in the last chapter, but now I'm sort of stuck with a character that serves no real purpose. I won't use her as competition for Orainne, simply because I don't want her to be a character that will cause strife in a relationship.

Dagg: Thanks for the lovely compliment! Hope this chapter was great as well. Let me know what you think!

MissBubbles: Ok, so if you liked the "family bit" in the last chapter, I'm guessing that you probably liked the last line in this chapter as well. I'm glad you like the humorous interactions/lines between Lance and Dayn. I have fun coming up with little situations for those two. Anyways, hope you liked the chapter!