It had been a new year but the heavy snowfall had not ceased. Diarmuid rubbed his hands together as he dropped down the firewood next to the fireplace and began shoving the stumps in. When he set it ablaze he pulled himself closer to the fire and bid it warm his frozen limbs.

The old farmer had gone into town that morning and said he shouldn't be back until evening. Often times he invited Diarmuid to come with him, but Diarmuid refused time and time again, thus the farm was all he knew much of. He had his reasons for remaining at bay, most of the time was because of Gráinne and how she lived close to the shore-town. She was seen often by the people and would no doubt nag him to come live with her in her warm home. She was sometimes too courteous, especially to strangers like Diarmuid.

The man had to admit that winter, albeit cold, was the easiest season to deal with in the farm. There was no reaping or planting, just merely taking care of the animals and the barn. So often times Diarmuid would find himself able to sit before the fireplace and take in the heat—but of course he was there to sit in his thoughts.

He often wondered how Altria was fairing, especially their child. Had the child been born yet? Has Altria's health been still declining? Has she been threatened by her barbaric husband?

No matter the defeat Diarmuid held within him because of his banishment, every time that foreigner came into mind his fighting spirit would spur up and threaten his bones to ache and limbs to shake to take up his spears and hunt down that man. Diarmuid had been a lover and hater of many things, but on his list of most hated it was that man, that king who proclaimed his name to be Gilgamesh.

Was it because the man was wedded to the woman he loved? Was that the reason for his hatred toward him? Was it the way he ruled Altria's kingdom? Was it the way he treated the people of the land and refused to know them as king? There were many things Diarmuid hated him on, but of which one was the most he was uncertain of.

No matter, he hated him and that was the truth. But the ex-warrior had prided himself more as a lover than a hater and certainly he had to love more than hate. Lately though . . . in his banishment, he could find little to love.

With a shiver, Diarmuid wrapped his cloak around him tighter, not much warmth was given to him from the thin fabric, but it was all the old farmer had to offer. No, next to Altria as her knight he had many a fur to keep warm in winters like this—of course many a lady as well. With a smile Diarmuid couldn't help but imagine his queen lover, sharing his bed and keeping his bare body warm from the ice outside just as he would do for her as well. It was a simple dream of his that brought small lightheartedness to him in moments like these.

"Diarmuid?"

The raven-haired man whipped his head around quickly to find a fur-clad man standing in the doorway to the small house he stayed in. With a smile, Diarmuid jumped to his feet and all about tackled the man.

"Rowan!" he exclaimed in glee before pulling him inside. "Come sit by the fireplace, it's the only warm place in this frozen land."

"Much thanks," the guard said as he pulled his cloak down and sat next to the man and shared the warmth of the fire.

"Gawain said he would either come or send others," Diarmuid said as he looked at his fellow brother in arms who was set in a shiver.

"Apologies that I hadn't arrived sooner," Rowan replied while rubbing his arms. "The waters forced our ships to shore and so I was forced to wait a few months to come to tell you of the going on of the kingdom."

"How fairs Altria?" Diarmuid asked, his eyes bright for once and lips all a smile.

Rowan smiled. "Just two months ago she gave birth to her second child." The guard watched with happiness as Diarmuid's eyes widened, awaiting more news on the subject. "But it had been hard on our queen. For three days and three nights the child tarried within the womb of their mother, refusing to enter this world under any circumstance."

Diarmuid looked concerned and he about fell off his seat from how far on the edge he sat. When Diarmuid motioned him to continue, his brother only smiled and nodded his head. "But the child came and both are healthy as to this day."

"That does my heart good," Diarmuid muttered in relief as he leant his forehead against his fingers. He remained there for a moment before he looked back up toward Rowan asking, "Has she born a daughter or a son?"

Again the man smiled and came to place his hand upon Diarmuid's shoulder, his grip strong as he said, "Queen Altria hast born you a son, Diarmuid."

Diarmuid could no longer contain his excitement at the news as he clapped his hands together and jolted up to his feet, pacing around and running his fingers through his hair. "A son?" he began rambling as he paced back and forth quickly, causing the guard to chuckle. "A son?" he said again before turning to Rowan with the biggest smile the guard's ever seen on the man. "I have a son? Altria gave me a son!"

"Yes, she has," Rowan said, in no way stopping the excited father who about twirled around in utter pride.

"Forgive me, Rowan," Diarmuid bade, trying to get his nerves to calm, but his smile never faded or lessoned and his limbs never stopped shaking. "It's just . . . a son . . . Altria you've blessed me with a son!"

"You should have seen King Gilgamesh's distain when it was announced to the kingdom that Altria begat a son," Rowan said with a chuckle.

Diarmuid scrunched his face and waved his hand, "Forget about that man. He's not important right now. But . . . a son . . ." Diarmuid then turned to Rowan and about threw himself at the man's knees with how close he came. "You said he was born some months back, what does he look like now? What color hair does he have? What color eyes? How many toes? How many fingers? Was he a large babe or a small?"

The onslaught of questions Rowan was indeed prepared for and so he placed both his hands upon Diarmuid's shoulders and set him back on his seat next to him. "Be still, Diarmuid. One question at a time, I shall remain here until you are finished."

Diarmuid nodded and let a shaking hand push back the strands of his midnight black hair. "There are so many I wish to ask," he admitted before looking at his friend and asking, "What did Altria name him?"

Rowan chuckled before letting out a sigh. "Part of my journey was to inform you of the birth of your son, the other part was to inquire a name from you."

"What do you mean?" Diarmuid asked.

"Our queen's forbidden herself from naming her second born. She informed us and the rest of the castle that the right belongs with the child's father."

"Me?" Diarmuid asked. "She wants me to name him? And she's waited all this long?" Rowan nodded before Diarmuid let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "I suppose I should have come to think of names then. Altria, I knew, would think of the best name for our child I just hadn't expected her to let the honor fall upon me."

"Her heart still thinks of you, Diarmuid," Rowan informed. "In so she would not forget the father of her child."

Diarmuid smiled before he quieted himself in thought. Rowan watched as the man's eyes scanned through his mind and thoughts for one so good. He watched him shake his head softly before looking toward him and asking, "Tell me something, Rowan. Is it too early to tell the child's eye color?"

"It tis not," Rowan said with a smile as he rubbed his cold thighs. "We have thus all agreed that the boy shares a great resemblance to his father. Already his little tusks of hair are the same color as your own, but his eyes . . . in that he takes after his mother. He bears the same livid green our queen does stare at us with."

As Rowan explained the child's appearance he watched as Diarmuid smiled softly, so much love for the child was shown in his eyes that the guard felt a pity for him.

"You should see this child, Diarmuid. I am sure you would love him more," Rowan stated.

"No," Diarmuid said, shaking his head. "I believe I cannot love him any more than I do now. Even though I can't see him with my own eyes, my heart has. In there I see him in the arms of the one I still love. What a beautiful child she's blessed me with."

Rowan watched as the new father leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He had never seen the man so at peace before and it set his heart at ease to see him like this and he knew that when he returned to their queen, Altria would ease herself as well.

"Erin."

"Hm?" Rowan looked and watched as Diarmuid slowly opened his eyes and continued to gaze afar. "Erin," he said once more before turning toward the guard and nodding. "It means green and I found it suitable, after the color of his eyes that he shares with his mother."

"Erin," Rowan repeated the name on his tongue before he nodded with a smile. "What a fine name. I'm sure Queen Altria would have no other name than so."

Diarmuid simply smiled and clasp his hands together, often glancing down at his cold fingers. "Again, I am honored that she allowed me to name him. She's always been the more noble."

Rowan watched a sadness overcome his fellow brother in arms. He had been informed by Gawain that Diarmuid's spirit quickly fell once the reality of his situation returned to him. He watched as the man's broad shoulders slumped and a dark haze set about him.

Then Diarmuid's hands came up as if he were carrying something within them. Those cold fingers twitched before a sad smile shook its way upon Diarmuid's mouth. "It would do me so much good to hold him . . . my son. I would give anything just to do that . . . anything."

Rowan placed his hand upon the man's back and patted him in the only way of comfort he knew how. He, himself, had a wife and four children all of which he had been present for at their births. He couldn't imagine loving a woman so much and then being forced to leave her side and to never get a chance to hold the child you had conceived with her. He could see how hurt Diarmuid was, but he could also see how he was trying to make the best of his situation.

"I am glad that I am visited often," Diarmuid said, looking at Rowan. "With all this news I feel I am never far away from my kingdom."

Diarmuid had left his heart back with Queen Altria and her kingdom, everyone knew this and what they wouldn't give to see that young warrior so alive and on fire again.

"Come with me," Rowan bade as he stood up and pulled on Diarmuid's arm. "My ship sets sail just this evening. While we walk back toward town I shall tell you of your son Erin."

"I would like that," Diarmuid said with a smile as he nodded and left the farm so easily, walking next to his fellow warrior and listening to Rowan's firsthand account of the birth of his child and then of his growth afterward.

Even though Diarmuid had been disheartened by the fact he could not physically see or touch his child he was glad that Rowan was so descriptive and so it set a vivid picture within his mind and heart of the image of his son.


"Erin . . . I very much like the name," Altria informed as she held her son close, letting him nurse upon her breast.

"My lady, if he should bother you, I could give him to a wet-nurse," Gendella, Altria's maid, suggested.

Altria simply shook her head and pet her little boy upon his spiky black head. "No," the queen said. "I was too afraid to nurse Igraine on my own, but I will not do so with Erin."

"Mama, he looks sleepy," Igraine piped up, leaning closer against her mother's lap and poking her little brother in his chubby cheek.

"He's just enjoying his meal, Igraine," Altria informed before she took her daughter's small hand and motioned her to pat the baby's belly. "Feel his belly, see? He's full."

"Oh, he is, mama!" Igraine squealed in happiness as she scooted closer to her mother's side this time and began playing with her little brother's toes. "He's so tiny," she noted. Altria smiled and reached over to pet her daughter's blonde locks. "You were too, once upon a time."

"Really?" the little girl asked before sizing up the child in her mother's arms. "Are you sure?"

Altria smiled before looking back up to her guards, especially Rowan who had recently returned from a visit to see Diarmuid. "I am grateful for you giving me news on Diarmuid's state. Whoever returns to him please send my thanks in his naming his son. Let him know that I love the name."

"I am sure he already knows, my lady," Rowan said with a bow.

Once the queen had finished nursing she held her son a little longer and watched him doze off into sleep. She then handed him to her maid and bid her put her son to bed. When she moved, Lancelot had noticed how Altria showed pain in her face. When she settled back into her bed and rubbed her abdomen, Lancelot let out a sigh and said, "I warned you not to move too much. Which is why it is wise to have a wet-nurse nurse Erin."

"I want to nurse him," Altria said before looking down at her clasp hands. "It will be the last time I am able to nurse."

Of course Altria's guard wouldn't be able to understand such womanly things but most understood that Altria had wanted to bond with her child from day one and so she insisted on nursing the infant with her own milk. It was fine in most parts, but the queen had yet to recover from birthing him and other happenings and so her guard had her bedridden and there wasn't much the queen could do besides hold her children.

"Any news on King Gilgamesh?" Altria asked. "He is not asking upon my health is he?"

"He is, actually," Gawain spoke up with a sigh in his tone. "After three months he's been curious as to why he hasn't seen your presence outside of your chambers."

"I don't care what you tell him, just make sure he leaves me and my son alone," Altria ordered before leaning back with her daughter curled against her side. "Igraine, you got to see your brother feed now it's time for you to sleep."

"But I'm not tired," the little girl said as she rubbed her green eyes. Altria smiled but motioned for a maid to take her daughter as well. When the woman picked up the little girl, Igraine suddenly turned to her mother. "Mother," she asked. "What was my brother's name again?"

Altria smiled and repeated, "Erin."

"Erin," Igraine muttered before nodding her head and signaling to everyone she memorized it. "How come you didn't name him until now? Did you do that with me when I was born?"

"No," Altria said, reaching up to her daughter in her maid's arms and stroking her hair. "Boys just take a little longer to name is all."

"Oh, I see," Igraine said, seemingly content as she laid her head on the maid's shoulder while she was taken back toward the nursery to be put down to bed with her newborn brother.

"She seems to have taken to her brother quickly," Gawain noted as he watched his queen's daughter leave the room. Altria nodded her head and sighed. Gawain turned to his queen and asked her something he had been meaning to ask for a while. "Princess Igraine does not see the difference in she or her brother. Should you ever tell her of the different parents they do not share?"

Altria frowned before closing her eyes and saying, "Igraine is entirely my child. Unwanted by her father, though heir she will still remain, she is of my own blood. My son, Erin, however, I can easily say that he is one part me and the other part Diarmuid. He's been blessed in having parents that greatly wish his existance."

"That he has," Gawain agreed. "I hate to admit to this, my queen, but I had wished you had born another daughter. In that King Gilgamesh's rage be quelled from your second born."

Once again Altria shook her head and smiled at her guard. "I am glad that I have given Diarmuid a son. Despite my husband's threats should I produce a male heir to another man besides him, I wished the child within me be a son."

Lancelot and the others smiled. "You never were one to fall under threats, my queen," Lancelot said with a chuckle and proud stance. Altria merely smiled back and shook her head.

"My only wish now is that I heal quickly so that I, myself, can protect my son. You all have done so much for me and Erin in the months I had carried him and in these months when I am defenseless alongside him. Thank you all so much," Altria said, looking at each of her guards. They slammed their fists against their breastplates and inclined their heads. "For you always, my queen!" they all said in unison and in that moment Altria couldn't have been more proud.

The queen had taken a few more months to heal completely but she had hidden her full health until one morning she had joined her guard out in the training arena with sword in hand. All happily surprised and eagerly jumped into the circle to spar with her. After sharpening her own sword skills once more Altria had taken her son out into the city to meet his subjects.

Altria had been so surprised with how many people amongst her kingdom welcomed her son, albeit he was a bastard born out from the wedlock of a marriage. She had come to know that her people loved her son because they had loved Diarmuid and they did love her. With tears in her eyes she thanked them all from the bottom of her heart and swore to raise her son to come to know them and have a heart for them just as she and the boy's father had.

In this promise her people were set at peace and many looked forward to the time when her son would reign the kingdom after King Gilgamesh passed. This happiness, though, did not sit well with the current ruler, King Gilgamesh himself. After hearing his inherited subjects speak of high hopes for the future ruler, the man was set into great unease.

"Who does that woman think she is?" King Gilgamesh asked, through gritted teeth as he watched from a high balcony as his wife mingled with the lowly commoners and dared let them lay hands upon her young babe. "I should hope one of her peasants means to kill that child."

"It will probably not come to pass, my king," one of Gilgamesh's general's said. "The watchers have informed of the words of the people; they love the queen's heir, exclaiming that he should become a greater king than the one currently in power."

Gilgamesh let out a laugh but clenched his fists. "That wench dared bear that traitor a son and not her own husband. What kind of a god would allow that? !"

Gilgamesh's generals and advisors could see he was upset and wondered now if he would continue to protect the queen like he had been so lately.

"Again we suggest you be rid of your wife," one of his advisors said.

"Then what if the people were to riot?" Gilgamesh said, looking at his men as if they had no minds of their own. "Don't you see she is the only reason I keep such a sustained rule over this isle?"

"But even if she were to unexpectedly perish, your throne is still secured thanks to her transfer of rule," another advisor said.

"I hear what you are saying," Gilgamesh said as he waved his fingers at them. "But you apparently do not hear what I am saying." The king narrowed his scarlet eyes before he walked closer to his companions. "If Altria were to perish in whatever way then surely this kingdom, which was built and fought upon her rule, will come crashing down and break into smaller kingdoms. I am not so idiotic as to listen to your foolishness!"

"Then, my liege, what if she refuses to grant you a male heir?" His advisors asked. "We have received messages from the main kingdom and without your presence or at least one related in blood they have grown agitated. We suggest you strengthen your rule on your entire kingdom, my lord, through any means necessary."

"I do mean to return to my city one day," Gilgamesh said. "These years I have spent here I have spent to gain a strong rule, but with my bride being so . . . disrespectful of me, what am I to do? Am I to leave for a few years to return to land of my birth only to have my generals left here overthrown by the queen I had wedded?"

"She's a noble queen and would not go back on her word," Gilgamesh's general advised. "She has thus so stated recently."

"Is that so?" Gilgamesh asked. "Well her nobility certainly did not stop her from stomping upon our marriage and laying herself under that guard! Her words mean nothing now!"

"Then why hasn't she risen against you?" an advisor asked. "I do think she means to give you this kingdom. Though it has been seen how she outwardly despises you, she had not yet raised a hand against you."

"As if she could," Gilgamesh said with a scoff. "But her presence has become a nuisance, along with that child she deems her heir."

There was a silence before the king nodded and turned toward his men. "One day," he started as he walked past them and back into the castle. "There will come up an event where it will be opportune to have her vanish from this earth!"


"I want to thank ye, Diarmuid, for coming into town with me," the old farmer said with a smile as his farmhand held a few crates for him while they traveled from one store to the next. "This season's been colder than usual and my bones tend to ache to the point where I can't walk."

"It's my pleasure," Diarmuid said as he followed the man on his way through town but when they had passed by the docks he had noticed a few of the townsfolk standing by the ships, peering out into the ocean. When he looked he noticed they had been looking out past the waves toward small objects out in see.

"Are those ships?" He heard a few ask amongst themselves. When Diarmuid himself took a look he noticed they were ships and if he was not mistaken, they were Gilgamesh's ships.

What are they doing so close to this shore? Diarmuid wondered. As long as they made no move to come into land then it was fine, but concern did arise over the fact they were patrolling waters not their own. Diarmuid, from that day on, wondered what Gilgamesh was doing.

When the winter season had steadied Diarmuid had been visited more frequently by his brothers, but when he had brought up that he had seen Gilgamesh's ships along the coast they had not given him any information as to why the king had ships near the isle's shores. So, after word of how Altria and his child faired the guard would be off and Diarmuid would be left to his own thoughts.

Though the winter season had steadied and the new year was well under way, the snow had not ceased, especially where Diarmuid lived. Right now he was sure spring was ready to come underway but the land was still a frozen ice cube.

"This is one of our longest winters to date," Gráinne said as she rubbed her hands together while she and Diarmuid stood outside a shop, waiting for the old farmer to finish his business.

"I can tell," Diarmuid said, his teeth chattering, causing the younger girl to break out in laughter.

"Oh, you poor thing," she said as she dug into her pouch and then pulled out a thicker cloak. "Here, I thought you might like this." She swung the fur cloak around Diarmuid's neck and tied it tightly.

Diarmuid blinked in surprise and then rubbed the warm coat. He smiled and looked down at the brunette. "You didn't have to, lady Gráinne."

The girl merely blushed and waved him off. "You're always so cold in that light clothing I thought you might enjoy this."

"Many thanks," Diarmuid said, rubbing himself into the furs. Whilst he began to warm himself he noticed the dockyard and how more than usual townsfolk had crowded around. This time, the ships were closer, so much closer to where you could see the designs of their hulls.

"Whose ships are those?" Gráinne asked, noticing the ships as well. "Certainly not from around here. They have father concerned. Every day they've been drawing closer. Do you think they mean us harm?"

Diarmuid hadn't said anything, his golden gaze just continued to peer out toward the 5 ships. He had noticed one ship suddenly turn and head straight toward the docks. Without a word Diarmuid walked toward the docking post and ignored Gráinne's calls.

Pushing through the crowds, Diarmuid watched on silently as one ship about crashed into the boarding area. It had stopped so quickly that most people had scattered away in fear of being hit. He could hear everyone's concern especially when the men began walking out of the ship.

He had noticed the soldiers were joking around with one another and it was then Diarmuid figured they had had a little too much wine. He could tell by the way they were swaying, but a few he had observed weren't so tipping over themselves.

"What a horrid looking place," they began shouting once their feet left the wooden boarding docks. "This is just as poor a place as the other isle. I don't see what our king sees in these wretched islands."

"There is richer country elsewhere," the other said next to the man.

Their shouting and unauthorized landing had called in a patrol party to where they had confronted the men, but they were greatly outnumbered and seemed to only cause the boat to bleed more men out of it. Soon, these foreigners dressed in vibrant metals were choking the docks with their stench and it took everything the patrol party had to clear the townsfolk out of harm's way.

"Our knights should see to you!" the patrol party had said once they formed a line before the men who had possibly numbered in the 100's if not more from the ship at the dock.

"We just wanted a look around," the drunken men spoke. "What's so wrong with that?"

"We have been informed you've come from a war ship from a kingdom not so in standing with our own," the patrol party said. "Because of so you are unauthorized to dock anywhere upon our isle."

"Says who? Your King? I don't see him anywhere at all. Do you, men?" While the foreign soldiers all threw their heads back in laughter it wasn't a second later that they pushed the patrol party aside and began flooding into the town throwing their rude behaviors at everyone they encountered.

Diarmuid decided on playing neutral and stayed out of there way. It wasn't his place to fight with them any longer. So he turned on his heel and headed back to where he left the farmer and Gráinne. When he returned to their side he picked up the crates and bid the two leave as soon as possible.

"What do they think they're doing?" Gráinne asked, placing her fists on her hips. "If father knew about this he'd be outraged."

"He'll soon find out, come on, let's leave," Diarmuid bade, trying to get them to follow him but just as he had he noticed a particular guard had caught Gráinne's sight. He smiled and jogged up to her, stepping in front of her and refusing her to leave. "You're a pretty thing. Look at you, all dressed fancy. It should be you are a noble, hm?"

"I am the king's daughter of this land," Gráinne exclaimed in pride. "Now you should be wise to step out of my way."

"Oh, but where is your father? Sitting on the pot, not caring where his little girl went? Of course." The soldier never got a chance to even touch the lady because Diarmuid had taken a hold of his wrist so quick and twisted it that the soldier hadn't felt the pain until later.

Without dropping the crates in his arm, Diarmuid shoved the soldier to the ground saying, "She is the lady of this land. A commoner like you should never lay a finger upon her!"

The soldier had pushed himself up off the muddy ground and looked around him. His fellow comrades had seen what had happened to him and so drew near. Diarmuid on the other hand had pulled Gráinne to him and pushed her closer toward the old farmer.

"I told you two to leave," he said, continuing to push them back.

"Diarmuid, what have you done?" Gráinne asked as she clung to the old farmer.

"Ye've made 'em mad," the farmer said.

"Just leave, the both of you!" Diarmuid ordered but just as he turned to them to wish them away the two's eyes had widened and so Diarmuid turned to watch the soldiers run at him. With a hard toss he threw the crates at the soldiers, knocking a few to the ground, but the others took out their swords and made to kill him.

Dodging to his left, Diarmuid sunk low to the ground, not caring if he soiled his clothes in the mud as he rolled out of harm's way and quickly leapt upward toward a stand selling metal rods. He took up two and was quick to turn and bash the jaws of two soldiers on his heel. They dropped so quickly that the soldiers chasing him hadn't even known two of their comrades had fallen.

Just as it had sunk in that Diarmuid had taken down two that quickly, the soldiers stopped and were quick to back away. It seemed they just realized that this man had skill they weren't expecting.

From the commotion heard a few other soldiers came and soon Diarmuid had found himself surrounded. He turned his eyes toward where he had last seen the old farmer and Gráinne and noticed how they had fled like he told them to. With that at ease he turned his gaze toward the soldiers surrounding him. Most of them too drunk to understand their standings with him.

This shouldn't be hard.

Without waiting for them to attack first, Diarmuid darted to his right and quickly swept the feet of many a soldier and then turned toward their neighbors and struck them upon the backs. Within a minute most of the soldiers surrounding had been knocked down.

"What are you, a knight? !" Many cried out, trying to get up.

Before the rest of the soldiers came rushing in, Diarmuid turned and watched as Fionn and his men rode into the shore-town on their steeds.

"Diarmuid?" the old man questioned once he looked around to see many a foreign soldier upon the ground. He then looked to see two metal rods in the man's hands. So he dismounted along with the rest and came in front of Diarmuid, looking toward the foreign soldiers. "What right have you, foreign warriors, to dock upon our land? We would ask that you depart at once before we use forceful means as to drive you off our land."

The soldiers hadn't said anything much, but they all spared hateful glances toward Diarmuid as they turned and left with no word. Just as a few knights followed the soldiers off, Diarmuid turned to return home, but Fionn had placed his hand upon his shoulder and halted him.

"That is a great skill you have, Diarmuid," the man said with a broad smile. "Much sharper than I remember. It's such a waste that you don't use it."

"I'm not a knight any longer, Fionn," Diarmuid said, pushing his hand off of his shoulder and then returning the metal rods from where he grabbed them. "Nor do I wish to be yours."

With that he left and bide no more words. Fionn's grandson, Oscar, had run up to him in hopes to catch Diarmuid. "Has he left?" the younger man asked. Fionn simply crossed his arms with a sigh. Oscar slumped his shoulders and said, "That's too bad. I wanted to thank him."

"Forget him," Fionn said. "He refuses to become a warrior again."

"But look what he did!" Oscar exclaimed. "If we can get him with spears in his hands again then maybe it'd bring back his fighting spirit!"

"No," Fionn stated. "I fear he's only sworn himself to one ruler, and that's not King Cormac."

"What is going on here?"

Fionn and his grandson turned, as well as the rest of the knights, to see their king come riding in on his large brown horse with his guard in tow. He hadn't looked pleasant and when his gaze fell upon the state of the shore-town his frown deepened.

"My lord," Fionn said as he bowed before him and pointed toward the shipyard. "Those warships seen from afar apparently sent one to dock here. The men had a quarrel amongst the townsfolk and a fight broke out. They've been restrained and are now being deported as we speak."

King Cormac still was quite silent. He only rode around the trashed bins and concessions before he turned back to see the last of the foreign men being forced back onto their boat and made to set sail.

"If I were you, my king, I would suggest having guard ships posted at each shore-town to ensure this does not happen again," Fionn suggested.

King Cormac still rode on as if he hadn't heard the man. After a while he noticed the mud undertow turned up violently. Pointing down he turned toward his captain of the knights and asked, "What took place here?"

Before Fionn could ever speak, his grandson, Oscar, jumped forward and exclaimed, "It was Diarmuid Ua Duibhne! He had taken down around a 100 of those foreigners with mere metal rods in hand. Had I not stated he's always been an amazing warrior?"

King Cormac didn't show any emotion pertaining to what Oscar had exclaimed, instead he simply turned his horse around and returned to his guard. Without a word he went to ride off.

"My lord, will you post guard ships at the docks?" Fionn asked, looking toward his king.

"I will not," King Cormac stated, looking toward the knight. "This will serve as an opportune moment. I am sure that the likes of one would-be warrior had angered their ranks. What they did here was just a show of boredom and by this event it is known they were not acting under any rule. So let them come again and create whatever mayhem they deem worthy. I will decide whether or not to bid time to declare war."

"War?" Oscar spoke up in confusion. "We cannot go to war, my King. The people are already tired with your endless taxes. You press them into peasanthood."

"Be silent, Oscar," his grandfather warned him before looking toward his king. "Forgive him, your majesty; he was in no place to speak such words before you. Whatever you will it shall be done."

After the king had taken his guard and left, Oscar nearly threw a fit. He turned toward his grandfather with angry brown eyes. "What kind of knights would we be if we didn't protect the people from enemies?" he asked, walking alongside his grandfather while they settled everything up within town. "What would the people think of their so-called guardians? They would despise us if we did nothing."

"The king's rule is absolute," Fionn said.

Oscar merely sighed and forced himself to hold his tongue. He had left his grandfather's side knowing that the king and he had been close friends and still remains close to this day. His grandfather had been one of King Cormac's first knights and so blindly follows him, even against better judgment.

Their kingdom was still suffering from the last war, and its people tired and burdened too heavily with outrageous taxes that will never get the country out of debt. They needed something that would set their peoples spirits on fire once more because the souls around Oscar were colors of gray and black, never as vibrant as they used to be.

They had lost many to the Isle Wars and King Cormac would have had every young man slain in the war if not his knights actually pleaded with him to sue for peace. Reluctantly he did so and thus afterward he punished the people of the land for giving up.

Oscar had never been to the isle next in times of peace but he had heard of how alive it was, or had been . . . after Diarmuid's return he couldn't assume it's been well under the new rule of that foreign king. But still, Queen Altria had been a ruler he had longed to see in all fairness. After times of the war he had heard from travelers how noble she was and how mighty she held herself.

A ruler fit to have a knight as Diarmuid it seemed.

With a smile Oscar went to head toward the rest of the knights who were settling things up with the town's patrol before someone touched his arm. He turned and noticed it was two women, both of whom owned shops that had been vandalized.

"Good sir knight," they spoke softly to him, their eyes keeping close on the other knights. "Did we hear right in you mentioning Diarmuid Ua Duibhne?"

"Indeed," Oscar said as he turned to them with a smile and patted their frail hands. He knew most people still remembered the loud youth, he had been nearly around the whole isle before his departure toward the neighboring kingdom and even after the Isle Wars none had hated the man for staying true to his queen and the kingdom he swore himself to. "He had been here just a moment ago. I am sure many saw him."

"We did." Suddenly a few other shopkeepers came up and then a few townsfolk and travelers, all coming to the young knight and inquiring about the old native. "When has he returned back?" "How long has it been since?" "Why has he not shown himself to us still?" All those questions were asked and Oscar admitted he could not answer them and bid them ask Diarmuid if ever they see him again.

Often times Oscar envied Diarmuid's spirit, the kind that attracts all people to it. He's heard from the watchers of theirs in the neighboring kingdom that Diarmuid's banishment had put a downcast upon the people of the land because they had loved him so much. The warrior hadn't been born on that isle and yet the people still loved him just as much as they did their native-born queen. Even here the people still remembered and loved Diarmuid.

But that spirit that attracted so much positive also happens to attract the negative that included the hate of Queen Altria's husband for the affair he dared instigate with his wife. It may seem as if one man's hatred versus the love of near millions of isle dwellers, but said foreign king had an armada and an army, so his hate was their hate as well.

"I suppose it's a blessing and a curse, Diarmuid," Oscar muttered to himself as he returned to his steed and prepared to leave with the rest of the knights. "But you can't hide forever." He turned toward the docks and watched the slowly shrinking war vessel as it sailed off. "Something's coming that will involve all the isles once again and its people—both foreign and native."

That much Oscar could tell. He knew he wasn't the only one that could feel the tensions of the lands rising into the air.


After the incident in town, Diarmuid had accompanied the older farmer and Gráinne into town any time they traveled there. So far nothing had happened, but the ships were still seen from afar. Though upon returning, Diarmuid received many gifts and much thanks from the entire town, all knowing of his real identity and remembering him well.

"Well, ye seem mighty popular, Diarmuid," the old farmer would say with a chuckle as he chewed on the butt of his pipe whilst the two sat out on the porch and watched spring melt away the ice and snow in the fields. "I'm just a lowly farmer and don't reckon I've known too much about ye, but word of mouth bids me know ye well just like everyone else."

"Doesn't matter," Diarmuid replied while he rubbed his cold hands together. "Remember me how you or the others will, I'm no longer like that."

"What a shame." Diarmuid looked up toward the old farmer who looked down at him while nodding his head. "Ye'd get many a woman and child disheartened at those words. Every lad and elder man knew of ye fiery spirit and envied it. To say that ye are no longer what they's once strived to be shall stamp them hearts into the mud. They'll see it as a lost chance to be like ye. A good role model ye was."

"Anyone can have that adventurous spirit I once had. It's just the mistakes I've made that brought me down. My only advice is to travel down those same roads I did, the right ones. It's all I can say."

"Tis that all, Diarmuid of the shining face?" The old farmer asked, puffing whisks of smoke toward the ex-knight whom couldn't help but choke a little. He looked toward the old man again, tears in his eyes from the smoke as the farmer said, "I have heard of ye banishment. Such a shameful way to return home I do agrees, but I do still hear that isle longs for ye services again and the people mourn ye presence. Even in the midst of ye dishonor there is happiness. Why, I have heard that a romance had blossomed between yeself and that young queen."

"I believe the official title is: affair," Diarmuid corrected but received a swat to the shoulder.

"Bah!" the old farmer spat. "Keep on calling it that then tis no wonders ye mind's in the ditches."

Diarmuid blinked in astonishment at how lighthearted the farmer had become. In fact he was all grins again, much like the rest of the people. Sure it made no difference how one worded it, it was still a sin to sleep with another man's wife but in that they all knew that Diarmuid had loved Altria from the bottom of his heart and in that love there was his happiness and they got this . . . the people actually understood this. And it took some toothless old farmer to show Diarmuid this.

"News tells she's had a second child," The Farmer stated while Diarmuid confirmed with a subconscious nod. "The child yers?" Diarmuid nodded once more. "Was the babe a boy or a girl?" "A boy," Diarmuid said and suddenly his voice hitched and he found his eyes stinging to redness. "What be the name of the little one?" "Erin. His name's Erin," Diarmuid answered as tears came down his hard face and he forced his head down out of sight from the kind old man.

While Diarmuid shivered in his sorrow, astonished with himself at weeping in front of the old man like this he was even more so astonished how that crooked hand of his touched his shoulder and patted softly.

"There, there," the old farmer said. "Sometimes unseen happiness is the hardest to deal with once ye knows it's a happiness." There was a brief pause while Diarmuid continued to weep with the old farmer's hand upon him, the young man suddenly leaning against the rocking chair the farmer sat himself on. "I may be half blind but I can tell ye's really loved ye lady. No doubt this happened after she had wedded that king from afar. A shame ye realized so late." Diarmuid looked up at the man, his eyes red and the tears on his face now so cold from the air around. "Against God ye decided to pit yeself and loved another man's wife. But . . . no matter how innocent one would think, sins are always found out and now the Lord above refuses to let ye set eyes upon ye's own babe. I know it's hard but remember to look for the happiness: ye lady still does love ye, and ye child be alive and healthy."

A cold breeze blew through the field and past every living thing, but the two humans sitting on the porch refused to shiver and merely looked out beyond in thoughts of their own.

"I know tis hard to believe but I once was as young as ye, with a young bride and youngin' babes. My wife, the most beautiful woman on this isle was so heartbroken because three babes already were taken into death's embrace before their first birthday. So sad was she that when the forth came she wished the same not happen with her and so she figured the little one not have to meet death alone and went with her. Tis too young for a beauty like her to fade so, but she did and now I was left here thinking that my happiness was gone, but it's not. I still have my friends and my animals—though they are no replacin' my family, I do know that I will see them again and in that I am happy. Ye," The old farmer looked down at Diarmuid and went to pinch his cheek. "Ye have a lady that loves ye and a babe that carries your blood, be proud of that. In that, maybe ye spirit shalt return to ye."

With that said, the old farmer leant back in his chair and placed his pipe back into his mouth. Though his hand still remained on Diarmuid's shoulder and in that Diarmuid was comforted. Diarmuid couldn't count how many times someone had to place their hands upon him and let him feel the essence of their own spirit so that he may draw some strength from them. It was becoming ridiculous and so Diarmuid decided then and there that he was done thinking of past sins and began thinking upon his blessings.

The old man was right; he had a lady whom still loved him and a child, a son that she had born to him, who was alive and healthy. What more could he want if not those simple joys?

After the beginning of spring it wasn't a lie to say that Diarmuid had become more attractive. His steps were broader, his stance upright and his smile, to die for. Of course he did not gloat upon the sins of his past but he no longer dwelt on them. The monthly visits from his friends helped him greatly and even they could tell his mood had changed.

He even began to head into town regularly just to chat with the townsfolk. They all enjoyed his presence greatly, but one day when he headed into town he saw something he hadn't expected.

There Diarmuid stood with a bucket of corned beef the farmer gave to him as an early lunch while he headed into town, but his grip loosened on the bucket and the contents were for naught. Before him, he looked to see that the shore-town had been pillaged. The houses were still there, but the belongings of the people were trashed out into the muddy streets and many a man lay beaten to near death and the women . . .

Diarmuid ran into the town and came to the closest wounded person. It was a woman, no younger than 18. Her clothes had been torn to near rags and she wept, trying with the little strength she had to pull the fabric over her naked body. At first, when Diarmuid touched her shoulder and used his cloak to conceal her she had jumped but as she turned her red eyes toward him she threw herself at him with weeping and gnashing of teeth.

"Diarmuid!" she cried out. "Diarmuid, they returned, they returned!"

The man needn't know who she was speaking of. His eyes immediately went toward the docks and noticed not one, but three ships coasting the area with another more distant in the back. Narrowing his eyes he stood up and then dashed off to help whomever he could. He had noticed many a people saying they had sent messengers to the king, begging for the knights but no one had come and it had been the towns ravaging that occurred because of their lack of defenses.

And so, with Diarmuid in a rage he borrowed a horse and rode to the King's castle where he pushed himself past guard and entered the king's throne room himself.

"King Cormac!" Diarmuid shouted while he entered the room, the guards and knights around about drew their weapons when he came in suddenly. "Did you know that a shore-town has been attacked by those foreign warships that you so kindly claimed you took care of?"

The king, seated upon his throne simply waved his guard away and looked at the young warrior with dark eyes. "So the town is lost?"

Diarmuid shook his head. "No building had been leveled nor folk slain, but the men were beaten, their belongings pillaged and their wives and daughters raped. I demand to know why you did not answer their call for help!"

"Might I ask why you are moved with this, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne? You are no longer a warrior; no longer a protector, so what does it concern you?" The king asked with a small snicker.

"They are my friends!" Diarmuid shouted. "I have every right to care for them and concern does grow upon the crown that does not shield its own citizens."

"They're rogue ships," The king informed.

"Rogue?"

"Meaning they are just acting on their own," King Cormac continued. "So far we've spotted at least four, there could be more, but whatever their reason they've been close to our shores in a means to provoke."

"Attacking your shore-town is a declaration of war. You cannot mean to sit on your goddamn throne and do nothing!" Diarmuid demanded justice.

"It is not a declaration of war because those ships are not acting on any particular order besides their own," King Cormac said with a sigh. "And if I were to attack them then no doubt the rest of their fleet would see it as I, myself, declaring war and I simply cannot afford a war right now."

"What are you saying?" Diarmuid asked, narrowing his eyes. "Just months earlier you persisted on a war with the neighboring kingdom. What are you planning?"

"A mere commoner like you need not know what I plan for my kingdom," Cormac said. "I am king and my rule is absolute."

"If not attack the ships then let your own war ships guard the shore-towns. You have so many that can be targeted by these vessels," Diarmuid insisted.

"As I have said," King Cormac began as he stood and looked down at the young man. "I am king and if I wish to say to my ships to stay in their docks then they will!"

"What about your people? !" Diarmuid once again persisted. "Do your subjects mean nothing to you?"

"Silence your tongue!" King Cormac commanded as his guard drew near and drew their weapons once more. The knights around, though continued to grip their handles, knowing not whom to defend. "You yourself once held the opportunity to become one of my knights but you refused. As a knight you could protect them, the people of the shore."

"And swear my life and spears to a king who would have his own knights sit idle and watch as men are tortured and women are raped? ! I could never swear my services to you! I tell you this day that I shall take up my spears again and replace you as this land's guardian."

"You cannot be king, Diarmuid. Once a knight, always a knight," King Cormac said with a chuckle as he watched the dark-haired man turn and push past the guards once more to leave.

"But I was always a protector, the one thing kings and knights have most in common," Diarmuid stated before his presence left the castle. King Cormac had not liked how disrespected he was, but the knights around could not comfort him being that their own thoughts and ideas were of the same as Diarmuid's.

"You could have him killed, my king," Fionn spoke up, looking at his old friend who looked in trouble thought.

King Cormac eyed his closest knight and then looked on toward his other knights. With a smile he asked them, "What say you, my knights? Should we kill the impotent youth?" He laughed seeing mostly dismay written all over their faces. "Of course his spell even has the hearts of most of my knights." With a sigh the king leaned back in his throne and then shook his head. "No, let him try to defend the coastline. One man cannot go against thousands of men. He'll kill himself with that pity of his."

"But he is right, my lord!"

King Cormac looked to see one of his knights trembling. He looked about ready to turn heel and follow Diarmuid earlier and now, he looked as if he still contemplated that idea. The king merely chuckled and the knight spoke up once more, "Our duty is to defend this land and the people. Why sacrifice so many for nothing?"

"Oh, no it will not be for nothing," King Cormac said. "Once they've slain Diarmuid I shall have that threat out of my way and then when most of my eastern shore-towns have been ransacked I shall send message to that foreign king and tell him of my anger from his uncontrolled ships. By then I'll have enough ships built as well as the gold from those ships to use as pay for those mercenaries I promised since my own people refuse to fight. War is eminent and sometimes we need losses to make our declaration look its best when presented to the enemy."

King Cormac had been king since his youth, after his father had died in a battle with none other than Queen Altria's father, King Uther. From thence on Cormac held a grudge against the ruler and that grudge continued on when he passed away and his kingdom passed down to a single female heir. It had been an opportune moment to seize the kingdom and to piss on Uther's grave, what with most nobles for Cormac being the strong male ruler in midst of the isles. Thus the Isle Wars began.

They had lasted years and just when King Cormac had believed himself to be the strongest and his kingdom to reign supreme, a hurricane overcame most of his armada and he lost many a ship. The men already fighting on the isle were suddenly being beaten back by the young Queen herself along with a newly acquitted faith of her people. They had accepted her even though she was a woman and unfit to rule. They saw she had and so did her knights whose might proved too great for even Cormac's knights.

The loss of that war hurt his kingdom but mostly his pride and more importantly . . . the faith of his people. He could see now how thin their alliance was with him. After the war he had to rule over them with an iron fist but now that Diarmuid's returned he's upset his people and now they flock to him as if he should be ruler. That boy was no ruler and King Cormac would soon see him dead than have him threaten his throne. Cormac would show this land who is king and who have always been king as appointed by God Himself!

Princess Gráinne had heard all that had transpired from the moment Diarmuid burst into the throne room to the time he marched back out of the hall. The woman had been entering the hall with a few maids, a tray of food for her father when Diarmuid had rammed through the doors. She kept herself unknown so she could leave unknown and when she left she followed Diarmuid back to the farm where she found him in the barn in the dead of the night picking up a wooden long box.

"Diarmuid, what are you doing?" she asked as she watched the man uncover the box that was laden with hay.

"I will not stand myself aside any longer," Diarmuid stated as he opened the box. "What is that?" Gráinne asked and then her eyes widened when she saw the two perfectly sharp spears the man pulled out. "You cannot be serious! You are one man, Diarmuid. What can you hope to accomplish against four, if not more, vessels?"

"Something your father isn't accomplishing," Diarmuid said, looking toward the lady who watched on as he stood straight and tested the weight of each spear before determining which one went in which hand. "And that is the safety of this people."

"But I thought you swore never to pick up spear again?" Gráinne persisted as she came close and placed her hand upon his hand while it gripped tightly onto the spear. "Please, Diarmuid, I'm sure that my father—"

"What?" Diarmuid nearly shouted as he pulled away from the woman and looked at her with a burning in his eyes that she had never seen before. "Has a plan? His plan is to let innocent people die! What good is a king if not for his people? The war has changed him, Gráinne. I am sorry but I do not recognize your father any longer."

"I know," Gráinne whispered with her head bowed before she looked up at Diarmuid with tears in her eyes. "But he's my father as well as my king and I ask that you do not defy him."

"He is not my king and so I hold no allegiance to his wishes," Diarmuid said as he walked outside and began swinging his spears around at the bells of hay.

Gráinne followed and stood near. "He could kill you, Diarmuid! If he wanted to he could kill you."

"Let him try," was Diarmuid's only response as he swung his long spear round and sliced a haybell cleanly in half.


TheThirdTime'sACharm: So yep, you can tell I wrote this quickly since I have still YET to name the farmer. Oh well :/

Tensions, tentsions everywhere! What shall happen next? Stay tuned and don't forget to tell me what you think! :D