Disclaimer: None of King Arthur's characters belongs to me, of course. I'm trying to be as original as possible, but if you find similarities with another story, feel free to tell me. But no flame please! So the original characters belong to me, and because I'm a selfish Tanjin, I'm not sharing. You've been warned! Just don't use any without my consent. I know. I'm being rude. But these things need to be said, don't they?
I cannot even say how sorry I am. I have no excuse. A lot of things happened in my life and I just completely forget about my fanfiction account. I stumbled upon tit bits of this story and Nest of liars while sweeping the files in my computer and was completely mortified. I am even ashamed of showing my face in front of you guys. Maybe no one will never even read this chapter! But I decided to try redeeming myself ! Anyway thanks for your support! This is chapter eleven. I have been holding this chapter from you for so long that I just felt like releasing it right away. But I'm still french, and english is still not my maternal language, and I probably leave out lots of mistake. I will correct any mistakes you point out at me though. It's not a very long chapter but the good news is that next chapter is ready. I'm not sure this chapter is any good, but well this is it...
11.
Secrets Buried deep
ONE YEAR LATER
Droplets of water hit the cemented ground in a resounding splash. The last light of the sun shone through the broken window. Galahad gasped loudly as he woke up with a start. His eyes fluttered opened lazily, and he gasped a second time, when he realized the room was wavering before his eyes. Wavering upside down. Everything was upside down. No, he reasoned. Not everything...Just him... He was hanging, head upside down. The scream was caught in his throat. The air seemed suddenly suffocating around him. He seemed unable to fill his lungs. With a deep groan, he finally managed to let go of the piercing agonizing scream imprisoned in his chest all at once.
He took a hard breath. His lungs were on fire, and panic gripped strongly his heart in his chest. He finally took in his predicament. He tried to move slowly, and realized his hands had grown limp from being tied above his head. His pubescent and muscular body was entirely supported by his feet tied to the ceiling. He tried to calm the growing anxiety he felt in the pit of his stomach. But to no avail, slowly, the terror was blindingly claiming every rational thought.
"Anybody there?"
His voice echoed in the empty house. He felt the first tears -which were far from being the first- slid down his cheeks. He swallowed hard the lump in his throat.
"Arrggh...Please..."He muttered weakly.
He closed his eyes again, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. Every muscle in his body seemed aflame, every nerve alive, every bone cracking...He realized he had never been in such pain. Ever. A gust of wind washed over his wet face, sending a chill through his spine. His body turned around slowly and he noticed for the first time that the door was slightly ajar.
"Help me! Help me! Help! Please!" He Begged.
He saw the door move slightly aside and he closed his eyes, exhausted. When he opened his eyes, a pair of non-roman leather boots faced him, their legs covered with snowflakes.
He moved his body on instinct, as he tried to gain back some sensation in his fingers.
"Don't beg, Sarmatian. It makes you look vulnerable and desperate." Murmured an amused voice. "You're not desperate, are you?"
Slowly the other man crouched in front of him, in order to look into his eyes. An evil shade of dark green eyes met a terrified set of baby blue one... Sharp yellowish canines gleamed in the dark, smirking devilishly at Galahad.
"At the same time, I "kinda" like the sound of your voice when you beg. That's exactly the sort of sounds I like to hear! "
Galahad almost chocked on his tongue in fear, before filling the dark room with his screams.
A season had chased another, life taking over as usual. Lancelot glanced at the cloudy white sky. A wooden Virgin Mary guarded the door of the chapel, insensitive to the cold. It was winter and snowing. White gossamer flakes floated in the air, covering his dark curls and the knight was barely aware of it.
There were a lot of things Lancelot was unaware of these days and a whole lot more he deliberately chose to ignore. Tristan followed him at a distant pace, wiping the frozen blood on his gloved hands on an already dirty handkerchief. Lancelot felt suddenly uneasy standing on the threshold of Arthur's haven. He contemplated the idea of waiting with Tristan there for Arthur to come out. But a cold gust of wind nipped the back of his neck, making the decision for him. He shivered lightly as much from the cold than from what he was about to do.
He pushed the door open and glanced backwards. Tristan nodded stoically and they both enter the christian sanctuary. Never in all his life Lancelot had felt so out of place. It was dark and gloomy but he easily spotted Arthur as he kneeled in front of the altar. Lancelot had trouble comprehending what sort of peace his friend could find in such a depressing hole.
Both stayed silent as they took in the unfamiliar surroundings. He was a few feet from them, crouched in front of the altar hosting the cross. Tristan took out a frozen piece of bread from his pocket. He examined it closely before catching a candle on a shelf. He warmed the bread on the flickering flames several minutes, then sat and finally ate silently.
Lancelot watched the scene in utter disbelief. There wasn't a place on earth where young Tristan could not adapt. As for him, he stepped into the chapel very carefully as if the room itself was capable of swallowing his soul.
His back facing the doors, Arthur heard them walk into the chapel. He finished his prayer silently, kissed the foot of the cross and turned toward the two men.
Tristan seemed wrapped in his own world as always. But Lancelot's normally carefree expression had fade into a serious mask of discomfort. He considered letting his friend bask in this unwelcome feeling a bit longer, but finally decided against it when Lancelot's face became paler and angrier by the minute. Since its construction, two seasons ago, Arthur retired in the chapel as often as he could. Here, he could concentrate and rest. He could shut out the rest of the world and close his eyes to see those he loved and not those he killed for a change. He found something more here, something akin to what Lancelot probably seek with women. Comfort.
Lancelot stared at a wooden sculpture of Jesus on the cross and frowned, not trying to hide his obvious disgust. He walked slowly towards the door as he suddenly decided that freezing to death was not that bad of an option after all.
"We should take this outside." Arthur suggested aloud, following him in the snowstorm.
"Tristan are you coming?" Lancelot said, with a certain edge in his voice. He didn't want to spend more time than necessary in this place. It looked strange and smelled even stranger.
Tristan looked at the massive cross one last time, nodding faintly in its direction. The few time he'd been here, Tristan had thought hard at why Arthur was so devoted to a god he had no evidence of existence. He could understand some weak minds like Danis but Arthur was educated. He was smart, sensible enough.
Tristan thought that there could be that Arthur spent his days in the chapel for another reason than the obvious one. Everybody has secrets. Maybe Arthur has a secret, and maybe he could only share it with this piece of inanimate wood. It wasn't about religion in itself. Maybe, just maybe, it was about finding a refuge, where he could let go of his responsibilities. He could just put everything on his god's shoulder and pretend he wasn't making big decisions for all of them. Tristan considered for the umpteenth time doing the same with the secret he had been holding out from his fellow knights for almost a year now. But then, Tristan remembered that he wasn't really a believer. And more importantly, that all of this means nothing to him.
It wasn't concrete. Tanjin trapped in the body of a girl wasn't real. Who would even believe it? It wasn't real because in many ways. Yes, in many more ways than he couldenunciate, Tanjin was a boy. That was all that matter, right. It wasn't like he was hiding something vital. It wasn't a real secret because it wasn't important. Who cared really? Not him in the least...
He walked slowly in the snowstorm finding it difficult to follow Arthur and Lancelot's tracks as the snow was covering everything. His hair was wet with snowflakes as he crossed the courtyard of the garrison. He pushed the door of the knight's common rooms. And at the same time, Tristan pushed the door to some chaotic dimensions.
Lancelot and Arthur were nowhere to be seen, probably because they had taken a different path than him. Bors was singing a song from their old country and that itself consisted into the worse omen. But the real tragedy, the worse was that not only they were all listening, but Percival was dancing... on the table... shirtless... in the chill. Tristan however didn't have time to register that fact as the door open behind him and Arthur and Lancelot walked into the room. Silence fell around the table and Percival slide in his seat pulling his woollen tunic over his head.
Arthur considered their flushed faces and their hidden grin, deciding that what he didn't know couldn't bother him. A statement, he will have time to rethink later. His eyes travelled the room, lingering on the two empty seats on the left side and he bit his lips, his face crumpling again into his habitual mask of seriousness.
He stayed up. And the knights joined him.
"We are not to..."
The door opened brutally to let the royal Hun prince bless them with his shinning presence. Tanjin had gained in weigh in one year. He was also taller. His hair was resting lazily on his shoulder, an entangled curl of brownish dark hair falling in his face, which was surprisingly clean from any grim or dirty crusts. The scars from past bruises had faded considerably over the time. Yet, his eyes were still of a scary green colour.
Tristan and Duncan's eyes shot up at his appearance. Tristan and him seemed to have the same ritual for a year for different reasons.
Duncan had admitted to himself lately that he indeed find the boy pleasant to his eyes. And admitting that much, had forced him to consider new strategies as far as their relationship was concerned. He tried for his own sake to spend less time in Tanjin's company. It included changing rooms with Melan who now had the pleasure to be Tanjin's roommate. Oh Duncan had tried recently to lose himself in work, helping Jols. But it wasn't enough to keep his mind from Tanjin. Duncan obsessed about him, worried about him, tormented himself all because of the hun prince. He was afraid that someone would see past his sudden reserve, or worse that someone would notice the way he looked at the other boy. It was just plainly sick.
As for Tristan, he watched in rapture, Tanjin's lips pouting venomously, his arms crossed on his chest stubbornly, his face weary from the lack of sleep, his shoulders shrugging his hair back nonchalantly. He wore his favourite set of black tunic, and thin red shirt, courtesy of Melan, who happily share his few belongings with him.
Tristan had spied on them so often since the brief episode of the bath, so often indeed that he thought he knew more about Tanjin than the Hun itself.
He knew that Tanjin likes the scent of wild flowers, because Melan always brought flowers from his strolls in the woods, and Tanjin always smelled them when he thought no one was looking.
Tanjin's favourite colour was definitely red. He liked everything sporting that colour, from strawberries to rose jam and wine, from wine to blood. The latter was something Tanjin like more than any bittersweet ale nectar. The boy kept his left wrist wrapped under a bandage of clothes, hiding his fresh scar to the curious eyes. Tristan had seen him bring his wrist to his mouth a few times at night. He even did it once just to understand Tanjin's appeal for the crimson fluid. So far, he had come with no conclusion.
Tanjin's tattoos were still an enigma. He only knew he had been marked as as a small child. He had been less than three year old when his great grand mother draws the claw on his arms. This he knew from a rare conversation over a drink between Tanjin and him.
He was born left-handed just like Duncan but forced to use both hands since his early age. That, he learned from watching Lancelot and Tanjin daily sparring sessions and also from fighting against him himself.
Tanjin was taught several languages, such as latin, greek, sarmatian, scytian and goth. He could speak in more dialect than he could read. And believe it or not, Tanjin couldn't read. It was an enigma of its own for Tristan who learned this fact from a very puzzled Arthur who tried to bring him to do so, one afternoon.
Tristan had the slightest suspicion that Tanjin was unable of focusing over things that didn't strike an immediate interest to him. And in that they were very much alike. All in all, it was all facts for Tristan. Arthur counted on him to do just that. His latest mission for the roman confirmed that.
Tanjin sat down next to Lancelot, receiving a glare from his mentor. They all stood their left hands on the wooden table as if they wanted to connect.
"To those who were not so fortunate." said Arthur. They all looked at the two empty seats that will remain like it from now on as Oran and Agglovale didn't return from their last mission three weeks ago.
Tristan looked away, once again drawn to the creature standing across the table. Tanjin's face was a mask of stone. He looked at the table, fidgeting lightly on his two feet. Tristan knew his last secret, or at least he thought he knew.
" We had an important mission ahead. Tristan and Lancelot confirmed what we all feared. The woads are venturing south on the order of their chief. Merlin."
All the knights exchanged looks at the mention of the principal leader of the woad rebellions. They believe that the woads had ceased to be men, a long time ago, probably at the same time the Romans invaded their country. How else could you explain the fact they had to fight or patrol during bloody winter?
"They're seeking control of a bunch of villages south east. Words had spread that they infiltrated the provinces of Eboracum. We have our order of mission here to find the rebels and stop their progress toward the city."
" I'm just wondering, sir. Have you seen the storm outside?" Blaez asked, shaking his head, anxiously.
Arthur's face closed even more if it was possible.
"We leave tomorrow. Hopefully the road will be clearer by then."
"Arthur", intervened Gawain calmly. "Don't you think that waiting at least a couple of days would be safer? I mean travelling in this weather... It's not safe. We will be easy targets to the enemies."
Arthur glanced at Lancelot who smirked in return. Arthur sighed.
"It's insane." Percival uttered between his teeth.
" What are we thinking we're talking about the Romans and the Woads ? A homogeneous bunch of crazy people!" Blaez spat venomously.
"We cannot risk innocents lives by delaying our journey." replied Arthur, already in a pretty foul mood.
"But our lives means nothing!" Blaez countered again.
" That's not what Arthur said, Blaez, and you know it ! The woads will not wait for us to get accustomed to the shitty weather!" Andreas added wisely seeing the reason behind Arthur's orders. "They will kill all that will cross their path."
" Why should we care!" began Blaez rising his hands to the sky.
"Boy, just shut up before you say something you will regret." said Bors, scratching the back of his neck ruthlessly. "There will be danger and not by the hand of our own woman. I'm in. And because they can't get enough of me, Dag and Brad will follow."
Finally the assembly seems to have come up with a decision. Tanjin was the first to raise, looking entirely bored. His mind couldn't seem to wrap over the fact that they had such reunions to begin with. Such meetings were pointless. Like the sarmatian slaves had a choice!
"Melan, Aggravain, Tanjin and Galahad, you're not coming with us." The sound of Arthur's voice perforated his hazy mind at the same time he was about to push the door and he froze in his tracks. He turned to protest but Galahad was faster to react.
"Arthur, it's unfair !" The thirteen-year old screamed.
"It's my decision, Galahad, and I will not withdraw on this." Arthur said in a resolute voice. Galahad said something else but it was drowned under Tanjin's attack.
"No way, Roman!" shouted Tanjin in the most commanding voice. Silence ensued and all the knights were mesmerized at Tanjin's transformation from a lethargic state to anxious and agitated. He always called Arthur " Roman" when he was angry.
Arthur, who was partially used to it, recovered quickly.
"I'm not staying here!" Tanjin growled again, marching dangerously toward Arthur. Lancelot put himself between the two.
"Boy..." he said extending a comforting hand to Tanjin's shoulder. Tanjin shrugged his hands off and continued toward Arthur.
"I'm not staying behind!"
"Tanjin..."
"It's out of the question, Roman ! So don't you even try ! I will not stay behind! " he said pointing his finger at Arthur.
Galahad fell back quietly, noticing the cold and dark, look Arthur was giving Tanjin. His hazel eyes appeared unwavering, which was really uncommon for Arthur.
His hands gripped Arthur's collar and it was suddenly the stupidest thing he'd ever done.
"Don't do that Tanjin..." The man said with false calmness.
"I don't care what you think you will accomplish over there but I'm not staying here!"
In a blur of motions, Arthur grabbed his arm and they crawled on the ground, Tanjin struggled savagely against his embrace and the more he moves, the more it fuelled Arthur's rage. Then without anyone predicted, it happened. Arthur raised his hand and strike hard. So hard indeed that it froze Tanjin on the ground. Then as quickly as it happens, he stood up again, leaving Tanjin bewildered on the floor.
"You think I want to have another of your deaths on my conscience?!" He shouted to all of them, and at the same time to nobody in particular. "Don't you dare contest my authority when it comes to your safety?! Do you think I'm pleased with the whole situation?!"
They all looked away. They didn't like to be reminded that their commander was just a young man. Arthur turned again his angry gaze toward the boy. "You don't want to be treated like a child. Don't act like one! I said you're staying here and that's final! "
He said before he walked briskly out the door.
Tanjin laid on the ground, unable to move for some time. His chest fell and rose heavily, tears threatening to fall. He felt defeated again.
The other knights knew better at that moment than to offer any help to the proud prince. In one motion, he stood, pushed the door leading to the courtyard and disappeared in the snow.
A day later, Tristan entered the stables in order to prepare. He was always the first to wake and come down here on departing days. He sat on a bunch of stray in the corner and began to gather his weapons and part of his armour. He began to be aware of a presence behind him and smiled mischieviously. He didn't have to raise his eyes to know who was there.
"Do you ever sleep?" A hoarse voice asked him.
" More than you, at least."
Tristan returned to his task, tying his armour to the saddle. Not once did he look at Tanjin, but he knew with a certainty that Tanjin hadn't stop watching him since he entered the stables.
"Do you believe that I'm worthless?"
Tristan paused an instant. Without looking at Tanjin, he asked in return.
"What make you believe that I have an opinion on the matter?"
"I know you watch me."
Tristan stopped again, this time he smiled very amused.
"Does it please his majesty that I watch him?"
Tanjin crouched on the other side of the mare's flanks thus forcing Tristan to look at him.
" Yes and No." Tanjin whispered with a devious smile of his own. "I don't like what you're trying to do."
Tristan looked up suddenly interested. Another thing he had learned, Tanjin often had two answers to one question.
"You want to see beyond... I hate people like that. Curious people always want to see more than there is in reality."
The horse shuddered, feeling suddenly uncomfortable between those two.
" You said you do like it too." Tristan reminded him, sheathing one of his swords in its scabbard tied to Illyria.
Tanjin's eyes darkened facing Tristan as Illyria was pushing away some invisible threat with one hoof. Tristan put his hands on Illyria's neck, soothing.
"It's because I watch you too."
Time seemed to stretch in one pregnant pause where neither Tanjin nor Tristan could find something to say. A gust of cold wind rushed into the stable, making all the horses nervous. Tanjin looked in Scourge's direction, as he was the most nervous of them all. Tanjin knew that Scourge wanted to run because he felt very much like it too. They didn't have a right to leave them behind like this, that wasn't fair.
"You will not succeed."
Tanjin turned again, fidgeting on one foot, biting his lower lips, suddenly unsure. He didn't stay like that however he was in a second back to his usual scowling features.
"I will..."
"You will try and you will get yourself killed." Tristan stated matter-of-factly.
"I won't. " The boy replied defensively.
"You're not as good as you think you are."
"You know nothing !" He replied, an cutting edge in his voice. " I could surprise you."
" There is no denying that Scourge is a runner, but we are better and more experienced riders. That's why Arthur chose us. You'll get Scourge hurt, then get lost and you will be dead even before we reach our destination...And Tanjin, you always surprise me."
Tanjin stunned by the last sentence delayed his protests, taking in all that Tristan had said.
"It was not my plan at all. See, you don't know me as well as you think you do !" Tanjin denied lamely even though he really had planned to follow them wherever they planned to go. By being here so early in the morning, he was precisely making sure he didn't miss their departure. Tristan looked at him, very amused. He looked particularly like a girl when he tilted his head stubbornly on the side like that.
"Anyway, I'm sure I could have made it." He muttered, pursuing his full lips, looking away.
"Would it be worth it?"
"I don't want to be left behind. It's boring. There's nothing to do here. I feel caged..." He said looking at anywhere but Tristan. " My mind... I'm caged... You're going to have all the fun!"
"If its new bruises and new scars you're searching for, you really don't have to go that far. I will be back soon." He replied, trying to comfort him. At the same time, his own mind was completely rebelling against the idea of caring for Tanjin.
But then, Tanjin did something unexpected. He smiled a very girlish smile as far as Tristan was concerned, and his bottle green eyes seemed to lighten at the prospect. He was spared the need to add a comment, as Bors, Dagonet and Braden entered the stables. They were followed by Gawain, Andreas and Callan. Before the sun actually rose outside they were all gathered. Arthur stood in the doorway with Lancelot.
Tanjin glared in their direction and left them to their preparation.
"Now, he hates me Lancelot. I can see it in his eyes. I can't believe I did what I did."
"It's very likely indeed." Lancelot said leading his black stallion behind him.
"I just knew you wouldn't help me." Arthur grumbled and Lancelot snorted.
"Not after you tear me away from the arms of a pretty girl... Let Tanjin deal with Tanjin! The boy has his hands full with himself. Let's concentrate on making it back to the fort alive!"
The knights had been gone for twelve days now. A thick coat of snow covered most of the roofs, the doors, and the battlements of the great wall. Tanjin had thrown Melan out on the very morning of the Knights' departure, pretending, not in such gentle words, that he needed to spend time on his own. He slept during the days and went off Arthur's god only knows where during the night.
Boredom was his worse enemy, some might say. Last week, he realized somehow that hunting made him feel better. So on the second week he started to hunt at night. He chose small preys that he could abandon in front of the commons in the morning so the women could cook afterwards.
The blue powder was running loose in his veins and some nights he found himself growling to the moon, or dancing outside Hadrian's walls until he collapsed from exhaustion. He looked rather paler than usual but because everyone in the fort was afraid of him, they just took it as a natural symptom of his evilness. A plate of food magically appeared in front of his door each morning and each evening and Tanjin honestly couldn't asked for more than that.
When Melan barged in his room on that morning, it was sprawled on his back, legs lying vertically on the wall, that he find the Hun prince. Crimson drawings adorned the wall. The bouquet of wild flowers from two week ago had long waned. The room was messy. Clothes and weapons were scattered everywhere... Pupils dilated, eyelids fluttering open, Tanjin was busy having conversations with dead people. However, Melan didn't have time to ponder what was wrong with him. He had an important situation in his hands.
"Tanjin, wake up ! Wake up ! Wake up ! Something bad happened! We should help them! They're in danger! The soldiers are after them! I think... I think... Maybe they got... they got them!"
Tanjin growled and turned on his stomach flatly his legs crashing on the bed in a massive heap. He pushed Melan with a lazy fist, like he would some annoying fly.
"Please Tanjin, I need you to wake up! They're gonna be killed! "
It seemed to catch some of Tanjin's attention because he grasped Melan's collarbone and get him to kneel at eye level.
" Speak quickly!" He said, his voice laced with authority. He didn't even open his eyes, or lift his head, the strength in his grip were the sole indication for Melan that he was indeed listening.
"Galahad..." Melan began momentarily unable to catch his breath. "It's Galahad and Aggravain...they got themselves into trouble ! Big one! The soldiers threatened to beat them to death! Aggravain was bleeding profusely when I left to fetch you! I'm scared! "
Tanjin raised his head at that, but instead of helping himself to his feet like Melan had thought he would, he just leaned on the other side.
"Tanjin, please! The romans' cruelty will have no end! I don't know where they took them! I have a bad feeling about this ! Something bad will happen! Please! Arthur is gone! Jols is gone! You're the only one left!"
Tanjin lifted himself on his elbow.
"I'm sure both of them deserved it ! Now let me rest in peace, will you!"
"No...They did nothing wrong! They just wanted to help Amery !"
"That girl brings nothing but trouble! It will be a good lesson for theses two idiots! No one should ever trust a woman! Except for mothers, they are all evil!"
Melan's heart missed a bit as he remembered that fateful day where he had accidentally learned Tanjin's big secret. It brought tears to his eyes, in frustration.Tristan promised to have his head if he so much as breath a word about it to anybody. But still, Tanjin has gone too far!
"You're the one to talk!" he screamed at the prince and before he knew what was happening, Tanjin leapt on his feet and assumed a defensive stance on the mattress.
"What does that mean, Samartian?" Tanjin growled, green eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Melan breathed his answer, a shiver travelling down his spine.
"I mean... I mean..." He started to sob. "You promised you would help me! You said you were my friend!"
"You're not in any immediate danger! And I never said I was your friend! Quit whining already!" Tanjin replied, crossing his arms on his chest, stubbornly.
But all Melan could do was cry harder.
"Oh stop crying, would you ! I'm coming ! Hope for you, you're not wasting my time...Stupid, useless boy ! "
As they were walking through the tightest alleys of the fort, Melan proceeded to tell Tanjin the whole story. They were all walking toward the tavern as an everyday routine, because Vanora always kept some bread or pie ready for them; when an argument between two legionaries and the young and beautiful Amery caught their attention. One of the men made the wrong move of grabbing the girl's arm forcefully and Galahad didn't think twice before speeding into action. Naturally, Aggravain stepped in to help him but the romans were soon joined by three of their comrades outnumbering the two of them. Melan hid behind a corner and witnessed everything a few step away.
At Tanjin's question of his inactivity, Melan blushed a deep shade of red. Tanjin knew without even glancing at his "friend" that Melan didn't move out of fear. He dismissed the question almost immediately. He didn't need another uncontrollable flood of tears from the brown-haired. All he wanted was to go back to his dreams.
"It was here!" Melan said pointing a corner. 'It happened here! One of them said they should show the barbarians at what place they stand! Another suggested to bring them both to their secret lair! "
"And?"
Tanjin rolled his eyes to the heavens, praying that someone had gifted the sarmatian people with some common sense. If someone had done so at the origins of everything these thoughtless boys wouldn't be running loose in a country so far from their own.
Melan shrugged, blushing again.
"I don't...know. I...just...I thought I would come to you! I thought it was the good thing to do! Oh no, It's my fault ! They're probably dead somewhere! It's all my faults! Arthur will be so disappointed. I failed again."
Tanjin sighed as Melan resumed his weeping in front of him. He took a step forward and embraced Melan awkwardly, as if he wanted to bring him comfort but Melan could at the same time bite his throat.
"Alright, I will come!" Tanjin said gruffly. "I believe those two worthless knights to be nothing but alive and kicking ! Life isn't so sweet as to take them away from us, I tell you! Well, you say that sneaky wench, Amery was there ! I should ask her few questions then we will improvise a plan, save those two basking-in-trouble bastards ! Kick some roman in the dirt! Probably kill a few! " He smiled when he said this part. "Then I will go back to sleep and you never dare interrupt me ever again! "
Melan could only nod.
Amery was the illegitimate fruit of a one-sided romance between a roman merchant and his Briton chambermaid. Her mother murdered cold-bloodedly her father when he was in the midst of passion. And nine months later, she died at the hand of her daughter in the middle of the bliss of delivery. However tragic that event had been, Amery's mother died comforted by the knowledge that her baby daughter was a survivor.
Amery grew up in a roman convent, raised to travel the Christian path as a servant of god. Unfortunately for God, she was taken out of this path the day, a faction of rebels attacked the covent and burned its walls to the ground. But Amery did survive the carnage; what's more she did with minimal damage to her pride. Oh I can't tell you the woad boy who was about to end her life didn't see it coming! Never had he encountered a girl who was so determined to stay alive! Never had he been so pleased with a virgin before! At the tender and burgeoning age of thirteen, Amery knew she was beautiful and smart enough to make a profit out of it. So when the knights emerged out of nowhere to raid the rebels' camp, two years ago, she knew it was the twist of fate she was waiting for. On this particular night, she started to entertain one new obsession: Marrying one of Arthur's knights or gaining the favour of one and in the very least die trying.
When Amery had little time to reminisce her past she couldn't help but smile a little, pleased with herself, as all the odds had always been against her, but she did manage to make it every time. Just like today when she crossed path with Flavius Sextus and his friends, she thought this time she couldn't run out of it. Then Galahad and Aggravain materialized out of nowhere with the perfect timing, saving her from the horrible chore of servicing theses two ugly old men.
Sometimes Amery wishes she had Sylena or Vanora's life, that she belongs to someone who would do anything to protect her, that she could bare his children and be a good mother and wife. Amery was not stupid; she could fake stupidity if it could please some men. But stupid she was not. She knew that she had little chance to experience a great romance or to climb the social scale of society. It would have been silly to dream. But she hoped that she could make the best of the situation. So when his highness the prince Hun entered the tavern followed by his effeminate friend, she couldn't help but gasp a little at how magnificent and charismatic he looked his hair tousled and his clothes damp from the snow. She immediately abandoned her patrons and went straight in his direction.
Tanjin looked entirely bored when he pushed the doors of the tavern. Andreva, a small russet let go of the plate of food she was carrying. Silence ensued. Tanjin's nostrils filled with the strange musky and overbearing scent of the place. Melan had to push him actually for him to move in the threshold. When the patrons continued to stare at him like he was some sort of mystic apparition, Tanjin let out a growl of frustration and everybody chose wisely to return to their own business. Tanjin's merciless green eyes fell on the petite form of Amery. For his greatest displeasure, the young girl smiled at him.
"Oh my lord, It's so good to see you! Do you want a table? I can find the best spot. Today, we have..."
" I didn't came for food! Tell us where is Aggravain and Galahad. Tell us now!" He demanded abruptly, his green eyes piercing a hole inside her.
"I didn't see them, my lord!" she lied, boldly, looking him straight into the eyes.
"Lies." Tanjin muttered.
"I was there I saw..."added Melan for good measure.
Amery's features crumpled a bit. She didn't look happy to be busted.
" Fine, I would tell you what I know but not here."
Tanjin just shrugged. "I will be outside. Don't make me wait...or..."
"Oh I would never make you wait... Everything I have is for you to take." She said with a flirtatious smile.
Tanjin chose to ignore her, and stepped outside. He immediately started to fidget on one foot.
"So, are we waiting for her?" asked Melan.
Tanjin also ignored him, as he tried to control the spasms that coursed through his body. The smell of wet snow was overpowering. He closed his eyes and strike the wall with one fist.
"Tanjin?"
He eyed his mother suspisciously. The memories it did not welcome, but her...just to see her made his heart clench furiously in his chest.
"Tanjin?" she breathed again. She was going to ask him. Again. He didn't know if this time he had the strength to say no. She laid on the ground of their cell, her rags barely covering her damaged body. A smell of snow filled the air, chasing the putrid scent of death.
"You trust me, don't you?"
Condensed air formed around his mouth each time he took a deep breath.
"You cannot ask me that, mother..."
Her head tilted to the side. Her hair, which once had been shiny and soft, rested entangled and dirty on her back. Her strand of grey hair hid partially her tired eyes. She touched softly her dry lips with her left hand. The extremities of her fingers were a sick dark purple. He grabbed some ice on the edge of the tiny window opening. He kneeled and brought the ice to her lips.
"I don't wanna die in Roma..."she whispered."I don't want to be their joke. I wanna remain a hun and join your father..." She coughed. " Tanjin, I am entitled to die a Hun. "
" Yes, you are, mother... But...It's too hard..."
"They can't take that away from me."
"No, mother."
She turned her face toward him, and he felt sick to his stomach looking at her face or what was left of her face."
"They're going to break us... Slowly... Break our spirit... Because they hate what we had... They hate us... They want to take our soul, damn Romans. They want to take my soul...If I stay alive, they will break you... They will succeed... Look at me Tanjin, my love...Come to me."
Tanjin swallowed hard, and crouched slowly in front of her.
" Never remember me... like this... I forbid you... Do you hear me, Tanjin? Remember who I was... Remember who you are... Always... All the time... You are a wolf. You're Attila's Wolf... I love you so much... unconditionnally...Eternally... You're everything to me, my child... And I'm sorry... I ask for your forgiveness... I made some mistakes. But I love you... I'm gonna die anyway... I just don't want the pain... It's the pain...I'm so exhausted... My wandering mind wants to fly...I'm so exhausted Tanjin...Don't remember me that way...Don't remember this weak and disappointing shell... Please, it hurts so bad..."
He looked away.
"It's too difficult still. I love you too much mother. I am too selfish... Not man enough... Ask me tomorrow."
The door of their cell was thrown open in a deafening metallic sound. Two soldiers appeared in the darkness, armed with spear. Tanjin fell back in the opposite corner and watched them with glassy eyes as they took Olivia away. Give him more time. He would come to it. Eventually...Maybe... He would.
"Tanjin?" Melan asked again. Tanjin gasped out loud, blinking back the dream.
"What?" The hun replied, breathing hard.
"You are pale. Do you feel alright?"
He was spared the need to answer when Tanjin saw Amery appeared behind Melan.
"I'm all yours, Prince Tanjin. What can I do for your service?"
