AN Please don't be angry at how long it's taken me to update this. I've run out of steam to some extent and my plot bunnies are very hard to catch lately. Anyway, enjoy this bit and give me suggestions for where to go next! (Read: Please R&R!!)

Death's Door

The company arrived back at the Wall City in the middle of the night. A silent desperation drove them at a pace they would never normally travel. Ryn had wandered in and out of consciousness as she lay in the wagon they had conscripted to transport her, never thoroughly aware when she was awake. She would struggle against the blanket Dagonet and Galahad had tightly wound around her to prevent her wound from re-opening, and Lancelot would stroke her hair to try to calm her down. Arthur had allowed him to stay with her in the wagon, and for that he was grateful.

The knight's weapons and horse master, Jols, met them at the gate. Tristan had rode ahead to alert him to their arrival. The efficient servant had secured a private room in the infirmary for Ryn and had woken Vanora, who quickly got busy making preparations for her patient.

The knights were visibly tired and shaken when they arrived. Jols corralled their horses while Bors and Dagonet carried Ryn away. Vanora quickly took over, giving Dagonet and her lover brisk instructions of how to position Ryn on the bed and supplies that she still needed. The two men worked silently and quickly, their features dark with anger over the plight of their little sister. When they had finished, Vanora shooed them away and called for Lancelot.

"You'll need to help me unwrap her," she told him as she carefully unlaced the leather straps binding the unconscious woman.

He carefully lifted Ryn's body at Vanora's instruction until the blankets were completely removed. Ryn's ripped leather tunic hung loosely over her chest. Vanora took one look at the pained expression on Lancelot's face and had him roll Ryn on to her stomach before she removed the tunic completely.

Ryn's wound was raw and violent. Blood had caked over the stitches and it almost looked worse than it had when Lancelot first saw it.

Suddenly, Ryn's body tensed and her eyes flew open. "Lancelot!" she cried out in delirium.

"I'm here, I'm here," he told her, grabbing her hand.

"Don't…I can't…" she rambled incoherently.

He stroked her dark locks. She was still burning up with fever. "Hush. You're hurt. You need to rest."

Her body slowly relaxed. "Don't…don't go," she whispered as her eyes finally closed again.

"I won't leave you," he promised in a pained whisper.

Vanora's heart broke as she watched the scene, knowing that neither Lancelot nor Ryn could see what she was witnessing. Their love for each other ran deep and strong, but neither could admit it to the other. Maybe this would break the spell…providing Ryn lived through the night.

She gently cleaned Ryn's wound, careful not to disturb Dagonet's stitches. She dressed the wound in clean cloths, then set a kettle of water and herbs to boil on the fire.

Lancelot refused to move from his post next to Ryn. He wouldn't even leave to eat or to change out of his battle clothes. Most of the other knights wandered in and out of the room throughout the night, checking in on the situation, all save Arthur.

The sun was eking its way through the morning's cloud cover and Vanora was dozing fitfully at the small table in the room before the Roman finally made his appearance.

"Where have you been?" Lancelot couldn't hide the angry edge in his voice.

"Attending to matters that needed attending to," Arthur answered, his voice hard, challenging Lancelot to push him.

The two men stared each other down for a moment before Lancelot relented. He knew he was in no condition to have any kind of argument with Arthur.

"How is she?" Arthur asked, kneeling by Ryn's bed.

"It's hard to tell," Lancelot answered, his voice heavy with fatigue and worry.

"She's strong," Arthur said, more to himself than Lancelot. "And she's stubborn."

Lancelot just nodded. He'd been reminding himself of that for most of the night.

"Go," Arthur told his friend. "Wash. Eat. Sleep. I'll stay with her until you're rested."

Lancelot hesitated. "I promised I wouldn't leave," he said.

"She'll understand," Arthur said. "Come back when you're ready."

Still Lancelot hesitated.

"It's not a request, Lancelot," Arthur said darkly.

The haggard knight gave in and left the small room. Arthur took his place on the small stool next to Ryn. He put a hand on her forehead and felt the feverish heat still radiating from her. He frowned deeply. He wasn't sure what it would do to the men – to him – if they lost her.

After an hour or so, Arthur felt his eyes growing heavy. He had not slept that night, either. He leaned his head on the wall next to Ryn's bed and closed his eyes to rest them.

He hadn't intended to fall asleep, but sleep he did. When he woke a few hours later, he found Vanora bent over Ryn, carefully inspecting and cleaning the angry wound on Ryn's back.

"How is she?" Arthur asked, trying to urge himself into more wakefulness than he felt.

"Her fever finally broke," Vanora said softly. "I was more worried about that than this."

"She'll live, then," he affirmed, gently moving a strand of Ryn's hair from her face. Her skin didn't feel nearly as hot and for that he was very glad.

"Aye," Vanora acknowledged. "I'm becoming convinced this one will outlive us all."

Ryn stirred then, opening her eyes a crack for the first time in many hours.

"Arthur?" she managed, her voice low and hoarse. She knew it was him. She recognized his smell.

"I'm here," he said, leaning down so she could see him.

She managed a weak smile. "Good."

"You should have told me you were sick," he chided her.

"I suppose I should have."

"Your stubbornness almost got you killed."

She smiled again, closing her eyes against the effort. "Maybe so, but my stubbornness has saved your life more than once."

Arthur grinned back at her. She'd be all right. "I'll never win with you, will I?"

"No. Not even when I'm at death's door."

A fit of coughing gripped her just then, causing fresh waves of pain to surge through her. Arthur put a hand on her head when it passed.

"You need to rest," he said.

She nodded weakly, still grimacing with pain.

"How are the others?" she managed, keeping the blackness at bay for a moment.

"They're fine. Lancelot stayed with you most of the night. I only just sent him away."

"Good," she murmured before the blackness edged out any remaining conscious thought.

Vanora caught Arthur's eye as they both looked up from Ryn at the same time. She was slightly taken aback at the ache she caught in the Roman's face. She had not anticipated that he would care so deeply about the woman knight. She was careful to mask her reaction, though. She was in no place to tread on these obvious eggshells.

"You should get some rest yourself, sire," she said instead. "I can take care of things here."

Arthur stroked Ryn's head gently before standing. "Thank you," he said sincerely before quietly leaving the room.

Vanora carefully covered Ryn with a blanket. "My, what a tangled web we weave," she said, shaking her head in wonder at all she had seen that day.