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A Burning Sky
It was the first time I had met the doctor, since every time we've needed him he had either been gone or working on something that required his attention more. He was a gentle older man, with graying temples and a small limp. However the grave look on his face as he inspected the sword wounds on Amicus had my chest constricting.
"It's not the repairing that worries me, it's the healing. Such deep wounds, there can be fever or infection." Amicus was breathing heavily, trying very hard to keep his hand from clasping over the wound. I approached him, trying to smile, and grabbed one of his free hands.
The doctor used his experience to sew up his wounds as quickly as he could without messing anything up. Amicus continued to squeeze my hand, trying not to look at the doctor's hands as he worked. Dagonet came to my side, telling me that maybe I should talk to him and try to take his mind off of the pain.
So I talked to him about many things, telling him stories that I used to tell Vanora's ten children to ease their minds or just to make them laugh. Though they weren't enough to make the injured guard laugh, he did seem to appreciate my trying. I continued to tell my stories, squeezing his hand whenever he winced, until the doctor announced that he was done. I stayed in the room with Amicus while the knights stepped out to talk to the doctor, to find out what would happen next.
"How are you holding up?" He managed a weak laugh, pressing his hand over the bandage wrapped over his wound.
"Splitting at my seams." I wiped a hand over his forehead, pushing away the sweat and wiping away some of the dirt and blood that had freckled his face.
"You'll be fine, Amicus. The doctor will take good care of you." He nodded, though I could tell he didn't believe me. I tossed a quick look to the door to see Dagonet and the doctor still talking. His hand squeezed mine lightly, as if trying to reassure me. Out of all the Romans I had met, Amicus was one of the nicest. Though not all were as cruel as Grent, they weren't all kind either. Amicus, however, was very kind. His eyes seemed to glaze over from pain, though he didn't squeeze my hand any harder than before.
"Tell me about your wife, Amicus. Your family back in Rome." He coughed a little and I watched the smile spread across his face.
"Her name is Claudia. She has the most beautiful smile, the darkest green eyes. I met her at a party that was thrown in honor of her eldest sister getting married. I was in love with her before I even knew her name."
Amicus continued to tell me of his family, his brothers and sisters and parents, before slowly drifting into sleep. Dagonet came in a few moments later, motioning for me to follow him into the hallway. I removed my hand his grasp and kissed his forehead before limping to my brother. The pain in my ankle had lessened since yesterday but was not gone yet. He wrapped an arm around me so I could take some of the pressure off of my ankle.
"What did the doctor say?" We moved a little further away from the door before he answered.
"He cleaned the wounds before stitching him, and the stitches held. He says he just worries about the infection or fever that may follow." I turned my head to look into the door, smiling and shaking my head.
"He's strong. And he has something worth living for. If I believed in his god, in Arthur's god, I'd say that he was looking over Amicus." Dagonet smiled lightly, not entirely believing me, but started to lead me out of the doctor's rooms.
"I don't want to give you false hopes, Irissa. Amicus will know that there is a chance he may not make it. You need to know this too." I nodded, feeling my body almost slump into his. He ran his hand over my forehead as we walked, heading towards our rooms.
When we passed Lancelot's door, I was shocked to hear the screams and the sounds of things being thrown around from within. I moved to open the door but Dagonet held onto my arm tightly, refusing to let me pull away.
"No Irissa. He is not in a good mood." I gave him a look, as if to say I could tell, and struggled against my brother's hold again.
"Someone needs to make sure he doesn't hurt himself! Dagonet, please!" He refused to let me go, trying to pull me away but hurt ankle or not, I stood my ground.
"He may not care who walks through that door. I don't want you getting hurt!" I spun around, so quickly after pulling away so much that Dagonet staggered, barely catching us before we toppled over.
"He won't hurt me Dagonet. You know that he would rather throw himself onto his sword than to raise a hand to me." It was true though and Dagonet could not deny it. Instead of fighting with me, he grabbed something off of his belt and put it into my hand. Without breaking eye contact, simply feeling the object, I could tell that he had slipped a dagger into my hand. So with a quick smile, I walked to the door and opened it as quietly as I could. He was in the middle of throwing his clothing around the room when I stepped in.
"Lancelot! What is wrong with you?" I grabbed ahold of the knight, trying to keep him from wrecking his room anymore. Things were laying around in disarray, broken or just in a mess I couldn't really tell. He was breathing heavily, struggling against my hands but obviously not with his full strength.
Once I was sure that he was no longer going to throw things around, or perhaps even hurt himself or anyone else, I released him. The knight slumped down in place, falling to the ground ungracefully. I lowered myself, being careful of my ankle, and sat infront of him.
"Lancelot? Speak to me, please." He sighed, closing his eyes and resting his forehead in his hands, his breathing still fairly erratic.
"I have held anger and hatred towards the Romans for dragging us out here, away from our family, with such intensity that sometimes I even find myself angry at Arthur. He doesn't deserve my anger. And no matter how much I hate the Romans, I know they aren't all horrible people. Like Amicus, he doesn't deserve my hatred." I moved forward, placing my hand on his arm and trying to calm him. He didn't shake my hand off, which I half expected, but he tensed up.
"You can hate them in general but not feel the hatred towards specific ones. That's understandable." He shook his head, difficult since he was still holding onto his forehead, but then raised his head.
"Deirdre would be younger than you, by a few years. However every time I try to picture what she might look like now, or even what she looked like before... I can't. I can't remember what she looked like." His eyes were red, his voice hoarse and strained, as if he was trying very hard not to just break down.
"Oh Lancelot. You told me that she had brown hair, not as curly as your's though. But she had brown eyes, much like your own. And the scar on her knee, from when you two tripped and fell down the hill together? She got the scar on her knee and you one on your elbow."
We stayed like that for a while longer, me retelling the stories that he had told me on a few occasions. By the end, I was sure that we had both conjured up an almost accurate image of his sister.
"Thank you Irissa." I smiled, running my hand through his hair and then squeezing his wrist lightly.
"We forget what our loved ones look like sometimes, as the time goes on. We feel guilty about it, but it happens to us all. And we all need to release the anger and frustration, the guilt and the hurt, sometimes. But perhaps next time you shouldn't take it out on your things."
A look around his room had him chuckling, my laughter soon joining in. Soon we were both laughing, clutching our sides and wiping tears from our eyes. There was a knock on the door and Galahad stepped in, very shocked at the appearance of the room and us on the floor, laughing admist it. He rolled his eyes, probably assuming that we had lost our collective minds, and reported that Arthur wanted to see us down in the meeting all.
Still laughing and leaning on one another for support, we made our way down the stairs in one peice. Keeping his emotions in as much as I knew he did, Lancelot was overdue for an explosion. I'm just grateful that I was able to be there to defuse it before he hurt someone, or himself.
We all sat around the table, me between Bors and Dagonet, and waited for Arthur to start talking. They went over what happened in the forest against the Woads, as to why Amicus was hurt and throwing theories around as to why the Woads were even thinking of attacking the fort.
"I am kind of new to this, but is there a chance that maybe it was a distraction? That while you were doing that, something else was happening?" Arthur looked at me thoughtfully, nodding that it could be possible.
"Or maybe even gauging our strengths." We all thought of what this could mean. And Arthur's next words were the ones that were on all of our minds.
"This will not be the last attack. I have a feeling we may have another fairly soon."
So with no further conversation, everyone stood up to leave on their own. Dagonet asked if I needed help but I shook my head no, handing him back his dagger and promising that nothing happened. Lancelot gave me a nod before disappearing out of the door, probably to try to clean up his room. All that was left in the room was Gawain, Tristan and myself. Gawain looked between the two of us, rolling his eyes and then leaving. But not before closing the door behind him.
The knight was staring at the door strangely and I took a deep breath before explaining.
"Two nights ago, I was a little intoxicated and Gawain brought me back to my room. Apparently, in my state, I said some things. About you. And me. Not to worry though, he said he won't tell anyone." Tristan nodded, still staring at the door with a strange expression. I moved forward until I was standing closer to him. I reached out and touched his hand lightly, hoping I hadn't startled him. Though I should know better than to think I could startle the scout.
He turned his hand so that our fingers could intertwine and I smiled at him, watching as the corner of his mouth lifted a bit.
"How is your ankle?" I shrugged, shifting my weight but then feeling myself tip from my leg buckling. The arm that wrapped around my waist to keep me from falling made my stomach feel like it was full of butterflies. However the arm was soon removed, leaving just the hand that was grasping mine. That was enough for me though.
"Still a little tender, obviously. But it's not that bad." He nodded and we stayed like that in silence, facing one another with just our hands touching. That little contact though was enough for me, making me feel like he was holding me close.
"How are you, concerning Amicus? I know that you two were close." I nodded, feeling my stomach clench a little at the memory of the Roman guard, whose hand I was holding only a few hours ago.
"I'm okay. I believe that he will be okay. I just... feel it." Tristan nodded slowly, raising a hand and letting it brush the side of my face, my eyes trying to find something in his guarded expression, in the dark eyes that were boring into mine.
"If you feel it, I'm sure that is how it will be." There was a knock on the door and we released one another's hands, with him leaning forward to press a kiss to my forehead before pulling away from me further. He smiled at me, a smile that I knew he probably reserved for those closest to him. I returned it before opening the door and nodding to the servant that was there to douse the lights. She gave the both of us a look before winking to me and disappearing to do her job. I felt the blush start to creep up to my cheeks and didn't bother trying to fight it. Tristan saw it and rolled his eyes, touching my arm lightly before disappearing towards the stairs to go to his room.
I hadn't visited the graveyard in a while and rarely ever went without Lancelot. But tonight I felt an urge that I hadn't felt in a long time. I sat atop the hill like usual, staring down onto the cemetary to see a few flames lit on the graves. I breathed in deeply, letting myself soak up the image of the fire dancing on the grass.
I could only hope that this graveyard didn't gain any new occupants for the next two years.
A/N: Phew. For some reason, that one was difficult for me to get through. I kept writing, deleting, writing, deleting, writing... you get the idea. But there it is, chapter twenty-one.
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Sneak Peak at the next chapter:
The bird on his arm was looking straight at me and I felt as if she was looking straight through me. He had a smirk on his face, as if he could tell that I was afraid of the creature, and moved slowly towards me. And curses, I had cornered myself so that there was no way I could get away from him. I knew he wouldn't do anything that would get me hurt but the bird for some reason frightened me.
"Give me your arm." I shrank back while his smirk grew wider and took one more step closer to me, wrapping a piece of cloth over my bare arm and letting the bird rest there, my wrist level with his shoulders.
"Don't worry, you're shaking enough, she probably thinks that you're a tree in the wind."