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Lucy coughed and winced as she struggled back to consciousness, twisting away from the hands upon her shoulders.

"Lucy?" The voice was low, worried and blessedly familiar. Opening her eyes, she grimaced at the sudden flare of light and pressed her head into the chest of the man before her. He held her tightly, one hand caressing her lower back, the other tangled in her hair. Lucy didn't do much but struggle to breathe for several long moments. Hengist was dead, Brigid was gone, although from the little she had seen and heard, she wasn't sure how. Her head ached, her shoulder screamed with pain, and she was dimly aware of the blood that covered her clothes and skin, the adrenaline that had kept her going fading into nothing. Giving a hitching sob, she abandoned any attempt at bravery and cried into Tristan's shoulder. The scout didn't say anything, but tearing a piece of ragged cloth from the hem of Lucy's dress, he carefully tied it around her shoulder as a makeshift bandage. He whispered nonsense words to her as she cried against him, the previous panic and fear in him subsiding until he felt empty and quiet. Behind them Guinevere wailed in grief over her father's body, her cries smothered when Arthur took her into his arms, the knights and Woads confused and looking for orders that did not come.

Tristan took little notice, and barely looked up at Galahad when he took his horse from him. Lucy was curled against him trembling , her fingers fierce and tight, entangled in his hauberk. Brigid was slain, the ghosts gone. There was nothing to do but bury the dead and tend to the living. Placing the dishevelled blonde girl on to his horse's saddle, Tristan swung up behind her and set off back to Hadrians wall.

Neither of them spoke during the short ride. There was nothing to say, and anything worth expressing was done so in the twist of fingers into a ruined dress, pale hair falling over closed eyes, breath harsh in the silence with the unspoken knowledge of what might have been. Tristan gave his horse to Jols without explanation, the man nodding and leading the bay to its stall with a relief borne of the knowledge that the scout would not have left his brothers if the enemy was undefeated.

"It's alright." Laying Lucy onto his bed, Tristan sat beside her, brushing her tangled hair away from her face. "You're safe."

The girl beside him gave a faint smile, curling around his back and laying her head upon his lap. They both jumped at the soft knock on the door, but only Lucy smiled when Llynya and Kyrie entered the chamber, the former carrying a jug of warmed water, the other with a couple of wash cloths and blankets. They put their burdens down without saying anything, and with a last smile and wave, were gone almost as quickly as they had arrived. Lucy let Tristan undress her, wriggling out of her ruined clothing and letting him wash away the dirt and blood. She didn't say anything and neither did he, but when he had finished she laid down beneath the blankets, one hand entangled in his, and let exhaustion claim her without fear. Later she awoke when Brennus arrived to stitch up her wound, the old healer gruff and scolding her for being too impulsive for her own good. She gave an attempt at a smile and nodded at his words, but the herbal tea he had given her for the pain was making her head muzzy and her eyelids droop. When he left she lay quietly, Tristan's calloused hand stroking the bare skin of her ribcage, his eyes soft as he watched her.

"What happened to not running off alone?" He asked gently.

"I didn't promise." Squinting, Lucy reached for his hand and held it against the valley between her breasts, trying to bring him closer. "I said..." Her eyes narrowed as her fuzzy mind ran through the events of the early evening and drew a blank. "I probably said something very clever," she mumbled. "Anyway it worked out for the best. The ghosts are gone, you don't have to worry about me any more."

Tristan chuckled, a strange unfamiliar sound that had the girl beside him looking up in amazement.

"Not worry about you?" He shook his head, tangled hair and braids falling over his high cheekbones. "Lucy, you could find trouble in an empty room. I think it best that you stay with me, let me take care of you."

Lucy regarded him with sleepy eyes. "People will talk. You've already got a pet, you've got Isolde."

"I don't want a pet, I want a wife." Lucy was obviously falling asleep from a combination of fatigue and the effects of Brennus' tea, but Tristan was determined to get a promise from her before she could have second thoughts. "I'm asking you to marry me, Lucy."

"Oh." Peering through her eyelashes, Lucy regarded the scout with as much concentration that she could muster. "It's a good job that I love you, most people don't propose when the girl is drugged up to the eyeballs." Sighing, she shifted closer to him and closed her eyes. "Yes please," she whispered before falling asleep.

When Galahad and Kyrie softly opened the door to Tristan's chambers, they were supprised to see the normally restless scout fast asleep, Lucy's blonde head curled against his thigh, Isolde the hawk gazing at the pair from the open window as though irritated that no food was forthcoming. Tugging the young knight backwards and closing the door quietly, Kyrie put her finger to her lips and let Galahad lead her to his room


Guinevere slid down from Arthur's horse and landed upon legs that were not quite steady. The stallion nudged her, and she grabbed the cheek piece of its bride to keep from falling over. Arthur was beside her, swiftly, his big solid body lending her strength, and grabbing his hand, she found the courage to watch as Eadgth dismounted. The Woad scout pulled Merlin's body from his horse as gently as he could, several men moving forward to help him. In death the magician seemed smaller somehow, robbed of his vitality he looked like the aging man that he had truly been.

Letting go of Arthur, Guinevere walked over to her father's body. Placing a last kiss upon his forehead, she moved away and let Aefel, one of Merlin's most respected warriors, pick up the body and take it back to the Woad encampment. Both Woads and Knights watched in silence as the big man walked away with his burden held reverently in his arms, a quiet procession of people following him into the woods. Guinevere watched them go. Tomorrow Merlin would be buried in the forest that had been his home and heart, given back to the soil that he had fought to keep safe from both Saxons and Romans. When the dusk fell, she would sit by his body until the sun rose, as was their custom, but until then the body had to be prepared, and that was a ritual that fell to Anya, the eldest woman of their tribe.

"Guinevere?" Arthur's voice was soft as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she fought back the urge to cry. Covering his hand with one of hers, she closed her eyes.

"I should change my clothing," she said quietly. It was the first thing that she could think of to serve as an excuse to leave the courtyard: there were too many people here, too many familiar faces that she could not abide bearing witness to the tears that threatened to fall. "I…" Feeling his young wife tremble, Arthur swung Guinevere into his arms and set off for their quarters. The knights could do with out him for a while, but his wife could not. Nodding at Lancelot to indicate that he was in charge, he carried his queen as slender and seemingly fragile as glass into the cool haven of their bedroom. He let her cry for a while, giving silent comfort as her sobs subsided into sniffles and wiping her face when she finally pulled back a little. Swollen eyed and red cheeked, she looked a lot like she had when he rescued her from Marius' dungeon . Sniffing, she wiped her nose with the back of her hand, a childish gesture that for once betrayed her age.

"He died for me," she said quietly. "I was stupid, I shouldn't have gone after them. I…" Her voice trailed away. "Brigid should have killed me instead."

"Don't say that, " Arthur said fiercely. "Your father loved you, he died loving you, and had you died tonight I would have died too." Cupping her cheek, he watched as she gave a watery smile.

"My Arthur. My love. Are you not afraid?" Dropping her head, she fingered the hole in her dress where the arrow had pierced her back. The material was stiff with dried blood, but the skin beneath was unmarked. "What would your God make of this?"

"If there is magic then that is His will," Arthur said quietly. "If you are safe and unharmed and back at my side then I thank him for it with all my heart. " Brushing a tangled lock of Guinevere's hair from her face, he gave her a tender smile. "You were right before when you told me that your ways are different from mine, but there is room for us both. Brigid tried to force her beliefs on others and look what happened. I will not make the same mistake."

"Ever the peacemaker." Guinevere smiled softly and ran her fingers over the faint stubble on his chin. "I do not hold one tenth of my father's power, I cannot undo the sacrifice that he made, but I can follow his will, I can follow my heart." Kissing Arthur softly, she wound herself around him and buried her face in his dark curls. "We will give both our people a country of tolerance and hope."

Arthur smiled and revelled in the feel of her. When she rested her forehead against his, a sad smile gracing her face, he chuckled at her next words.

"Even if I have to kill the lot of them myself to keep the peace."

A/N: thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter. One more chapter to go !