Sorry again for the long wait. The last few weeks have been... stressful. Anyway, enjoy the read!

"How is she?" Arthur asked, looking up from his stack of reports and messages. The forts along the eastern section of the wall were beginning the rebuilding and renovation process now that all Saxons had been run from the land.

"She lives," is all Tristan said, his eyes narrowing slightly. He had not forgotten that it was Arthur who had gotten Kayleigh into this whole mess. He had asked her to play Brogan to uncover the conspiracy he participated in.

"Has she spoken of the Saxons yet?" Arthur asked, continuing to sort through scrolls. Perhaps she could provide some information on why they had come and who had helped them.

"No," Tristan shook his head, "she has not woken."

Arthur frowned. "The journey was long and hard for her, I'm sure."

"She has woken once in three months," Tristan specified, his voice as sharp as his blade.

Arthur's gaze darted back to Tristan but he only caught a glimpse of his jacket trailing out the doorway.

"You're dead," Kayleigh whispered unbelieving.

"Am I?" Pervidius asked. His stare of cold contempt gave her chills. "Are you?"

The Roman charioteer stood tall and proud a short distance from her. All the Roman women had swooned at the sight of him. His dark hair cropped short in the Roman style, steely grey eyes peering out from below a strong brow. They cheered in the arena to see him drive shirtless, his muscles working on display to control the reins. The memory of it made Kayleigh sick. She remembered them contract in rage and dark pleasure to control her.

Kayleigh shook her head, dislodging the sight. "No… no, this isn't real!"

"Did you really think death would rid you of me forever?" He laughed loudly. "You're still that stupid barbarian slave that you were two years ago. Just like your brother, Evr-"

"Don't you dare speak his name," she warned.

"He was weak. That's why he lost. That's why he died," the Roman taunted. "Do you remember?"

She heard the scream of the horses as they fell. The crowd cheering. Pervidius' laughter as his horses and chariot trampled her brother's broken body.

"He died because you killed him! Murderer!" Kayleigh screamed, unleashing the fury she buried for so long. She attempted to step forward to hit him but found herself unable to move.

Pervidius laughed mockingly at her. "And what are you? How many have you killed? How many innocent and helpless?"

"That was different-"

"No! It wasn't! You have blood on your hands, as much as I do," he gestured toward her.

Kayleigh looked down to see the warm, sticky liquid covering her hands. Holding them away from her body, she shook her head in horror. "It's not real," she reminded herself.

"And the murder that meant the most- my murder- you made to look like an accident. Why?" he questioned.

"Justice," Kayleigh stated, raising her chin. He had gotten what he deserved in the end.

"No," Pervidius disagreed. "You were a coward. You staged my death and stayed to watch. Why not kill me by your own hand?" he asked. He smiled wickedly before answering his own question, "Because you're a scared little girl."

"I owed it to my brother to live!" Kayleigh argued.

"Your methods dishonor your brother's memory. You are the reason he cannot move on to the land of his ancestors."

"No!" Kayleigh cried, clapping her now clean hands over her ears. It's not real, she said to herself repeatedly.

"You are the reason he suffers," the Roman pointed an accusing finger at her.

"No!" Kayleigh screamed.

Tristan burst through the door, dagger in hand. He glanced around the dark room. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Dagonet looked up at him from his spot beside Kayleigh's bed. Tristan looked as if he had been restless in bed this night as well. The normally careful knight had tossed his shirt on inside out and his usual disheveled hair was now a tangled mess. Dagonet opened his mouth to comment when Lancelot appeared behind Tristan.

"She dreams the past. Is it her brother's murderer again?" Lancelot asked Dagonet.

Dagonet shrugged. "Pervidius?"

Lancelot nodded.

"Her brother was murdered?" Tristan asked. "How did you know this?"

"I asked," Lancelot told him.

Tristan stared at him. Was it that simple? Ask Kayleigh a question and she answers?

"Actually, I nearly broke down the door in Eire. There was so much commotion coming from her room I thought she was being attacked," Lancelot explained. "She spoke aloud to me as if I were the killer. I stayed in her room that night, afraid she would hurt herself or another unintentionally."

Tristan looked away. It made sense now. Kayleigh was hurting and he had been foolishly jealous. He shook his head. How did he not see that? What else had he missed?

A groan from the bed caught all their attention. Kayleigh tossed her head side to side as if trying to rid whatever was in there. "No…"

For once, Tristan felt completely useless and looked at Dagonet for help.

"We should try waking her," Lancelot suggested.

Dagonet nodded and began shaking her. Physically she was well and there was no reason she shouldn't have already awoken on her own. "Kayleigh, wake up lass."

"Please… don't!" Tears began running down her white face.

"What is he doing to her?" Tristan growled, pushing Dagonet out of the way. He climbed on top of the bed and pulled Kayleigh to a sitting position, shaking her violently.

"This isn't the dream she had last time," Lancelot stated, his brow creasing with worry.

"Wake up, damn it!" Tristan yelled at her.

"Tristan, her neck!" Dagonet reminded him of her wound, which had healed into an angry red scar.

Tristan let go, letting her fall back onto the pillows and slapped her hard across the face. The other two knights jumped in surprise.

Kayleigh's eyes snapped open, darting around the room making sure he was gone before shutting them tightly again, trying to stop the wave of tears that threatened to overwhelm her. But just as she suspected, once that dam broke, there was nothing to hold it all back.

Tristan leaned down and pulled Kayleigh into his arms, her sobs wracking both their bodies.

Dagonet cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'll see if I can get some food. She should eat," he said before slipping out into the hallway.

Lancelot stood, frowning, for a moment before heading out into the darkness of night to finish his watch.

Tristan smoothed the hair on Kayleigh's head with a shaky hand. For once, he wasn't quite sure what to do. He had never had to comfort a crying woman before. More precisely, he had never wanted to comfort anyone until now.

The only thing he could think to do was whisper meaningless words as he would if he were trying to calm his stallion. The grip Kayleigh had on Tristan's shirt loosened but the tears continued, burning a trail of wetness down his chest.

"You are safe with me," Tristan assured her, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kayleigh allowed his comfort to wash over her, embracing her like a warm blanket. Too weak yet to argue, she accepted his words and drifted back to blissful oblivion.