And another one, yay !

The knock on her door was followed by Jols' request that she broke her fast in Arthur's chambers. Startled, Frances dressed so quickly that her hair remained unbraided. She hastily rolled it into a bun, pinning it with a modern jaw clip. Mere moments later, Jols left her at the door of Arthur's much bigger chambers.

— "Thank you Jols" she told him with a genuine smile.

The squire's face brightened, and he bowed to her.

— "My pleasure, lady knight"

Frances watched his retreat; she liked the man, loyal to the core. There was a slight shuffling sound beside her before Arthur appeared by her side.

— "Come, Frances. Let us talk"

The young woman stepped inside the room, a little intimidated by Arthur's commanding presence. The intimate setting – his own chambers – did nothing to ease her running mind. His quarters were more spacious than her room, a nice fire blazing in the hearth bringing an orange glow to the sparse but beautifully carved furniture. Dark wood and elegant lines, a huge posted bed, a sturdy desk where Arthur spent, no doubt, far too much time. Frances's feet wandered a little, taking in the homely feel of his chambers, and Arthur let her do so. As her hand caressed a broken tile, the commander walked up to her. She could hardly ignore him; he towered over her as if she was a child.

— "Who is he?" she asked.

— "Pelagius. The man who taught me, and surrogate father."

The man who was murdered in Rome because of his political beliefs. Poor Arthur, yet another one to leave him. How lonely should a man be in this cruel world?

— "Oh. I'm sorry for your loss. I overheard what happened to him."

Arthur considered her earnest gaze, the gentle lines of her face. Why should he, commander of the wall, spill his deepest secrets and doubts to a young lady appeared out of nowhere? The answer was pretty simple. Because he trusted her, and he needed to. His knights, his brothers, his only family would be leaving in no time. And he didn't know what to do. Expectations were so high, and for once, he had no guidance. Were Pelagius's ideals still worth following?

— "His teachings have made me the man I am, but I cannot help but feel betrayed. My knights have been telling me, for years that the Rome I fight for did not exist. I dismissed it, thinking rancour spoke for them. You told me as such, I dismissed it anew, considering your youth and inexperience."

His earnest words didn't seem to alarm her, for she didn't lash out.

— "You were not entirely wrong, in both cases. What happened to change your mind?"

— "Alecto told me as such, once more. Pelagius was killed because of his thoughts on equality. And I, who believes in them, realise he was only an idealist, leaving me with a tainted view of Rome"

Frances cocked her head aside, reminding him of his scout's Hawk. He certainly harbored no love for this blasted bird. The lady seemed deep in thought, careful with her words.

— "If people had followed Pelagius, like you followed his beliefs, the world would be a better place. Believe me"

Arthur shook his head vehemently. There was sadness for his surrogate's father passing, and anger as well. Anger at being left behind once more.

— "Realism was absent of his teachings, and I sorely need it right now. It leaves me at loss."

— "Yeah. I have a friend that falls into that category; Daniel is the idealist, and we are the realistic ones that protect him. All great men must have their back guarded by friends. I sometimes wonder if one can do both, I don't think so. Still, it is sad for Pelagius. Another one that Rome has betrayed."

— "Yes. another one like Maximums Decimus"

Frances stiffened, and Arthur knew he had hit a nerve.

— "Who are you, Frances?"

The mask slipped on, her hazel eyes guarded as she took a step back. Gone was the easy-going woman, the compassionate heart. Now, he only faced an ice queen.

— "Whatever do you mean?"

Time was too short for games, and his mind had trouble wrapping itself around the strange idea that had been dancing for a while.

— "You spoke of Commodus"

— "What about him?"

It was all she could do to forgo the "son of a bitch" title she'd bestowed upon the Emperor.

— "There is a legend, in Rome, about a redhead witch that leapt into the coliseum to challenge Commodus. Alecto spoke about it as well when he saw you."

— "Neat"

There was a sparkle in her eyes, and a little amusement. Yet, she gave nothing away. Damn woman, nearly as difficult to read as his scout when cornered! Arthur took a steadying breath before plunging into deep waters. If his assumptions were incorrect, she'd be laughing at his credulity for a century. A Christian believing in pagans' superstition.

— "It was you, wasn't it?"

Frances knew not to try to dumb blond act, but her secret only hung by a thread right now. Her face brightened, her response strangely cheerful, hiding the hammering of her heart in her chest.

— "Can I lie to you?"

— "No", came his stern reply.

The young woman sighed. Of course, she couldn't.

— "All right, then. Yes, that was me."

For a scant moment, his mouth opened, and closed without a sound. Then, just a whisper as his hand lifted to touch her shoulder. Just to make sure she was real.

— "How?"

— "I'm the Keeper of time, sent by the Gods to help history unfold. And speaking of which, what can I do for you?"

The Keeper of Time ! So it was true ! Her casual dismissal sent Arthur in an abyss of considerations. Silence descended upon them, the crackling of logs in the hearth the only sound as Arthur took in the news. He didn't seem so petrified; maybe he'd been turning the notion in his head for a while.

— "I can't believe you witnessed Commodus' death."

— "My only regret is that I couldn't deal it to him. That man was a fucking bastard, believe me!"

There was so much anger in her voice that Arthur stiffened, nearly expecting an attack. The Keeper of Time, a messenger from the Gods. She'd told him so before their departure, but knowing about her presence in Rome three centuries ago gave another perspective to the notion.

— "I'm meeting Merlin today. He asked to see you, and I am starting to understand why."

The Woad leader's demand has seemed weird at first, albeit Arthur remembered Tristan's comment that the blue devils never approached Frances. Now, it was starting to make sense. Beside him, an unladylike snort interrupted his musings.

— "Merlin. Leader of the Picts. Not Walt Disney Merlin, right?"

Arthur gave her a puzzled looked, and Frances stifled the urge to laugh.

— "Sorry. Go on"

— "He asked for the red witch, the Keeper of Time."

Frances gaped, her hand flying to her chest in wonder. So the leader of the Picts knew about her existence. Who was the old chit?

— "You want me to come with you."

— "If it is agreeable."

— "And you trust him not to turn me into a toad?"

A faint smirk adorned Arthur's lips, giving him an almost boyish look.

— "I'll endeavour to negotiate appropriate terms" he deadpanned.

— "I hope you can forgive my bluntness…"

Could she, or not, ask the dreaded question?

— "I've suffered the knights' for fifteen years. There's probably nothing I haven't heard."

— "Never bet on that. Anyway, why should be abide to Merlin's wishes?"

His green gazed turned serious, determination written on his face. A shiver ran down Frances' spine, and she knew, that very instant, that things were going to change irremediably.

— "Because we need them to fend off the Saxons' attack."

Realisation dawned. Arthur. King of the Britons. Of all Britons, not only south of the wall.

— "You mean to stay and claim this land" she stated in awe.

— "Yes. I'm not leaving the country, and all those people to die. We cannot evacuate all of the Island."

There was not an ounce of hesitation in his voice, and she stared in awe as the commander Arthur Castus turned into the great leader he was meant to be. Then, a flicker of fear passed into his eyes, the fear of rejection, of her judgement. It was quite ridiculous, really, she was but a woman.

— "Super green", she uttered, trying to ease the tension.

The stupidity of her words – once more a reference to the fifth element – startled him.

— "I beg your pardon?"

— "It means 'Yay'. How did you get the news, by the way?"

— "That Merlin wanted to meet the Keeper of Time?

Frances nodded. The knight's freedom meant no more scouting trips for Tristan, and she hoped he was resting in his warm bed for once. Was he still angry about their discussion?

— "Guinevere came to me."

Shiver. Ugh! This day kept getting better. Frances tried not to grimace at the mention of that Pict slut.

— "I have to admit that I have some trust issues. Don't you?"

Arthur clenched his jaw, debating with himself if he should voice his concerns as well. He was not naïve enough to overlook why Guinevere seek him out. And for a reason he couldn't fathom, he trusted Frances to protect his interest.

— "Yes. But I do what I must for my people. Will you come?"

— "Yeah. Deal. But you owe me a super nice breakfast in return!"

This time, Arthur chuckled. That woman had a way with words, and her sense of humour was just what he needed before this day became very, very complicated.

— "Come, it awaits for you before the fire."

— "If you're nice with me, I'll share."

Startled by her cheek, the commander let out a hearty laugh. She was something, that red witch !

The wind was howling – as always – , the air freezing, and this meeting wouldn't finish. Of course, Picts being Picts, there were no tents to fend off the cold. Most of them were barely dressed, and Frances wondered at their ability to keep warm. Was it a new species altogether? Or was it the magic of their people keeping them alive? Or maybe they were like the Norse people; only the strongest survived infancy. An endless discussion and Frances was getting pissed. Merlin had greeted her warmly – an oldish man with a twinkle in his eyes that reminded her of Gandalf – but not said a word about the Keeper of Time. Yet. Beside him, Guinevere stood as a liaison. Now, they spoke of strategy, and alliances, all of it around a makeshift table created by a huge stump with one of Arthur's maps spread upon it. The wind had threatened to take the precious parchment away, hence all of them were bent over it, holding it down with their hands while the talks dragged on.

Frances, quite oblivious to the rest, studied the northern part of the island. It seemed rather wrong, the scale messed up somehow, and she wondered if the Romans had gone all the way around the Shetland islands and such. Her hands were frozen on the map, her fingers idly tracing the coast as it clashed with her memories. She was a map girl; geography agreed with her, and she with it. At last, one of Merlin's scout reported the approximate location of the Saxon army; so vague that Frances snorted.

— "That's it, you can't be more precise?"

Guinevere translated her incredulous words to the scout, who reported back in his language. Needless to say, that Frances didn't understand any of it. At last, the Pict woman turned to her, slightly irked.

— "We do not use horses as your people do, we refuse to tame beasts for us to obey. They are too far from us to reach in time"

Frances sighed, stealing a glance to Arthur's clenched jaw.

— "Where is Tristan when you need him", she commented tensely. "He is a man of few words, but he would have left no room for uncertainty."

A sharp pang of regret hit her at the memory of his angry steps the night before. Was his trust lost forever? The commander sent her an unreadable look, before quoting a Latin proverb.

— "Still waters run deep"

Frances caught his meaning. He, more than anyone, knew what loomed under the surface of his scout quiet ways.

— "Yeah. I bet deeper than the Marian trench."

Arthur dismissed her comment, failing, once more, to understand her reference. But since she seemed to be a time traveler, it made much more sense now.

— "So, how long?" asked Merlin.

— "Well. Depends on the scale of your map, right?"

Arthur nodded. When at loss of reliable information, calculating came second best. And so, they estimated roughly the time I would take for an army, that walked less than three miles an hour, ten hours per day, to cover the remaining distance. Needless to say, that the commander was impressed by Frances' flawless calculation skills. She took everything into account, from the fact that an army walked slower than an average man, and would need breaks, to the sinuosity of the paths when it came to walking uphill and downhill, compared to taking the main road. She applied coefficients here and there, adding the sum up in her mind, talking out loud as she went. Arthur could not have known that cartography was one of her favourite subjects in engineering school. Guinevere, across the table, sported a slight look of disgust that made him smirk. Yes. He had the hell of a counsellor to guide him.

— "So," Merlin concluded. "Two days, at best. We will prepare to second you in battle, Arthur Castus. Come, Frances, we must talk."

And so, Arthur watched Frances's back as the bearded sorcerer swept her aside. They walked for a while under the trees until Merlin turned to face Frances fully, and bowed his head.

— "Well met, Keeper of Time! I know who you are."

Frances frowned. How could a Pict possibly know of her? And his greeting had sounded terribly like the Sindarin words 'Mae govanen' translated into Latin.

— "How?"

Merlin's unsettling gaze fell upon her, and the young woman shivered at the raw power that oozed from his slender form. She could have sworn he'd not felt so bright a moment before; was he concealing his power from his own people ?

— "I have memories, from before."

Fantastic. She could play this little mind game all day, and it was already getting on her nerves. Tucking her hands into her pockets, Frances sighed.

— "From before … when?"

— "You are very curious."

Frances gave the man her most intimidating stare, vexed that he had the gall to chuckle.

— "Well, that's my job, to understand the stakes here. So?"

— "From before this flesh existence"

Suspicions arose in her mind, but the Keeper of Time knew she would get no more of him regarding this matter. So she attacked another angle.

— "Is that why you asked your men to spare me?"

— "Ah yes. I know your coming to be indispensable to help Arthur ascend to the throne of Britain. And I needed you to achieve this."

So he knew about the future, right ? How else would he gather that Athur should be King otherwise ?

— "Apparently, me and your daughter alike. I'm not too impressed by the way you are trying to manipulate Arthur through Guinevere. It is a low blow."

To her surprise, Merlin sighed, his shoulder bending a little in weariness. Suddenly, he seemed much older than before.

— "I know. I'm at the end of my existence, and there is still so much to accomplish. Arthur will be the beacon in the dark, and Camelot must rise. It is imperative lest this world be lost, and many others with it,"

Frances frowned. Many other worlds? As in other planets?

— "I'm not sure I understand you right now."

— "I know. In time, you will. I do what I must before the 'others' get to me. As for the full understanding, you will need Daniel Jackson in this regard."

It all clicked into place. Daniel Jackson. The stargate. Frances gasped.

— "What were you, before you were Merlin?"

— "An Alteran.[1] Then, I ascended. And returned, to help this world, losing memories and skills in the process, to set things in motion for the future. You are no stranger to that, Keeper of Time. You were created for this sole purpose by the Valar. This is why, you and I must work together"

Frances munched his response with a grimace. She couldn't help but feel that Merlin had a hidden agenda, one he had not shared at all. His talk of the future, and the 'others' didn't sit well with her. But what could she do? If Merlin was a former ascended being, going against him would be folly. And she didn't have half the data needed to get the big picture. What if she messed up the whole timeline?

— "Right. I'll side with you for the moment."

— "Good, we will both need all the help we can get"

— "Optimistic much ?"

His worried response caused a chill to run up her spine. What could an former Alteran be afraid of ? Then, Daniel's research popped into her mind, and she wondered if she had missed a capital information.

— "If I recall properly, I though you ascended lot weren't allowed to interfere ?"

Merin addressed her a wary look, his dark pools unnerving as he detailed her face.

— "I walk a fine line, and I am ascended no more. But the Saxons also have some help outside this plane of existence, hence the little leeway"

Frances bit her lip. This new information only increased her uneasiness tenfold. If those bastards were helped by an ascended, this would be the hell of a battle. It was like Sauron against Gandalf all over again. Understanding dawned on her features then.

— "This is why they have weapons of another time. The armor piercing crossbows"

— "Yes, probably"

Merlin's response was strangely neutral, as if he couldn't care less about weapons. As if the battle took place on another level altogether. Couldn't he see that such an advantage, armor piercing weapon, could mean a lot of death for their side ? But then, she remembered that the Picts fought nearly naked. It wouldn't make any difference to them. To the knights, though…

— "All right. Let us be allies. Just keep your daughter in check, will you? Arthur is not stupid, and his heart is not for sale."

The old man sent her a profound look, one that said that his daughter was not quite aware of his goals either.

— "I will take it into consideration."

— "Another one, since I'm here. Why have you killed so many of the knights in the past? Why not attempt peace before the Saxons?"

This time, the sorcerer turned away from her, descending the hill wearily.

— "I am but an elder in the council. My desire of peace and tolerance is not always met by the Picts. Even though it grieves me, I have done what I could, with the limited possibilities of a human mind. Farewell for now, Keeper of Time. I'll see you on the battlefield"

Well. This, she could understand. Navigating fifth century politics when you were the only one knowing about the future, and what it entailed, trying to negotiate through hatred and vengeance when the goal you had in mind was unattainable for years. Yeah. That was probably a difficult life. She wondered if Merlin had been born, or if he'd just constructed a human body out of scratch. Daniel probably would know a little better the processes of ascension, and its reverted form. As Merlin blended in the still woods, a voice echoed in her head. 'Be mindful of your choices,' he said, before his presence disappeared altogether. Puzzled, Frances walked back to Arthur and his maps. Choices, right. Which ones?

Eventually, both parties were satisfied with their strategy about the Saxon's arrival. The Picts would serve as the infantry and archery while Arthur would gather material to divide and conquer the battlefield. Namely, oil, tar and trenches. He was quite confident that some of the garrison would stay behind, and a part of the inhabitants as well. It might be only a few dozen men, but any sword could count at this point. As they retreated through the forest, Frances mounted behind Arthur, she couldn't help but remember the day the Rohirrim had handed weapons to thirteen-year-old boys. Fortunately, the situation was not where as desperate as it had been at Helm's deep since people could still escape the slaughter. She wondered, for a moment, if she would meet her end in the battlefield. The letter she'd left for her cousin sat on her living-room table. Saying goodbye.

Arthur's giant warhorse produced a quiet pataclop on the leaf littered ground, his hooves echoing whenever their layer thinned. The icy wind had died during the day, giving Frances a nice respite as she observed her surroundings. The forest had an eerie quality, sun rays showing in between trunks and nude branches, warming up ground and beasts alike. The young woman closed her eyes, their silent treading lulling her to a meditative state. Arthur was lost in the recessed of his mind as he pondered his decisions. Based on what he knew, and the tremendous amount of information he felt he didn't – Keeper of Time included – he couldn't help but question his choices. Frances had given him a slight recollection of her discussion with Merlin; she'd follow his lead when it came to the fight. Period. It should have quietened his doubts, but somehow, he couldn't prevent from feeling that Merlin as not entirely truthful. And she knew it.

The sudden appearance of his scout called his attention back to here and now. Eyes hidden under his unruly braids, Tristan reached him with purpose; albeit he could see a slight pursing of his lips as he realised Frances rode behind him.

— "The Saxons will be there at dawn in two days' time," he stated calmly, giving his report as if nothing had changed.

Arthur's eyebrows shot up.

— "Have you been scouting, Tristan?"

The man nodded, sending a flare of pride and reconnaissance into Arthur's chest.

— "Thank you, my friend, for this last favour. But you're free now. I will ask no more of you."

A perplexed look answered him, and for once, Tristan let his mask slip.

— "You don't have to ask" was his even reply.

And his former commander marvelled at the sincerity in his voice, until the fearsome warrior he'd rubbed shoulders with for fifteen years spared a glance at his back. He could feel the young woman fidgeting behind him.

— "Are the woods safe, there, Tristan?" she asked.

His smooth voice answered flatly.

— "As safe as can be with Woads. They still don't attack you?"

It was Arthur who forestalled her reply.

— "And nor you, for we have a truce until the Saxons come."

Tristan eyed him suspiciously for a moment, trying to discern the wheels cogging in his mind before her turned his gaze back to Frances. The young woman tapped his shoulder.

— "Then Arthur, if you have no further need of me, I'll meet you this evening."

Arthur stilled his mount as Frances jumped to the ground, her strong grip tightening on his forearm to do so. The string of curses she released then nearly made him blush. Pinned by his reproachful look, the young lady sheepishly shrugged.

— "Sorry, forgot about my leg"

Arthur's features softened. That injury had saved Dagonet's life, and he was grateful for her sacrifice. Spurring his mount forward, he addressed the lady and the quiet knight a nod before retreating to the wall.

Tristan's eye followed Arthur for a while before he dismounted, his tall frame towering over Frances as they both watched the commander's sagged posture. At last, the scout turned his gaze to her, and the light of the sun danced in his amber eyes.

— "Where have ye been, he?" he asked.

Frances's smile was so genuine that warmth spread in Tristan's chest. He wasn't expecting it, after their disagreement the night before, but her acceptance at his clumsy words lifted a weight from his shoulders. 'Mine' was screaming his mind. 'Mine!" But she'd never be his, and he knew it.

— "If I am to be talked to like a pet, I'd rather be a wild cat."

And she started purring, so realistically that one of his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. It took all of his will power not to caress her wild hair. The fiery strands danced in the air, tangled by the morning ride and icy wind, creating a mane of fire that shone in the sunlight. How fierce she was, his little fairy! Eventually, Tristan regained his senses.

— "So, have you taken part of this truce?"

— "I certainly was submitted to the dull negotiations, yes."

Her sour voice called a smile to his lips, but his amusement was short-lived as he set a hand on her shoulder.

— "Do you trust Merlin?" he asked seriously.

Frances shrugged, the movement dragging his hand with her, reminding him that he should let go. Which he did… reluctantly.

— "Not really, but we don't have anything else"

And once more, Frances wondered about the future Merlin had mentioned. Was it about establishing the Arthurian peace? Its legends? Or anything about the stargate system? As she thought, Tristan grasped his horse's reins, and they started walking in the direction of the fort, or wherever he wanted to lead her. For once, the scout's pace was more sedate and she couldn't help but feel grateful; he was mindful of her limitations.

— "He has in own agenda", she added. "Something much grander than this battle."

— "Agenda?"

The slight frown on Tristan's face called Frances back to reality. Of course, he wouldn't know what an agenda was; it probably was a recent expression. Well, recent, later than the middle ages.

— "Sorry. What I mean is that for the moment, his own goal goes in the same direction as ours. And I guess he will put all of his means to aid against the Saxon. Physical and … others."

Another question took her off guard; sometimes, she wondered how the scout could be so perceptive. It wasn't the first time she surmised he might have read her mind.

— "Is he human?"

Her shock widened her hazel eyes, their depth eating half of her face. After all, Tristan called her a fairy, and had accepted her arrival in a flash of blue light. They were shamans in Sarmatia, his culture had probably taught him about spirits and such. Overall, Tristan was probably more open that she was regarding the afterlife.

— "Er. A little…"

Unfazed by her half-truth, Tristan kept walking, his steps silent on the littered ground.

— "More precisely?"

Frances huffed, a little lost as well.

— "He's human at the moment. Don't know if he'll stay that way, though."

— "And once more, you make no sense, woman."

His voice was stern, but his eyes twinkled in mischief. An easy expression that was so scarcely displayed on his schooled features. The rebuke made her laugh, a slight tingle in the forest that made his chest ache. Suddenly, his arms circled her waist and she was lifted onto his mount with an undignified 'eep'.

— "You shouldn't walk so much, little fairy. You'll rip the stitches"

Perched upon the mighty warhorse, Frances seemed not so merry now. But a quick caress to Aydin – his mare – caused her to start walking again and her rider seemed to deflate. The wistful expression upon her lovely features caused his heart to stir, and he wondered what was going on in her head.

— "Tell me about it"

And she did. Frances explained everything she knew of the Alterans, and the concept of ascended being. Tristan observed her, as was his wont whenever she fed him incredible stories. He was used to it by now; he knew she never lied, not to him.

— "Of course, I'm telling you this because I trust you to take it to your grave, right? Hoping it will in a good while…"

Tristan only nodded; it was good enough for her.

— "But that battle stuff, you know, it is so tedious. It took them forever to plan something, ugh! And their scouts are so slow, they didn't even know where the Saxons are exactly. We had to guess by calculating on the map… Thank God you've confirmed it, because Arthur and I we were way out of our depths."

His stern reply acted as a trigger.

— "You are not really patient, little fairy."

Lifting her hands in the air, Frances turned to him in exasperation.

— "Arrrgh! No! I hate waiting! I hate people from the south that can't respect an appointment, and the doctors, and the SNCF[2] with their late trains!"

Half of her ramblings were lost to him, the very notions and acronyms she was using unknown. But her impatience amused him, and the fact that she was not guarding her words attested of her trust. He knew there was much more simmering under the surface; plenty of time, he'd seen her bite her tongue rather than speaking plainly. But with him, she had loosened up enough to let tiny details slip. Who was she, really ? For he doubted she was a roman subject from Lugdunum. Still, her impatience matched the temper from southern ladies.

— "You need to learn how to wait if you want to be a good scout."

Frances paused, eyeing him in awe. From her position, she could only see the back of his hair, braids dancing as he walked. Was he offering to teach her? At last, she deflated, tension fleeing her body in waves.

— "I know. Patience has never been my forte."

— "Obviously"

This time, she bent over to swat at his arm playfully, and he remarked that his fingers did not look for a dagger, even in the wilds. How far he'd come, to feel safe in her presence. Perhaps now was the time to ask her who she was, truthfully. Perhaps in a circumvoluted way, he could learn more.

— "Frances?"

There was uncertainty in his voice, the air suddenly charged between them.

— "Yes?"

— "How much do you know about the future ?"

[1] In the Stargate fandom, the Alteran – the others - are highly evolved people who built the stargate system. They disappeared as people by 'ascending' to another plane of existence, thus becoming incorporeal. Some would sometimes take human form again to help the humans in their evolution. Merlin is believed to be one of them.

[2] French train system