When Alennia woke, the first thing she was aware of was the quiet talking somewhere near her. She felt as if she was somehow disconnected, like she was underwater, and everything was slightly blurred and dimmed.
Alennia struggled to open her eyes, for they were bruised and swollen, and as they let the light in, a throbbing pain shot through her head, and suddenly a million minor aches started up in her battered body. She blinked at the bright light, and as her eyes grew accustomed to the light, she could make out a familiar form in front of her.
"It was you," she said weakly.
Tristran smiled gently down at her. "Thought we'd lost you back there for a moment my Lady."
Alennia smiled feebly, and looked around her. She was in a bed in a small room. There was a table beside her bed and candles around her. Tristran was sitting in a chair beside her, and next to him was a tall man with short hair and an evil scar on his otherwise gentle face.
"This is Dagonet," Tristran introduced her. "He's been tending to your wounds."
"It seems I have a lot to thank you for," Alennia said respectfully.
"I wouldn't thank him just yet," Tristran remarked, and Alennia turned to look at him, and then back at Dagonet when she received no explanation.
"There is an arrowhead in your back, near your spine," Dagonet told her in his gentle voice. "We nearly lost you last time I tried to get it out. I'm afraid you're going to have to be conscious while I remove it, so that you cannot slip away from us."
Alennia paled slightly. She vaguely remembered the arrow hitting her and reaching to he back and breaking the shaft off. She knew how painful it could be to remove arrows: she had seen plenty, although she had never experienced it before.
"It will be bad?" she asked, although it was not much of a question, as she already knew the answer.
Dagonet nodded gently, and Alennia felt herself tremble slightly. "Now?"
"Now," he told her.
With a small sigh of acceptance, Alennia struggled to sit up. Seeing her pain, Tristran reached forwards to help her. He moved so he was sitting on the bed in front of her, and Alennia lifted the bottom of her shirt up slightly, so Dagonet could access the wound.
"Hold her tightly Tristran," Dagonet said in his calm voice, and Tristran wrapped his hands around her shoulders. Alennia was trembling, but she met Tristran's steady gaze, trying to show no fear.
"Ready?" Dagonet asked.
"Ready," Alennia said, her voice shaking slightly.
And then her world erupted in a sea of pain. She gasped out slightly, unable to move because of Tristran's strong hold. She dropped her gaze as unshed tears blurred her vision.
"Alennia look at me!" Tristran's voice cracked like a whip through the searing pain. Alennia's head snapped up, meeting the strong, calm gaze of those dark brown eyes, holding her locked in position.
Tristran felt every second of Alennia's pain as if it was his own, for though she never once cried out, her eyes betrayed her every emotion. Tears swam before her pleading eyes, and it was killing Tristran to hold her so tightly, when her whole body cried out against it, but hold her he must, and so he met her tortured look with a steady gaze, trying to funnel all the pain from her body to his.
And then, as Dagonet slowly withdrew the piece of metal, Tristran felt Alennia's body go limp, and he caught her in gentle arms.
"Hold her still for a moment," Dagonet told him, as he bound the wound. Alennia came to, as he was finishing, and whimpered slightly, her body still trembling.
"Let her sleep," Dagonet told Tristran. "I will see her tomorrow morning." And the big man rose to leave the room.
Tristran held Alennia close to him, stroking her hair soothingly, until she finally gave in, and sobbed softly into his chest. He murmured unintelligible words to her, smoothing her hair down with one hand as she wept. Eventually Alennia raised a blotchy, if shamefaced to him.
"I'm sorry," she muttered, looking down.
Tristran took her chin in one hand, and raised her face so that her eyes met his. "Are you alright?" he asked, and they both knew he didn't mean the condition her body was in.
Alennia held his gaze for a moment, her eyes filling with pain, before she tore free of his captivating eyes and looked down, shaking her head slightly.
"They're all dead, aren't they?" she whispered.
"You were the only one left alive when I arrived," Tristran admitted sorrowfully, for her pain was his, and her grief, his loss.
Alennia let out a stifled sob, and let Tristran draw her to him. "I killed them," she mumbled through her tears. "I led them to their deaths."
"No!" Tristran said forcefully, pulling back and holding her by her shoulders while he studied her face. "The Saxons killed them. They followed you willingly." He spoke with conviction in his voice, but he really had no idea if the clan had had the choice to fight. She could have forced them for all he knew, but she was hurting, and he would say anything to take away the pain.
"I killed them," she whispered again, oblivious to his words.
Tristran drew her back towards him, and with a small wail, she broke down, tears streaming down her face which was buried in his shoulder, and her hands found their way around to his back, clinging to him for support and comfort.
Tristran held her closely, protectively, rocking her back and forth as she wept, and thanking every God that he could name: Sarmatian, Roman and Christian, for keeping this woman alive long enough for him to hold her in his arms.
Eventually Alennia wept herself to sleep, and Tristran laid her down in her bed, wiping away her tears and smoothing down her hair. He pulled the blankets up over her, and resumed his place in his chair, protecting and guarding her.
A/N – OK, so we didn't get 10 reviews, but I'll forgive you guys (just kidding! Nothing to forgive) as I've got 85 in total, 85! Reviews. I am so unbelievably happy. We're aiming for one hundred (any cricket fans out there willing to help me get my century?) Right, I'm garbling (isn't that such a great word?) again, so I'll shut up. Hope you liked it – and please, please review!