Note: Sorry for such a delay. It isn't the best but it is something. Thank you for staying with me on this one so far. Happy reading.

"All the process I have made with the knights is lost. I swear at myself for doing such a stupid act to make it so. They treat me like I'm dying and I am getting thoroughly annoyed. I wish they would just leave me be and quit hovering over me like Mother does…did…"

---Excerpt from Alexandrea's Journal

We make it back to the carriage. As predicted. I am placed right back into it. Some what angry at myself, I change my torn gown and try to clean myself up as best as I can with the basin of water one of the knight's drew for me. Once the water is mud and my hair somewhat tamed, I peek outside. The knights have gathered by the fire talking about something. It is no mystery to what the something is. Not daring to attract their attention, I start working on cleaning my wounds. I take the jar of salve Coriel gave me and a clean cloth and started to massage it into my aching limbs. At first touch, the salve stings but after a few minutes it begins to numb my skin and I feel nothing. After they are clean, I tear one of my aprons into tiny strips and bandage the worse of the cuts.

After the task is done, I examine my bruises. Most of them are minor and will heal within the next few days, but the one on my arm is more serious. Whenever I move it, my arm throbs. With a few experiments, I decide that it had to be more them a bruise. Grudgingly, I know I have to go to the knights for a cure for I have none. I peak outside and see that they have finished their discussion. Slowly, I climb out of the carriage, hoping to go unnoticed by them, but I have no luck for the moment my feet touches the ground, the knights are at my side, or at least most of them were, fussing over me like I am made of brittle glass. Some what annoyed, I brush them aside and walk to the fire. My arm aches but I am not about to let them see it, I don't know why, but the fact they act like I am going to break makes me want to hide my pains. Father would have called it pride. It is true. I am too prideful to admit weakness, especially if I am treated like a weakling.

Conn would have never treated me this way, he would have been concerned but he knew that if he showed it I would have yelled at him. That was a lesson he learned long ago. I sigh. How I miss home. The knights are all right but I miss real companionship. They are polite, but reserved and somewhat standoffish as if I am some animal they know they should not get fond of for I won't be around for very long. I clench my teeth as I sit down, wishing that they did not notice. After a few seconds it is obvious that they didn't and I relax as much as my arm would allow.

They hand me a plate of food and I eat it carefully, balancing the plate on my knee and eating with my uninjured arm proves to be a bit difficult. As I eat, I steal glances at them. None of them seem to notice the pain I'm in and I rejoice; the last thing I need is their pity. Perhaps if I proved to them I am not hurt badly they would let me ride again.

When I finish my meal, I get up and thank them for it and head back towards the carriage. The knights rise to their feet but none follow me, at least so I thought. When I reach the carriage door, Arthur is right behind me. "Milady," he starts.

I face him. "Yes?"

"Your arm, if you please." It is an order, not a request. Slowly, I push my arm towards him. He gently takes it in his and presses. I gasp. "I apologize," he says but he keeps pressing on my arm in various places. Determined not to show how much it really hurts I bit the inside of my cheeks, while I repeat to myself, it will be over soon. Arthur relaxes his grip on my arm and I try to pull it away. "Not yet, lady. I fear it is fractured. It needs to be tended to."

"I am fine," I reply. "It is only bruised."

Arthur smiles, "You are a stubborn one, aren't you."

"I have no idea what you mean."

"I watched you through dinner. Your arm caused you great pain, but you still kept it to yourself."

"There is nothing wrong with my arm."

He laughs, "You are a strange one, lady."

I growl, I don't like it when people laugh at me. "I am not strange," I state.

"Most women would have complained about far less painful wounds then you have."

"And your point is?"

"My point is we have to fix your arm up so it can heal properly. It would not look good if you arrive at your future husband's home bleeding and with ill-set broken bones."

"I don't need your help," I growl.

"Oh, but I think you do, lady," Arthur says as he leads me back to the fire. "Tristan, get the kit."

I sit. "It's…"

"No more complaining," Gawain says. I look at them and sigh, there's nothing to do but give in.

"Very well, if you insist," I spit and sit down. Tristan returns with a kit that contains their medical supplies. Arthur takes out a roll of bandages and a jar. He opens the jar and smears its contents on my arm. It smells of peppermint and another herb that I can't identify. "What's that for?" I ask for it does not hurt like the cut cleaning salve.

"This is to help with the swelling," Arthur explains.

"Peppermint?"

"Just for smell, it smells horrible without it," Gawain replies.

I shake my head. "I really see no point in making such a large fuss over a bruise."

They ignore my remark and Arthur bandages up my arm tightly, with a flat stick against my forearm. Once my arm is bandaged a sling is tied around my neck and my arm placed in it. "Is this absolutely necessary?" I ask trying to take the sling off.

"Leave it," Arthur orders. "Would you rather end up with a broken arm? It is not broken but it could be fractured which means if you did anything to it to cause pressure on the bone it could break. Leave it be, it is for your own good, lady."

"Very well," I growl.

"Good, now back to the carriage with you."

"But…"

"No arguing. It is only a few more days until we reach your new home. I think it would be best for you if you rode in the carriage for the remainder of the journey."

I knew it. I open my mouth to argue but decide against it and stalk off back to the dreadful carriage. How dare they treat me like some…like some...Oh how I wish I was home. No one ever treated me like this. I climb into the carriage and shut the curtains incase someone tried to talk to me, I am not in the talking mood. Gawain makes a few feeble attempts but I am to angry to make any reply and he soon goes back to the fire. Nursing my wounds and my pride, I think of Conn.

Conn looks at me; the moon casts silvery shadows across his face. "The bracelet, do you not recognize it?"

I examine it for the hundredth time and shake my head. It seems familiar but I cannot place it.

He looks away. "I thought the bracelet would make you see."

"See what?" I ask highly confused.

He turns towards me. "See this."

I look at him, baffled. "What?"

"Move out!" Arthur's voice rings. I sit up. The carriage jolts to life. I must have fallen to sleep. I open the curtain to find the sun shining down at us. Laying back down I try to remember what I dreamed. It is odd that I can only remember the last unfinished thought. Before I can think about Conn more, my cuts cry for attention and I embark on yet another cleaning.

"Ow!" I cry as I knock my braced arm against the wall.

"Milady?" Gawain calls. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," I gasp. "Just snagged my hair on my brush." My entire arm throbs. I should not have slept. Sleep made me forget how much it hurt yesterday and magnified it today.

"Typical," I hear Lancelot remark. "Snagging hair on brushes. That's a woman for you."

My blood boils at that remark. "What!" I cry as I throw back the curtain and stare Lancelot in the face. "What do you mean by 'typical'?"

Lancelot looks shocked but recovers quickly. "Done brushing your hair?" he asks. I blush for I am found out.

"I lied."

"As is obvious," Lancelot remarks. "Unless the point of brushing one's hair is to make it look like it has never been brush."

"Lancelot, behave," Gawain says. "Look, you made her cry."

"No, I'm not crying," I exclaim.

"Really?" Lancelot asks. "It looks like you are."

"Well I'm not. I was just cleaning my cuts…" I stop.

"Cuts?" Gawain echoes.

"Well of course. Do you really think one could fall down a hole and come back up with only a hurt arm?" I snap.

"Why didn't you show us them?" Gawain asks.

"I can take care of them. I have a cleaning ointment and bandages. I am fine." I drop the curtain.

"Milady," Gawain starts.

"Stop with the 'lady' and 'milady' nonsense. You know my name, I know you do. Use it."

"It is not proper, milady," Galahad states.

"I know, I know. Treat me like an object and you will not have to feel obligated about my fate once you leave me. I know how it goes. The soldiers that escorted me on the ship and watched me during the trials behaved the same way, but their reason was not solely for that purpose. It is treason to become friendly with traitors."

The knights grew silent. "I beg your pardon?" Arthur asks. "Traitor?"

"Yes, traitor," I say as I pull the curtain aside. "I am as good as a traitor and I don't even know why. Let's just get this journey over with. Deliver me to Marius's home and leave me, forget about me. It is better this way."

"Milady, why are you a traitor?" Arthur asks after a moment's silence.

"I'm not, but being the daughter of one makes you one."

"How…"

"Leave me be! Just get me there. No more talking, it might ruin everything and make you feel obligated, and we can't have that can we?" I close the curtain and stare up at the ceiling. I don't know what has gotten into me. Why am I so emotional? I calm myself and try to sleep. It will be over soon. Soon I will be free of the knights. They can go on their lives as normal and I can go on with mine. As I sit I wonder if my new home will allow me to do some of the things Father allowed me to. I know it probably won't but a part of me wishes that it will.

I fall asleep remembering Father and the nights we sneak out of the house. Sometimes we ride; others we go on midnight picnics. I smile at the memories as sleep takes me and darkness falls.