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It was almost dawn before the celebrations finally came to a close. There had been laughter and dancing, tears and regret. Most people did not bother returning to their homes: giddy at the prospect of a night that did not conceal the beast or it's master, and warmed by the ale and wine that had flowed freely, they slumped against buildings or curled up in their cloaks. The knights had joined in the festivities enthusiastically, and the first pale light of dawn gilded Galahad's curls and gave him an angelic appearance that was somewhat incongruous; especially given the fact that his head was currently resting in the lap of a rather buxom girl who had lost more than just her fear of the beast that night. Bors snored loudly, surrounded by empty ale flagons and for once an equally inebriated Dagonet whose huge body had provided a warm, if unwitting bed for Lark .
Tristan watched the scene from the tavern roof, unobtrusive and silent. He had eaten with his brothers, honoured the dead and relaxed as much as he ever did, but noisy groups were not to his taste, and frivolous conversations utterly beyond him. Running a long finger over his hawk's sleek throat, he watched as Llynya disentangled herself from Gawain's sleeping bulk, and with a quick glance around, picked her way through the slumbering bodies. Curious, he got to his feet and stretched his stiff muscles, watching as she slid through the gate to the little cemetery. Satisfied that she would not come to any harm, he quirked a half smile as Gawain yawned widely - every inch the rumpled golden lion that Llynya had described him as. Rolling onto his side, the tousled-haired knight reached out for his companion, and finding her missing, struggled up groggily. Settling back down, Tristan watched his brother look around with blood-shot blue eyes, and decided to leave him to find Llynya himself.
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Llynya picked her way carefully over the sleeping knights and villagers, grateful for the cool breeze that cooled her tired eyes and brushed her tangled hair from her face. It had been a strange, sad, wonderful evening, and she was thankful that she had been careful with the wine. Gawain and his brothers had not so much slept as lapsed into unconsciousness - she doubted that they would remember much of the previous night.
For her, however, it had been something strange and new. The frailty of life was no new lesson to be learnt; grief, sorrow and acceptance long since understood and endured, however bitterly. Hope however, now that was a fragile precious thing that had flickered like fireflies among the villagers when they talked of the future. Hope was the strange giddy sensation that had sparked against the bone-deep love that she felt when she tucked her cheek against Gawain's shoulder and felt the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her fingers. Strange how things turn out…
Tom had decided to stay in the village, and while she would miss him, she understood his reasons for doing so. Louisa needed help with the tavern and in all truth needed someone to take care of her. Lark would act as a guard dog, as long as she managed to drag herself away from the many patrons who seemed to have adopted her as an unofficial mascot, and Aldred was keen to recruit Tom as an advisor to the village counsel. It was a new start for the kind-hearted hunter, and Llynya smiled as she remembered the discreet, yet interested, glances he had exchanged with a pretty plump woman who had blushed when she had handed him a goblet of wine. Perhaps Tom would find more than peace and a sense of purpose in this little village.
Picking a handful of cowslips and daisies from the tangle of wildflowers that softened the stark fence that edged the graveyard, Llynya crouched before Charlotte's grave. The earth was still churned and fresh, the rough wooden cross totally unsuitable as a marker for the bright spirit of the girl it was supposed to pay tribute to. Llynya carefully laid the flowers around the cross, twining some of the larger blooms around the rough wood. Sitting back on her haunches, she looked at the little grave and told Charlotte about the celebration in the village, the death of Tauleas and her part in it, and finally her fears and hopes for the future. Charlotte was unsurprisingly silent, but as a sudden gust of wind swept through the little graveyard, Llynya fancied that she could hear laughter, and was almost unsurprised when she looked down and found a daisy nestled in her lap.
"Peace be with you." Kissing the daisy, she placed it carefully on the grave. "Try not to annoy the angels too much."
Rising to her feet, she brushed the dirt from her knees and paused when she saw Arthur entering the cemetery, obviously lost in thought and unaware of her presence. He was almost upon her before he noticed her, and startled, he had half drawn his sword before realising who she was.
"Please excuse me, Llynya." He looked a little abashed as he re-sheathed his weapon, and Llynya smiled.
"Sir." She bobbed a curtsey and looked at him surreptitiously. "I trust that you are well?"
He gave a rueful laugh and smiled at the young woman before him. "I am neither unconscious as most of the villagers seem to be, nor suffering the hangover that will no doubt be blighting my knights later."
Llynya smiled at his comments - a Roman with a sense of humour? She had not thought such creatures existed. If she was to stay with Gawain, and in truth she could not imagine life without him, Arthur would in a sense be her commander too. He would be the one who dictated when her lover would fight, when he would leave her, and where she and the other women would go if Rome dictated that the knights should move from their post at Hadrians wall. Glancing at the big man's weary face and tired green eyes, she reached out and patted his arm - a gesture that would have been unthinkable only a few days ago.
"You look exhausted," she said shyly. "Tristan is keeping watch and everyone else is asleep; perhaps you should follow their example."
"Indeed." He yawned widely and studied her with amused green eyes. "Perhaps I will recruit you as an advisor when we return to the wall."
Llynya blushed and bit back a grin. " I'm not sure that your decision would be approved by Rome."
"You are right." Arthur paused for a moment before looking at the young girl seriously. "Llynya… This is not an easy life that you have chosen for yourself. I will not allow harm to come to you, but be sure of your choice, be sure that this is truly what you want before you follow us to Hadrians Wall."
Llynya met his eyes and smiled. "I'm sure." Her words were true - she barely paused before answering the Roman commander. Her life would not be simple, but then it never had been. She would face the trials to come as well as she could, but she would not face them alone.
"Llynya?" Both she and Arthur turned at the soft call.
Gawain was approaching them, his hair a rumpled mass of golden curls and braids, his eyes squinting tiredly in the bright dawn light. He looked exhausted, dangerous, and to Llynya everything she had ever wanted and dared not wish for. "I'm sure," she repeated. Giving Arthur a brief smile, she walked towards the blond knight, back to her love, back to where she had always belonged.
The End.
A/N Well there we are - the end! Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, encouraged and criticised - it really helped. If anyone has any comments on the story, or suggestions as to things I could have done better then I would really appreciate feedback . Best wishes and happy writing/reading to everyone : )