Chapter 7: Sorry

She felt all their gazes on her. She did not care. She kept her bow in place, her left hand holding up the weapon, her right hand still in the position where it where it had released the string. Her blue eyes were on Dagonet, who had crumbled onto his knees. She could not move, her head was blank, her heart racing.

There was an ear-splitting wail as the frozen surface tore open, pulling Saxons down into the freezing water down below. Dagonet, swaying uncertainly, fell into the opening gap on his right, just as Arthur reached him. The commander crashed onto his knees, reaching into the freezing lake below to grab his fallen brother. An arrow protruded from Arthur's shoulder, and he struggled to pull Dagonet out of the water.

She slowly lowered her bow.

She watched as Dagonet's lifeless body was finally pulled out of the water with the help of the other bald knight, who was shouting at his friend, trying to revive him. The others had turned their attention back to the battlefield, raining arrows on the Saxons. Most had drowned in the cold water, and few were lucky enough to escape the wrath of the broken ice and the knights' assaults.

Cynric had retreated to the safety of the back of the lines, surrounded by his bodyguards. He caught her eye, and she bowed, showing her loyalty to the Saxon army.

A loyal traitor.

The irony! Thought Abigail as she straightened. Cynric nodded at her, acknowledging her gesture. He then gathered the remains of his light infantry, and disappeared into the woods, leaving the wounded soldiers to die and the corpses of his men to rot.

Suddenly, she felt a hand wrapped around her neck, cutting off her air supply. She found herself staring into a pair of wide, furious green eyes.

"You wretched woman!" the blond-haired knight screamed in her face, his fingers tightening their grip.

Her lungs were starting to ache from the lack of air when one of the knights, a handsome one with dark curls, stepped in and separated the two. Abigail gasped for air, her throat dry and scorching as she drank in deep breaths of icy air.

"Bloody witch!" the knight who assaulted her continued to shout at her, but was held back by the same knight who rescued her.

"Gawain," he said pleadingly, grasping both shoulders of the enraged man.

"Why did you bring her here?" Gawain directed his attack to Tristan, who looked at him stonily, his face vacant.

"Gawain!" the other dark-haired knight aided his brother in holding Gawain back, who was ready to lunge at Tristan."Enough!"

"Lancelot! We need a horse!" came Arthur's shout.

Lancelot immediately gestured for their squire, who lead a black mare forward. He grabbed the reins and walked briskly towards Arthur, the others following.

"Why did you do that?"

Abigail turned around slowly, looking the squire straight in the eye. He shifted uncomfortably under her piercing gaze, her face blank and pale. Her eyes, though looking into his eyes, were unseeing.

Her left hand slowly inched towards her right upper arm, where her wound was, now throbbing dully. Then she turned around again, her eyes finding Dagonet's body, surrounded by his grieving brothers, and a weeping woman. The man who had showed hospitality and kindness towards her a few hours ago, now laid dead on the ice, an arrow in his neck- killed by no other than her.

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Tristan stared into the small fire of his camp, his head resting against a tree, his legs bent at the knees, his arms hidden beneath his cloak.

The fire crackled merrily, sending waves of warmth towards his stiff, tired body. They had caught up with the caravan a few hours after the battle on the lake, which had stopped to camp for the night. Ganis had done his duty well, the caravan had made considerable progress.

In the protection of trees, the weather was much more agreeable compared to the past few days when they were exposed to the snow. Besides, they were nearing the sea, and the weather was always milder at the coast.

Fulcinia, the wife of the dead Roman lord, came by and handed Tristan a bowl of hot soup. He nodded his thanks, and drank gratefully. It burned his throat slightly, but he ignored it and kept drinking. It sank in his stomach, and warmth coursed through his veins, all the way to his cold limbs.

There was a soft wail, and Tristan instantly recognized the small voice. Lucan was devastated by Dagonet's death, and he spent hours weeping quietly in the Roman lady's arms. He was not the only one overwhelmed by grief. Bors had sunk into silence, his pain evident in his tired face; Gawain took his death bitterly, threatening to kill the British girl every minute; Galahad and Lancelot seemed to have accepted this reality, their faces grim.

Arthur, like every time they lost someone, was blaming himself. Tristan knew it was none of Arthur's fault, but he was shouldering the responsibility alone as he always did.

The scout stared harder at the fire, bitterness weighing heavily in his heart. It was his fault that Dagonet had died. It was his fault the girl had a chance to obtain a weapon. It was his fault that she was unwatched. Yes, he knew she was capable of killing, but he had not expected her to be as cold-blooded. Hell, she was probably as heartless as he was.

He removed his gaze from the flames and turned to look at the cart where the Briton had been left. The vehicle was left in the gloom, a few yards from his camp, its flaps covering the opening, but he could vaguely see her through the rather large slits of its sides. She seemed to be asleep, if not, she was still as a stone. She had been cold and distant when he shoved her roughly into the cart, not a word escaped her lips since she asked for his name. She simply glared at him with her large, glassy blue eyes. Anger stirred in his heart. Damn that bloody Briton. If she had not tried to kill him that day, he would never have captured her, and none of this would never had happened.

But then, if he had not caught her, the Saxons might have overcome them by this time.

Heaving a sigh, he let his head sag, his chin touching his chest as he brought his hand to his forehead. Dagonet…

"Tristan."

He recognized the voice immediately. He did not move as Arthur sat down beside him, shuffling to make himself comfortable on the cold ground. There was silence between them, and Tristan lifted his head from his hand and stared once again into the fire.

"It was not your fault," said Arthur quietly.

The scout shook his head.

"It was mine. I should have left her under the charge of the Roman mercenaries," continued the half-Roman resignedly.

Again, Tristan shook his head. "She would've killed them, and took the Roman boy."

Arthur did not speak, but tilted his head to look at the heavens through the treetops. Stars winked faintly overhead, and Tristan too tipped his head back to look at them. The small lights twinkled brightly, and for the first time that day, he seemed to find solace in their beauty. But then a black cloud sailed by, blanketing them instantly. Arthur sighed audibly.

"What is life?" he murmured wistfully. "It is but a flash of light in the darkness."

Then he stood up, and left Tristan pondering his question.

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Abigail stepped clear of twigs, stones or anything that would disclose her discreet visit. Everyone was asleep, and all was silent. Not even an owl or night creature stirred, causing her to breathe shallowly, as if her very breath would awaken the sleeping ones.

In her left hand, she held the crisp piece of parchment she was to deliver to the Saxons. She had spotted her hawk circling casually atop the trees, obviously trying not to attract attention to himself. He was one clever bird. In the parchment, with the quill and a small pouch of ink she always kept inside her tunic, she had scribbled a short message, containing only three but very important words:

Romans tracking coastline.

A sharp pain in her wound caused her to wince, and she bit her lip on reflex. It must have gotten infected, but nobody bothered to help her change the bandages.

Her lips twisted into a grim smirk. Why should they? She had killed their friend, their brother. If she were in their place, she would have left herself to rot in hell.

She felt a twinge of guilt, but quickly shook it off. It was a rational decision to kill the man off, he was threatening to break the ice, which he did, in the end. Any soldier wanting to save his army would have killed him.

Except that she was not a soldier. And she did not want to save the Saxon army.

Stop, a voice in her head commanded. She was confusing herself again. Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes for a second, trying to push all thoughts away.

She was doing the right thing, she kept telling herself. Cerdic spared her life, he let her live, and she had to repay him.

Cerdic's cruel, mocking face came to her mind, that hateful, vile man who had murdered her family- all she wanted to do was to stick a knife through his guts, and watch him die a slow and agonizing death. He was an animal, and she was under his command and mercy.

There was a quiet tweet, and she looked up to see her hawk perching on a nearby tree, patiently waiting for her to approach him. Abigail felt something like comfort to see something she had become close to over the past year, and smiled as she walked towards the hawk.

He spread his wings and glided in a circle before landing on her left wrist. She stroke him fondly and he tilted his head to one side, staring at her. As she ran her fingers up and down his smooth feathers, she wondered where her horse was. She had found consolation in being with the brave and gentle stead, who faithfully went everywhere she did, never once failing her.

She sighed again. Emotional attachment brought nothing but pain in the end.

A twig snapped, and she spun around, causing her hawk to take flight and took footing on a branch above her.

In the darkness, he was even more intimidating. His face was completely hidden behind his mop of dark hair, his tall frame sickly relaxed. Abigail glared at him, which was all she seemed to do when she was in his presence.

How could she not? He had captured her, turned her life upside down when she started to feel that she was worthy of life, though hers was destined to be dishonourable and shameful. When she thought she might as well accept the ruthless game Fate had trapped her in, he came and took her away, throwing away all she had worked for and all the pain she had undergone, to gain the least bit trust from her commander.

"Why are you doing this."

His voice brought her out of her reverie. She continued to glare at him, her mouth a thin, angry line. Why was she doing this?

He took a stride forward, stepping into the pool of moonlight which had found its way to the forest floor.

"Why did you kill him."

His voice, so deadly calm, scared her. He had not yet shown his reaction to her taking the life of his friend, and she wondered if he would take hers in return.

"To survive," she answered, surprised at the serenity of her own voice.

"Arthur had promised you safety if you devote your service to him," he said as if he had not heard her reply.

She cautiously took a step back as he walked towards her, her eyes flashing with distrust.

"It's not that simple when you're part of the Saxons," she snarled, panicking as she felt her back meet the rough bark of a tree.

"You're not part of them," he said, advancing.

"I am," she snapped, struggling to stay calm.

"You have a choice."

She laughed, a sharp, cynical laugh. "You're wrong. I don't."

Tristan stopped. He stared into her eyes, so blue and resigned, yet so defiant at the same time. He could not see a murderer in her, but she had proved to be one.

"I stay loyal to my commander," she said firmly.

Abigail could finally see his eyes, black and hard, boring into hers. He said evenly, "And I to mine."

Instantly, his fingers were clenched around her left wrist. She grimaced from the pain, and glared obstinately at him. His face remained unfeeling as he tightened his grip, and she felt her fingers yielding to the pressure. Despite her desperate attempt to fight back, one last squeeze on her wrist made her gasp aloud, and the parchment in her hand drifted lazily to the ground like an falling autumn leaf.

She did not dare move as he bent down to retrieve the message, and read it in the dim light. Calmly, he whipped out a dagger and placed it at her throat, the icy blade pressed against her skin.

"I should kill you," he said in a near whisper.

"Kill me, then," she growled, lifting her chin so as to give herself more space to breathe.

She did not even try to hide the fear she was feeling, nor the disgust she felt towards him. She was frightened, but unlike the time when Cerdic first found her, she felt a peaceful resignation as well, knowing that he had the right to kill her there and then. Her eyes drifted to the dark sky above, a lone star was shining, and she fixed her gaze on it, waiting for the blade to slice across her throat and, finally, take the useless, wretched life from her.

She felt him pressing the dagger closer, against her windpipe, restricting her breathing. She closed her eyes. Now he needed but to slide the dagger across her neck, and she would be dead. Death was a mere move away.

But it never came. Tristan abruptly pulled back, putting distance between them. Only then did she realize that he had been pushing her against the tree, and she felt cold air consuming her. She brought a hand to her neck, which felt strained, and her fingers touched a narrow, wet line.

She avoided his eyes, he made no effort to meet hers. She looked at her feet as he sheathed his dagger.

"You have no honour. You are not worthy of death," he said coarsely, as if explaining why he let her go.

Hot tears stung her eyes, and she blinked hard, determined not to let them fall.

He turned to leave, but she caught his arm and he stopped. She saw his shoulders tense, but she kept her grip on him, and slowly, he turned around. She kept her eyes on the ground, but she could feel his gaze on her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

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Hello! I'm finally updating after five days. School is starting to get hectic, so please excuse the intervals between my updates!

Wow, fourteen reviews? Thank you so much for your comments, I really appreciate them! Ah, yes, you all hate me for killing Dagonet now -tear- But well, I have to stick to Abigail's character, don't I? I hope you liked this chapter, the traitor is showing remorse in what she has done.

Eshlyn Kar: I'm glad you liked the twist! Thanks for reviewing!

Kasora: Oopsie, someone's mad! -ducks attacks- Sigh, yes, the knights are angry. Very angry, may I add. Really? Ioan has been to Sydney for a few times? Now that's cool! I hope he'll come to HK. Hmph. Aww, thank you -hugs- Yes, I had very little time to prepare, and it had been a great experience, so yeah, I'm not really that sad :) Thanks for the good luck! And Tristan! Where have you been, my naughty boy? Thanks for taking him home ;) Update HTD soon! I can't wait for the new chapter, and it's Saturday already :D

Alexis in Wonderland: Hmm, you don't usually review? I'm glad you did though! I'm so glad you liked the ending, I hope you enjoyed this chapter too! Hehe, don't worry about the I-can't-shut-up disorder, I happen to have one too xD

Mandamirra10: Sigh… it is partly Tristan's fault, but as I explained, he was actually right, except for not keeping an eye on her. I hope you at least like Abigail (a bit), though you don't feel sorry for her ;)

K-Neptune: Yay! I'm glad you think it's interesting! I hope you liked this chapter :D

BillieJoe is effin sexy0: -pats- Calm down! Yes, yes, she is sort of brutal… I don't want to admit it of course, but she is. I mean, she's been with the Saxons for a whole year, so please, don't blame her too much, she's my OC and I love her xD I'm glad you think it's awesome though! Some ideas were from the book, like the crossbow thing, but otherwise, it's my own ;) –cracks whip- Yes! You'd better go update your story like a good little girl, or I'll take Galahad/Tristan/Lancelot from you! And I'll update DTB as soon as I find my muse back for it… I sort of lost it /

Phantom666: Do you hate me? Lol… it was part of the plan!

KnightMaiden: I assure you, they will get together ;) Yes, I've read the book 3 times lol. I just love it! You've read it too, no?

The Ponderosa: Thank you so much! Yes, you've said that before, but I never get tired of reading it xDD I'm so glad you think I've kept him in character! Yeah! You like Abigail! No, it's not strange at all ;) I totally agree, I wouldn't like them to be kissing and all after such a short time, I'm glad you think that way too! Thanks for reviewing :D

Lozcollie: Thanks! I hope you liked my update!

Ferian: Thank you!

The sarahnater: You changed your name? Lol, thanks a lot!

MORWEN12: Wow, thank you! I hope you liked this chapter!

Mysticpig: Please… don't hate me -sniff- Don't be sad, things will turn out better :)

Now I must run along and have my lunch! Please review and I'll update asap, I'm very, very inspired to write this story lately :)