a/n: Sorry! Again, I wanted to have the update sooner than this, but it just didn't happen. I'm going to stop making promises about my update times. But, to make up for it, I think you guys will really like this chapter. As always, let me know what you think. I wish I could get to everything that I wanted to, all the reactions and so forth, but I just run out of time and space. Hopefully, it still flows though. Thanks for reading!
Failure Has Its Consequences
He almost got himself killed when he saw Nasica fall to the ground. Tristan's opponent stabbed at him, and only a blink of an eye was the difference between life and death. Tristan locked his blade with the Roman he was fighting, and then pushed him away. Someone else could deal with him.
Tristan ran across the snowy ground, his eyes on Nasica. Who had shot her?
Almost an answer to his question, Tristan saw the man run towards her, his sword raised high. It was Octavius, and of all the people to attack, he was going to run through the woman who was rendered helpless.
Dread beat through Tristan's heart. He pushed himself to run faster than he ever had, and let free a battle cry from his lips. Octavius saw him, and he turned to defend himself. It was enough to distract him from Nasica.
Tristan barreled over him, knocking the wind out of him and the Roman both. He rolled away, and found his feet before Octavius did. Tristan launched into an attack, not caring if honor might dictate waiting for the man to be somewhat ready. This was battle, and everything about this man showed he had no honor.
The swords clanged loudly, but the blood beating through his veins was all Tristan heard. It pounded in his head, and with each killing stroke that failed to do the job, Tristan wondered how many beats Nasica had left from her heart. Octavius was holding his own well, and Tristan was practically letting him kill Nasica slowly.
Finish this! He didn't even care if he made the man suffer. Nasica was bleeding behind him. She was still alive—he knew it. He could feel her eyes on him. Meanwhile, his anger and eagerness to kill Octavius made him sloppy. Tristan took several steps back, distancing himself. His braids swayed into his sight, and out again. He tightened his grip on his sword. That's when he realized he'd switched to a one-handed stance.
He frowned. He didn't normally fight one-handed. It wasn't controlled enough. It was weaker, no matter what. Two hands were always better than one. So what are you doing?
Tristan doubled up his grip, and took a steadying breath. He watched Octavius, who appeared as cocky as a Roman nobleman.
"The assassin," Octavius noted, a sly grin on his face. He had blood smeared on his cheek, most likely not his own. Tristan didn't move visibly, but his hands flexed around the hilt of his sword. "It's a shame Tacitus wasn't able to use that to his advantage more."
He used it enough. In Tristan's mind flashed images of the night before, of seeing Jaelynn pinned to the ground, with that Roman attacking her. Tristan wasn't about to be goaded to death with the Roman's barbs. He swung with his sword.
"Tristan!"
It was Arthur, he knew. There was an authoritative demand from his tone. Arthur wanted in. Tristan could understand why—this bold Roman had tried to take Arthur's son, and had deceived them all.
But Tristan wouldn't step aside. This was his fight—more so than Arthur's. The only two people he really cared dearly for—the only two women—had been targeted by the exiled Romans. And for Jaelynn and Nasica, he would finish this.
The sounds of his battle were all he heard. The other Romans were dead. He could hear the sounds of the wounded, but couldn't pick out Nasica. He had to see her.
He blocked a downward stroke with his sword. The stroke was meant to slice him from the collar bone to his stomach. Tristan dropped to one knee, and then pushed back up with his sword. He twisted, turning his back on Octavius. As he twisted, he slashed his sword over the man's chest and only saw the knights and Arthur staring behind him while he heard Octavius' body drop.
That's when he saw Nasica. Galahad was trying to tend to her, but she lay limply on the ground. Tristan didn't bother checking if Octavius was fully dead; he sheathed his bloody sword and ran to her.
-0-0-
Early the next morning, Jaelynn panted and faced Gawain. Her breath created little white clouds in the air, but she tried to ignore it and just focus.
She wasn't really fighting. Well, she was trying, but right now she could barely keep her footing. Gawain was teaching her to defend herself against a weaponless attack. Based on how she was doing so far, she didn't stand a chance once weapons were involved.
Luckily, Gawain didn't seem annoyed by her lack of skill.
"All right," he said, standing up straight. "I know you're tense, and that's okay, but you have to trust yourself. You have to trust your arms and legs to act." He motioned for her to advance. "Let's try it again."
Jaelynn nodded, eager but not sure her limbs could move as naturally as he said they would. She took two steps forward, and that's when Gawain made to grab her.
She shrieked. Right away, she regretted ever asking for his help—and for shrieking. Gawain seized her, and Jaelynn found that she just thrashed uselessly in his grasp. Gawain chuckled and released her.
Her face was bright red, she knew.
"Jaelynn," he said, but she didn't really want to look at him. "Jaelynn, relax. Come here."
He grabbed her hand and pulled her over to sit down. They sat side by side. He kept his grip on her hand. Jaelynn started to feel uncomfortable, but then he raised her hand for her to see.
"This is just as much a weapon as any part of you," he said.
She huffed. "Yeah, but I didn't do anything." He didn't deny that, she noted grimly.
"Any movement you make when you're under attack is better than none." He stood. "Use your limbs. Your elbows, hands, knees and feet are perfect for defense." He motioned for her to stand. "Do what I do."
He balled his fists, and Jaelynn followed. Slowly, he extended his arm at her, his fist still tight. He nodded, and Jaelynn did the same towards him. He smiled, and then he turned sideways. He brought his arm up and led with his elbow at Jaelynn.
She felt herself smiling too. She knew these moves—not having done them herself, but she'd seen the knights fight before. Jaelynn turned and led with her elbow as well. When she lightly touched her elbow against Gawain's chest, Gawain turned to face her quickly, and grabbed her hand.
Alarmed, she almost shrieked again. But Gawain held her up while he kicked just inches away from the back of her legs. He nodded for her turn. Jaelynn found her footing, and kicked the air behind Gawain's legs.
"Good," he praised. Jaelynn breathed a sigh of relief, and stood a little more comfortably. "Another thing you can do is stay out of reach. Again?"
Jaelynn nodded without thinking.
And then Gawain picked up the pace.
She could hardly follow his movements. Her heart began to race, even though this was just training. He grabbed for her, and Jaelynn dodged him and stepped away. Gawain chased her around the training yard, with Jaelynn barely missing his attacks. The knight turned back and quite deliberately balled his fists before relaxing them and reaching for her again.
Right. Fight back. She couldn't run away for ever.
He seized her by the wrist and pulled her towards him. Jaelynn felt a few memories start to surface, making her heart beat faster. Fight!
She pulled away, but not from his grasp completely. Using her free arm, she swung at him. It was clumsy, and it missed him, but Gawain nodded encouragingly. His grip was firm still and he gave her arm a slight tug just to remind her she wasn't free.
Jaelynn leaned towards him and brought her knee up. Gawain jumped back with a look of alarm, but Jaelynn didn't stop. She hit him in the stomach with her fist and pulled away quickly.
Gawain came at her again, this time more aggressively. Did I hurt him? She doubted it by the grin he wore. Gawain grabbed her by the shoulders, his arms encircling her completely. Jaelynn squirmed in his hold, but he just held on tighter.
In the background, she heard horses running, but she kept her focus. Gawain had told her that you have to know what is going on around you, but you have to pay more attention to the fight you're in.
Though her shoulders were pinned, she could still move her lower arms. She threw her elbow into Gawain's stomach, and after hearing him grunt, she did it again until he released her. Jaelynn spun around to face him, and kicked him behind the knees.
Gawain fell down.
"I did it!" she exclaimed happily. Gawain half-glared at her, but she saw a bit of sparkle in his eyes. It faded as he looked beyond her.
Jaelynn turned and saw Tristan galloping up. There were more horses and riders behind him, but they were further back. She frowned as soon as she saw Tristan was holding a body in front of him.
He dismounted first, and gently pulled the body down. Jaelynn gasped when she saw who it was.
"Nasica," she said aloud. Tristan nodded.
"She needs a healer," he said. "Others too." Gawain was on his feet now.
"I'll get Hilden," Jaelynn declared. "Take her to the healing rooms." She ran off, and missed the curiously dangerous look Tristan shot Gawain.
"Training," Gawain explained in a single word.
The scout raised an eyebrow.
"Hers or yours?"
-0-0-
The healing rooms had never been so busy, not since she started working with Hilden. Amazingly, Hilden didn't seem stressed. He methodically directed Jaelynn to get this or that while he attended five wounded people.
One was Nasica. He had already looked over her, and by the defeated but pleasant look he gave to the barely-conscious woman, Jaelynn knew she wouldn't be saved. Tristan stood out of the way, but close to where Nasica lay. His face was blank; his eyes stayed on the wounded Briton.
Jaelynn bandaged a nasty stab wound in one man's leg. The man was calmly holding himself back from showing the pain. Sweat lightly shone on his forehead, but he tried to smile as if he was fine. He would be fine, and Jaelynn finished tying off the bandage.
She turned to survey what was next. Hilden leaned over a wound he was stitching. She wondered why he was not stitching Nasica's arrow wound.
"Hilden," she said quietly. The healer glanced at her briefly.
"What is it, Jaelynn?"
Her eyes flickered to Nasica.
"Can we do nothing for her?" she whispered. Hilden sighed but continued his work.
"She won't survive," he said.
"Can't we try?" she asked, and Hilden shot her a reproving glare. She was stepping over a line. She tried again. "Shouldn't we stitch the wound at least?"
Hilden shook his head.
"She is bleeding inside. The blood will just swell within her, and maybe cause more complications," he said. He shot her another look, as if to dismiss her from what she didn't understand. Jaelynn frowned and turned away.
Tristan had been watching her, but his eyes were now back on Nasica. There was worry there.
"Hilden," she called again, and the healer sighed out, clearly annoyed. "What can I do to make her more comfortable?"
Hilden frowned. Slowly, his features softened. His eyes flickered to Nasica.
"Change the bandages when the blood becomes too much," he ordered quietly. "She won't last long, but give her a numbing tea. Keep her still and warm. She'll feel colder when it is time."
A lump rose in the back of her throat. Jaelynn didn't want to hear this, but it was a reality. Patients die. And Nasica would most likely be her first one. It was terrible, knowing the death was coming.
Seeing Tristan watch her made it worse. Jaelynn could only imagine how this would affect him. And though she wished she was the one that captured his attention so, she couldn't feel any ire against Nasica.
She cleared her thoughts and spurred herself into action. Nasica was kept to a corner of the room. It was out of the way, and eerily dark. She wondered if that was a sign by itself. She grabbed several cloth strips and also the numbing herbs.
"Tristan," she said softly. He looked directly at her. He was alert, but fatigue and maybe more was weighing him down. "Can you fetch some hot water?"
Without questioning why, he nodded and was gone before she could add that he could bring a cup. No matter, she thought. There were a few extra cups around that she could use.
Jaelynn went to Nasica's side. She pulled back the blankets covering the woman and started to remove the bandages. The arrow had punctured below her ribs, and judging by the dark, thick blood, it had hit vital areas inside the woman's body. Jaelynn frowned.
Nasica's eyes fluttered while Jaelynn worked. She muttered something.
"Nasica?" Jaelynn called softly, trying to bring the woman around. Maybe if she was conscious she had a better chance. Could she really die? Jaelynn wanted to stop that. She would try, at least.
The bandages were soaked through. Jaelynn put them aside and pressed a fresh cloth over the wound. It was a small wound, in comparison to what she'd seen on the others. But something so small still was destroying the life in front of her. It seemed so backwards.
Jaelynn mixed some herbs together to fight infection. They also encouraged the area to clot and heal. She smeared it gently over the wound, and then covered it again with bandages. She was finishing wrapping Nasica's torso when Tristan returned with a pot of hot water.
"Set it on the table," she told him. She covered Nasica with a mountain of blankets, fearing the cold that Hilden warned her about.
Tristan looked uncomfortable as he watched her work. Jaelynn wondered why. She frowned, but she couldn't consider it now. Numbing drink, she reminded herself. She picked a vial of herbs off the medicinal shelf and put it in a little cup. Using a wooden spoon, she crushed the herbs.
The hot water Tristan brought dissolved the herbs quickly. Jaelynn blew at the liquid, trying to cool it enough to be consumed.
"Can you lift her so she can drink?" she asked. Tristan nodded. He wasted no time in helping. He propped Nasica up at a slight angle; it was enough. The woman parted her lips slightly when the cup was pressed against her mouth.
"Drink, Nasica," Jaelynn whispered. "It will ease the pain." She didn't notice how Tristan stared at her while she administered the drink. "It will make her rest for awhile." She glanced to Tristan. He nodded and laid the woman back down.
-0-0-
From what he saw, Hilden had already given up on Nasica. The healer was gone, satisfied that all the others would heal, and now he was resting. Jaelynn declared she would stay to watch over Nasica.
Tristan offered a slight smile to her for that.
They sat across from each other with Nasica in between them. Jaelynn was tired, he could tell, but they all were. Tristan's body felt like it would fail him any moment, but he couldn't give in. He wanted to be awake if Nasica woke.
He wanted her to live He couldn't control if she would or not. He knew that. And he knew she probably wouldn't live. She probably wouldn't wake again. He hoped she would though. He didn't want their last encounter to be the awful one on their trip, with her accusations, and his silence. Why didn't I tell her? If she knew what really happened, would she see him differently?
It didn't matter. Tristan held no hope for Nasica's love. He had moved on, hadn't he? Or was seeing her now bringing him back to her?
"Are you all right?" a soft voice asked him. Tristan blinked and looked to Jaelynn. Her brown hair was swept up in a bun, but little tendrils stuck out from the bun and framed her face. Her face held a glow and liveliness that didn't match with how tired she must have been. Tristan nodded.
"You?" he asked. She nodded back. She seemed much more confident and at ease now than when he'd been with her last. She was frail then, with good reason. But now, she was in charge, and yet so kind. How does she do that?
"So you found them?" she asked. "The Romans?" Tristan nodded.
"They're dead." His voice sounded just as dead when he said that. Jaelynn took it in stride.
"Good."
He tilted his head to the side. "You wanted them dead?" Not that he blamed her, but he was surprised.
Jaelynn shrugged. "They deserved it."
Tristan wondered if Jaelynn hadn't known him before if she'd think he deserved death.
"We all make mistakes and do bad things," she continued, drawing him back, "but they meant them. They wanted to do evil." Again, she shrugged. "Death is necessary sometimes."
He didn't move. Tristan just thought about what she said. Was she right?
He had to agree with her in general, but when applied to him, her words absolved him and his past to an extent. She didn't mean it that way, or at least he didn't think so. Could she? Could his time in Rome, his entire nature be absolved by intention? He didn't want to do what's wrong. Yet he did, plenty of times over.
Did it matter though? To some people, it always would. For him, . . .
He was beginning to accept himself with Jaelynn's way of thinking.
He coughed, and ran his hand through his messy hair. He caught sight of his dirty hands. Glancing down, he noticed the blood on his clothes and armor. He hadn't even changed or cleaned up since he'd returned, and it was night now.
Suddenly Jaelynn stood and went to the cool pot of water. She poured some water in a clean dish, and dabbed a cloth in it.
"Take off your armor," she said, nodding at the blood and grime covering it. He was too tired to make her blush about the order, so he just obeyed. He handed her the armor, thinking she was going to wipe it down.
She dropped it on the floor. Tristan frowned.
"Here," she said, drawing nearer. Tristan leaned back in his chair but couldn't go further. Jaelynn was right there in front of him. He could feel the soft warmth of her body near his. It was comforting, disturbingly so. But Jaelynn had no spark in her eyes, no aim for seduction. Calm down. He sat stiffly, unsure of what she was going to do.
She gripped his chin in one hand and dabbed at his face with the cloth. She's cleaning you. An odd thing out of context, but Tristan didn't fight it. He titled his head to the side to give her better access. He felt the wet cloth trace paths down his cheek. She cleaned over his forehead, moving aside his bangs and then moving to the other side of his face. He turned his head the other way.
She rewet the cloth. He watched numbly as she twisted the cloth and wrung the water from it. The drops rolled off her hands.
Jaelynn came back to him and resumed her task. With one finger, she tilted his chin up. His neck was next. He found his eyes closing while she cleaned away the grime.
"Battle is dirty, isn't it?" she commented. Opening his eyes, he saw she was wringing out the cloth. The water was clouded with red blood and black dirt. He smiled.
"Yeah." She grinned and dumped the filthy water in a chamber pot. She filled the bowl with new water. A new cloth was wet, and then she passed it to him.
"For your hands," she said. He nodded and took it.
"Why were you fighting Gawain?" he asked. The cloth was quickly turning red and gray, but Jaelynn's face was just turning red.
"I . . . I asked him to teach me," she said. He raised an eyebrow at that. "I want to learn."
He couldn't fault her for that. He wasn't thrilled about it either. For some reason, it bothered him that Gawain was teaching her . . .
But he just nodded, too tired to think of why.
"When's the last time you slept?" she asked. She frowned, making her forehead crinkle a bit. Tristan almost grinned. He always thought it was funny when she was concerned about him. If she were anyone else, he would be annoyed.
"I'm okay," he said.
"Liar."
He raised an eyebrow. "I've been called a lot of names." She rolled her eyes, and Tristan had to smile. He relented. "I slept two nights ago."
She didn't believe him, he could tell.
"Not much," she said, finding the answer herself. "You couldn't have, with me there. And besides, that was two nights ago."
He shrugged, and finished with the cloth. He tossed it towards a pile of soiled cloths.
"You worry too much," he said. She glared at him, but he could tell it was playful. He looked down to hide a grin.
"He does speak." Tristan almost jumped. Looking up, he saw Nasica, who seemed amused despite her condition. She's alive. Tristan stood up and leaned over her. Jaelynn was already at her side.
"How are you feeling?" Jaelynn asked gently.
Nasica grimaced in response. Jaelynn dabbed a clean wet cloth over the woman's forehead. She swallowed, and looked to Tristan.
"Can you take over?" she asked. Tristan just blinked. Jaelynn grabbed his hand lightly, and put the cloth in it. "I'll fetch Hilden."
She turned and left, leaving the scout with the Briton woman. Even though Nasica was far weaker than he, Tristan felt vulnerable. He steeled himself, and tried to remember what Jaelynn wanted him to do.
He wiped the cool cloth over Nasica's forehead. Her eyes were staring at his, and he tried to ignore that. He wouldn't allow himself to look at her, not beyond his task.
"I'm surprised you're here," she said. Her voice was proof of how weak and fragile she was. Instead of fiery words, she struggled to breathe after each. The sentence itself made her shut her eyes. Tristan leaned closer, concerned.
"Nasica?"
Slowly, she opened her eyes. "Did I scare you?" she said. A smile played on her lips. If Tristan wasn't glad she was awake, he would have shaken her. He glared at her for a second and then returned his attention to the wet cloth in his hand.
"Have a sense of humor," she said. "Dumb scout."
He rolled his eyes at her rasping breaths.
"Stop talking," he ordered. "You'll hurt yourself."
She chuckled, but it never really made it to true laughter. Her breaths came as wet garbled gasps. Tristan didn't know what to do. He turned a couple of times until he found the cup of numbing herbs with water. There was just a little left, but he brought it to the woman's lips.
"Drink," he said, and she did. As if that effort alone was too much, she laid her head back against the cot she was on. Tristan glanced at the door. Where was Hilden and Jaelynn?
"I was wrong," she said. She took a few breaths, shutting her eyes as she regained some strength. Her eyes opened again, looking him straight in the eyes, even with his hair blocking her view of them. "You didn't deserve what I said. And I respect you."
She started to cough, and suddenly Hilden and Jaelynn returned. Tristan was pushed out of the way, and Hilden started to look over Nasica.
He retreated back, but didn't leave the room. Her words still rang in his ears.
Somehow, even though she was struggling to live, Tristan felt hope.
-0-0-
Nasica fell back asleep, or rather, slipped back into unconsciousness. Hilden still wasn't optimistic. Jaelynn had to change her bandages again, and the bleeding hadn't stopped. It had slowed though, and that made Jaelynn hope.
She wasn't ready for someone to die. Especially not Nasica. Because of Tristan, it would make her feel guilty.
The scout succumbed to his own exhaustion two hours ago. Jaelynn was surprised he could sleep that long out here, sitting up in a chair with his arms crossed. But she was glad he was resting. He needed it.
Hilden returned to bed as well. Despite his warnings to take care of herself, Jaelynn sat by Nasica's side.
The woman looked paler now. She was shaking a little. Jaelynn found another blanket and covered Nasica. Was it just her, or was there a slight blue tint to the woman's face? Jaelynn added her own blanket to the pile on Nasica.
It must have worked, because Nasica stopped shaking.
Jaelynn sighed, relieved. She leaned her head forward in her hands, with her elbows propped against the high cot Nasica lay on. I'm so sleepy. As if to rub it in, she yawned. She shook her head. Focus. You have to stay awake.
Nasica.
The mound of blankets wasn't moving with her anymore. Nasica wasn't breathing. Jaelynn got up quickly and watched.
No, Nasica wasn't breathing.
Jaelynn felt the woman's neck as Hilden taught her. No thump beneath the skin hit her fingers. Nasica's heart had given out. Jaelynn noticed how cold the woman's flesh was.
Tears pricked at her eyes, but now wasn't the time. She leaned over Nasica, putting her ear above her mouth and nose. She heard no breath.
She died.
Looking at Tristan, he appeared as blank as he normally was. Jaelynn thought of how tired he was already. For a moment, she considered letting him sleep. But she knew he would want to know.
She dreaded what she was about to do.