I don't own any of the Tamora Pierce characters

Matthew woke up sweating and feeling sick. The memories of the day of Owens death had plagued his mind for the last two weeks, ever since finding out who Liam was. He hadn't slept properly in all that time, and was lacking in energy. He would be going home in a week. He couldn't carry on sleeping like this… it would kill him. He rolled out of the bed, pulling on a shirt and looking at Ivy, sleeping quietly in the bed. They were sleeping in the same bed again now, but their relationship was still not back to normal. They were not making love which, however much he tried to pretend, was frustrating Matthew. He knew it was unfair to think like that after all that she had been through, but it still didn't help him feel less frustrated. Matthew left the room after putting his boots on, deciding to find a healer about his sleeping problems. Alanna had gone back to the war the week before, so instead he headed to the infirmary, where there was always someone on duty. Tonight it was a man named Philippe. He was about forty, with graying brown hair and brown eyes. He was short, and plump, so Matthew had to sit down on a chair in order to get a good look at him.

"Trouble sleeping, you say?" Philippe asked.

Matthew nodded.

"Anything troubling you? Any things plaguing your mind? Things you would rather forget…?"

Matthew looked down and nodded.

"In which case," Philippe said, "I would suggest these pills. They contain plenty of herbs that will help you sleep and another which will give you no dreams. Take one a night before going to bed, and see how it works." He handed over a small jar of pills. "If that fails, I suggest talking to someone about the… dreams… that you are having… can work miracles…"

Matthew nodded and left, walking back to his rooms and examining the small jar. The pills looked an almost mouldy green, and were about the size of a copper piece. He shuddered at the thought of swallowing them; he never was much good with pills.

Ivy was still sleeping when he got back to the room. He quietly put the pills on the desk, then sat at the bottom of the bed, watching her as she slept. He could never grow tired of it. She was beautiful. It was one of the amazing things about her; no matter how much he watched her, or how much time he spent with her, it was never enough… He walked round the side of the bed and leant down, kissing Ivy's forehead lightly and stroking the hair from her face. He hadn't been able to do that as much lately… he'd missed it. Matthew sighed and lay down beside Ivy, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. He knew he wouldn't sleep properly now, but he didn't care. He was content to sit here with Ivy's warm body next to his… it was more comforting than what awaited him in his dreams at any rate…

Ivy woke up to find Matthew watching her, one of his hands rested on her hair. She smiled at him.

"You're beautiful…" he whispered to her, stroking her cheek.

Ivy looked down. "I'm not…" she whispered back.

Matthew tilted up her head. "You are." He leant forward and pressed his lips lightly to hers. Ivy whimpered, and he jerked back instantly. "I'm sorry." He said instantly. "I didn't mean to scare you… I just…I'm sorry…"

"It's fine…" Ivy said quietly. "I just wasn't expecting it…" she looked up at him. "Hold me?"

Matthew looked at her for a second, then wrapped his arms around her, breathing in her scent and reveling in it. Her arms went round his back loosely, her hands rubbing his muscles gently.

"Matthew…" she murmured into his shirt.

"Mmm?"

"Do you still… do you think I'm… dirty…?"

Matthew drew back slowly. "Why would I think you were dirty?" he asked quietly, looking her in the eye and stroking her cheek with the back of her hand.

"Because of what happened… with Gavin… do you think you can touch me again?"

Matthew felt anger swell inside his chest. He pushed it down. "I'm touching you now aren't I?" he said quietly.

Ivy nodded. "But… I mean… like you used to?"

Matthew looked down at her carefully. "You mean… like…?"

Ivy nodded again.

Matthew nodded slowly. "I think so…" he tilted up her chin. "What Gavin did to you was disgusting. I hate him for it. But you aren't… you never could be… dirty." He kissed her forehead lightly. "I love you." he said quietly. "And nothing anybody –even Gavin- says or does, will ever, ever change that."

Ivy smiled weakly at him. "I love you too…" she buried her face in his shirt. Matthew tightened his hold on her, cupping her head in one of his hands. They lay like that for several minutes, then Ivy looked up at him.

"You don't think I'm dirty?" she asked again, quietly.

Matthew nodded. "That's right. And I never could."

Ivy looked down. "Will you…?"

"Will I what?" Matthew asked gently.

"Make love to me…" she whispered. "Will you make love to me?"

Matthew looked at her carefully. "Ivy… we can't… you were only raped a few weeks ago… you need to get over it… we can't… we shouldn't…"

"I am over it. You helped me get over it." She looked up to meet his eyes. "Maybe you're the one that's not over it…" she went to pull out of his grip.

"That's not true. I just don't want you to do this if you aren't ready to… I love you and we don't need to make love to show each other that do we?" He looked into her eyes and saw tears welling up in them.

"I do… I want to know you still love me… I keep thinking you'll walk out on me after what's happened… I want to know you love me as much as you say you do."

"Ivy…" Matthew whispered. "You know I do. I just want to know you're ready… you've been through so much already… I don't want you to feel pressured into this… I couldn't bare to think I pushed you into it…"

"You wouldn't have…" she whispered. "I am ready… I don't want you to go back without knowing how much I love you…"

Matthew looked at her. "Ivy… I don't need you to show me… I already know…"

Ivy shook her head. "Don't say anything… please? Just do this… for me?" Matthew didn't know if it was the pleading in her voice, or the fact that his whole body was longing for her touch, but he didn't say anything else, and leaned forward to press his lips gently to hers. Her lips were soft, slightly wet. One hand went to her waist and he rolled her onto her back, so that he was leaning over her, but not crushing her. Ivy's mouth opened slightly and Matthew moved his tongue in to meet hers. She hesitated slightly, and Matthew thought about pulling back, but her hands moved to the back of his head, as if sensing his hesitation, and she began to deepen the kiss. A groan escaped Matthew's lips. He kissed back passionately, his hands moving to the hem of her night-shirt, before drawing it up over Ivy's head. There was nothing but bare skin beneath it, and Matthew suddenly felt far too covered up. He took Ivy's hands and placed them on his chest. Ivy instantly began to undo the buttons of his shirt, and then slid it off his back, feeling the familiar bare muscles of his back, rippling as he moved. Minutes later, they were naked against each other, and, with a sense of comfort, Ivy let Matthew make love to her, feeling at complete ease in his arms….

Matthew woke up much later, with Ivy sleeping soundly with her head on his chest. He smiled and tilted his head slightly to look at her more closely. She was beautiful. A wave of regret passed through him. He would leave tomorrow. Once more he'd be thrown into the world of war, not knowing if he'd ever make it home to her again, not knowing if he'd ever be able to tell her how much he loved her. Maybe it was that thought that made him get up out of the bed and take the pouch of diamonds that Numair had made for what felt like years ago into the next room…

He watched as the man at the stall carefully welded the smallest of the diamonds onto the silver ring. Matthew knew the man thought he was a thief. No knights were supposed to be home from the war, and he was dressed in plain shirt and breeches, as well as a brown traveling coat to cover his sword. Even Magic was saddled in only the simplest tack. It was how Matthew had always dressed when he went to the city, and he didn't plan to change it, even though the man was giving him extremely accusive glares. Finally the man was done and handed the ring back to Matthew.

"Here. That'll be three gold nobles." Matthew thought about arguing. The man was obviously over-charging him, probably trying to see if he really was a thief or if he could actually afford it, though he doubted that he would trust him even when he had paid the amount. He handed over the three gold nobles. The man cast him a questioning glance, as if expecting Matthew to pull his hand back and run, then reached out and took the money. Matthew didn't bother to thank him for his time. He had better things to do, and quite frankly, he didn't think the man would appreciate his thanks. He whistled for Magic, who was now grazing behind the stall. He trotted over reluctantly, as if wanting to stay and eat the grass. The man at the stall continued to watch Matthew warily, and Matthew noticed that his hand was slowly getting closer and closer to the dagger at his belt. What does he think I'm going to do to him? Matthew thought. He didn't have time to think about the answer. Out of nowhere three men dressed in black shirts and breeches, appeared. All three of them were armed with knives. Matthew crouched slightly, as if preparing for them to attack. When they began to move in on him he flipped backward into the saddle, drawing his sword as he went. It was something he'd practiced for years as a Page and Squire, something that had earned him more cuts and bruises than all of the other put together, but Matthew had never been one to jump into the saddle clumsily and without style, he was, though he would never want to admit it, a man who liked to fight in style. The three men, now joined by the stall owner, closed in a circle around Magic with their knives. Matthew resisted the urge to grin. It was exactly what he had expected. They thought he was trapped… he smiled inwardly at how wrong they were… The man nearest to him –the stall owner- lifted his knife as if he planned to stab Matthew's leg. Matthew brought his sword round and knocked him on the back of the head with his hilt. Instantly the man crumpled and fell to the floor. Steering Magic with his legs, Matthew turned on the other three men. He was annoyed to see that most of the people in the market had now gathered to watch. There was too much of a chance that he would hurt them if he charged at the men here. Matthew studied the closest man carefully. He was of average height, and medium build, but he was obviously not to be underestimated. The way he spun his knives in his hands told Matthew that he knew what he was doing. The other two were taller, and of better build, but they were obviously clumsy with their weapons, and not as confident as the other. Matthew risked a quick glance over his shoulder. The road behind him was almost empty; there were less stalls in that direction. He turned back and caught one of the men's eyes. There was something of determination in his eyes. They weren't petty thieves wanting to steal his money, whoever they were, they had been sent there for a reason. Discreetly, Matthew nudged Thunder in the direction of the Palace and into a gallop. The men followed, as he knew they would. At the top of the road, Matthew flipped out of the saddle, landing just behind the three men who were chasing him. They didn't notice until he tapped one of them on the shoulder. Grinning, Matthew kicked the knives out of the nearest mans hands, then elbowed him in the face. He felt, and heard, the man's nose break, then he knocked him out, thumping him in the temple and sending him into the nearest wall. He crumpled and lay at the bottom of it, unconscious. The other two men were standing slightly further back. The fact that two of them had been so easily beaten obviously worried them. Matthew frowned. Did they not know he was a knight? Perhaps the person who had sent them had neglected to tell them that particular detail…

"You're not going to chicken out on me are you?" Matthew asked playfully. "I was just starting to have some fun." The bigger of the two moved forward clumsily.

"We don't chicken out…" the man flicked his wrist and sent the knife in his right hand flying at Matthew. Un-phased, Matthew caught it and threw it back. The other man tried clumsily to catch it, but missed. The knife buried itself hilt deep in the mans throat, and he fell to the ground. Matthew looked at the other man. He was watching Matthew carefully, apparently preparing to run backwards, judging by his left foot gradually slipping back towards the crowd. Matthew watched warily, on the balls of his feet. Without warning, the man somersaulted forwards and struck out with a knife. It sliced Matthew's cheek, opening a deep gash. A gasp went up in the crowd, and Matthew resisted the urge to swear. There were, most likely, several children among them, and he couldn't be a bad influence on them. He grinned slightly at himself, then grabbed the man's wrist as he prepared to strike him again. He slowly applied more and more pressure, digging his fingertips right in between the man's veins. He was shocked when the man managed to swing one foot up to hit him in the side of the head. Realizing that he still held his sword in his right hand, Matthew flicked it round, moving his head back to avoid decapitating himself, and opening a gash in the mans chest. He let go of the man's wrist, then flipped backwards, wiping his face on his sleeve to clear his vision of blood. The man was moving towards him with surprising speed and had, from apparently nowhere, produced a sword. The man was on him in a second, bringing his sword round in a butterfly sweep. Instinctively, Matthew dropped and swept the man's legs from under him. Mithros, he thought, I only came out to get a bleeding ring made! Who would have known it was going to be so much hassle? The man landed with a thud on his back, but it didn't seem to phase him. He rolled and raised a knife, preparing to bring it down on Matthew. Matthew grabbed his wrists, and rolled, pinning the man down and using his superior strength to hold him there.

"Who sent you?" Matthew hissed.

The man said nothing.

Matthew shook him again. Lowering his voice, he said. "Which bastard sent you?"

The man seemed to choke, then spluttered. Suddenly he seemed to glow a violent yellow. He shuddered, then fell still. Matthew stared for a second, then got to his feet, looking at the dead man. He looked at a nearby boy who was walking forwards in amazement to look at the dead man.

"Don't touch him." He warned, then jumped onto Magic's back.

How had four men managed to fail him? For Mithros sake he only wanted a man killed. They were supposed to be the best. How had they not managed to kill him. He couldn't be the hardest man they'd ever had to kill. Next time, he'd die. He'd make sure of it.

Matthew arrived back at his rooms and Ivy instantly ran to him.

"Matthew! What happened?" She led him into the room and sat him on the bed, looking at his cut. "Mithros, that's deep." She disappeared behind a curtain and returned with bandages and hot water.

"Ivy, I'm fine. Honestly, you don't have to fuss… I'll sort it out, I just…" he stopped when he felt Ivy's hand on the side of his face, and let her clean it. When she moved to take her hand away, he grabbed it and held it there. Closing his eyes he sighed. "That's nice…" he murmured. Ivy giggled slightly, then stopped at his quizzical look.

"Since when did you do girlish giggles?" he whispered.

Ivy shrugged. "Since I started going girly…"

Matthew smiled. "I thought you were a big tough girl."

"I was… until I met you… it's your entire fault."

Matthew nodded. "Without question… most definitely my fault…"

They were silent, for a few minutes while Matthew closed his eyes and healed his cut, keeping Ivy's hand on his face. She was startled to feel the skin closing together under her hand. Matthew smiled, then turned his head, pressing his lips to her wrist.

"I love you…" he said quietly, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her backwards to lay on his chest.

"I love you too…" Ivy said, running her fingers over his chest through the gap in his shirt. Matthew closed his eyes for a few minutes, then caught her hand and looked her in the eyes.

"You mean everything to me… you know that don't you?"

Ivy nodded. "I do now…"

"You know I'd do anything for you, right?"

She nodded again.

"And that no matter what happens I'll always love you?"

Once again she nodded. Matthew took a deep breath, then dug his hand in his pocket, pulling out the ring he had got in the market. He clenched his fist around it for a second.

"When the war's over…" he said quietly, "I want to be able to show everyone how much I love you." He sat up slightly and took her hand. "I want to spend my life with you…"

Heart pounding, Matthew put the ring in his fingertips and held it up for Ivy to see.

"When all this is over… I want you to marry me… will you?"

Ivy stared at the glowing diamond for a second, in total awe of what was happening. Matthew took his silence to mean no.

"I'm sorry…" He said quickly. "I don't know what I was thinking… I'm being stupid… I shouldn't have…"

"No… you're not being stupid." She put her hands on the side of his face. "Of course I'll marry you." She kissed him as he stared at her in shock.

"You… you serious?" he asked when she pulled away.

Ivy nodded. Grinning, Matthew kissed her gently.

"I love you…" he grinned, then took her left hand. "You sure?" he asked quietly, locking her eyes with his, hand poised, ready to slide the ring on.

Ivy nodded. "I'm sure…"

Matthew smiled and slipped the ring onto her wedding finger. He kissed her forehead gently, and then wrapped his arms around her.

"So come on… what kind of wedding do you want?"

Matthew left the next morning. Ivy watched him leave, twisting the ring on her finger. She wished he could stay. It hurt, watching him leave, knowing that he might not come back, that she might never see him again. She looked at the ring on her finger. Buri had been thrilled for them both, as had Jonathan and Thayet. Matthew had lain beside her most of the night, asking her about what she wanted at the wedding. She smiled as she remembered him teasing her about wearing white.

"You can't." he said cheekily, stroking her face.

"Why not?" Ivy asked.

"You're not a virgin." He grinned.

"So?"

"You can't wear white."

"Can!"

"Can't!" Matthew grinned at her and kissed her hand. "You can wear pink… beautiful, sexy, gorgeous, pink!"

That earned him a hit on the head with a pillow. "I am not wearing pink!" Ivy argued.

Matthew smiled. "Alright… yellow!"

"NO!"

He sighed. "Ok… purple?"

"Matthew…" she warned.

"Alright! Alright!" He looked at her thoughtfully. "Blue…" he said quietly. "Will you wear blue?"

Ivy nodded slowly, "But I'd rather wear white…"

Matthew grinned cheekily. "But you can't!" he whispered in her ear playfully. He smiled. "Don't worry, the dress is going to end up dirty and on the floor anyway…"

Ivy watched Matthew disappear out of sight, smiling at the thought of what Matthew had been implying. Their wedding night… she felt the sudden sense of loss that overtook her every time that she thought of anything in the future involving her and Matthew. There was no way of knowing it would even happen… he might have been being optimistic, but they both knew that it might never happen… she shoved the thought away. No, she thought, he's made it this far. He'll make it home…

It was raining. She could see the rain sloshing onto his face. He was wrapped in his traveling cloak, his brownish-blonde hair soaked and plastered to his head and the side of his face. He obviously hadn't noticed the men in the shadows under a nearby tree. He continued to ride on, looking down to keep the rain from getting in his eyes. Ivy tried to call out, but he couldn't hear her. He rode on, not noticing the flash of metal as the nearest man drew a knife and threw it. It hit him squarely in the back, and he tumbled from the saddle. Magic reared, then galloped away from the men who were now emerging from the shadows to pull Matthews bleeding, suddenly lifeless, body away.

Ivy woke up sweating. Her sheets clung to her skin, and her hair was stuck to her face. She was panting. She tried to remember the dream… or nightmare… she felt a sudden lurch in her stomach as she remembered, and rolled to the side of the bed, retching onto the floor. Matthew had been killed… of course it was only a dream. It hadn't really happened… that was what she tried to tell herself. But something in the back of her mind told her differently. It had been too vivid…

Two weeks later, Ivy had managed to banish all thoughts of the dream away. She hadn't had any repeats of it, and she was sure that it could only mean that she had been worried about him. By now he would be at the camp again, in charge of his men. He was fine. She was just worrying. When a messenger arrived with a letter for her, she felt her heart leap. Matthew was safe. He was writing to her. She tore open the envelope and was shocked to see that the letter was from her father.

Dearest Ivy,

I am sorry to have to tell you this, especially after what I have just heard from Buri. I cannot sugar coat this for you as I would have liked. You're too old for it now, and you'd see through any lie I told you. This will seem blunt, far too much so you might think, but I cannot drag it out for you. It would be wrong of me.

Matthew didn't make it back. Two of our men found his body when they were checking the country for thieves and spies. He was attacked and killed by three men. A stab wound to the back. It would have been quick, Ivy. He wouldn't have felt much. It would have been over very quickly. I know you would have been in his thoughts. He loved you. Nothing, not even death, can come between two peoples love.

His body has been burnt and sent to the Goddess Ivy. In a way it's a blessing you were not here. His body was a mess. Now you can remember him as the whole human being you knew him to be.

I am so sorry

All my love

Father

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