5 days later... Arthur's POV

Arthur walked down the hallway, chatting silently with Margaret and a few British butlers and maids. Since the executions, the Englishmen and women have gravitated to him, impressed with his temper and competence. Currently, they were talking about the weather, like they always did. Something about the weather just seemed so interesting to Arthur; it was so often grey and gloomy, whether or not it rained or snowed.

As they walked down the hall, one of the American maids walked by, eyeing him in fear. When he stared at her back, she stopped where she was, frantically tugging out her cross and thrusting it in the brit's general direction. She was mumbling, perhaps a prayer, as she fell to her knees. She kissed the cross and held it close to her chest. Arthur stopped and watched her, causing the other maids to watch her too.

The brit was beyond confused, for the past four days, this has happened at least 3 different times. They would stop, stare, and start to pray. Did they think he wanted to kill them too? "Don't mind them dear." A middle aged maid with long blonde locks told him. The Englishman looked at her questioningly. "These Americans are a superstitious lot. They'll fear anything that doesn't fear them." And with that she started to walk, to which Margaret linked their arms and forced them to walk in sync.

"Don't worry Arthur." She said as they walked. "Just ignore those nut jobs." The brit nodded, trusting his friend. They were headed out to the greenhouse to see Davie and help. Davie, the Englishman had just recently learned, was here for research purposes, not necessarily for being a knight. He was looking for more plants with medicinal properties to bring back to the U.S. He wanted to test them in various conditions, to see if they were hardy enough to flourish in the states.

The brit found that quite interesting, and was tagging along with the crowd so he could ask Davie questions about his findings.

They entered the courtyard just as a gust of wind roared by, causing the brit to frown. It was bloody freezing out here. He had a thick shawl on, but he could still feel the chill traveling down his back. The group walked briskly to the greenhouse, which was about a 2-minute walk from the courtyard. It was a large glass building with stone steps leading to the front doors. Without even entering it, you could see all of the plants in there, a cluster of green.

They walked up the steps and pushed open the big glass doors to enter, sighing in relief of the still cold, but much warmer, room. The butlers picked up some trays of plants that were left there for them and exited, saying quick farewells. The maids and Arthur wandered around the greenhouse, looking at all of the pretty flowers. They were quite beautiful, even if some of them were wilting due to the cold weather. Most of the flowers remained vibrant, giving of a strong perfume-like aroma.

Arthur stopped when he noticed a plot of blue beautiful flowers. He has seen Davie give Alfred one, but the brit had never asked why and what it was. He was curious now, and he set out to the back of the greenhouse to find Davie.

Maybe after a few minutes of searching, Arthur concluded that Davie was back at the fortress. No one was here. He returned to the group of maids, and told them, ignoring their groans of displeasure. Most of the girls were upset, they had just wanted to visit Davie. He was quite popular around here, most likely because of his good looks. He smiled a lot, had rich indigo eyes, tanned skin, and a fit body.

Arthur wasn't particularly attracted to Davie, but he had to admit, he was just as handsome as Alfred on a technical and physical aspect. Personality wise, Arthur preferred an aggressive, straightforward mate. Davie was a sarcastic, mysterious type; too secretive for the brit. In fact, so secretive that the brit was still unsure of his sexual preference. Whenever he did ask, Davie said the same thing over and over: 'I'm not attracted to people's bodies; I'm attracted to their essence.'

Yeah, whatever that meant.

The brit wasn't ready to go out in the biting cold, choosing to sit down beside Margaret and listen to another maid, Sally, the blond from before, gossip. "Alright, so I was in the kitchens, and I heard Tanya say that she was sick and tired of Geoffrey's constant yelling. She said she was this close" She demonstrated with her fingers in a pinching motion, stopping with almost an inch apart. "From smothering him in her sleep" Arthur, alongside everyone, gasped. Geoffrey was Tanya's new born baby. Arthur would have to do something about that.

"Well," He started, getting everyone's attention. "If she can't handle a child, she should just give it to someone who could." It wasn't much of an opinion, but the girls nodded their heads in agreement. Margaret combed her hair out of her face.

"Who would take him? I know I wouldn't." She stated, all the girls nodded to that too. Hmm, she was right, no one wanted to deal with a child right now, but smothering it shouldn't be an option! People are dying to have a baby, but she's an inch away from trying to kill hers! Now, Arthur isn't trying to have a baby anytime soon, hopefully one day, but not anytime soon, and he and Alfred had just started to get back to normal.

"Well," He had just thought of an idea. "She could care for the child during the day, but let it sleep with a wet nurse during the night." To that Sally shook her head.

"We don't have wet nurses here because mothers are expected to care for their own kids." Oh, the brit frowned.

"Well, then maybe... every few days she passes Geoffrey to someone else's room to spend the night. I mean, how bad can it be?" It's just a baby, how loud can he be?

"Geoffrey is as loud as church bells, I'm not sleeping with that kid." Margaret said, causing the others to laugh. The Englishman scoffed in disbelief.

"He can't be that loud." He tried to defend, but the other maids shook their heads, looking at him with serious eyes.

"With that kid crying, you won't get any sleep, at all. Geoffrey is the worst, only a saint could quiet him once he starts to cry. But I admit, when he's happy, he's the cutest bugger in the world." Sally said with a smirk. "But by all means, Arthur, you can take him!" Arthur pondered with that thought. He would like to have some company when he was locked in his room, it would be a fun learning experience, that may or may not come in handy in the future. But what if he did cry in the middle of the night?

A baby in their room would just piss Alfred off. Especially if it's not his own.

"Ugh, Alfred would never approve." He said sadly, looking down. The girls looked at him oddly as the door was pushed open.

"Alfred would never approve of what?"

Arthur turned to see Davie smiling widely at him and the girls, waving kindly. Arthur ignored his question. "Where were you?" He asked annoyed. The girls, except Margaret, were all silently blushing, begging Arthur to watch his tone. "We were waiting quite a while for you, you know." He used the same annoying voice Davie would use when he spoke. Davie walked past them and over to some flowers.

He didn't have any shawl or blanket on; he was just in a plain, brown sweater, thick black trousers, and black work boots. He carried a tray of about 3 dozen green flowers. Was he not freezing? He was currently holding clippers, focusing on a bright green flower, trimming the thorns off of the sides of its stem. Arthur had seen those flowers before, but just didn't know the names.

"I was out looking for more flowers." He said softly, moving on to the next green flower. "I had read in a journal that a certain green flower, once exposure to rose water, can act as an agent to helping with digestive health. The journal, unfortunately, had no illustrations, so I went out to find random green flowers and try my luck." He placed the green flower down, picking up a next one. He placed the thorns in a container, next to the clipped flowers.

Arthur was impressed with how delicate Davie was being with the flowers.

"So, what did you mean by 'Alfred would never approve'?" He asked, still looking at his flowers. The brit had nothing to hide.

"He would never approve of us keeping Tanya's baby in our room." He saw the confused look on Davie's face, so he elaborated. "Tanya has been stressed out by her new son, and she, at this point, can't stand him. There's a rumor..." he looked at Sally for permission, who nodded dreamily, not really paying attention. "That she is contemplating suffocating her son to get a good night's rest." Davie stopped what he was doing to look up at Margaret, silently asking her if it was true. She nodded.

"Wow, well, if she couldn't handle motherhood, she shouldn't have opened her legs." He said gruffly, returning to his flowers. Arthur couldn't hide the shock on his face fast enough, Margaret already catching it and shaking her head in warning. She was in a relationship, it's not like she was some whore. The brit got the message: don't question him on this one, it's sensitive area.

"Yea, well, since she already gave birth" he continued. "I was just brainstorming some suggestions for her problems."

"Like having him sleepover in someone else's room?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well, that's not a bad idea, but you're right. Alfred wouldn't approve, he's such a child about sleep." He said softly, placing another flower down and picking one up. "But I can talk to her." He added as he clipped.

"What?" This time it was Margaret to speak. "And say what, you lunatic?" Davie ignored her insult and placed his flower down and picked another.

"I'd ask her how she is, if she's doing okay. When she tells me she hasn't been getting enough sleep, I'll ask her why." He placed down that flower and placed the thorns in the jar. "Then, when she tells me her problem, I'll volunteer to watch over him during the night." He said smoothly.

"What?" Margaret and Arthur said in shock. Davie? Care for a baby? How is that possible? He looked up at them in offense, eyes narrowing as he stared the two down.

"I'll have you know, back at the castle, I would help my mother with wet nursing the noblemen's infants. She often left me alone with the babies so she could focus on the adults who came in." He stated. "I'm more qualified to care for this child than any of you are." He said, looking down at his flower and continuing to cut. Arthur quirked his brows, but he didn't know whether or not he was lying.

He'll have to fact check with Alfred later. But for now... "I'll take your word for it." He said innocently. Davie scoffed playfully and the atmosphere returned to normal.

~~~~~~ Wounded Knight~~~~~~

Arthur eventually went back into his room and sat silently on his bed, staring at the wall. For the last few days, he had been doing this. He didn't know why, but staring at the wall helped him focus on nothing. When he was alone, he didn't like to think, because it always went back to Peter, and his mother and his father and his brothers and the life he used to have.

He tried to focus on more positive things, like the love he has for Alfred and the love Alfred has for him. Arthur let himself fall over onto his body pillow, closing his eyes. It was about 6 in the afternoon. It was a good time for a nap.

~~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~~~

Waahhhhhhh~ Waaahhhhhh~

Arthur flinched, scrambling as he was suddenly awoken from his sleep. What the fuck was going on!? What was that noise?! His flailing lead to him falling off of the bed, landing on the ground with a thud, cursing as he hit the ground, behind aching. Who was screaming like that?!

The Brit's thoughts were interrupted by the loud laughter of two intruders. The Englishman stood up quickly, grabbing the closest thing to him, a candle stick holder, and waving it around in front of himself like a sword. This only made the laughter louder. The candle was out, so there was no light shining through to help Arthur see. All he heard were the blaring cries and the obnoxious laughter of his assailants.

"Arthur Pendragon III, relax. It's just me and Davie. Oh, and Geoffrey." It was Alfred speaking, well panting through his giggling. Arthur put down the candle stick, cursing obscenities as he lit it, instantly illuminating the room. He placed his hands on his hips as he waited for an explanation.

"Well," Davie started, bouncing the baby a little so he would stop crying. "It worked. Little Geoffrey is going to spend the nights with me now." Arthur stared at him wide eyed, beyond shocked that Tanya would actually give Geoffrey up like that. Davie must have noticed Arthur's face, so he elaborated. "Tanya didn't plan on having Geoffrey, and his father was one of the knights killed alongside the late king. She said the stress was too much, and that looking at him makes her remember his father, who she hates for dying."

He said that with a shrug, the excuse made no sense to him. Arthur kind of got it, but Geoffrey can't help who his father is, Tanya just needed to get over herself and be a mother. Geoffrey was about 3 weeks by the looks of it, much too young to be the object of his mother's frustrations. He was perhaps better off with Davie.

However, none of this explained what they were doing in here.

"Why are you here?" he asked coldly, glaring at the men. Alfred cleared his throat and spoke.

"I came here to wake you up for dinner, and Davie decided to join me along the way." He spoke with a smirk, as if he had won a game or whatever. Arthur personally didn't see what was so funny. That child cried as if its life was on the line, how was he not supposed to jump and cry out? Sally wasn't kidding about that child's tonsils; he was much too loud. At least for his size.

The baby was silent now however, cooing as he bounced softly in Davie's arms. His face was buried in the knight's neck, mumbling and probably drooling, happily. Davie has subdued that child easily enough, he himself would have struggled with an infant. Perhaps he was much more qualified than Arthur thought. Alfred noticed him staring at the other and chuckled.

"Davie is surprisingly gentle with that little guy, huh?" Alfred patted Davie's shoulder. The babysitter scowled at him, sticking out his tongue in challenge. Geoffrey continued to mumble as the prince made his way to the brit, wrapping an arm around him affectionately. "He is awfully loud though. I'm glad you kept the brat." He kissed the brit's cheek, who swatted him playfully.

"He isn't keeping him, he's babysitting." He corrected.

"Yeah!" Davie chanted quietly, bouncing the baby softly. He grabbed the baby's hand gentle and shook it a little. "I'm just babysitting."


Davie's POV

Davie entered his room with baby Geoffrey on his hips, the infant yawning continuously. The baby had wanted to nap earlier, but Davie kept on distracting him with all different types of plants while they were together in the greenhouse. He figured keeping him awake more often would help him sleep longer. The first thing Davie did was lay the baby down on his mattress and undress him from his warm garments. Geoffrey began to whimper, getting fussy. Davie sighed.

"Geoffrey... you can't keep your clothes on forever~" he said in a soft squeaky voice. He wanted to stimulate the baby's mind. When he finally finished undressing the baby, he returned the infant to his hip and went to the bathroom and dug around for the basin his mother gave him for washing her son. The knight soon found the basin, a green bucket, and dunked it in his tub, which was already filled by the maids. The water was warm, thankfully, and he had no problem bathing the child, scrubbing what little dirt was on his skin.

The knight squirted some shampoo on his hand, only a dime sized amount, and ran it through the Geoffrey's wild brown curls, making sure to steer clear of his fore head. After the baby's bath, Davie used the dingy grey towel the child's mother gave him, and wrapped him in it, placing him in the old crib he had asked the guards to put in his room. He set Geoffrey down and undressed hurriedly, taking a quick bath and dressing warmly. He dug through the bag Tanya had gave him and found that almost all the clothes were paper thin.

Davie made a mental note to get him more clothes.

Davie had no choice but to layer the clothes on top of one another, wrapping the baby's bottom with fresh loincloth. He also pulled a small hat over the baby's head and a few socks over his feet. He didn't want the baby to catch a cold, even if the room was only a little chilly. The boy was still whimpering and yawning, his huffs getting more strained then the last. Davie smiled, lifting the junior up. "Little buddy wants to go to sleep?" He sat on his bed and rocked him softly, singing a nursery rhyme as he did so.

There was an old lady who swallowed a fly
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - perhaps she'll die!

There was an old lady who swallowed a spider,
That wriggled and wiggled and tiggled inside her;
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly;
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!

There was an old lady who swallowed a bird;
How absurd to swallow a bird.
She swallowed the bird to catch the spider,
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly;
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!

There was an old lady who swallowed a cat;
Fancy that to swallow a cat!
She swallowed the cat to catch the bird,
She swallowed the bird to catch the spider,
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly;
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!

There was an old lady that swallowed a dog;
What a hog, to swallow a dog;
She swallowed the dog to catch the cat,
She swallowed the cat to catch the bird,
She swallowed the bird to catch the spider,
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly;
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!

There was an old lady who swallowed a cow,
I don't know how she swallowed a cow;
She swallowed the cow to catch the dog,
She swallowed the dog to catch the cat,
She swallowed the cat to catch the bird,
She swallowed the bird to catch the spider,
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly;
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!

There was an old lady who swallowed a horse...
She's dead, of course!

By the time Davie finished the reciting, little baby Geoffrey was already fast asleep. His slightly up turned nose twitched in his sleep, his long brown lashes shifting ever so softly. The Knight walked over to the crib and placed the baby down gently, covering him with one of Davie's warmest shawls. The knight sighed happily; he could get a hang of the parenting thing. He blew out his candle and threw himself on the bed, cherishing the soft texture.

Ah, finally sleep.

He twisted and turned on his bed, trying to find a comfortable position. He couldn't. He screeched internally, frustrated at his fucking condition. Insomnia, they called it. Which explained why he was working so hard. The more challenges he has, the less energy, and the more willing his body is to sleep. It had worked as of fall, but since then, sleep had evaded him.

He pouted, his frustration turning into boredom.

Usually, he would just go out to the greenhouse and work some more, or read a journal, but he couldn't just leave an infant by himself. And as for reading... he wasn't in the mood. He let out a frustrated sigh. He figured he might as well just think. Should he dwell on the past, or look forward to the future?

Past.

He hadn't seen that red head again, but after such a long time of not seeing a trace of him, he has lost interest. He was pretty, sure, but Davie was drawn in by his mysterious aura. No doubt was he bad news, seeing that he fit Alfred's description of the bandit who attacked him to a 'T'. He had told Alfred that he had seen the red head swordsman out in the forest, but he just didn't tell him that it was the same man he had found attractive in the woods.

And he was glad he didn't, seeing that Davie couldn't care less about the bandit now.

He sighed, suddenly dreading the next day. It wasn't Geoffrey, or Alfred, or one of his friends; it was the fact that he had to go back to that greenhouse and play with plants all day. Davie loved flowers, and helping people, but he didn't want to spend the last 3 years of his life looking at plants and searching for potential medicines. Yes, he could garden. Yes, he had medical experience. However, the last 3 years have been dreadful working with the same plants trying to find a treatment for something he had almost no strains of.

What Davie really wanted to do was still a mystery to him. He's 23, about to be 24, and he hadn't found anything he wanted to pursue. He's a knight, one of the best knights in the king's regime, but he only became a knight because Alfred refused to go to England without him. He became the squire of Sir Cambridge, and given the assignment of growing plants in place of his mother, who was the original choice.

2 birds with one stone, they said. Wow Davie, you're so lucky, they said. They were all wrong, the rock missed and Davie was the unluckiest man alive. He hardly went to any battles, all he did was train and pick flowers. No one took him serious at first, because he was the son of the palace gardener and doctor. He wasn't of noble blood. However, he soon proved himself to one of the strongest here, one of the most skilled.

By his second year, when he was 21, he was knighted, much to the influence of Alfred. There was talk of his knighthood being illegitimate, seeing that he was only a squire for a year, however, the princes handled that talk by publically praising him and giving him their blessings, He was appreciative, but even as a knight, he was often left behind on raids because he was told to focus on his research.

Davie had studied more than 196 kinds of flowers, testing and trying each kind numerous amounts of time to see if they could soothe stomach aches, treat wounds, fight infections. Most plants deemed useless, but Davie had found a significant amounts of flowers that do aid in digestive health, and that fight colds, kills bacteria, stops bleeding, headaches, and tuberculosis. He has yet to find a plant that can treat serious ailments like the blood diseases that ran rampant in poverty stricken areas.

Even if he had found a flower, he didn't have enough strains of said blood diseases to test each flower.

And that was perhaps the most frustrating part of this whole experience. His lack of materials made him feel as if he was on a wild goose chase. Why send him? He wasn't going to find anything of value here on this island, he just wanted to go home already. He missed his mother and father, going outside into the towns, and spending his time at public parks.

He sighed again, shaking his head. He should try and get some sleep, all this thinking can't be good for his self-esteem. He rolled over to his side, and smiled when he felt sleep creep up on him.

WAAAAAAHHHHH! WAAAAAAAAHHHH!

Davie flinched, cursing as he lit the candle and pulled himself off of the bed. He approached the crib to see Geoffrey, who hasn't even been asleep for more than half an hour, crying. He was 4 weeks, why is he this loud!? Davie chuckled as he lifted the child, bouncing him gently. He began to sing again, swaying back and forth with the infant in his arms. After the song was finished, Geoffrey was sniffling, no longer crying, but still nowhere near sleepy.

"Geoffrey, Davie wants to get some sleep." He said in a squeaky voice. "You should too, Geoffrey, it's good for your immune system, which is very important for his time of year." He lectured, and Geoffrey went quiet, staring at Davie with big ice blue eyes. "Sleep is a good thing; you should take advantage of it while you can. Like, if I had the opportunity to sleep all day, I would. The greenhouse looks fun, but it really isn't. It's boring, cold.. it smells nice though. However, I would prefer to do something less restricting, less limited. I don't like being confined in a single room. It makes me anxious." Davie thought for a little bit about what he said. Could it be the same for Geoffrey?

"Do you like your crib? Do you wanna sleep next to me?" He asked, sitting down on his bed, holding Geoffrey by his armpits. He scooted until he was laying on his back, putting Geoffrey, on his back, on his chest. Geoffrey cooed a little, thrashing a little bit, but he started to settle down, his breathing even. Davie refused to sleep, just staring up at the ceiling. Maybe this is just what he needed, space.

After about an hour and a half, Geoffrey rolled off of him and onto the other side of the bed, giving Davie the opportunity to lay on his side and try to sleep. He fell asleep almost instantly, every now and then being woken up Geoffrey bumping into him, but never by crying.

Maybe this arrangement could work.