* Warning here: There is a sex scene in this chapter, and while it is not long it is still present.

Chapter 6

The rest of the travels back to the Wall had felt like forever, However, it was not as warm of a welcoming as they'd wished it could have been. While Dagonet was resting and burning off his fever he'd caught from the water he'd fallen into, Dindan had been lost. But the pains were not over yet. Dagonet was drifting between death and life.

Arwen had not allowed Lucan to see Dagonet as they traveled, she feared letting the boy see him like this would damn the man's soul and crush the boy. And after listening to Bors weep over the two men, one she knew had been so much like a brother to him from the moment of being there in Britain, and the other being a man she had not known was even Bors's real brother. When they'd arrived at the Wall, she had still been covered in blood. Her brown eyes were full of pain. But when Vanora rushed her, the woman had begun to weep as she cupped her face gingerly as Vanora looked her over. "Bors? Wh-where is-"

"Alive," Arwen whispered. "Bors, is alive," Arwen answered her. And her tears slowly fell down her cheek, Vanora pulling her into her arms, the blood on her long ago dry. "And Dagonet?" she asked with a soft, weeping whisper into her long, curled, and pulled-back brown hair. "For now, he is alive," she whispered in return. Arwen hadn't the strength to tell her everything. She'd be told later. For now, they needed to get Dagonet to a real physician. Flucinia's family herbal mix had saved Dagonet's life in truth. The herbal, pasty clay had stopped the bleeding after they'd mixed it with the wet clay and wrapped his wounds. Currently, soldier's from the Wall were following orders given to them by Arthur to gather Dagonet as carefully as possible and take him to the Healing wing.

"Ah, God! Christ be praised! Against all the odds Satan could muster. Alecto!" Germanus said with glee as he walked from the Roman Military Fort Hall and approached the boy while Horton came around the cart. Full of happiness that the boy was safe and sound, soon to be returned to his rightful Roman people, Germanus moved in towards the boy, "You have triumphed! Young Alecto, let me see you. You are here." He said, grabbing his face in his aged hands, but the boy had backed away from him, the cart behind him had stopped him from possibly running from the man. And his mother's hand to his arm as the boy stumbled back. Letting the boy practically flee from him if he so wished. But he would return to Rome.

Guinivere had reached up to the horse to gather the boy, but he was not there any longer. Concerned, she looked around for him, only for her heart to slam into her belly and watched with fear as he ran after the man being carried on a stretcher inside to the healer. Truly, it was the Soldiers he would have to pass who had her fearful more than the idea of the boy seeing Dagonet. "Lucan!" She called for the boy with panic.

"You, boy! Stop!" A soldier called for the child as he ran past him and three others towards the Roman Fortress. He'd only reached for the boy out of concern that he did not need to see the death that was here, the man being taken inside to the healer had a high likelihood of not surviving, however, he and the other two soldier's by him all stopped the moment one of the two knights had pulled a dagger and the other his sword on the three of them, the tip of the dagger being pressed into his throat had stopped him quickly. With his hands up to surrender to the youngest of the knights, seeing the tragedy in the man's angry eyes, the shaking of his hands and his jaw tremble with loss as he lowered his dagger and replaced his weapon.

"Our great knights," Germanus said with joy as he turned and looked at them all, "You are free now! Give me the papers. Come, come." He said taking the box of their Release papers of Duty. "Your papers of safe conduct throughout the Roman Empire. Take it, Arthur." Germanus had looked at the Commander with growing concern, at the cold stare he was giving him. They'd been gone nearly a month. He'd feared they'd been lost with the coming winter. The mountains were already in winter with how high the mountains were, but the snow was coming to them soon. However, with the coldness the man was staring at him with, Germanus figured there was no need for the snow with how clod Arthur's green eyes were upon him.

"Bishop Germanus. Friend of my father." Arthur whispered to the man coldly, holding up the scroll which Dindan and his sister had handed over to him. Germanus was no friend, nor Allie, to him nor his knights.

Seeing the scrolled letter in Arthur's hand, the leather stamped with his seal and he swallowed the lump of fear that grew in his throat, "Arthur-"

"I shall hear nothing of it, Bishop," Arthur said coldly to him and walked away to his sister and Vanora to speak with the woman. She needed to be prepared for when she returned home.

Now nervous, Germanus forced a calm smile on his face, to play the role he had given himself in life as he looked at the rest of the Knights standing before him, "You are free now. You can go." He said nervously. Hoping the men would simply take their papers and leave so he could pack and leave himself. As the few of them started to approach him and the soldier holding the box of release papers, one had taken his scroll and then dropped it at his feet with a cold stare in his brown eyes. Another had walked up to him after two more had taken their papers and took the remainder of the papers. Only then did this man turn to him with a cold look, "Dindan is dead." He said coldly. "As are the men you sent out after us… We know everything." He whispered, then walked to the bald-headed Knight, handing him three scrolls. But the man refused to take them.

Lancelot had taken his own scroll, plus three others, then he delivered the Bishiop the very words he always wished to say to the bastard. They knew everything. Handing the three scrolls to Bors, one being for himself, another for Dagonet, and one for Dindan. The man had made it clear he was no Roman, that he had not betrayed their people's heritage by taking on the Romans. That he too was also still under their services. "Bors," he whispered for the man, but he refused to take the release papers, hell, he refused to look at him or the scrolls. "Bors!" Lancelot snapped a bit, needing to gain his attention. Bors looked as if he were ready to kill the Bishop. But if he did that then they were surely all dead. When Bors slowly turned and looked at him, his dark brown, nearly black eyes, burned holes into Lancelot's soul as the tears rolled down his face. "For Dindan…. For Dagonet." He whispered. He knew that this was over. "For your brothers," he said softly.

With trembling hands and his heart being ripped from his chest as he looked to the cart, his brother's body being taken from the back and walked past them to be taken inside, Bors gripped the release papers in hand and took one from the offered collection in Lancelot's hands. "This doesn't make him a free man." He said to the Bishop as strongly as he could. Sadly, his strength had not reached his throat as he spoke, his words were whispered and rasped as he glared at the confused and likely pissing on himself under his robes of a Bishop. "He's already a free man. He's dead!" Bors snapped, throwing a scroll to the Bishop's feet. His brother was dead. A brother he'd been blessed to have seen before he died, to have returned to him after he lived for years thinking their family were all dead. Now, all his family from back home were, and Dagonet was possibly following right behind Dindan. But, until the man was really dead, he was alive. So, Bors still had him, and that was something he'd sink into.

The grave was being dug as of now, Dindan's body being prepared by Vanora and Bors with the rest of the Knight's help. "He wasn't a Knight, Arthur." Bors said, his voice almost void. He was so close to emotional death that it was numbing really.

"He fought by our side, saved us, saved Dagonet, he died a Knight. Your brother will be buried as a Knight. Our Knight." Arthur said calmly.

Bors watched as Arthur left the room they left their dead in overnight for preparation. "We can do that? Bury him as a Knight?"

"I can, and I will- with your permission that is. He was your brother, if you do not wish for him to be buried as a Knight, or if you know how he'd prefer to be-"

"No, no, Knight's burial would be… That would be right… For him. Thank you," Bors said. Resting his hand over his brother's wrapped body. The shell of him was cold as ice. No blood was pumping in him to keep him warm. It was how he truly knew his brother was dead. Looking to the covered linen wrapping Dindan's face, Bors felt his chin tremble, his eyes burn with painful tears and his head sagged. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

The funeral had been a sad one. Dagonet was not yet awake, and Lucan refused to leave the sleeping man.

Bors had stayed at the gravesite, trying to drink his sorrows away.

Arwen looked from afar as she walked back to the fort as Arthur knelt at their father's grave, Guinivere kneeling by his side. Feeling a hand resting against her back, she turned and looked to see who it was, and she smiled at the man sadly as Tristan cupped her face and kissed her brow.

He'd seen her turn back to look back to the graves and over to Bors and Arthur speaking with the Woad woman beside him. He was just relieved Bors was not truly alone out there. Someone would have to carry him inside. Resting his hand on her back, Tristan looked down at her as she turned and looked at him, her sad brown eyes. He hated seeing her so sad. Cupping her cheek in his rough and callous hand, he leaned down to her and pressed his lips to her brow. "Come," he told her walking her inside.

She walked all around the city with him after seeing Vanora and the children to their home, making sure they were alright and went to see Dagonet and Lucan. The boy was fast asleep on the makeshift bed on the floor by the man's side. Arwen couldn't help but smile at the sight and grabbed a blanket from hanging over a nearby chair and draped it over Lucan, pressing a gentle kiss to the boys' temple and one to Dagonet's sweat-covered brow before she left to let them continue sleeping. It was chilly for the moment, but it would get colder in the coming days. Winter was still coming close to them. Yet, her belly rolled with anticipation the closer she walked to her home. Once inside, Arwen leaned back against the wall by the door of her room, Tristan standing before her and removing her cloak from her body, dropping the red fabric to the floor, his hands ghosting over her arms while she trailed her hands up his shirt covered chest, unclasping each wood-notched clasp of his jacket, and removing his shirt from him. Looking up at the dark-haired man of her dreams, Arwen gently brushed her hands over his arms and chest as she slowly wrapped her arms around his body, her nails gently tickling his strong back and held him close to her. "I love you," she whispered.

Smiling at her whispered words, Tristan brushed his knuckles along her jaw and laced his fingers up into her hair as he leaned down into her mouth kissing her sweet lips. She was nothing but sweet and tender, her lips reminded him of roses. Soft petals of lust, blooming in spring. Gliding his hands over her arms and down and around her waist and legs, Tristan lifted her up, locking her legs around his hips and smiled at her excited giggle and her hands grabbing his shoulders. Turning, he walked them to the bed against the wall by the window of her room and laid her upon her fur covered bed. Moving her dress up along her legs, Tristan took his time in removing her dress from her body and admiring her. Running his hands over her body slowly and with precis accuracy of brushing his thumbs over her perked nipples and her heating core between her legs. Finally, he got to enact the devilish things he wanted to do to her, and to see her blissful, sinful reactions of him playing with her, admiring her figure and the scar at a two o'clock angle of her bellybutton where the fool had tried stabbing her when he'd attacked her in that barn years ago. She had done rather well in fending him off until he and Arthur heard her screams that night.

Shaking his head to clear that enraging night from his memory, Tristan dipped his head over her. He was hungry.

Arwen was in bliss. This had to be sinful. But she didn't care. He was hers after tonight, and she was his. She gasped with a mix of shock and delight as he breathed cool air against her liquid-burning core, the flick of his tongue. Her breath was taken from her. Her vision blurred and the colorful spots hit her instantly as her belly tightened and her heart thrummed in her breast. Closing her eyes, she laced her fingers through his mess of hair, her thighs flexed and relaxed every few seconds as he licked and lapped at her core.

He couldn't get enough of her, she was intoxicating. So sweet. Leaving her core, Tristan brushed his lips over her left thigh, up her belly to her breasts where he took as much time as he wanted to suckle and love her small mounds while he went to work removing his trousers and boots. Laying himself against her bare body, his hips between her thighs, Tristan claimed her lips and then he claimed her.

She sucked in a soft breath of delight when she felt his cock tap up against her before entering her, her eyes rolling back into her skull at how wonderful she felt filled by him. Arwen smiled with her cheeks blushing brightly as his hands laced in through hers pinning her further into the bed as he rocked his hips into her, her skin burned against his touch, she giggled feeling him nipping along her chin, neck, and playfully nipping at her lips as he thrust up into her. Feeling her belly tighten again, Arwen did something she never thought she'd have done. She rolled Tristan onto his back, leaving her straddling him with a smirk, and slowly rose upon him and slowly sank herself back down his cock. She gasped with surprise when he thrust up into her with a fury she had not known he had, over and over again, his hands gripping her hips like a snake strangling its prey. She could feel bruises forming on her hips as he held onto her firmly, and with one more first thrust, she felt a release of pressure, and his shortly followed soon after. In their moment of enjoying their release, to breathe as they panted for breath, his head rested back into the bed. Her body was flushed with sweat and heat rolling off her skin, and parts of her body ached that she never thought could have ached before. But it wasn't a painful ache. No, it was a hungry and pulsing ache for more. And something in her clicked with an idea as she grinned and gently, she moved her hips, Tristan's hot cock still inside her as she gently tried to awaken him for a second round.

Tristan sighed with release and a big smile on his face then grunted with surprise when she shifted on him, his cock twitching back to life quickly as she shifted her hips, her hands running behind her over his exposed thighs, her hips dancing against him, had him breathing heavy and throating breaths as he moaned when she leaned back a little then back up, her hands massaging from his legs over his stomach and gliding up his chest to rest over his pets as she rode him. He couldn't remember the last woman to do this to him or make him feel this erotic. Grabbing her hips once again, Tristan thrusted up into her, managing to get a little further up inside of her, the gasp of breath she taken had him smirking and sitting up from his bed and pumping his hips up into her with her arms holding onto his shoulders and sharing heated and passionate kisses as they continued to join their bodies.

When they fell back into the bed, panting for breath, their bodies covered in sweat and very exhausted, Arwen smiled big when Tristan pulled the covers over their naked bodies. Looking up to the window high above his bed, she softly laughed at the early morning light she saw. No one bothered them the rest of the day, until that night when the people began to panic.

They'd both taken the moment to relax and clean one another after their all night and all day joining. They'd simply been worn out and had wanted to lay in bed and hold one another. It hadn't lasted long though when Lancelot started to hit her door. "Tristan, get to the wall." He ordered.

Knowing that tone in his comrade, Tristan looked at the door they had not locked with worry. But he knew to not make them wait. "Get dressed." Tristan told her, rolling from the bed and pulling his clothes and boots on before rushing from Arwen's room.

"Wait, Tristan," she called, dressing herself in a clean dress, the sleeves were tied at her should and two more down her arms and grabbed her light blue winter cloak after slipping her shoes on and ran after him. Making her way after him to the wall, she met her brother and Guinivere, the two women sharing a worried look with one another and took hold of each other's hands as they ran after Arthur up the stairs. Looking over the wall, Arwen felt her heart drop and her stomach twist.

Seeing the pending doom over them, Arthur looked to his sister looking out over the wave of Saxon's camping there at their door, then he looked at Guinivere. Oh, how he wished he could stay with them. But he had a duty. And they had lost to many already. He would not lose anymore. They were free, and he wanted them to live free. "Knights, my journey with you must end here. May God go with you." He told them, he knew the Saxon's would have been coming for them, but he did not anticipate them arriving this early. "The city must evacuate. Have everyone pack what they can and leave." He told Jols, "Take Ganis with you, he can help prepare the people." He told his friend.

Arwen's head snapped after her brother as he spoke to his Knights and listened as he spoke with Jols to evacuate the people. Her heart dropped with fear. "Arthur-" she called, moving to run after him. But he turned on her as he moved down the steps of the wall and wrapped her up in his arms. "Live, Arwen. Pack your things, leave with the people." He told her, looking up to Tristan standing at the steps with the others, watching them. Nodding his head to his friend, brother in arms, and one of the best Knight's he had, Arthur kissed her cheek with a smile. "He loves you, take care of him. Take care of all of them." He told her, leaving her in shock he returned to preparing himself for battle, and death. The Woads would help him, he had that much going for him, but he knew if he fought alone, he would die on the battlefield.

She had no words to say. She didn't know what to say. Turning to look up the steps of the wall, she locked eyes with Lancelot, "Do something," she cried. Thankfully he was right on it, moving down the steps he grabbed her face and kissed her brow to rush after Arthur.

"Arthur, this is not Rome's fight. It is not your fight." Lancelot called after him, pleading with him to flee with them all.

Arwen felt her heart hammering in her chest as Guinivere moved past her, kissed her cheek just as her brother and Lancelot did, and rushed off somewhere. Hearing the soldier's call for the other soldiers to, "Stand fast!" had her running back to the wall. With warm arms wrapping around her, moving her from the wall and into his embrace, Arwen closed her eyes as she listened to his heartbeat and held onto Tristan like a lifeline. Hell, he was her lifeline now.

He was panicking, his best friend "All these long years we've been together, the trials we've faced, the blood we've shed. What was it all for, if not for the reward of freedom? And now when we are so close, when it is finally within our grasp-" Angry he was being ignored and his best friend fleeing to prepare for a battle he would lose his life to, Lancelot grabbed Arthur with both hands and yanked him around to face him, "Look at me!" he shouted. His heart thundering in his breast as he looked at his best friend, his comrade, and the whispering words in his mind he wanted to say so very terribly to him, but he knew it was impossible. Arthur would never understand, he'd never reciprocate his affection, not like that at least. "Does it all count for nothing?" he whispered plea fully.

Arthur knew Lancelot better than he knew. He knew his deepest secrets, and he knew there was something he was hiding from him. But he was asking him to flee a fight that would only follow them for the rest of their lives. "You ask me that? You who know me best of all?"

He felt his heart clench with fear as he looked at his friend's weak and sad smile at him. "Then do not do this. Only certain death awaits you here. Arthur, I beg you! For our friendship's sake, I beg you! Leave with us."

Smiling, Arthur wanted to hug his friend, but he knew it would do nothing but upset Lancelot to know it would be the last embrace they shared. "Then be my friend now and do not dissuade me. Seize the freedom you have earned and live it for the both of us. I cannot follow you, Lancelot. I now know that all the blood I have shed, all the lives I have taken have led me to this moment.

"If not for our friendship, then for your sister's sake. Leave with us. Please. I am begging you. She cannot lose you also, Arthur. Tristan… Tristan cannot give her your love, he has his own love to give her, but she needs you! I… We still need you."

His heart wanted to break with his friend's words, but he knew what he was doing was right. To fight the Saxon's. "Then you and the others must give her my love in place of me." Arthur whispered, grabbing his dear friend's shoulder.

Arwen was not happy with this as she watched her brother in full panoply riding up onto the hilltop, in full view of both camps. Surrounded by waves of the Saxon army, the Roman evacuation, and the lighting of the balefires as the caravan of the People left their home. She sat in the carriage with the sick, with Dagonet and Lucan. Watching along with her. He'd finally woken up from his long sleep, his fever had broken, letting them breathe with relief to know he was out of the darkness in the woods of death they always had to walk through hen fighting for their lives from such wounds or illness.

"I wish…" Dagonet breathed through his exhaustion, his weakness as he blinked through his fuzzy vision. "I wish I were fighting with him." He confessed.

Moving over by the still healing man, his body was still weak. Dagonet was not used to this happening to him. But she knew, even now, that he was too weak to struggle to fight by Arthur's side.

Looking into the carriage as Dagonet whispered his wishes to fight by Arthur's side, Bors looked out across the grasslands of their rolling hills to Arthur, looked to his fellow brothers then pulled his sword from his horse's sheath and rode out a short way, "Artorius!" he screamed out for his Commander and friend. Raising his sword as Arthur turned to them, Bors raised his sword into the skies and called to him, "Rus!"

Feeling a warmth of blessing from Bors, Arthur removed his sword from his sheath at his waist and raised it high into the air, "Rus!" He called back. Strong and high into the heavens across the hills back to them. He would not see them after this.

With the Woads covering the wood line, prepared to fight with him as their leader, Arthur turned his horse to the battle ahead of him as the knights rode with uneasiness. It hadn't lasted long with the sound of the drums loud over them hammering into the skies and the horses which sat their Knights became uneasy and refused to move any further.

Arwen watched as the Knights calmed their horses and they all shared a look with one another. She could see their decision. No words are needed between any of them. With Tristan setting his Hawk free, she had a sudden feeling of dread setting in. When he rode up the carriage, she stood up and held his face as he came to her atop his horse and kissed him and rested their brows to one another. She forced herself to withhold her tears as she stood by the carriage, watching them down their armor and weapons before riding off to the hilltop with Lancelot in the lead.

Arwen walked by the carriage for the next few minutes, her stomach knotting with so many fears she had not heard Dagonet until Lucan came to her. "Arwen, papa needs to speak to you." He told her.

Worried, she climbed into the carriage and made her way to the man on the furs. "Dagonet, what is it?" She asked him with worry, thinking he was in pain or worse, passing on.

Grabbing her hand, Dagonet looked at her under hooded eyes. "You… You have to… help them… Arwen… My… my armer, the dagger, the dagger. Use it… Kill the Saxon… Kill him… Roses may be sweet… Arwen. But they also have thorns." He breathed. "The dagger," were his final whispers as he fell back asleep. His chest rising and falling let them all know he was still with them. But Arwen's fears were confirmed. Dagonet had the same fears.

Leaping from the cart, she rushed to the armory cart, pulling the horse to a stop, and started ripping things from the cart, pulling her armor onto her and her boots, grabbing her arrows and her swords.

Rushing to Arwen frantically pulling her armor on, Vanora was near tears, "What are you doing?" she pleaded. But she got no answer from the woman, so she grabbed her arm and yanked her around to face her, "Arwen!"

"Dagonet's dagger, where is it, Vanora?" She asked the woman.

Shaking her head, Vanora began to break. Covering her mouth with her hand, Vanora moved the woman aside and searched through the armory, pulling his things from the far back and handed her Dagonet's dagger. "You will come home." She said through broken words as she fought back her tears. "You will," she demanded.

Battle Of Hadrian's Wall

The Battle hadn't gone as they had all thought. Arthur had watched from afar with horror as the Saxon's Leader, their King, had been about to cut down Tristan, the Archer and Knight smirking at him, ready to be freed from the pains of this world, but bitter at being taken from Arwen. But the Arrow the wheezed past his ear struck him with fear that he'd nearly been killed with an arrow to the back of his head. Only the Arrow pierced the Saxon mid-swing, dropping him to his knees with a cry, the horse riding past him had his heart seizing with terror. "Arwen!" He shouted.

Dropping from her horse, Arwen drew her swords against the Saxon as ripped the arrow from his shoulder with a yell, his blue eyes glaring hatred into her brown eyes. "You… Woman…"

She wasn't going to waste time talking with this fool. Charging, she engaged him. She was trying to make time for her brother, to keep this Saxon away from Tristan. But he was fast, and his sword was strong, with one good swing from his sword, she was disarmed. But she had him where she wanted him, of course being disarmed was not her plan, but she was close enough to stab him with Dagonet's dagger. The sudden pain in her chest stunned her, sucking a painful breath into her lungs, her eyes wide. But she wouldn't look. She couldn't look. With trembling hands, she lifted the dagger from her armor's hidden slot, trying to stab him with it. But her hands felt numb. When the sword was removed from her, she stumbled forward, the Saxon grabbing her behind her neck and leaned into her as she stumbled to fall to the grass, Tristan screaming for her as the Saxon pressed his mouth to her ear. "Swift but not good enough," he whispered against her ear and dropped her.

She couldn't move, her body was in shock as she blinked, her vision fazing in and out as Tristan crawled to her, lifting her into his arms, being with her to stay awake as Arthur fought the Saxon. "Dagger," she breathed, "Tristan… Dagger."

Watching her go limp in his arms, Tristan gently shook her. Praying she'd wake up. "Arwen?" But she didn't awaken. "Arwen!" He screamed. Dropping his head to her as he wept, his arms tightly around her. It was seconds later, hearing Arthur scream from his leg being cut by the Saxon's sword that woke him, his brown eyes burning with promises of death. Reaching for the Dagger by her, Tristan through it, watching with a sick, burning pleasure as the dagger sank into the Saxon's chest, giving his Commander the chance he needed to regain himself and slay the Saxon.

Losses were great, many Woads, Lancelot, and others.

Six months later

They walked up the mountainside to an open area of tall, rock pillars where the wedding was taking place. Arthur and Guinivere had married here not too long after the Battle of the Wall, and the funerals of their lost ones. But today, they were here for another wedding. The Sarmatian clans who had survived the Romans had been brought here, to Britannia. They had been shocked that the cultures hadn't clashed at all, by most of the Romans leaving and returning to Rome, but the church still stood for those who still retained their Christian religion, and those who held their own separate religion were not judged. Everyone seemed to be getting along over the several months of the rebuilding of the Wall and the city inside, the cleansing of the burning fields and the regrowth of their crops seemed to bring everyone together.

Merlin stood before the couple, smiling at one another, they had been lucky they'd not died on the battlefield together, but he was relieved they were here today, and five months along in expecting their first child. "Tristan, Arwen, you join your people through love and children, do you take one another as husband and wife. A union of your souls. For eternity?" He asked them.

"I do," Tristan said looking into the woman's brown eyes glowing up at him, her sweet smile always intoxicating him with her warmth. He'd almost lost her that day. It had been his worst fear nearly come true.

"I do," she said, looking up at the man she loved more than breath itself.

"You are one," Merlin said, wrapping their wrists with a white sash as they held the golden goblet filled with wine. They watched as they drank from the goblet and kissed one another deeply, passionately. The gathering of people cheered and clapped as the two kissed one another.

Eight years later

They were resting against the large sitting chair, watching the setting sun of the last days of summer of their large, open window of their home. Tristan resting against the laying side chair behind her, his warm arms wrapped around her and their two sons and three-year-old daughter fast asleep in their embrace as they slept soundlessly against him and Arwen while their six-month-old son slept in the crib in their room they were currently in. Kissing the side of Arwen's curling hair, Tristan breathed a blissful sigh. "You smell of Roses," he whispered into her ear.

Smiling at her husband's words, Arwen turned her head up to look at him and playfully nipped at his lips. "I know," she whispered in return

"Roses and thorns, my love, roses and thorns." Tristan whispered, brushing his nose against hers before kissing her lips. He was at peace. Ever since he'd been with Arwen, Tristen had been able to sleep a full night's sleep in her arms. The Saxon, when he'd ran her through, had stabbed her through her right side under her collar bone, and while she had struggled to survive and heal, she had still survived. He thanked all the gods, even her own that one time, she had lived through the Battle of Hadrian's Wall and every day since then.