Disclaimer: I own nothing save characters not appearing in King Arthur. This story is not meant to insult, impugn the dignity of, or otherwise cause difficulty for the reader. Flames will be used to heat my house, constructive comments will be welcomed and used to improve the story.

Author's note: I keep apologizing for these chapters being so short, and I promise, longer ones are in the future. I can honestly say that feedback leads to more chapters. And I have to say thank you so much for the wonderful feedback.

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VISIONS OF DEATH

Chapter Four: The Confrontation

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Brigid spun on her heel, grey eyes transitioning from humor to surprise as she took in the scout. He was, indeed, behind her. He had made no sound that she had heard and Brigid cursed all the gods that came to mind that she had been startled. She knew better.

Tristan stepped to the spit that held the rabbits and lifted the rabbits from the flame. He sliced off a piece meat from one of the rabbit's flanks with his dagger and took a bite. He raised an eyebrow as he looked at the woman before him and took another bite.

"Edible?" asked Lancelot as he strode from the shadows.

Brigid's eyes narrowed. From the look in the dark-armored knight's eyes, she could not be certain if he was referring to the rabbit or her. "I should leave you gentlemen to your meal," she announced a little too quickly. She tugged the shawl tighter around her shoulders and hurried from the fireside, not sparing a glance over her shoulder for the knights. The laughter that followed her left her ears burning.

It was not until she was halfway back to the carriage that her stomach rumbled, reminding her that her original mission was unfulfilled. Sighing, she shook her head, looking towards the woods that surrounded them.

The movement did not surprise her. As the knights had commented, they were in Woad territory. It was where she had intended to be, if she was honest. A small boat had carried her from Ynys Môn all those months ago, her directive simple: aid Merlin in defeating the Saxon. Seers far more powerful and far wiser than she had determined that sending Brigid to Hadrian's Wall was her destiny. How she was to have an impact on the Saxon hordes invading Britain was beyond her. However, she and every man, woman, and child from Ynys Môn and beyond knew that, should the Saxons gain a foothold in Britain, then the lands to the west, including Hibernia, would be subject to the horrors of the Saxon. Self-preservation, Brigid found, motivated most charity.

She found herself at the edge of the woods and peered into the darkness. Stepping into the shadowed forest, she took a deep breath. The woods smelled like home. Suddenly the tension that had knotted her body released.

Home. It had been so long since she had seen Hibernia, her duties as a priestess for the goddess whose name she bore taking her far from home. And now, she thought as she ran her fingers across the rough bark of a tree, she was in Britain in the hands of the Romans. Albeit, Romans who did not take a pound of flesh, but Romans none the less.

She shook her head and crouched beneath an oak, her hands scooping up the snow. She took a tentative taste and smiled. The snow was cold and wet and soothed her parched throat. She wetted a corner of her shawl and swiped her throat with the icy wetness. "Ah," she sighed. Looking up, she saw the stars above and smiled. They were the same stars as seen in Hibernia, the same as those above Ynys Môn. Wherever she might go, she knew, those same stars would glitter above her.

The sound of a steel singing as a sword was drawn and Arthur's voice suddenly drew her from her stargazing. "You betrayed me!" he shouted.

She heard Gueneviere stop him, her voice soothing. "He means you no harm."

Brigid stood and looked down the hill at the scene playing out before her.

"Peace between us this night, Arthur Castus." The blue-painted man walked down the hill towards the sword-wielding Roman. "So, Rome is leaving. The Saxon have come. The world we have known and fought for is ended. Now we must make a new world."

Brigid turned from the scene below and swallowed, her eyes closing tightly. The old Woad was making peace with the Roman. Or attempting to, at least. She listened, eyes shut, as Arthur spat his hatred for the Woads to Merlin.

"If you were so determined to leave us to slaughter, why did you save so many?" asked Gueneviere.

A good question, Brigid decided. She listened as the three parted, Arthur left to question the free will of his knights. Opening her eyes she watched as Arthur stalked back to camp, his anger spent and his sword still in hand.

"Brigid, my child, come down from there," called Merlin.

Gueneviere's eyes widened as Brigid made her way down the hill. "How long have you been there?" she asked the Hibernian, embarrassment flaming her cheeks.

Brigid smiled gently and laid a comforting hand against Gueneviere's arm. "You did yourself no fault, lady," she answered. She looked to Merlin, eyes darkening to charcoal in the dim light. "He will not bend, Old Man. His hatred for you is too great."

Merlin smiled and touched Brigid's cheek, his hands calloused and warm. "He does not need to bend to me." He looked pointedly at Gueneviere, who smiled. Looking down at Gueneviere's hands, he smiled. "Aim true, daughter."

Brigid frowned, looking towards the knights and the far off firelight.

"And you, seer and priestess, you know your task."

Brigid's frown deepened. "You know the risk of changing the future, Old Man."

Merlin nodded. "And if it is not, more will die." He gripped her shoulder and turned her back toward the camp. "Do what your heart tells you, maid."

Brigid leaned forward and kissed Merlin on the cheek before she turned back. "We shall see each other again." Glancing to Gueneviere, she offered a smile. "Do not be overlong, Gueneviere. You will need rest for tomorrow."

TBC….

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Translations:

Ynys Môn: The island of Anglesey, a welsh island that was the center of Druidic teaching.

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