SEMPER LIBER

Summary: A dying man's final request sends a young woman to a new life at Badon Hill. TristanOC.

Disclaimer & Author's Note: I like to think that Malory would have his legends of King Arthur belong to the ages, but I cannot lay claim to them nor to those responsible for the 2004 film by the same name. Thank you for reading, and enjoy!

A/N#2: This is the final chapter, though there will be an epilogue. I hope that it is not quite as terrible as I think it is. Thanks for reading. Also, we are now officially in movie territory.

Chapter 23: Legacy

"I am not putting my daughter on that horse."

Gawain circled the animal, laughing at the sight of his friend. Cariad stood at the edge of the indoor arena, holding Lowri tight against her hip as if she thought he might leap off the horse and steal the toddler away. "I won't let anything happen to her," he promised.

Cariad shook her head, suppressing a smile. "Absolutely not."

Urging the horse closer he teased, "You know you'll give in eventually. You may as well do it now."

Lowri clapped her hands. "Horsey."

Cariad stepped forward, rolling her eyes. "One scratch and I castrate you," she threatened.

"Give it over," Gawain said, holding out his hands.

"It? It?" Cariad scowled at him. "I hate you."

"I know. Come on now." He received Lowri and set her easily in the saddle in front of him.

Cariad reached up, folding her daughter's tiny hands over the pommel of the saddle. "Hold on, kitten," she instructed.

Lowri shook her head vigorously. "No!"

Gawain smirked. "No." He steadied the toddler with one hand and took up the horse's reins with the other. He urged the horse into a walk, chuckling when Cariad began to walk along side them. "You don't trust me?"

"I don't trust him," Cariad said, laying her hand on the horse's shoulder.

"Horsey!" Lowri shouted, slapping her hands on the pommel of the saddle.

"Lowri, hold on," Cariad said quickly, reaching up to take her daughter's hands.

Gawain grabbed Cariad's wrist. "She's fine," he promised gently. "I won't let anything happen to her."

Cariad lowered her hands and smiled weakly. She stepped back from the horse. "I know." She forced herself to remain calm and stand still while Gawain took Lowri around the arena at an achingly slow pace. It seemed somehow wrong to enjoy this moment, but she took the guilt with the happiness. When Lowri sought her out – "Ma! Horsey!" – she smiled.

-

Tristan took a deep breath, trying to temper his anger. He had given Rome everything, and now Rome wanted more. The Woads were getting bolder, the Saxons were crossing the island from the east, and one fifteen-year-old boy would be their bane. He felt death hovering at the edge of his consciousness. More blood would be spilt before they were granted freedom – Rome's freedom – and his heart ached because of it. He knew he would die on a battlefield, and welcomed that death, but it would be too soon for her. She would not understand, and even now he was not sure he was prepared to leave her.

He opened the door quietly, careful not to wake Lowri where she slept under the board. He bent down to lay a gentle hand on her forehead. She slept soundly, her hand fisted against her mouth. "Good night, little Lowri," he whispered.

"Tristan?"

He glanced up sharply. Was he so preoccupied that she had appeared in the doorway without him having heard a single footstep? He closed his eyes, feeling that irrepressible anger well up inside of him. After a few moments, he stood, grabbed Cariad's wrist, and pushed her backwards into the bedroom.

"Tristan, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice rising in alarm.

He dropped her hand and closed the door silently behind them. "Quiet," he whispered darkly. "Don't wake the baby."

"All right," she answered, voice soft with confusion. Tristan could barely look at her. She knew as well as he that this should be a happy night, that there was no reason for him to be here and not celebrating with his brothers. There should have been no reason for the dark cloud behind his eyes. "Please, tell me."

Tristan stepped forward again, dragging her body up against his. She grimaced and murmured his name. He kissed her fiercely, pushing her backwards until she stumbled to the bed. "Tristan, please," she whimpered. "Tell me what's wrong."

Sighing, Tristan pulled back. She looked almost afraid of him. No, not of him. Just afraid. "We are to go out once more before we get our papers," he said, sitting on the bed beside her.

"No," Cariad protested. "No. You have already given them everything."

"Don't," Tristan said sharply. He pulled her close again, threading his hands in her hair. "Just don't."

Cariad shook her head as much as his grip would allow. "I will not let you say goodbye to me," she whispered, eyes filling with tears. Despite her words, she met his kiss, wrapping her arms around him tightly. She let him lay her down and make love to her with a gentle desperation that broke her heart.

After, Tristan smoothed her hair back from her face and held her close against him, as if clinging to life. She turned her face away from his and cried.

"I am sorry, Cariad," he whispered.

"It is not your fault." She took a ragged breath and stared at the closed door. She knew her words would have no impact on his behavior, but they screamed in her head until she let them go. "Please be careful. For me. For Lowri. If you love us, you'll be careful."

Tristan laid a kiss behind her ear. "I love you both."

-

Eyes still rimmed red and swollen from crying, Cariad lifted Lucan into the carriage with Vanora's eleven and her own daughter. Lucan's sorry face was a near match for her own. She pressed a comforting hand to the young boy's cheek. "It will be all right," she promised with a weak smile. He nodded, stoically holding back tears.

In the carriage, Lowri screamed her discomfort. The older children were miserable with the knowledge of what was happening, and the younger ones were confused and scared. Vanora's second held Lowri close to her chest as the toddler's cries set off her six-month-old brother, who was cradled in her older sister's arms. Lucan sat carefully beside the second, peering down at Lowri. "Sh. Sh, baby."

Cariad closed her eyes in pain, opening them only when she felt Vanora's hand grasp her own. The other woman's grip with bruisingly tight. She offered Cariad a sad smile. "We are going home," she said softly.

"We are home," Cariad answered. She looked to Vanora. Tears filled her voice, her words nearly breaking on a sob. "They will not leave him."

"Don't," Vanora commanded. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she wiped them away furiously.

Cariad took a deep breath and nodded at her friend. She had nothing more to say, nothing that could rise through the tightness in her throat and the pounding headache that had taken up behind her eyes. She squeezed Vanora's hand and climbed into the carriage, taking Lowri in her lap like a worry doll. Vanora followed, glaring at the diminished rank of the knights as if she could force them to reject the fate that the gods had chosen for them.

-

The horses startled at the rising drum beats, screaming their protest into the early morning air. They had not known until this moment what had to be done, but their decision was swifter: they had been through this before. They had given their lives once for Rome, died with honor, and come again to guide those who followed them. The horses shamed them, and each man decided before consulting with the others what had to be done.

Tristan leapt off his horse and left the loyal beast standing beside the flowing stream of the Roman guard. Together with Galahad, the best archer besides himself, he checked the strings of the bows on the armory cart, chose the straightest arrows, and donned his armor. He checked each fletch, each buckle and tie, each blade. He scrubbed an imaginary spot of blood of his dao with his thumb.

"Tristan."

He turned and regarded Gawain silently. The other man jerked his head towards the carriage that transported Vanora, Cariad, and the thirteen children. Bors stood there already, taking Vanora's tear-soaked verbal lashing. With a sigh, Tristan slung his bow onto his back and followed his friend's silent command.

Tristan wrapped his hand around Cariad's where it gripped the wooden bar of the carriage. Her hand was cold and white with the effort of it. "Where's the baby?" he asked.

Cariad turned her head, reaching her free hand behind her. "Lowri, kitten." She drew the little girl forward and stared at Tristan, harsh and sad.

Tristan bent his head to kiss his daughter. Lowri sniffled and grinned. "No!"

A sob escaped Cariad's lips as she pulled her daughter back against her chest. Tristan opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "I know. I… know."

"Gawain will take care of you," he said, pinning her with his gaze.

Cariad shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. "No."

Tristan nodded gently. "Yes." He took her hand and bent his head to kiss her palm; the thin scar there seemed to pulse against his lips. He lifted his head and squeezed her hand in parting. He knew what might come, but made no declaration of love, said no goodbye. He knew her: she would take comfort in knowing that he had to come back, to finish what hadn't been finished. She would think him confident in his return.

Ignoring the soft crying of a carriage full of abandoned children and their mothers, Tristan returned to Gawain with quick, determined footsteps. He took his brother's arm and engaged him. "You will take care of her," he ordered.

Gawain's eyes widened. "No."

"If I die," Tristan said slowly. "You will take care of her."

"I will do no such thing," Gawain said angrily. "You will not die."

"Do not make a fool of yourself, or of me," Tristan said through gritted teeth. "Promise that you will take care of her."

Gawain looked over his shoulder to what had become of the sharp witted girl and her fiery friend. They were both pale with worry, and Vanora turned away. "No," he barked. "She will never forgive you."

"She will," Tristan said quietly. "She loves me. She will love you. And you will take care of her."

Gawain regarded his friend, noting the unusual pleading expression in the other man's eye. "We all do what needs to be done," he said, glancing up at Arthur's solitary form standing atop Badon Hill. "We have always protected each other. We have always taken care of one another." He looked to Tristan.

Tristan nodded and grasped his fellow's wrist firmly. Gawain returned the gesture.

She would forgive him. She would have no choice.

-

Biting her lip, Cariad drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She leaned back against the wall, gazing dry-eyed over the dimly lit room. The littlest ones, including Lowri, were fast asleep near the fireplace, flanked by the second and the third, a boy of twelve. Vanora and Bors sat up together at the table in the kitchen, watching quietly over them through the open door.

Cariad bent her head to her knees and let the tears fall silently. She had raised her hand in anger when Gawain had given her the news, and her wrist still ached from his bruising grip. She had turned her back on Lowri and her piercing eyes. Vanora had held her close, stroking her hair until her shoulders stopped shaking, but she had not cried. Until now.

She heard a rustling to her left and instantly cursed the source of the sound. She wanted no one's comfort, and she wanted to hate anyone who tried. But the shuffling footsteps grew louder. A small, warm hand touched hers where it rested on her knee. Cariad raised her head reluctantly.

Lucan's sad blue eyes gazed back at her.

Furrowing her brow, Cariad fought flood of tears that threatened to burst forth at the little boy's expression. He looked as lost as she felt, but he actually was. She turned her hand over, twining Lucan's fingers with her own.

The boy startled at the sound of the door opening, then cowered next to Cariad. She ran her hand over his back and pulled him close. "It's all right," she said, her voice thin and weary. She raised her eyes to the newcomers, glaring at Gawain and Galahad like a suspicious guard dog. The heartbreak written across Galahad's face broke her resolve, and she sobbed freely.

Lucan patted her hand. "Sh."

Gawain stepped carefully over the sleeping children. He imagined she felt in her heart the painful ache that ran through his body. He had carried the man she cried for from the spot where he had fallen to place he lay now, waiting for morning. She refused to see him, and Gawain was silently relieved. "Come on, little one," he said gently, taking her elbow. She thrust his hand away. "Hey," he said sternly, taking her arm again.

Cariad glanced up at him then like a child, pleading silently for guidance.

"Come on," Gawain repeated. He pulled her to her feet. She lost Lucan's hand in the process. "Get your little girl," he instructed, leading her across the room. Cariad paused, staring at the floor. Gawain tugged on her hand. "Now, Cariad."

Cariad blinked, watching the firelight flicker over Lowri's face. The little ones had no idea what was happening around them. Within a year, her daughter would not remember her father. She would grow up without a single memory of him. Her face crumpled.

"Cariad."

Shaking herself mentally, she lifted Lowri from the blanket between Vanora's ninth and tenth. The toddler didn't even wake. Gawain pressed his hand to the small of her back, guiding her towards the door. She paused again at a light tug on her skirt. Lucan stood behind her; he let loose her skirt the moment she turned, as if ashamed to have asked.

"Come on," she said softly. Lowri yawned in her arms and snuggled closer. Lucan followed them back to the two-room home, sticking close to Cariad's side.

Gawain watched Cariad carefully as he gathered a pile of spare blankets and spread them on the floor in the corner where he had slept three years ago, watching over her then when Tristan couldn't. Then, it had been by his own selfish choice. Now, Lucan would find rest here, and be watched over.

Cariad laid her daughter under the board carefully. He had been sure she would take Lowri to bed with her, to have her close, as she used in the days and months after the little one was born, and on those occasions when Tristan was not there to keep her company.

Cariad stood slowly and offered Gawain a small smile of thanks. She laid a blanket over Lucan, smoothing the boy's hair from his forehead. Sighing, she looked back up at Gawain and considered the shadows on his face. Twice in her life she had loved a man unconditionally, and each of them laid a condition on her life on the occasion of his death. She had not been angry at her father. She hated Tristan in the way that only a woman devastatingly in love can. But she could not be angry at Gawain.

"Gawain," she said softly, her voice breaking.

He nodded towards the privacy of the bedroom. He closed the door on Lowri's deep, even breaths and Lucan's drooping eyelids.

"Are you all right with Lucan here?" he asked.

Cariad wrapped her arms around herself, her back to the window. "Yes." She looked away quickly, then back. "Gawain…"

Gawain met her eye and spoke carefully. "He made me promise…"

"Of course he did," she said bitterly.

Tears came to her eyes again and she reached for him. Gawain took her into his arms hesitantly. She cried silently into his shoulder until she had nothing left. He lost track of the time, running his hands over her hair and down her back, trying to soothe away the pain that Tristan had left as his legacy. Was there really any honor in this?

Cariad stood back finally, sniffling and wiping carefully at her eyes. "There is no need for you to stay," she said shakily.

Gawain smiled sadly, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Good night."

Cariad nodded shortly and crossed her arms over her chest as he turned to leave. "Gawain," she said as he reached the door. He turned his head. "Thank you," she breathed.

"You're welcome."