Hey everyone! Viola! chapter 5 - Please let me know what you think. Just to warn you, I didn't know how to spell the name of the priest who was Arthur's mentor, so please forgive my crap attempt at spelling it. Other than that, Enjoy!

Chapter 5 – An Unexpected Arrangement

Arthur paced up and down the length of the round table, a deep frown embedded on his features. Clenched in his hand was a torn, dirty piece of parchment, upon which faint dark Latin scribbles could be seen.

Upon ensuring that his sister was well, Arthur had hoped to have a little time to himself before nightfall – and in that time, get the first good few hours sleep he would have had in a week. However, when Jols entered with the parchment in his hand, all thoughts of sleep were forgotten, and Arthur broke the seal on the parchment with great anticipation, expecting it to be a message from his friend Pelagius in Rome.

The message was from Pelagius, and though written with great excitement, the information given was neither pleasant nor wanted in Arthur's eyes.

Stopping with a grunt, he un-crumpled that paper and re-read it for the fifth time, as though hoping that he had misread it the previous four times. His dismay he scrunched it up again and cursed softly as Callandra entered.

"I gather the news from Rome is not good," she said, her face set in an expression of curiosity and anxiety.

Arthur looked up at her, no longer frowning, but looking worried.

"I suppose... It depends on how you look at it..." he said after a while.

Callandra walked up to him. "But you are unhappy," she said quizzically.

"No! – Well – Not exactly! – It depends!"

Arthur ran his hand through his hair, a force of habit when he was nervous. "My reaction is the least of our worries."

Callandra folded her arms: she hated it when Arthur acted like this and she was left in the dark.

"Arthur. What's wrong?"

"The message is from Pelagius," Arthur began, "he sends you his regards."

Callandra nodded but said nothing. She waited for Arthur to continue.

"He writes to inform me that at this very moment, a ship is heading for Britain carrying the great Centurion Octavius and a hundred more Roman soldiers."

"But how can that be?" Callandra asked, "I thought Rome had decided not to send any more soldiers to us – and why is a centurion coming? They are the elite."

"Apparently, a long time ago, Octavius's father risked his life to save our father's during a great war. As a result of his heroic effort, the man was wounded and remained an invalid for the rest of his days. Father was eternally grateful to him, and so he promised him anything of his that he desired, as token of his gratitude. Octavius is coming to claim his father's compensation."

"Seems like a long time to wait before claiming a debt," Callandra replied thoughtfully, "and father has been dead for years. What is it he wants?"

Arthur closed his eyes in anguish: This was the part he was dreading.

"Arthur," Callandra said impatiently, "what does he want?"

Arthur looked her straight in the eyes.

"You."

Callandra blinked. What did he say? Had she heard him right?

"Excuse me?"

"He's come for you, Callandra."

"What do you mean, he's come for me – I don't understand!"

Arthur sighed. "Father arranged for you to marry Octavius – That was the arrangement he had made to settle his debt."

Callandra went rigid. She felt like she had just got punched in the stomach, and all the wind had been knocked out of her.

Marriage? To a man she had never even met? To settle a debt!!?

Her anger seemed to increase, the more she absorbed what had been said, and Arthur, who knew his little sister so well, was aware of it.

"Callandra?"

"How long?" Callandra asked; her voice sounding hoarse.

"He will arrive within a few days."

"A few days!!!" Callandra cried; any attempts to remain calm now disappearing, "I have never met this man in my life! And I'm supposed to meet him in a few days and become his wife!"

"Callandra, calm down."

"Calm down! Calm down! I am being used as an instrument of bartering to settle a promise made by our dead father, and you want me to be calm!"

"Octavius is a noble man," Arthur reasoned, "he is a hero back in Rome; his reputation is outmatched by no other. His escapades across Europe have resulted in the great advance of the Roman Empire. He is honourable, chivalrous and-"

"I DON'T CARE!!!"

Arthur was stunned into silence. He had been expecting Callandra to be unhappy, but the news had obviously distressed more than he thought.

She was pacing up and down, her hands constantly moving from her hips, to her head, then folding across her stomach. Her hair was getting messy from her pulling her fingers through it, and tears of frustration and fear were streaming down her emerald eyes.

"I refuse to marry a man I do not love," she said quietly in a quivering voice, "no one can force me. I don't care if this man was declared a saint – I am not going to marry him."

She was about to say more, but at that moment her voice failed her, and cried silently. In an instant Arthur was holding her and speaking words of comfort.

"There now," he said soothingly, "Who said anything about forcing you to marry him? I would never allow you to marry a man you do not love."

Callandra looked up at him, looking like a vulnerable child.

"But you must understand," Arthur went on, "you have to marry sooner or later – I won't be around forever, and I want to make sure you're looked after: someone who will protect you, and put you highest above all else. And like you said, you've never met Octavius, how can you be so sure that you will not love him when you meet him?"

Callandra dried her eyes, but said nothing.

"In the end," said Arthur, "the promise made by father is not binding on us, and if after you have met him, you are still averse to marrying him, then as your guardian, I will forbid the marriage."

Callandra smiled. She was still unhappy with the situation, but knowing that Arthur was willing to give her the choice re-assured her.

"Alright."

Arthur smiled and kissed her forehead, and with a final nod, she turned and left him with his own thoughts.

The night was clear, and the light from the moon cast shadows upon Hadrian's Wall. From the roof of the one of the watch towers, Tristan sat gazing at the stars; losing himself in their beauty. The frost in the air nipped at his face and he drew his cloak tighter round himself.

Down below, nothing stirred, for it was deemed too cold for anyone to be out, but Tristan loved being outside, and so he sat there for hours alone, reflecting on thoughts that were his alone.

A soft movement directly below stirred him. Without a sound, he slid of the roof, and staying in the shadows, he made his way towards the intruder, who stood leaning against the banister, unaware of being watched.

The moon shone through the sheltered watch tower and reflected on golden hair, giving it a silver shimmer, and Tristan paused for a moment as he recognised Callandra.

She was wearing a midnight blue, velvet gown, with a single silver, chained belt clasped loosely around her waist. She looked almost ethereal – Like an Angel of Frost descending from the heavens to observe the changing seasons.

Tristan gazed at her a few moments more before stepping out of the shadows and coughing slightly to make himself known.

Callandra turned with a start, and upon recognising him, smiled sweetly.

"I forget you like to haunt this place," she said teasingly, though her voice was gentle. Tristan smiled.

"I see the usual festivities were cut short," Callandra said after a while, for Tristan rarely took the initiative to start a conversation. But Callandra was one of those happy people who could adapt to suit other personalities, and so whenever she talked to Tristan, the atmosphere was never tense and she was always comfortable around him.

"It was thought to be best," Tristan replied, "especially when Bors slipped on a patch of black ice and fell into the barrels of ale."

Callandra laughed. "No doubt the ale is due some of the guilt."

Tristan nodded as he went to stand beside her. Silence descended between them again, and they gazed at the moon together for a while. Then out of the corner of his eye, Tristan caught Callandra shivering slightly as a cutting wind blew by them.

Unbuckling his cloak, he threw it over Callandra's shoulders. She looked like she was about to protest, but he shook his head.

"You're still recovering," he said, "You need it more than I do."

"Thank you," Callandra replied, and she snuggled up against the material which still had some of Tristan's warmth.

"You seem troubled," Tristan stated, making Callandra look at him in surprise.

"You have been crying," he explained, motioning to her tear-stained cheeks.

Callandra stayed silent. There was no point denying it, and she didn't want to.

"I've just received some news which I wish I hadn't," was all she said, and Tristan didn't push her. He knew if Callandra wanted to talk about it, she would have, and so all he said was;

"Is there anything you need?"

"No," Callandra whispered softly, "thank you, but I don't think any of you will be able to help me with this."

Tristan frowned; he was now very curious to find out what was going on, but he was he would find out soon enough, so he stayed quiet.

The two went into their silent reverie once again, and gazed up at the moon and stars, lost in their own thoughts. But another gust of wind from the north brought Callandra's mind back to what lay ahead, as though as a reminder of who it was bringing to her from across the sea and she closed her eyes in despair.

This might be a battle that she may not be able to win...