A/N: Material from this chapter was taken from the movie the Patriot. I do not own it.

It was early evening, just days after the battle of Camden. Tavington, out on patrol, had been called into a meeting with Lord Cornwallis. He had suspicions that it was to do with the battle, yet he held a timbre of hope.

When he arrived in Cornwallis' office, the lord general was in conversations with Brig. Gen. O'Hara, who was busy flattering his superior. Tavington waited until the general left their presence to address Cornwallis.

"His Majesty is most generous, Milord… though, of course, your service in this war more than warrants such a gift," Tavington began.

"Yes, this is how His Majesty rewards those who fight for him as gentleman," Cornwallis replied emphatically, giving him the same chastising look a father would to his son.

Tavington, repulsed, still remained bold.

"I dare to presume, my own meager contributions will be rewarded one day-"

"You may presume too much," Cornwallis cut him off. "His Majesty, like history, judges us not only on the outcome of the war but on the manner in which it was fought."

"Milord?"

"We serve the Crown, and we must conduct ourselves accordingly; surrendering troops will be given quarter, these brutal tactics must stop."

The colonel swallowed shallowly in anger.

"Is it not enough, Milord, that I have never lost a battle-"

"You serve me and the manner in which you serve me reflects upon me!" Cornwallis retorted. "I would have thought that a gentleman from a family as esteemed as yours would understand that."

Tavington was glowing with embarrassment.

"My late father squandered any esteem in which we were held, along with my inheritance. I advance myself only through victory-"

"You advance yourself through my good graces. These Colonials are our brethren, and when this conflict is over, we will reestablish commerce with them. Do you understand, Colonel?"

"Perfectly, Milord," Tavington choked.

William left, not even needing a dismissal from his superior, walking heatedly out of his office. He thought briefly of going to Molly but decided against it; it would be too easy. Instead, he bartered for a bottle of whisky from one of the soldiers at camp and settled down in his tent. Reports would keep him occupied and the drink would relax him.

Hours later, after recording, in detail, what happened on the field, with deaths and injuries included, Tavington had finished his report writing. He glanced over at the bottle of whisky; he had been sparing with it, and only had had half of it by the time he was done writing. Folding the parchment, he sealed it and set it aside to be sent off to Cornwallis the next morning.

"Sir?"

Tavington looked up to see Gillian standing in the entrance of his tent.

"What do you want," he asked roughly.

Gillian ignored his tone and spoke, "I just figured Asmodeus could use a walk. He looks so lonely on that rope; I figured if you weren't going to take him, I could."

"Silly girl, you so do pity him. What will he learn from you?"

"Well maybe he'll learn to be a good boy," Gillian replied evenly. "Please, let me take him."

"I don't think that will be necessary," William replied.

"All right, but if you're just going to sit there and get drunk, then I might as well," Gillian said stubbornly.

Tavington lost his temper; in one swift movement, he crossed the room and grabbed her wrist, giving it a hard twist, forcing her to the ground.

Gillian attempted to cry out by the colonel stopped her with a threat.

"One noise and I will end you."

Gillian's fear gave way to outrage and she hissed, "You hellacious bastard-"

Tavington rewarded Gillian's outburst with a swift cuff to the side of her face, sending her reeling to the ground. Without losing time, he was on her, shredding her dress with his bootknife. The woman fought, knocking the knife out of his hand and scratched the side of his face, but he grabbed her throat and wrestled her still as he exposed her to him. Pressing a finger into her, Tavington was delighted to see how tight she was and soon found out why.

"Colonel…" Gillian's eyes widened in panic.

"Virgin…" he murmured, leaving her. "Get out."

Gillian sat up before him, still horrified.

"Sir-"

"Get out!"