Thank you again, vermilion aura, for your review! And welcome Kimare999! Thanks for the favorite!

On to the next chapter!

CHAPTER TWO

Arthur had not been lying when he said that the room she would be staying in was nothing special. It was small, just big enough for one person, maybe two if you tried hard enough, with one narrow, lumpy bed, a small table flanked by two chairs, a small hearth for a fire, and one lone trunk to store her personal belongings in. It was certainly nothing to brag about, but it was warm, there was a roof over her head, and the bedsheets were clean. Breck could hardly ask for more than that.

Vanora left Breck with a basin of water to wash up and a promise that she would return shortly with a dress for her to wear. Breck, eager to get the remnants of the road off of her, kicked off her boots and stripped off her clothing, feeling better already to be out of the dirty, overworn garments. She washed her face and her hair and all the most important areas, and by the time she was done, she felt like a new woman entirely.

She had just finished drying her skin and hair by the fire when a knock sounded at the door, signaling that Vanora had returned. Breck wrapped a blanket around herself for modesty and let Vanora in, but the woman could not stay for long. She delivered a nightgown and a dress for Breck to wear, took her usual clothes for washing, and then was out the door, claiming she had to get to work.

Alone again, Breck laid both the nightgown and the dress out on the bed, her relief quickly melting into uncertainty. Usually she just slept in her tunic and trousers – wearing the flimsy nightgown Vanora had provided would certainly take some getting used to. And as for the dress…

Breck could not even recall the last time she had worn one. Most of her life had been spent either living on the road or working manual labor, neither of which a dress was really practical for. Letting out a long, heavy sigh, Breck pulled on the dress, then immediately found herself contemplating cancelling her plans to go to the tavern with Arthur and hiding away in the safety of her room until her regular clothes had been returned to her.

She eyed herself unsurely in a small, dusty looking glass and frowned, feeling highly uncomfortable with both how form-fitting the dress was and how awkward she felt in it. Though the dress was floor length and long-sleeved, it hugged her torso like a second skin and the hem at the neck scooped much too low for her taste. Even though her breasts were on the smaller side, the dress made it so that she showed a shocking amount of cleavage – she feared that if she bent over too far that her breasts would simply pop right out.

Breck pulled up on the neckline, but it hardly budged. Then she brought her long hair forward over her shoulders, hoping it would at least disguise things a little bit. But it was useless. No matter what she did, her breasts were still right there, pushed up by the dress and put on crude display.

She suddenly yearned for her filthy, stinking clothes, and wished greatly that she had not let Vanora take them. If they had still been in the room, she would have most certainly put them back on, smell be damned. But as it was, she had little choice in the matter. The dress was her only option, and she would just have to accept that.

With a sigh of defeat, Breck finished getting ready, pulling on her boots and smoothing her hands over the skirt of the dress. She then reached for the necklace she had taken off while she had been washing up, holding it in her hand for a moment.

The necklace was a medallion attached to a leather string. The medallion itself was bronze colored, fit neatly into the palm of her hand, and was encrusted with the symbol of her mother's clan back in Ireland. It had been her mother's necklace once, the only possession she had been able to keep with her when she had been taken as a slave. Eventually Emer had given the necklace to Kenrick, as a token of her unending love for him. After her father's death, Breck had taken possession of it, and she had worn it every single day since. It was, without a doubt, her most prized possession in the entire world.

She had just put the necklace on when another knock sounded on the door, catching her attention.

"Breck?" Arthur's voice sounded through the wood of the door. "Are you decent?"

Breck turned a critical eye on her reflection and frowned grumpily. "I suppose that would depend on your definition of decent," she called back. Breck fussed with her hair for a second, attempting once again to camouflage her breasts, before giving up with a huff. "You may enter, but you may not laugh."

Arthur opened the door and stepped inside, his eyes finding her instantly. He gave her a once over, taking in her appearance and the decidedly irritable expression on her face, before crossing his arms over his chest as he quirked an eyebrow at her. "You look about as comfortable in a dress as I would be," he teased, the corners of his mouth twitching with the threat of a smile.

"It is as I feared. I look utterly ridiculous," Breck said in a dismal tone, before throwing her hands up in defeat. "That settles it then. I am staying in tonight."

"No, no," Arthur immediately protested, trying to look more serious despite the amusement that twinkled in his green eyes. "That will not be necessary. You do not look ridiculous, I promise. You look lovely, even more so now that you are not covered in dirt and grime," Arthur complimented with a smirk.

"You are too kind," she shot back with a roll of her eyes.

Breck turned back to the looking glass, placing her hands on her hips and shaking her head at her appearance, though this time it was not entirely because of the dress. Life on the road was no easy one, and between the extensive travel and inconsistent meals, most of the fat from her body had been eliminated by now, leaving her with very little curves to boast of. The dress only further accentuated just how thin she had gotten.

"I look like a boy playing dress up," she grumbled, eyeing her figure critically.

"Nonsense," Arthur disagreed. "You look like a lady preparing for a night of drink and food with friends."

"Vanora could not have found a less revealing dress?" Breck asked, despite knowing it was probably wrong to be complaining so much when Vanora had gone out of her way to help.

Arthur pulled a face at her and shook his head. "Breck, you will be stunned to see how overdressed you will look compared to some of the women who frequent the tavern," he assured her matter-of-factly, the look in his eyes stating that he was not at all over-exaggerating.

If this was what modesty looked like, she couldn't even imagine how scandalous other women's dresses might look. "I cringe just thinking of it," Breck said warily.

"You will cringe more seeing it," Arthur quipped at her, before taking a look around the room. "Are your accommodations suitable enough?"

"Aye," Breck answered with a nod and a smile. "They will more than suffice. Thank you."

"You are welcome," Arthur responded, before offering her his arm. "Well, that ale shall not be able to drink itself. Shall we carry on?"

Breck nodded, but then held up one finger when she remembered something. "Just a moment," she said, before walking to the table, where she had neatly laid out her weapons upon arriving. Breck grabbed her dagger, which she had made with her father before he had died, and leaned down to shove it securely into her boot. It was purely out of habit, for she never went anywhere without some sort of protection, but when she turned back toward Arthur and saw the look on his face, she frowned unsurely.

"What?"

"Do you really believe that to be necessary?" he asked with a quirked brow. "Tonight you will be in the company of some of the most feared men in Britain," he proceeded to remind her. "I doubt there shall be any man within a hundred leagues foolish enough to trouble you."

"Yes, well…I have learned it is much better to be prepared than to be caught unawares," Breck reasoned.

Arthur tilted his head at those words and studied her for a moment, his amusement fading as a frown pulled his lips downward. "The years that have separated us have truly not been kind to you, have they?" he asked quietly, almost sadly.

The shift in his demeanor caught her off guard for a moment, but Breck quickly cleared her throat and shrugged a shoulder dismissively. "They could have been better…but they also could have been far worse," she told him. Then she moved closer and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, putting on a big smile in the hope that it would cheer Arthur up and save the spirit of the night. "Someday I shall tell you the grand tale, but tonight is not that night. Tonight, my lord, is a night for celebration and happiness."

Arthur's troubled expression cleared as he lifted his brows, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "I am your Lord now?" he asked teasingly, his demeanor brightening again as he led her back out of the room.

"I reside on your lands now, do I not?" Breck pointed out.

Arthur just smirked triumphantly in return, seemingly proud of himself for having convinced her to stay at the Wall longer than originally intended.

Breck took a moment to eye the other quarters around hers once they were outside, the very quarters that housed the Sarmatian Knights that served under Arthur. All of them were dark and appeared to be unoccupied at the moment, as had been the case since Breck had first arrived. Thus far, there had been no sign of Arthur's loyal men. She found herself anxious to meet them, curious to know what sort of men Arthur surrounded himself with on a daily basis.

They walked toward the tavern in comfortable silence at first, merely enjoying the cool, fresh air of the night and still basking in the fact that they were together once more. They passed people here or there, but the town was fairly quiet now that most of the townsfolk had returned home for the evening. A group of patrolling Roman soldiers marched past, making Arthur nod to them in acknowledgement while Breck, out of habit, eyed them with a hint of distrust. After the soldiers had gone and it was just them again, Arthur glanced down at her and then pulled her to a gentle stop.

"I have been thinking about what we spoke of earlier, about Cerdic," he said out of the blue, making her stiffen. "I only have one more thing to say on the matter, and then I shall put business aside for good this night."

"Alright," Breck said slowly, bracing herself for whatever he was about to say.

"I understand why you wish to kill Cerdic, I do. But what you have been doing is dangerous and indescribably reckless," Arthur said bluntly. "Despite the years that have separated us, I know your stubbornness and know I will not be able to change your mind. As much as I wish you would not see this mission through, that you would put your past behind you, I know you will not rest until Cerdic is dead. But if you are intent on killing him, then chasing him around the world and relying on pure luck will not do, Breck," he said with a shake of his head. "You need a plan. A real plan. So, someday soon, you and I are going to sit down and devise one together."

Breck blinked in surprise. He was whistling a very different tune from the one he had earlier, when he had first learned of her mission. "You want to help me defeat Cerdic?" she asked.

"If you insist upon seeing this mission through, then it is my wish that you live to tell the tale," Arthur told her. "If offering my help is the way to do that, then so be it."

Breck smiled gratefully. Arthur had always been very smart, and if the rumors were true, his skills and knowledge in the ways of battle were invaluable. With his help, maybe she would finally be able to successfully get the revenge she had been chasing after for so long.

"Thank you, Arthur," she said earnestly. "Truly."

Arthur just gave her a look. "Thank me when Cerdic is dead and you are still alive," he countered. "Now let us cease this talk and go to the tavern. We need drinks."

OOO

"Arthur?" a surprised voice questioned as soon as they entered the tavern. "Blimey! Arthur!"

Breck looked to the source of the commotion and spotted a large man coming toward them. He was slightly rounded in the region of his belly, but otherwise very muscular, and his hair was cut so short that, at first, she believed him to be bald. He shoved people out of the way uncaringly, the ale in his hand sloshing out of his mug, then roughly slapped Arthur on the back in greeting once he was close enough.

"Well, I'll be a pig's ear! It is a rare occasion indeed that – " The rest of the man's sentence was lost when his eyes shifted over to Breck and he realized that Arthur also had a woman on his arm. The man's eyebrows shot up and he took a step back in his surprise, his wide eyes looking at Arthur as though he had sprouted a second head. "Bloody hell. You are full o' surprises tonight, old friend," he said with a stunned expression still firmly intact. "Who's the woman?"

Arthur laughed before placing a hand on Breck's shoulder. "Bors, allow me to introduce one of my oldest friends. This is Breck," he introduced.

Bors' eyes went wide with surprise once more. "Breck? As in the Breck?"

"The very one," Arthur confirmed.

Breck looked at Arthur in surprise at first, then with a broad smile. "You told people about me?"

"Of course I did," he said, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "I had to ensure your legacy lived on in your absence," he added with a grin.

"To tell you true," Bors interjected, "I thought perhaps Arthur was making it all up! Thought maybe you were some imaginary friend."

Arthur looked to the heavens and shook his head with a sigh, as if this was some sort of longstanding joke he'd never been able to escape. Breck laughed at his reaction and then looked back to Bors. "Not imaginary," she confirmed. "Very real and very alive, and still very much Arthur's friend," she added, gently nudging Arthur in the ribs.

"The lads will be delighted to meet ya," Bors said in response. "Think a few might have even had a bet about whether or not you were a real person or a mere figment of Arthur's imagination."

"The lads?" Breck asked, glancing back and forth between them.

"The knights," Arthur clarified. "Bors is one of the men under my command."

Breck nodded, suddenly looking to Bors with a newfound respect. Sarmatians had always been considered some of the strongest fighters around, but she had heard rumors that these knights serving under Arthur were particularly fearsome. At the moment, Bors seemed harmless, what with his large, friendly grin and ale-induced cheerfulness...but Breck knew better. Those callouses on his hands were from years of wielding weapons against foes, and those scars on his arms and head were from battles he'd fought and, obviously, won. No doubt the man was every bit as fierce as the rumors said.

"An even greater pleasure, then, to have made your acquaintance," she told the man respectfully.

"And yours," Bors responded, inclining his head. He then looked back and forth between the two of them. "So, what brings the two o' you here on this fine evenin'?"

"A celebration," Breck answered before Arthur could. "To honor the reuniting of old friends."

"A celebration, aye?" Bors asked, his eyes glinting with excitement so suddenly that Breck had to look at Arthur with trepidation, unsure of what she may have just gotten herself into. "Well then, my lady, let the celebration begin!"

Before Arthur could even attempt to intervene, Bors had a hand wrapped around Breck's wrist and was firmly yanking her away from his commanding officer with a look on his face that could only mean trouble. Arthur merely laughed at the helpless look Breck shot at him over her shoulder as she was dragged to the bar, before he pointed towards a table in the corner, signaling that was where she could find him whenever Bors was done with her.

Breck turned her attention back to the large man she was attached to. Had it been any other place, any other time, and any other person, she would have already had a dagger to his throat. But Bors was Arthur's friend, and even though she wasn't usually keen on meeting new people – and even less keen on being manhandled – she had enough wine in her belly to make her feel more accepting of the current situation. As they reached the bar and Bors loudly ordered the 'two largest bloody pints of ale' that could be mustered up, she had to laugh at his enthusiasm.

Breck was pleasantly surprised when she realized that the barmaid Bors was barking orders at was the one and only Vanora. So this was the work she had needed to get to. "Vanora, good to see you again," she said with a friendly smile and a nod towards the woman.

"And you as well," Vanora said back, returning her smile. "The dress is fitting, I see," she commented, giving Breck an approving once over.

Not wanting to hurt her feelings or sound inconsiderate, Breck decided to act as though she hadn't been complaining about her dress since the moment she had put it on. "It is, thank you," she said politely.

"Enough talking about dresses. Bring us ale, wench!" Bors demanded, pounding his hand on the table and making Breck, as well as several others, jump in surprise.

Breck frowned and quirked a brow, feeling more than a little offended on Vanora's behalf for the way Bors was ordering her about. She had half a mind to say something about it until she saw that Vanora herself seemed hardly phased by his outburst. The woman just shot Bors an unimpressed look before reaching for two large mugs and filling them with ale.

"You will have to forgive my lover for his lack of manners," Vanora said, shooting the man a pointed look. "He was raised by the pigs."

Breck's frown disappeared at those words. So the two were lovers? Well, that explained a few things.

"I take offense to that," Bors complained good-naturedly, taking one of the ales Vanora had prepared for himself and handing the other to Breck. He then made a loud, boorish sound and chugged half of his drink.

Breck couldn't help but snicker at his crude behavior, but Vanora just rolled her eyes before walking off to serve another patron. "I think you annoyed her," Breck commented, smirking at the man.

"I always annoy her," Bors countered. He took another drink, then gave her a look of interest. "Remind me, Breck," he said. "How came you to know our good leader?"

Breck took a drink, wincing at the potency of the ale as she took a drink. Though she could normally hold her drink, it had been a long time since she had indulged in something so strong. Bors, on the other hand, was treating his own drink as though it were merely water. "My father and I lived here at the Wall many years ago, before we settled in my mother's homeland of Ireland," she explained. "Arthur befriended me soon after we arrived."

Now that they were talking about Arthur, Breck craned her neck to try and spot him through the thick crowd. When she finally located his mop of hair, he had joined a group of men at a table off to the side. The men were greeting him raucously, clearly excited to have him in their company, and it was all too obvious even from where she stood that the men were regarding him with a great deal of respect and fondness. She could not say that she was too surprised by this, as Arthur had proven himself many times over to be a good man and even better friend. No doubt these men would have discovered this as well by now.

"Ireland, eh?" Bors questioned, drawing her attention back to him. "So you are a Celt?"

"I am," Breck confirmed, wisely leaving off the part that she was actually only half.

"And you have come to live here again?" Bors asked next, finishing what was left of his drink impressively fast and then flagging down Vanora so he could order another.

Breck nodded. "For a while, yes."

"Well, good. We could use some new bloody faces 'round here. And perhaps with you around, Arthur will finally loosen up a little," he said. Once he had a fresh drink in his hands, he clinked his mug against hers and gave her a lopsided smirk. "To new friends," he said. His smirk fell when he looked in her mug and saw that it was still relatively full, his expression almost appalled. "Drink up, woman!" he said, putting a hand underneath the bottom of the cup so he could push it toward her face. "Prove your worth!" he instructed brashly.

Though she could tell he was just giving her a hard time, Breck still quirked an eyebrow at him. "Prove my worth, you say? Bors, new friend, I suggest you not tempt me into proving just how worthy I truly am. You will only end up with a bruised eye and a bruised ego," she warned with a smirk, before confidently finishing her drink in a few large gulps.

Vanora, who had overheard their conversation, immediately began laughing at her lover's expense. Bors, however, laughed heartily with delight at the good-natured threat before clapping her hard on the back. The movement caused her to lurch forward and nearly made her choke on the last bits of her drink, but she somehow managed to catch herself on the bar and avoid having ale in her lungs.

"I have heard rumors of the fierceness of the Celts," Bors said with an approving grin.

"And are you finding them true?" Breck questioned, wiping some stray droplets of ale from around her mouth.

"Indeed I am," Bors confirmed, before slinging a beefy arm around her shoulder. Apparently, the man had little care for personal space or boundaries. "I have a feeling that you and I will get along wonderfully."

Breck couldn't help but smile at that. Bors ordered her another drink, shoved it into her hands, and then began dragging her over to the table where Arthur and the rest of the knights were sitting. Just like when he had come to greet her and Arthur, he barked at people to move out of the way and carelessly knocked aside men with his elbows as they passed, earning them several offended looks in the process. Breck shot apologetic looks to those who looked particularly scandalized, but the Sarmatian didn't seem to notice or even care. She wondered if it was the drink that made him like this, or if this was just how he always was.

As they made their way through the crowd, Breck quickly came to the conclusion that Arthur hadn't been exaggerating when warning her about the women she would see floating around in the tavern. She had thought her own attire was questionable, but seeing some of the other women now, she felt as though she might as well have been wearing a priest's robes for how modest she looked in comparison. Some of the dresses she saw were so revealing that even Breck found it hard not to stare right along with the other men in the tavern.

She was eyeing a dark-haired woman who was fawning all over a male patron when she realized that a few men sitting nearby were eyeing her with leers on their faces. Breck quirked a warning brow at them, silently telling them to look elsewhere. They did, though whether that was because they had received her message or because she was with Bors, she couldn't say for sure.

Breck turned her eyes forward again, deciding to brush off the men. It wasn't as if she had never been leered at before, and she certainly wasn't going to let that ruin her night. The only thing that mattered now was the celebration that was about to be underway, and as they neared the table Arthur and the rest of the knights were at, Breck found it very easy to forget that she had been leered at to begin with.

"I like this one, Arthur. She's got spirit!" Bors announced once they had reached the table, patting her roughly on the back again, which made her shoot him a slightly disgruntled look. At this rate, he was going to leave her with bruises.

"That she does," Arthur agreed, raising his cup to Breck with a smirk.

There were three other men with Arthur. The one sitting next to him, like Bors, appeared bald at a glance but was simply sporting the same short haircut his companion did. He had a scar over one of his eyes and a large, intimidating frame, but as for as imposing as he looked, there was a kind aura to him that hinted he was a nice man. It helped that he smiled at her, too. The other two both appeared to be a bit younger than their three comrades and were standing to the side of the table, looking to have been in the middle of some dagger throwing competition before they had arrived. The one on the left was only a few inches taller than Breck, with brown, curly hair and a boyish look to him that she found rather endearing.

The one on the right, however, made her do a double-take.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and had a mane of golden hair that fell all the way to the middle of his back. He was tanned from time spent laboring outside and looked as though he had a considerable amount of muscle on him, but it was his eyes that really captured her attention. They were the brightest blue that she had ever seen, and, currently, they were studying her with great interest. He was very attractive, and Breck suddenly had to fight the urge to blush, even had to turn her eyes away from his, feeling unexpectedly nervous in front of this handsome man.

"I was just informing the men of your plans to live here at the Wall for the next month," Arthur was saying when she tuned back into the conversation and took a seat at the table. Bors followed her suit and sat down on her right. "They have agreed to help me ensure your stay is a safe and enjoyable one whenever they may spare a moment."

"Arthur has told us much about you. If you are his friend, then you are our friend as well," the golden-haired knight spoke up, making her eyes flash over to him again. "Anything you need, do not hesitate to ask."

As the men around her nodded in agreement with his statement, Breck felt a rush of gratitude for them. "Thank you all," she said sincerely. "I have heard many stories of the great Sarmatian Knights and your fierceness in battle, but this is the first I am learning of your chivalry. It is a most pleasant surprise, and I am grateful to you for your kindness."

Arthur smiled at her, looking pleased that everyone appeared to be getting along well so far. "Now, introductions," he said. "This is Dagonet," he introduced, motioning to the large man sitting next to him, "and they are Gawain and Galahad. Men, as you well know, this is my very good friend Breck." There was a moment where several nods and smiles were shared, before Arthur spoke again. "Breck, Galahad will be your neighbor while you are here. His quarters are directly next to yours."

"Rest easy, my lady," the curly haired knight named Galahad said with an over-exaggerated puffing of his chest. "No harm shall find you so long as I am near."

While Breck raised her drink to him and smiled thankfully, the golden-haired knight, Gawain, playfully punched his friend's shoulder. "Galahad the Charming," he teased, drawing her attention over to him. He was directing a smile at her that would have made any woman swoon. "He is attempting to impress you, you know," he told her matter-of-factly.

"I am not!" Galahad said, though it looked like his cheeks had turned pink.

Breck laughed, watching as they shoved each other around a bit, before deciding to save the man from embarrassment. "Well, Galahad the Charming, you needn't try any longer. Consider me impressed," Breck said, making Galahad puff out his chest again and shoot Gawain a triumphant look. "…for now anyway," she added with a wink, unable to resist teasing him.

The men, Galahad included, chuckled.

"You do not have as many men as I would have thought," Breck commented once their laughter had died down. From what Arthur had told her back in the day, she had expected him to have dozens of knights under his command, not just the four around her.

The atmosphere around their table suddenly turned somber. Arthur smiled sadly and offered her a slight shrug. "There are two more I have yet to introduce you to, but…no, I do not have very many men. There were more when our campaign first began, but..." He trailed off and pursed his lips, his expression a mixture of solemnness and regret.

He didn't need to finish his statement for her to know what had become of the rest of the Sarmatian Knights. Clearly they had been lost to time and battle, something that evidently still hung heavy over Arthur and his remaining men. "I am sorry to hear it," she said sincerely, meeting the gazes of the other men so they would know she was sympathizing with them as well.

"It is the way of life, I fear," Arthur said simply, before taking a drink of his ale.

A moment of silence fell over the group until Bors suddenly slammed his hand on the table, startling everyone but Dagonet – his lack of reaction made Breck believe that he must have been used to outbursts like this.

"Enough talk o' loss an' death," Bors said firmly, leaving no room for argument. "Vanora!" he then shouted toward the bar. "Another round! And make haste! Tonight, we celebrate our new friend!"

OOO

After Breck's third drink, she came to the bold decision that she liked Arthur's knights. They were loud and kept making crude comments that frequently prompted Arthur to remind them that they were in the presence of a lady, but there was something about them that endeared them to Breck far quicker than she would have anticipated.

Perhaps it was because there was a genuineness to them that she didn't often see. There were no agendas, no deceptions, no trickery. They were genuinely and unapologetically themselves, and she respected that. They were also incredibly welcoming, and since the moment she had sat down, they had treated her like she was one of them. They asked her questions and seemed genuinely interested in the answers. They included her in the conversation, they made her laugh with their antics and their stories. They felt, inexplicably, like they were already her friends. And that was uncommon for Breck, if not completely unheard of.

Maybe she was just drunk, or maybe she was just feeling extra sentimental – whatever the reason, she felt herself growing comfortable with these men in no time at all.

Happy to have met new people that she liked and feeling chatty because of all the drinks she'd had, she listened and laughed to their stories before roping Dagonet into a lengthy conversation about his work as the town healer. Since injuries occurred often while she was on the road, she'd always wanted to learn more about healing – it was expensive seeking out healers when she found herself hurt or sick, assuming there was even a healer around to begin with. If she knew more about his trade, it could be very beneficial in the future.

Eventually Dagonet took his leave for the night to tend to some business, but not before first promising to talk with her again and start teaching her about medicinal herbs. Breck was excited that he was willing to share his knowledge and already looked forward to her next meeting with the large knight.

After Dagonet left, Breck thought it only fair to tell Galahad, Gawain, and Bors tales from her and Arthur's childhood since they had told so many stories of their times with him. As it was, all of her favorite memories were of the times that she and Arthur had gotten into trouble together. When she launched into the story of the time they'd nearly destroyed the very same stables that the knights kept their horses in, it wasn't long before she had the men in stitches.

" – and Arthur came dashing out of those stables as though the devil himself was chasing him, with muck all over him, bits of hay in his hair, and this horrified expression on his face," she said with a laugh, the rest of the men practically howling around her with laughter. "There were these huge hoof marks all over his back, too. It looked like the poor child had been trampled over!"

"Which I had," Arthur grumbled with a shake of his head, though there was a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. "And still sport the scars to prove it."

This brought on another round of laughter from the table, which even Arthur joined in on.

"Tis an absolute miracle we made it out of there in one piece, and an even bigger miracle that the stables still stand today, I assure you," Breck concluded with an amused shake of her head, smiling at her friend fondly.

"I do not think my father had ever been so incredibly angry with me," Arthur mused with raised brows. "I received a good, sound whipping then had to clean the stables for a month." He then shot Breck a look and pointed a finger at her. "And do you know what Breck had to do as punishment?" he asked his knights. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. A sweet, innocent smile and a bat of those pretty eyes, and she was free of punishment without so much a question!" he exclaimed incredulously. "Always causing trouble, yet never suffering the consequences."

"Because I am far too intelligent to be caught," she reasoned with a wave of her hand while the men chuckled around them.

"Because you were too pretty to be punished," Arthur corrected. "Both my father and yours were mere puppets in your world. Neither had it in them to resist your charm," he added sarcastically.

"No surprise there," Gawain chimed in from his seat next to Arthur. "Gone would be any man's will when faced with such a lovely woman," he said, giving her a charming smile.

"Here, here!" Galahad and Bors agreed, clinking their glasses against Breck's before taking large drinks.

Breck blushed at Gawain's complimenting words. She wasn't sure if he'd only said it because he was drinking or if he was trying to be flirtatious, but, either way, it was inexplicably pleasing to know that he thought she was lovely. While the conversation around them continued, Breck looked over at him and saw that he was watching her over his mug of ale. She offered a brief, bashful smile and then took a long, slow drink from her own mug, a bit glad when Bors spoke up and ended the odd little moment that had just transpired.

"Who requires more drink?" he asked, motioning Vanora over.

Out of the corner of her eye, Breck finally saw Gawain look away from her. "Another round for us all," he said firmly, clapping Arthur on the back. "It is a rare night indeed that our fearless leader indulges with us. We shall take full advantage!"

When Vanora came back with a fresh round for everyone at the table, Bors pulled her into his lap and began showering her neck with kisses. Breck smiled and watched as Vanora barely struggled against him, obviously enjoying the attention. When the display became a little too much to stomach, however, Breck decided to give the couple their space and left the table, meandering over to the stool that Galahad and Gawain had been using as a target for their dagger throwing.

"What are the rules of your game, lads?" she asked, brushing her fingers over the many cut marks in the worn wood.

"Ah, a test to see who of us truly has the best aim," Galahad said, jumping up from the table and rushing over to join her. He was a little wobbly on his feet and couldn't quite walk a straight line, but he didn't appear bothered by it. "We each have three throws. Whoever comes closest to the center the most times wins," he explained, tapping the center of the stool.

"And what happens if you lose?" Breck questioned.

"You must finish an entire mug of ale as quickly as you can," Galahad informed her with a smirk. Then he raised his eyebrows at her. "Do you wish to try?"

Breck eyed the post and then stuck her hand out to him. "Challenge accepted."

Galahad shook her hand and then waltzed over to the throwing line with a confident strut. She trailed after him, mindful even in her inebriated state of Gawain's eyes following her movements. The attention still made her feel a little nervous, simply because she wasn't used to it, but she did her best to ignore him and concentrate on the game she was partaking in.

"You had better not let your confidence get the better of you," Arthur warned Galahad as he reached for his mug of ale. "If her aim is half as good as it was when we were children, you will have quite the competition."

"I am not afraid," Galahad retorted with an air of indifference, trying to appear unaffected by Arthur heeding words.

"Ah, but you should be," Breck shot at him before reaching for the dagger in her boot and flipping it in her hand menacingly.

The young knight snorted and waved her off, then took a gulp from his ale and set the mug on the table so he could throw. Gawain and Bors began cheering Galahad on as he stood in front of the target and took aim. His first throw landed about four inches from the center, to which Galahad seemed none too pleased with. His annoyance worsened when Gawain began taunting him for his poor aim. Grumbling grumpily under his breath, Galahad stepped aside and motioned for Breck to take her turn.

"Show the man how it is done," Arthur cheered her on encouragingly.

"And whose side are you on?" Galahad asked in mock offense, narrowing his eyes at his commanding officer.

Arthur grinned. "Hers," he said bluntly, before taking a drink of ale.

Breck shot Galahad a triumphant look, took aim, then chucked her dagger at the stool. It landed close to the center. While the men alternated between cheering for her and teasing Galahad, Breck turned a sweet smile on her opponent. He growled in annoyance before collecting their daggers with more roughness than was necessary. It took a great deal of willpower not to laugh at him when he impatiently thrust the handle of her dagger back into her hand, and even more when his next throw sent his dagger sailing past the target, much to the anger and annoyance of a man who nearly wound up getting stabbed by the wayward blade.

After Galahad apologized to the man for nearly killing him and returned with his dagger, Breck took her next throw. It landed dead center.

Galahad groaned in response and dropped his face into his hand. "I warned you," Arthur piped up in a sing-song voice.

"Galahad, friend, perhaps you should just admit defeat and salvage what pride you have left," Gawain suggested with mock sympathy. "The woman has you beat already."

Breck couldn't help but flash the handsome Sarmatian a smile as she crossed her arms smugly, amused with the pout forming on Galahad's face. "I will not think less of you," she promised him.

Galahad eyed her unsurely before releasing a heavy sigh. Then he bowed to her, though it was hard to tell if he was being sarcastic about it or not. "My lady, I admit my defeat."

"And I accept your surrender," Breck responded, using the same formal voice he had. "Now go get your ale," she instructed sternly, pushing him in the direction of the bar.

Galahad grumbled under his breath and began stomping his way to the bar, looking displeased with the outcome he clearly hadn't been expecting. She watched him for a moment before turning her attention back to the table. Bors was preoccupied with Vanora again, who was now trying hard to get away from him so she could continue her work, while Arthur had suddenly excused himself from the table to go greet two men that had just walked into the tavern. She wondered if they were the two remaining knights she had not yet met, but assumed she would find out soon enough, as the trio appeared to be making their way back to the table.

Her eyes then turned over to Gawain. He had been studying her with a look of interest on his handsome face, but when he realized he had been caught, he quickly smiled and raised his glass in salute.

"A good match," he complimented.

"Thank you," Breck said in return.

"Who taught you to throw?" he inquired curiously.

"My father," she answered with a fond smile. "He wanted to ensure I knew how to protect myself, so he trained me to fight."

Gawain nodded approvingly. "Good man," he said respectfully.

He looked like he wanted to say more, but he held back as Arthur reappeared with the two men he'd greeted at the door. One was dressed in working clothes and had bits of hay sticking to his hair and clothing. The other was fit and meticulously groomed, dressed in smart, fashionable clothes. Judging by his age, attire, and the fact that he was armed even though he was only visiting the tavern, she would wager to guess that he was another one of Arthur's knights.

"Breck, Jols, I believe you two shall remember each other," Arthur said, looking back and forth between her and the one in working clothes.

Even though he was taller and older, now that she was really looking, she could see hints of the face of the boy she had known back then in the face of the man standing before her. "Yes, I do remember you," Breck confirmed with a nod and a smile. "It is good to see you again, Jols. How are you?"

"I am well," Jols answered with a friendly smile. "Happy to have you back here at the Wall, Breck. I am sure Arthur is happy to have you back, as well," he said, giving Arthur a knowing smile.

"I am," Arthur said with a nod, before shifting his attention to Breck. "Jols is our stable master now. He has agreed to let you work with him in the knights' stables for coin while you are here…on the condition that you do not attempt to tear or burn it down, of course," he added jokingly.

"Reasonable enough," Breck laughed, which pulled a few chuckles from both Arthur and Jols.

She glanced over at the other man who had arrived with them, who had been quiet during their little exchange. It didn't take long to realize that the reason he'd been so quiet was because he'd been too busy staring at her cleavage to take notice of the conversation around him. Feeling empowered by the alcohol, she quirked a brow and crossed her arms over her chest, deciding to call the man out on his unbecoming staring.

"Pardon me, sir, but if you are looking for my eyes, you will find them better if you search above my breasts," she said.

Gawain and Bors immediately began laughing at and jeering the man, but the curly haired man himself didn't appear too put off by her stinging words. Instead, he lifted his eyes to hers and then gave her a mischievous smile, wagging his eyebrows. "My, and what pretty eyes to gaze upon indeed," he said flirtatiously.

Arthur immediately looked unamused with his knight's flirting. "Lancelot," he said, a hint of warning in his tone. "This is Breck, one of my very best friends."

"Breck?" Lancelot echoed with surprise, much like Bors had. "Why, I have heard much about you from dear Arthur here." He grabbed for her hand and raised it up to his lips, as if aiming to kiss her knuckles. "He failed to mention your beauty, however."

Breck slipped her hand from his before his lips could reach their destination. "Is it your habit to put your lips on women without first asking permission?" she questioned, ignoring his compliment.

Lancelot smirked and shrugged. "My lips are often very sought after, as I am sure you will soon come to understand," he said with a flirtatious wink.

Breck pulled a face of both doubt and mild disgust, while Arthur crossed his arms sternly over his chest. "I know you pride yourself on being the town Charmer, but where it concerns Breck, you will do well to treat her with the utmost respect," he warned.

"Of course, of course," Lancelot said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I was merely being friendly, Arthur. No need to get testy."

Arthur started like he was going to say something else, but Breck placed a gentle hand on his forearm to silence him. "Do not worry, friend, I know how to handle letches like this one," she said with a sweet, innocent smile. "Mind yourself, Lancelot, or you may find yourself incapable of being friendly to any woman ever again," she then warned, though she was just joking…mostly.

The men hissed and jeered again, watching the exchange with amusement. She could tell that the message had been received loud and clear, but Lancelot still smirked, clearly unable to help himself. "Feisty," he said. "I like it."

Galahad suddenly returned with a mug of ale in his hands. "Oh, hello Jols, Lancelot," he greeted, before eyeing the rest of the group. "What have I missed?" he asked when he saw the looks on his friends' faces.

"Breck here was just teaching our friend about manners and respect," Gawain said, grinning at Breck and looking impressed. "Poor little Lancelot has finally felt the sharp sting of rejection."

"Little?" Lancelot balked at Gawain. "Nothing about me is little."

Galahad, ignoring Lancelot's outburst, looked highly pleased by what he had learned. "At last! Tis about time someone knocked his ego down a peg," he said, making Breck wonder just how many women had not rejected Lancelot in the past. If she had to guess, she'd say many.

To celebrate Lancelot's rejection, Galahad proceeded to fulfill his side of the bargain and chugged his drink for everyone to see. Gawain and Bors cheered him on loudly and, once he had finished, he slammed his empty mug upside down on the table. While Breck and the rest of their companions clapped and cheered, Galahad released a very loud burp. The men cheered even more, but Breck only shook her head to herself in amusement.

With Lancelot and Jols joining their little party, they had one more round of drinks and the conversations continued. But it wasn't long before exhaustion began to creep into Breck's body. Between the long days of travelling to Hadrian's Wall and the copious amounts of alcohol she had consumed that night, the toll it had taken on her was undeniable. Halfway through one of Lancelot's animated retellings of a fight the knights had partaken in, she began to yawn uncontrollably and realized just how utterly tired she truly was. As much as she had enjoyed the company of Arthur and the knights, she found herself yearning for the warm bed waiting for her back at her quarters.

"Lads," Breck said to catch their attention once Lancelot had finished his story, setting her unfinished drink down on the table. "It has been quite a long journey to Hadrian's Wall and the drink has made me quite tired. I fear I must take my leave now," she explained, before shooting a smile at Jols, her new employer. "Jols, I will see you in the stables tomorrow."

Jols nodded his affirmation and then took her empty seat at the table. Arthur came to her side in the next moment, looking equally as tired and drunk as she currently felt.

"I believe it is time for me to retire, too. I shall escort you back safely."

"And I as well," Galahad said next, holding one hand over his mouth and another over his stomach. He looked a fair bit queasy. "The last drink has done me in, I fear."

And with that being said, the trio said their goodbyes to the other men and then staggered out of the tavern.

"Go on, Arthur," Galahad half-slurred, waving his commander away once they had neared the knights' quarters. "I shall see Breck safely to her room from here. No harm will come to her under my watch," he promised, nodding his head to emphasize his point.

"You are certain?" Arthur asked with reluctance. When Galahad nodded again and placed Breck's hand in the crook of his elbow, Arthur sighed in resignation. "This is where I go my own way, then," he said. Breck smiled warmly when he leaned over to kiss the top of her hair. He'd never shied away from showing affection when they were children – it was comforting to know that the same was true in adulthood. "I am happy you are home," Arthur told her, smiling down at her.

The word home made a warm feeling fill her chest. "I am as well," she said, patting his cheek. "Goodnight, Arthur. I will see you tomorrow."

Arthur nodded and then headed off to his estate, while Breck and Galahad continued on to the knights' quarters.

Galahad didn't do a great job escorting her, since he was extremely drunk and very wobbly, but she didn't mind the company one bit. She spent the whole walk laughing at both his drunken, animated chatter and his antics, doing her best to keep him from hurting himself as he kept bumping into things that would not have presented a problem to a sober person. In the end, Breck decided she wasn't doing a good job of escorting him either, since she was just as drunk as he was and wasn't fast enough to stop him from eventually tripping and going headfirst into a pile of hay. Both of them ended up in stitches, which meant it took twice as long for her to finally get him back on his feet. After she had helped pick some of the hay from his curls, they linked arms again and continued on.

They finally made it back to their quarters with Galahad mostly unscathed, save for a bruise or two. "I usually handle my drink better than this," he slurred insistently as she led him up the steps to his door.

"Oh yes, of course," Breck agreed, though slightly mockingly.

Galahad went to the door, opened it, and then gestured inside grandly. "Your quarters, m'lady," he said, before looking inside with confusion. "Wait, these are my quarters," he realized.

"Indeed they are," Breck said with a laugh. "Will you be alright on your own?"

Galahad waved off her concerns. "I shall be right as rain come tomorrow," he assured.

"I will bid you goodnight then," Breck said.

"Goodnight, Breck. I shall see you tomorrow," he said back.

Galahad went inside, and barely two seconds after the door shut a big crash sounded from inside. She started to go see if he was alright, but stopped when she heard him call out to her from inside.

"I am alright!"

Breck laughed and shook her head, then finally went into her own room. She wrestled off the dress Vanora had given her and changed into then nightgown, then flopped onto the bed and settled under the sheets. It wasn't long at all before Breck drifted off to sleep, and for the first time in a long time, she did so feeling completely content.

Feel free to let me know what you think! See you next Friday!