Welcome (or should I say welcome back?) RikkiBlake777! And thank you for the review! I'm glad you're enjoying the rewrite! And always, thank you vermilion aura! Your reviews always make my day!

I just want you all to know that I appreciate everyone who is taking the time to read this little story! I really, really hope you're all enjoying it so far! Onto the next chapter!

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: So sorry about the mix up guys! I accidently reposted the prologue because in my documents list, its right below my newest chapter. Basically I was a silly goose and added the wrong document! Here's the actual chapter!

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sleep did not come easily to Breck that night. She spent several hours tossing and turning, her body tired but her mind nowhere near ready to succumb to sleep. Eventually she managed to get a few fitful hours, but as soon as she woke the next morning, her mind went straight back to the thing that had caused her to have such a terrible night of sleep in the first place.

Tristan.

Breck lay in bed staring up at an old water stain on the ceiling of her quarters, feeling just as confused and out of sorts as she had been the night before. She simply did not understand why she had reacted to Tristan the way that she had. Up until that moment in the tavern, he had never made her feel anything but anger, irritation, and annoyance. He was a cold-hearted, insensitive man whom she would likely never get along with and whom she could barely stand to be in the same room with. She loathed Tristan.

But as the scout's face continued to circle through her mind, she did not find herself thinking about how infuriating he could be when biting her head off for no good reason, or how aggravated he made her feel whenever he went out of his way to ignore or belittle her.

No, she was thinking about how it had felt to feel the heat of his body so close to hers. How distracting and unexpectedly appealing his scent had been. The straightness of his nose, the fullness of his lips, the way his eyes had practically glowed in the setting sun, and how he had possibly the highest cheekbones she'd ever seen on a man, which the tattoos on his face only accentuated even more up close.

By now, Breck had come to the unsettling realization that Tristan was very…handsome. He might not be sociable or kind or easy to get along with like the rest of the knights, but damn that man – he certainly wasn't lacking when it came to appearances. He was fit and strong, and handsome in a dark, mysterious, dangerous sort of way. And now that she'd had that revelation, it was all Breck seemed to be able to think about. She could not stop thinking about how he had looked the night before, how intently those honey eyes had stared back at her, how everything about him had seemed to draw her in.

Warmth suddenly swept through her, turning her cheeks pink and leaving her with a tingling feeling all over her body that was impossible to ignore.

With a frustrated growl, Breck threw the covers off and got out of bed. She began pacing her floor in agitation, running a hand through her curls and making them stick out in all sorts of wild directions.

What in the hell was wrong with her? This was Tristan, for God's sake. To even be thinking such thoughts about him was utterly ridiculous. So what if he was handsome? They could hardly even stand to be around one another. In fact, Tristan had given her every reason in the world to never want to even be around him. And how could she even be thinking such things about him when she had spent the better part of these past few weeks believing that she might be developing a little crush of her own on Gawain?

Actually, why was she even thinking about romance at all? Sure, she had entertained the idea when she had been younger, but things had changed very much since then. She had dedicated her life to hunting Cerdic, had resolutely convinced herself that there was no room for romance, that she did not even want a man in her life to begin with.

But then she had come here and met these men, and now they were making her feel things she hadn't even thought herself capable of feeling, and it was all so horribly confusing to her. It was difficult enough being attracted to Gawain, but to now suddenly feel that way toward Tristan as well? That was even worse.

Breck shook her head and kneaded the heel of her palm into her forehead. She needed to stop thinking about him – about both of them. She was willing to allow herself the luxury of friends, yes, but that was where she drew the line. Anything more than that only sounded messy and confusing, and she did not want to deal with it. And Breck refused to turn into some simpering, hopelessly romantic woman that lost her head over every attractive man that crossed her path. That simply wasn't her.

With a deep breath, she did her best to force any and all Sarmatians out of her head and dressed for the day, since it was well past sun up and she was due to work in the stables. After she had pulled on her working clothes and secured her wild curls into a tight braid, she reached for the medallion that hung around her neck to tuck it under her tunic, just as she always did. Breck paused, however, and held the medallion between her fingers, her mind immediately filling with thoughts of her parents, just as it often did whenever she looked at the family heirloom. From there, it wasn't long at all before she began to think about Cerdic.

It was with an immediate and immense feeling of guilt that she realized she hadn't been thinking about her mission to kill Cerdic nearly as much since coming to the Wall. With how busy she had been, with how caught up she had become in her new life with her new friends – and with these men that so often invaded her thoughts – Cerdic had just…slipped to the back of her mind.

It was certainly nothing that Breck had intended to do. So much of her time had been dedicated to hating that man, to hunting him and plotting his death, that she had been certain that she would never be able to think of anything else. Ever since her father had died, she had lived and breathed her mission to avenge her family. But since coming to the Wall, she had been living a life she had never lived before. A normal life, where she worked respectable jobs for coin, had her own space to call home, and spent her evenings dining and drinking with friends. Breck had gotten so complacent in her new routine that Cerdic had, without her meaning to, become an afterthought.

That was simply not acceptable. As much as she enjoyed being at the Wall, as much as she liked her new friends, as wonderful as it was to have Arthur in her life again, she still had a mission to see through. She still had an oath to fulfill. That was nothing to lose sight of – not for her friends, not for Arthur, and especially not for a few above average attractive men.

The last she had heard of Cerdic, his army had been moving and pillaging their way through the lands on the other side of the sea. But that had been a long time ago, and in the months it had taken her to travel to Britain and get settled at the Wall, there was no telling where his army might have ventured on to now. Though she had no plans of leaving just yet, she did not want to simply do nothing in regards to her mission. She would need to know where to begin again when she resumed her quest, which meant she needed to start searching for information now.

Perhaps, Breck thought to herself, the time had come to reach out to her contacts. At least she would feel like she was doing something again…and it was certainly better than wasting her time fretting over men.

Breck strode to her trunk and pulled it open, kneeling in front of it so she could fish around for some parchment and a quill and ink. When she found the supplies, Breck sat down at her table and began to write. The letter was to a man name Melcon. He lived on the northern shores of Britain in the Pict territories, and he had been the first person to provide her and her father shelter when they had first arrived on the island all those years ago. He was a man who, despite living in a fairly isolated village, was surprisingly well connected, with his own long string of contacts that he corresponded with to stay one step ahead of any impending threats. He was also someone she trusted, and was, very conveniently, the contact who would be easiest to reach from the Wall.

Breck wrote quickly, explaining that she was on the island and that she was seeking any information he might have about the movements of Cerdic and his army. Thoughts of Tristan and Gawain faded completely, her nerves feeling calmer and her head feeling clearer as her hand moved across the page, the quill tip scratching across the paper.

When she finished, Breck sealed the letter and headed for the door, intending to find someone brave enough to make the journey north and get the letter to Melcon. Yet the moment Breck stepped outside, she came to an abrupt halt. Because at that exact moment, a door across the way and two spaces over opened, and Tristan stepped out of his own quarters.

Damn. Breck had hoped that she would be able to avoid seeing him for at least a little while. Luck, apparently, was not on her side.

For a moment, they both stood frozen on the spot as they looked at one another. Then Tristan stepped down into the path that separated the rows of the knights' quarters, his eyes drifting down to the letter she held in her hand as he slowly made his way past where she stood. Breck tucked the letter into her tunic immediately. She doubted he would ask questions about it – that would require him to be civil with her, which was asking far too much of him – but she didn't want to risk it, regardless.

He continued on, not acknowledging the letter in her hands, barely even acknowledging her. Breck watched him go, frowning a little when she saw that he was not only in his armor, but also loaded down with weapons. The men usually kept at least a dagger on them in every day life, but it wasn't habit for any of them – not even Tristan – to walk around fully armed. That could really only mean one thing – the men must have received a new mission from Rome.

If the men were being called away, then Breck would definitely be needed in the stables as soon as possible, which meant finding someone to deliver her letter to Melcon would have to wait for the time being.

Breck left her quarters behind and set off in the same direction Tristan had gone. As she did so, she was acutely aware of how ironic it was that she was now following him after demanding he stop following her just the day before. She hoped if she stayed back far enough that he wouldn't notice, but they had only barely left the quarters behind when Tristan cast a glance over his shoulder, his eyes finding her immediately, as if he'd already known she was there.

His pace slowed, and as she closed the gap between them, she saw that one of his eyebrows had quirked up just slightly.

"I am not following you," she said, perhaps a touch too defensively. "We are merely…going in the same direction."

Tristan said nothing in response, merely gave her one of those unreadable looks that always made her wish she could read his mind.

He resumed making his way toward the stables, as did Breck, and it was very strange indeed to be walking with him so casually. Usually if he was trailing her, he made sure to keep a considerable amount of distance between them, so that nobody could make the mistake of thinking that he was doing something as friendly as escorting her, like the other knights did. That was assuming he even made his presence known to begin with, which he typically didn't do. Even now, he made sure to keep a few feet between them, but there was no denying that they were going to the stables together, and the shock of doing something so…normal…with him left her completely at a loss as to what to do or say.

Breck found herself studying him from the corner of her eye, unable to help herself. She wondered if the strands of hair that fell over his eyes ever bothered him. She wondered what the tattoos on his cheeks stood for. Breck's eyes followed the line of his nose until they landed on his lips, noticing that his top lip protruded just slightly further out than the bottom one did. She suddenly wanted to know if those full lips were capable of ever pulling into a smile. She had never seen even a hint of one from him, not even around the men.

Tristan's eyes suddenly cut to her, and Breck immediately turned her eyes forward, hoping that the heat in her cheeks was not making itself known in the form of a blush.

"You have been called away, then?" she asked hastily, just for something to say, something to play off the fact that she had been staring at him.

"Yes," Tristan replied.

"Another Woad sighting?"

"No."

Breck looked at him with a quirked brow. She was trying to make conversation with him, trying to be civil for once, but, of course, Tristan could not meet her halfway. His one word responses were so very typically him, which served as a very good reminder that, handsome as he was, he was still an annoying git.

They walked in silence for a few moments, the gap between them closing slightly as they both had to maneuver around people or wagons that cluttered up the road. When she had to step closer to him to avoid getting run into by a woman toting a very large basket, that scent from the night before hit her once more – the scent of horse and earth and sweat, though this time accompanied with leather and metal because of the armor he wore. It took her right back to the previous night, when they had stood so close together, with that scent in her nose and the heat of his body so close and the intensity of his stare trained directly on her.

Breck had to clear her throat. "I never had the chance to express my gratitude for you intervening last night," she said, once again attempting to strike up a conversation in the hope that it would distract her from her own thoughts. "Though I certainly could have handled the situation myself, of course," she added, and even she didn't know why she felt the need to say it.

Tristan kept his eyes trained forward. "That is an odd way of expressing gratitude," he remarked.

Breck shook her head, willing herself to just act like a normal person around him. "What I mean to say is thank you, for frightening away that man and his unwanted attention."

Tristan was quiet for a moment. "It is what Arthur would have wanted me to do," he finally said, his tone dismissive, like he didn't want her to read into it too much.

The mention of Arthur made her remember why Tristan had been ordered to keep an eye on her in the first place. She had her suspicions about Gerland after their encounter the night before, but couldn't say for sure if he was the one Arthur was trying to protect her from.

Breck eyed Tristan curiously, wondering if he would tell her the truth.

"That man last night…is he the one?" she asked bluntly.

Tristan's eyes met hers, held for a moment, then turned forward again. "Yes."

Breck blinked in surprise, stunned that he had actually confirmed it. She had fully expected him to be evasive, just as he always was. Tristan, of course, noticed her reaction.

"Are you surprised it is him, or surprised that I told you?" he questioned.

"The latter," Breck admitted. "I assumed Arthur would have ordered you not to tell me, since the man has yet to even speak of the situation to me himself."

"He did," Tristan confirmed. "But it is an order I do not agree with."

"Why?" Breck asked.

"There is always the possibility that Gerland is merely talking without any intention of following through, but there is also just as much a chance that he plans to act on his threats. You should have been told of this situation from the very start," Tristan said plainly. "It is prudent to know who your enemies are, so that you can better protect yourself from them and not be caught unawares."

Breck slowed to a stop right there in the middle of the road, making Tristan stop, too. It did not escape her notice that this was, without a doubt, the most civil conversation that they had had with one another to date. But she found herself focusing on those last words, and then she started thinking back to all the times they had argued, all the times they had butted heads, all the times he had gone out of his way to treat her poorly. Breck stared up at him, searching his eyes intently, trying so hard to gauge what might be going on behind them.

"And are you one of my enemies, Tristan?" she had to ask.

Tristan's eyes flickered over her face so quickly that if she had blinked, she would have missed it. Then his eyes locked on hers, the morning sun brightening them to that honey color again.

"No," he answered.

Breck stared back at him for a moment, unable to think of anything to say in response to that. Suddenly there was a loud whinny to her left, making her jump and look that way. She saw that a horse drawn wagon was headed straight for her, driven by a man yelling, "Move outta the way!"

Before she could get run over, a hand locked around her arm and pulled her out of the way. The man steering the wagon ranted and raved as he rode past, complaining loudly about the fact that she was just loitering in the middle of the street, but Breck barely heard him.

Her attention was focused solely on Tristan again. They stood barely a few inches apart now, his hand still wrapped around her arm after pulling her to safety, their eyes locked together. Breck's heartbeat immediately started to quicken in her chest, a zing of awareness shooting down her spine at how close he was, how warm his hand felt even through the fabric of her clothing. For a long few seconds, neither of them moved an inch, neither of them looked away.

Then Tristan blinked and let her go, and then he backed up so that there was space between them again.

Breck couldn't decide if she was relieved by that, or disappointed.

Tristan turned without a word and continued on toward the stables. Breck shook her head to clear her thoughts, then hurried after him.

They did not speak the rest of the way to the stables, though Breck did mentally berate herself the entire way. Something truly must be wrong with her, she decided. One civil conversation and one surprisingly chivalrous gesture on Tristan's part, and her nerves went all funny because of it? How utterly ridiculous of her. Perhaps, Breck reasoned, she was just being overworked and her mind wasn't right because of it. Or maybe she was coming down with an illness. Six had been sick the last time Breck had watched Bors and Vanora's children – maybe she had caught something from him and it was effecting her rational thinking.

Yes, that had to be it, Breck firmly told herself. It was certainly not because Tristan was more attractive than the average man, or because his musk smelled strangely good to her, or even because his eyes were pretty. It was just her, and her not feeling like herself.

They reached the stables soon enough, and even before they could make it to the doors, she could hear conversation and commotion inside as the knights prepared to depart. Arthur, who was just inside the door of the stables, turned his head and immediately spotted her, a friendly, greeting smile stretching across his face. Then he noticed Tristan was with her, and he did an exceedingly poor job of hiding his surprise at seeing them walking together.

"Breck? Tristan? Is everything alright?" he asked, stepping out to meet them.

Tristan merely inclined his head in confirmation and continued on into the stables, leaving Breck and Arthur to watch his retreating back. Arthur quirked a brow at her in the next moment, his eyes silently imploring for further explanation.

"There is nothing amiss," Breck said as neutrally as possible. "We were merely both going the same direction, so we…made the walk together."

"And nobody was killed?" Arthur countered, still shocked.

"We are both still breathing, are we not?" Breck said with a shrug.

Arthur looked her over, his frown of confusion turning into one of concern as his eyes flickered across her face. "Are you certain you are well? It seems as though you are bothered by something."

Breck nearly scoffed. Of course she was bothered by something – many things in fact. There was a lecherous man named Gerland who had it out for her, and while she was not afraid of him, she didn't like that she had to watch her back anyway. She was frustrated by the fact that she had let her mission slip from her thoughts, that she had no idea where Cerdic was, that she had no new information about him or his army. And she was not only confused about her feelings for Gawain, but also immensely taken aback by the sudden shift in her feelings toward Tristan. With all the changes that had happened recently, she felt as though she was starting to completely lose sight of herself and she absolutely despised it.

But Breck didn't say any of these things aloud. Instead, she just sighed and shook her head.

"Do not worry, nothing is amiss," she lied. She did not want to worry Arthur, nor did she want to admit that a large part of her recent stress was due to two men he was very close to. Breck looked away from Arthur's searching gaze and nodded toward the stables. "What is this order about, then?" she asked to change the subject.

Arthur, who seemed unconvinced with her lie, looked like he was going to pry. But, in the end, he changed his mind and let the subject drop. "We have been called away again," he informed her regretfully. "A Roman official residing nearby is departing for Rome and requires an escort to the port. We shall be gone longer for this mission, perhaps a week, maybe more." Arthur paused and gave her a look that left her with little doubt as to what he was going to say next. "Because we shall be gone for so long, it would ease many of my worries if you – "

"Stayed with Vanora in your absence," Breck finished for him. It still seemed absurd to her, but she didn't have it in her to argue with him about it at the present moment. "I will stay with her, so long as it is not an imposition," she said with a nod.

If she had thought Arthur looked concerned for her well-being before, her lack of argument left him looking doubly so. Before he had the chance to ask her anymore questions, Breck brushed past him and headed into the stables, able to feel his eyes on her back the entire way. In a way, she felt bad for not being open and honest with Arthur, but these were problems that she felt she needed to sort through on her own. Besides, it wasn't exactly as though she could just come out and confess that she was battling with attractions to not just one, but possibly two of his men. As close as she and Arthur were, that was one topic she wished to avoid talking with him about if she could.

When she walked into the stables, her eyes almost immediately found Tristan again. He had his back turned to her and was busy securing his pack to the saddle on Azia's back. Her eyes then slid over to Gawain, who wore a big smile on his face and was quickly making his way toward her.

"Another farewell, unfortunately," he announced as he reached her.

"Yes, very unfortunate indeed," Breck said, doing her best to return his smile, though she knew it came nowhere close to matching his.

Whatever Arthur had seen to cause him concern was apparently obvious enough for Gawain to notice as well, for the smile on his face fell, replaced quickly by a frown of his own. "Is everything alright?" he asked, reaching forward to place a gentle hand on her arm.

"Yes, yes, fine," Breck answered dismissively. She maneuvered her arm out of his grasp and then looked toward his horse. "Shall I help you prepare Gringolet?" she asked to direct the conversation elsewhere, hoping to avoid another round of probing questions.

"Jols has seen to it that he has been made ready for the journey," Gawain told her. That frown never budged though, his blue eyes searching her face intently. "Breck – " he started to say.

"If Gringolet is ready, then I shall help the other men," she said quickly, then just as promptly turning her back on him.

Her eyes found Dagonet nearby, and she immediately moved to help him with his horse, trying to ignore the fact that Gawain was still staring after her with both worry and confusion. When she joined the large healer, however, that proved to be a mistake all in its own. Dagonet took one look at her and immediately took a step closer, eyes already giving her a scrutinizing once over.

"Are you ill?" Dagonet asked, towering over her as he pressed the back of one large hand to her forehead, checking for signs of a fever. "Your cheeks are flushed, and there are bags beneath your eyes."

"I am well, Dag," Breck told him, gently waving his hand away.

Dagonet frowned as his hand dropped down to his side. "Breck – "

"I said there is nothing wrong!" she finally snapped, her stress and the numerous questions finally getting the better of her and making her lose the grip she had on her patience.

Dagonet fell silent and his eyebrows shot up in surprise, while Arthur and the rest of the knights immediately stopped what they were doing and looked toward them to see what all of the commotion was about. As Breck stared up at a stunned Dagonet, she felt the scowl drop away from her face and the guilt begin to creep in, along with a hefty sum of embarrassment. Cursing herself internally for taking her frustrations out on innocent bystanders, she closed her eyes and wearily pinched the bridge of her nose, before turning an apologetic look on Dagonet.

"Forgive me, Dagonet. It was wrong of me to speak to you in such a manner," she apologized, feeling rotten for snapping at him when he'd only been trying to make sure she was alright. "I did not rest well last night, and it has put me in quite a mood this morning. I am sorry."

A look of understanding that Breck wasn't sure she deserved passed over Dagonet's features. "You are forgiven," he said with a nod. Then he glanced toward her employer. "Jols?" he called to get the man's attention. "Breck seems overworked. Perhaps it would be beneficial for our friend if she were to rest this day?"

Dagonet had said it like a question, but the look on his face plainly stated that this was nothing short of a command. Jols, who had been watching the scene unfold with everyone else, glanced between Breck and Dagonet before wisely nodding his head. "Yes, I believe it would," the stable master agreed. She did not miss the way his eyes widened with mild alarm when she glanced toward him – probably because he was afraid she'd snap at him, too. "Take today to rest, Breck, and worry not about work here. Devran and I shall manage just fine."

Arthur stepped up and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Go to Vanora's," he instructed. "She is aware that you shall be staying with her in our absence. She will be expecting to see you, no doubt."

Breck nodded, then finally felt brave enough to chance a look at the rest of the knights. Bors, Galahad, Lancelot and Gawain were all watching her with varying expressions of worry or confusion on their faces, while Tristan was watching her with an unreadable, albeit intent, look from his spot next to Azia. She only briefly made eye contact with the two men that had her feeling so conflicted, before mustering up a smile for her friends.

"I shall see you all again when you return, my friends," she said to the men. "Be safe, and best of luck."

There was a chorus of murmurs as the men offered up parting words in response. "Rest well," Galahad called to her, his voice the last one to reach her ears as she left the stables, and her friends, with a wave.

Arthur followed her outside to see her off. Once they were away from the prying eyes and ears of the knights, she wordlessly wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly, not caring who was watching or what they might think of the affectionate gesture. In that moment she needed a small bit of comfort, and she couldn't think of anyone better than Arthur to give it to her. He returned her hug without question, patting her back gently, then pressed a brief, brotherly kiss to the top of her head.

"We shall talk upon my return," Arthur said when they released one another, the finality of his tone leaving no room for argument. "We have many things to discuss."

"Aye," Breck agreed with a nod.

"Go and get rest, friend," Arthur said, placing a hand on her shoulder and gently urging her to go on. "We shall see each other soon enough."

Breck nodded and, after patting Arthur's shoulder, started off. She only glanced behind her once before disappearing into the crowd, but by then Arthur had already rejoined his men in the stables.

OOO

Before going to Vanora's, Breck scoured the town for someone to deliver her letter to Melcon. It took quite a bit of asking around, but she eventually found a young, evidently adventurous, man willing to travel north, though it did not come cheap. It was a long, dangerous trek, after all, which required a lot of compensation. Breck had to empty nearly a third of her coin purse, and while it stung a little to give up so much money, knowing she had done something useful did make her feel in much better spirits than she had for most of that morning.

With her letter on its way to Melcon, Breck packed a few things and went to Vanora's. The woman, for once, had the morning off, and she was indeed unsurprised when Breck appeared on her doorstep just before noon. The older redhead let her in without question, then promptly showed her to a bed when she saw how dead Breck was on her feet. Breck fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, then slept most of the afternoon away.

Breck woke when Vanora left for work so she could keep an eye on the children in their mother's absence. Thankfully, getting a bit of sleep had definitely done her good – she felt more like herself and was no longer plagued with so many maddening thoughts. And while Breck knew she would worry for the safety of Arthur and the knights while they were out on duty, a part of her was relieved to know that they would be gone for so long. It meant that she would finally get some time away from Gawain and Tristan. Hopefully, her temporary solitude would make it easier to sort through this madness and try to understand these newfound feelings.

It was easy to forget all about Tristan and Gawain, and everyone else, as she spent the rest of the day playing with Vanora and Bors' children and telling them stories about legends from her mother's homeland, happy for the distraction the little ones provided. It made her think back to her own childhood, when both of her parents had still been alive and their family had still been somewhat at peace. So many nights had been spent curled up in her mother's lap in front of the fire, listening to her father's stories of heroic ancestors or tales of battles he himself had fought in – she had always preferred his stories of adventure or of legendary battles to the romantic ones her mother favored, far more interested in hearing about fierce warriors than love-sick maidens.

The memories were some that she hadn't reflected on in a very long while, and they left her with a hollow feeling in her stomach.

Oh, how she missed her parents. And how Breck wished her mother were here now to offer advice, to help her understand this mess with both Gawain and Tristan. Despite the hard life Emer had lived, she had always been a romantic at heart. She had known so much more about things like this, things that she had never had the chance to teach or explain to Breck before she had died.

When Vanora finally came home from her shift at the tavern, Breck had already seen to it that all the children were in bed for the night and was lounging by the fireplace with a cup of Bors's wine in her hand. Vanora looked tired and as though she might fall right over upon first coming through the door, but the moment she saw the plate of food and glass of wine that Breck had left out for her, she brightened considerably.

"It is decided. I shall never marry Bors, for I am going to marry you instead," Vanora said in a very serious voice as she took a seat at the table and propped her aching feet up on one of the other chairs, making Breck smirk. "When I come home to Bors, the children are running a muck, the food is gone, and my lover has usually drunk all the wine. This," she said, grabbing the wine and taking a reverential sip, "is a most welcome change. Thank you, Breck."

"You are welcome," Breck said with a nod and a brief raise of her glass.

Vanora drank some more wine then took a few bites of food before raising her eyebrows at Breck. "You managed to come out of this day unscathed then?"

Breck almost wanted to laugh at the irony of her question. Physically, yes, she had survived the day with the brood of children. Mentally, however, was a completely different story. "Aye. The children kept me occupied, but there were no injuries to be had." Vanora seemed pleased, and impressed, to hear it. "What of work? Was the tavern eventful?" Breck asked as she moved away from the fire and joined her friend at the table.

"Oh yes, busy as always," Vanora confirmed with a nod. "Jols came by to ask after you. He wished me to tell you that he hopes you feel better, and that if you need more time to rest he will gladly give it."

Breck silently nodded, toying with her goblet of wine for a moment before taking a long sip. Vanora, who had been watching her with a critical eye, reached over to place a hand on Breck's arm, making her freeze and look to the woman.

"Something is troubling you, that I can see plainly enough," Vanora said matter-of-factly. "I will not force you into revealing your secrets, but know that should you find yourself in need of a friend to speak to – or a shoulder to cry on – I am here."

Breck stared into Vanora's comforting eyes, contemplating the offer. It didn't take long for her to decide that if there was any woman she should be going to for advice about a Sarmatian knight – or two – that there was no one better than Vanora. She had been with Bors for years and had eleven children with the man. No doubt she would have some useful advice for her.

"You are right," Breck finally admitted with a sigh, "I have been very troubled as of late."

Vanora nodded, then tilted her head. "About…?" she prodded, urging her to continue.

Breck moved her hand out from underneath Vanora's and rubbed her forehead. Then, as her hand fell back to the table, she gave her friend a helpless look, letting her see all her vulnerability and inner-conflict. "Men," she finally admitted.

Vanora immediately had a knowing, if not excited, look on her face and had to hide her grin behind her wine goblet. "Ah, it is as I thought," she said, sitting straighter in her seat. "I have been waiting for you to approach me about such a subject," Vanora admitted, looking excited at the prospect of talking romance with Breck. "This is about Gawain, yes?" she asked knowingly.

Breck nodded slowly. "Aye, it is." She then sighed and shook her head. "My friendship with him is…not like my friendships with the other men," she began. "I am attracted to him, I am fairly certain of that, and how could I not be? He is handsome and kind and he makes me laugh. I truly do enjoy being in his company." Breck paused. "But I will be the first to admit that I know next to nothing about love or romance. I have been keen on boys in the past, but that was a very long time ago. The truth is that I do not know what it is I really feel for Gawain. Is this merely a passing fancy? Or is it the start of love? Or is this simply just lust?" Breck shook her head again. "I think Gawain may feel attracted to me too…but if he is, do I really wish to be in a romantic relationship with him? Would it even be wise to become involved with him?"

This had all been said very rapidly, the words pouring from her mouth like water bursting through a dam. Vanora suddenly began waving her hands and looking to Breck with a combination of amusement and exasperation. "Slow down, friend, you are sending my head into a tizzy," she said, smiling gently at Breck.

"Forgive me," Breck apologized with a blush.

"No need to apologize," Vanora said, patting Breck's hand before taking a gulp of her wine. Then she leaned her elbows on the table. "I have known Gawain a long while, and though I admit he may have a slightly questionable history when it comes to women, he is indeed a good man," she said with a slow nod. "If you ask me, I think it fairly obvious that Gawain is taken with you," she admitted, making Breck's heart skip a beat. "As for what you feel for him?" Vanora shrugged. "That is really only for you to know. But I do feel I should warn you to proceed with caution, especially if you are unsure if your feelings are more than friendly or not."

"Why?" Breck asked.

Vanora sighed. "Arthur loves you like a sister, just as he loves the men like they are his brothers. If you were to involve yourself in a heady, uncertain relationship with Gawain without knowing how you truly feel about him, it could end in disaster and hurt many people, Arthur especially," she said. "It would place you all in very uncomfortable positions."

Breck let that one sink in, then groaned and dropped her face into her hands. Arthur was loyal to the knights, but he was also steadfastly loyal to her. If things got too complicated with Gawain, if things got too awkward or uncomfortable, that could put a strain on Arthur's friendships with both her and Gawain – it could also ruin her friendships with the other men, who would likely remain loyal to Gawain after knowing him for so long.

"Not once have I taken the impact this might have on Arthur and the men into consideration." Breck admitted with a shake of her head. "I would never wish to do anything that might put him, or any of the men, in the middle of an uncomfortable situation, nor cause them hurt."

"I know this," Vanora said reassuringly. "Nor would Gawain. Which, I believe, is why he has refrained from officially pursuing you." The older woman reached over to pat Breck's hand again. "If you are this confused about your feelings, then I suggest you give this situation with Gawain more time, see how things…progress…when the men come back. It would be most unwise to do anything rash."

Breck nodded her head. "I think you are right."

Vanora tilted her head as she studied Breck curiously. "You seem as though you still have something on your mind," she stated observantly.

Breck pressed her lips together, wondering if she should even bring up the matter of Tristan, then decided she might as well. "Well…truth be told, Gawain is not the only man that troubles me."

Vanora's eyebrows shot upward. "Really?"

Breck nodded again. "There is another who has been constantly on my mind these past few days, and it is he who leaves me feeling truly confused."

"Who is he?" Vanora asked interestedly.

Breck felt a blush rising to her cheeks. "The other man…is Tristan."

Breck might as well have told Vanora she had eloped with Lancelot and was pregnant with his child, the woman looked so stunned. The widening of her eyes was almost comical, and she seemed to be at a loss for words as she stared at Breck in surprise.

"Tristan?" she asked. "Tristan?" she then repeated, as though she thought she'd misheard Breck.

"Aye, Tristan," Breck repeated patiently.

"Oh, do go on," Vanora urged, now looking to her with rapt attention, clearly very interested to hear more about this.

"Tristan is maddening," Breck proclaimed. "He is rude, arrogant, and insensitive, and from the moment we met he has treated me like the dirt beneath his shoe. He has given me no reason to think positively of him and I know with all certainty that the man does not care for me in the slightest – and until this past night, I wholly believed myself to loathe the man in return," she explained, her tone forceful and full of frustration.

"And yet?" Vanora prompted.

"…and yet," Breck continued, her tone gentler now, "the past few days, I have found myself thinking of him in ways I never dreamed I would. I find myself thinking him handsome and…" She trailed off and ran a hand through her curls. "There was a moment last night where he stood so close to me that I could just…feel him. He sent my nerves in all sorts of directions and it was difficult to even catch my breath in his presence. Then, when we were walking to the stables together this morning, there was another moment just like it, where my heart felt like it might gallop out of my chest just because of the mere proximity of him." Breck looked to Vanora, almost helplessly. "I do not know where it came from, I do not understand it. All I know is that I have seen him in a different light, and I find myself…drawn to him. Intrigued by him."

Vanora, who had been staring at her in attentive silence, blinked and cleared her throat. "Well," she said, a grin starting to spread across her face, "that is most interesting."

Breck frowned at her in uncertainty, wondering why Vanora looked so amused by all this. "It is?"

The older redhead nodded, then leaned forward on her elbows again. "Allow me to confide in you a secret of mine," she said, beckoning Breck closer even though there was no one to overhear their conversation. Breck eagerly leaned in. "What you say about your feelings for Tristan, and the way you describe your relationship with him?" she said, making Breck nod. "It is eerily similar to how Bors and I were in the beginning."

This revelation made Breck blink in shock. She knew that Vanora and Bors had their fair share of impassioned arguments, but she could not imagine them being anything like how she and Tristan were. "Truly?"

Vanora nodded. "The man drove me mad when we first met," she said with a roll of her eyes. "He was always loitering around, making his annoying comments and behaving like a brute. At first I believe he thought he was being charming, when really he was just being an insufferable git." Breck blinked in surprise again, simply because that was how she so often described Tristan. "We started butting heads once he realized his charms were not working, until we could not be in the same place without devolving into another squabble."

"How did the change come about?" Breck asked curiously.

Vanora smiled a little. "I suppose it all began after my mother passed on. He was sympathetic and kind, must have picked half the flowers in Hadrian's Wall to bring to me," she said fondly.

Breck made a sound of disbelief. "Bors? Picking flowers?"

Vanora laughed. "He can be quite romantic if he wishes to be."

"Hard to imagine," Breck admitted. After all, the only thing Bors seemed interested in picking now were which Woads he wanted to kill or which pints of ale he wanted to chug as fast as possible.

"He would never dare show that side of him in front of anyone else," Vanora said with a shake of her head. "Reputations to maintain, of course," she remarked with a slight roll of her eyes. But then she smiled again, her fingers toying with her glass of wine. "Anyway," she continued. "After that, things were different. His comments were not so annoying anymore. His presence was no longer a nuisance. I actually enjoyed being around him." Vanora smirked. "And him being a handsome devil certainly did not hurt his case," she said with a wink, making Breck laugh. "Then, one fine day, I realized that I had gone from loathing Bors to loving him, and that was that."

Breck's eyes turned to the fire, and she took a moment to consider what Vanora had told her.

If her relationship with Tristan was the same as Vanora and Bors's had been when they first met, then what did that mean? Could it mean that this newfound attraction was only the start of something much bigger than what she was prepared for? And what did that say about her feelings for Gawain if a few civil moments between her and Tristan could sway her interest so quickly, so easily?

The more she thought about it, the less it made sense.

She felt comfortable and at ease with Gawain, and if there was any man she should be considering for a romantic prospect, it probably should have been him. They got along well, enjoyed each other's company, and seemed to have some sort of connection. It was a match that made sense. But Tristan? Her attraction to him made no sense to her. He was the only man she had ever known that could make her feel murderous with rage in one moment, then heated with desire in the next. She knew next to nothing about him and he had given her absolutely no reason to ever wish to even be friends with him, let alone romantic.

And yet…she could not help these new feelings for him. It seemed the more that she tried to force them away, the more they refused to be ignored. The way that she had viewed him had changed, the dynamic between them felt different, and she wasn't sure it would – or could – go back to how it had been before.

Breck sighed and rubbed a weary hand over her face. "This is all so incredibly confusing," she said helplessly. "Do you think me foolish for even thinking of Tristan this way?"

"I am hardly one to judge," Vanora pointed out. "After all, I am with Bors." That, at least, made Breck laugh a little. "Unfortunately, we cannot always help the things we feel, Breck. The heart wants what it wants."

Breck didn't know if that made her feel better either.

After she finished her wine, Vanora stood from her chair, yawning widely. "I fear if I do not turn in now, I will fall asleep right here at the table," she said. Vanora then smiled and leaned down to place a hand on Breck's shoulder, raising her eyebrows questioningly. "Did our conversation help? Has it eased some of your frustrations?"

"Some, aye," Breck answered with a nod, smiling up at her. "Thank you for listening, and for your advice."

"You are welcome." But Vanora didn't leave just yet. "I will say only one more thing and then leave you to your thoughts. Whether it be Gawain or Tristan, tread carefully. To love a knight comes with a great risk," she said. "When Bors is away on these missions…" Vanora trailed off and pressed her lips together tightly. "I have seen many of Arthur's knights ride away, only to return lying across their saddle. Sometimes my fear for Bors's life is so great, I can scarcely breathe." Vanora paused, as if she needed a moment to collect herself, then gave Breck a tight smile. "Be certain of what you want before you venture down this road, for it is not for the faint of heart."

Breck nodded slowly in understanding. With nothing more to say, Vanora patted her shoulder and headed to her bedroom to get some sleep.

Breck turned her gaze back to the fire and finished off her wine in a long gulp. Though she wasn't usually prone to opening up to others about her personal problems, talking things through with Vanora made her feel as though an enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders. At least, if nothing else, it felt good to get her feelings off her chest.

For a long few moments, Breck sat there thinking about all they had discussed, including Vanora's words of warning. These things that she felt toward Tristan and Gawain were confusing and unexpected, but they also had the power to do harm. Like Vanora had said, Arthur and the men all loved each other like brothers. They might have taken her under their wing and treated her like one of them, but she didn't want to think about what might happen if she became involved with one of them and it ended up falling apart. Didn't want to think what sort of affect it might have on her newfound friendships with the men, or their friendships with each other. She also had to take into consideration how dangerous it would be to involve herself with a man whose life was under the control of Rome, who constantly had to ride off to battle and danger.

She had already lost so many people she loved, and had guarded her heart closely for many years because of that. It just seemed far too risky, having feelings for any man whose life was always on the line.

Breck frowned as she tapped her fingers on the table. What was it about these men that held so much sway over her anyway?

All her life, Breck had been surrounded by men, had seen plenty of attractive faces, and yet, none of them had affected her like these two did. She knew it had nothing to do with loneliness, because these days she was not hard-pressed to find a friend to spend her time with. Was it because she had actually made the effort to get to know them better? Was it because they were some of the first to fit the mold of what a real man was in her eyes? They were both strong, fearless, formidable warriors – the type of men from her father's tales that she had grown up admiring. Though she'd never really thought of it before, any potential romantic companion had to be strong enough to keep up with her – and there were hardly any men around stronger than the Sarmatian Knights.

Perhaps, she thought begrudgingly, this was simply happening because the softer side of her was finally tired of being repressed. Maybe her inner romantic, which she had locked away long ago, was trying to make itself be known. After all, had she led a normal life she probably would have been married off by now. She was past the marrying age, possibly even on the verge of entering spinsterhood as far as some people were concerned. Perhaps it was some natural, female instinct taking over and trying to make her find a man once and for all.

Breck scoffed loudly at that train of thought.

What good was romance, anyway? As far as she had seen, all love had ever done was cause trouble and bring misery to her family. There was no point in subjecting herself to such feelings when it would likely only end in catastrophe. Besides, she still had a Saxon to hunt down and kill, and the knights only had a few months left of their servitude, which meant they would all likely be returning to Sarmatia soon. It was ludicrous to dwell on either of these men when she would probably never see them again after it was all said and done.

Both of them be damned, Breck thought determinedly as she finally left the table and went to settle in for the night. I will not allow myself to fall for either man.

But even as she tucked herself into bed, her mind filled with stern orders to ignore her attraction to Tristan and Gawain from here on out, a small part of her still wondered if either of them – wherever they were at that moment – was thinking of her as well.

See you next Friday!