So this is one of those chapters that I didn't make a ton of changes to, simply because it didn't really feel like one that needed a lot of changing. But the next chapter is going to be very long and I have made some more significant changes to that one, so you have that to look forward to!

Also, I've gotten a little bit behind on my editing schedule. This is partly because as I started editing, I started making a lot of changes, and also because real life has been super busy the past few weeks. When I started posting, I had a good three chapter buffer to work with, but now I'm down to working only on the chapter that I'm supposed to post that week. I don't think it will effect my posting schedule, but in the worst case scenario, I'll only allow myself to fall behind by a few days before getting the chapter out. If it's ever going to be longer than that, I'll make an announcement about it on X (AKA: Twitter)!

CHAPTER NINE

It was a relief to step out of the infirmary and back into the fresh air.

Breck lingered outside the door for a moment, still thinking about all that had transpired between her and Tristan. The words they had said, how warm his skin had felt beneath her fingertips as she worked on him, how surprisingly soft his hair had felt against her cheek when she had wrapped his wound. Breck wrung her hands together and shook her head to herself, trying very hard to make the memory of those feelings go away.

This was not the time for this, Breck reminded herself sternly. Bors was lying in the infirmary, practically dead, and Vanora was probably at home at that exact moment, undoubtedly in shambles after learning what had happened to him. She needed to get to Vanora to update her on Bors's condition, not allow herself to get so caught up in Tristan yet again.

With a lift of her chin and squaring of her shoulders, Breck continued on determinedly. She hardly made it ten steps, however, when two familiar figures came into view up ahead. Galahad and Gawain. It was obvious they were headed to the infirmary, likely so that they could see how Bors and Tristan were faring, a suspicion that was confirmed when they immediately quickened their pace upon spotting Breck. As they approached, she saw that they had shed their armor and washed away the blood that had been staining their hands and faces, but otherwise were still dirty from the fighting and the travel. Both of them were also wearing similar expressions of fear and concern.

"How are Bors and Tristan?" Galahad asked urgently the moment they reached her, skipping right over any proper greetings.

"Are they well? Will they live?" Gawain added with a deep frown of concern.

"Tristan is doing well," Breck answered with a nod, which made both Gawain and Galahad immediately breathe simultaneous sighs of relief. "As for Bors…" Breck exhaled heavily, which made both the knights in front of her frown again, their momentary relief vanishing in the blink of an eye. "Dagonet is still tending to him, and his wounds are…severe. But Dag believes that with care and time, he will survive and recover in full."

The two Sarmatians nodded in understanding, looking somewhat encouraged but still worried. "I suppose that is the best we can hope for right now," Galahad said, to which Gawain made a sound of agreement.

Breck took a moment to eye them up and down, frowning at the gash on Galahad's head and the large amounts of blood she could see staining Gawain's clothing. "You two look as though you could use a healer yourselves," she said. "Did Dagonet have a look at your injury?" she asked Galahad.

Galahad immediately waved her off. "I am fine. Tis but a scratch."

Breck quirked a skeptical eyebrow – his hair was practically red now, there was so much blood caked into it. "Galahad," she said, giving him a stern look.

The man sighed, but gave her a reassuring nod. "I am well, Breck. Honestly," he insisted. "I would not dare bother Dagonet with something I can tend to myself while Bors is in such a dire state. Bors's injuries are far more important than mine."

Well, she supposed she couldn't argue with him about that. "Very well," she conceded. Then Breck pursed her lips and looked pointedly to Gawain. "And you?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at him. "You are covered in blood."

Gawain frowned down at himself. "None of it is mine. Most of it is Woad blood, the rest of it is Bors's," he said with a shake of his head. He then looked her over, his eyebrows quirking upward. "You are covered in blood as well."

She glanced down at herself and frowned when she saw that she had Tristan's blood soaked into various parts of her tunic – mostly on the side, where she had helped hold him upright while walking him to the infirmary, and on her sleeves, from when she was cleaning and stitching his wound. Breck sighed and shook her head, already knowing it would take a lot of effort to get the stains out.

"It is Tristan's," she told Gawain, wiping at some of it even though she knew it would do no good. "I stitched his wound in Dag's stead so that Bors could receive the attention he needed."

Galahad and Gawain both looked surprised. "And Tristan actually allowed you to do so?" Galahad asked.

Breck merely shrugged a shoulder. "His options were limited. It was either accept my help, or risk his wound getting worse while he waited however long it took for Dag to finally tend to him."

"I see," Gawain said, nodding in understanding.

As their conversation lulled, Breck let out a heavy sigh and rubbed her forehead, suddenly feeling drained. Between the encounter with Gerland, her odd dream in the meadow, and now the frightening way in which the men had returned to the Wall, this day was certainly turning out to be less than pleasant. She knew that her trip to Vanora's would not make the day any better either, since Breck was almost certain the woman would be an emotional wreck by the time she arrived. And then, of course, there was the impending conversation that she needed to have with Arthur about Gerland, which would surely send him into a fit.

She was going to need a strong drink once it was all said and done, that much was certain.

The stress must have shown clearly on her face, because Gawain suddenly moved closer with a worried expression. "Breck?" he asked gently. "Are you well?"

His close proximity did absolutely nothing to calm her nerves, but she did her best to ignore it and offered him a small smile. "Aye, I am well enough," she told him. "I am merely concerned for Bors. That is all." There was more to it than that, of course, but she wasn't about to start spilling her heart out to Gawain about all the things that had been bothering her, especially so since he was one of them.

Gawain didn't quite look convinced, but he didn't pry any further.

For a moment, she and Gawain stared at one another in silence. The way that he was looking at her made her feel a little nervous, and though she'd never had problems speaking with him before, Breck suddenly could think of nothing intelligent to say to him. The silence was only made more awkward when Galahad cleared his throat and turned to look elsewhere, suddenly becoming very interested in a nearby tree, as if trying to give her and Gawain a moment of privacy. Breck wasn't sure how to feel about that – did Galahad still think there was something between her and Gawain? Did he feel like he was intruding on a tender moment? And was that what was even happening between them now?

Unable to stand the silence any longer, Breck finally cleared her throat. "Dag is still working on Bors, and I believe Tristan is resting," she said, motioning to the infirmary. "I am sure it would be fine if the pair of you wanted to go and see them.

Gawain sighed and shook his head as he looked to the infirmary. "Now that we know they are faring well enough, I think it better not to intrude. I would not wish to distract Dag while he is tending to Bors," he explained.

Breck made a sound of understanding. She eyed him for a moment and then, in a moment of bravery, reached out to place a hand on his broad shoulder. Unlike Tristan, Gawain did not tense up in response to her touch. As a matter of fact, he visibly relaxed. "I am glad to see you in good health," she said sincerely. "Both of you," she added, smiling over at Galahad so he'd know she was speaking to him as well.

Galahad looked at her long enough to smile and nod to her, then firmly turned his attention back to the tree that had suddenly become so fascinating to him.

"Worried for us, were you?" Gawain asked, now smiling down at her lopsidedly. Breck couldn't help the fluttering in her belly in response to his infectious smile. And even though he looked a fright with all the grime and blood on him and desperately needed to bathe, none of that did much to diminish how handsome he was.

"Of course I was, just as I will worry every time you men leave for a mission," Breck said.

Gawain seemed very pleased to know that she worried for his – and the rest of the men's – safety so much.

Breck finally retracted her hand from his shoulder. "I am afraid I must leave now," she told him regretfully. "Arthur left to inform Vanora of what happened to Bors after we escorted Tristan to the infirmary. I am sure the woman is beside herself with worry by now and eager for an update on Bors. I do not wish to make her wait any longer than she already has."

"Yes, of course. Allow me to escort you," Gawain said, already moving like he was going to go with her.

Breck just smiled and gently shook her head. As much as she enjoyed Gawain's company, she found herself in need of some privacy to get her mind clear again. "Thank you for the kind offer, but I can see myself there just fine. No doubt you and Galahad are tired after your difficult journey and would like to get some rest." She paused to give him a once over, her nose crinkling as she pulled a face. "At the very least, you are both in need of a serious washing," she told him with a small smirk.

Gawain huffed out a laugh. "We are not the only ones in need of a washing," he shot back, giving her a pointed look.

Suddenly he lifted a hand to her face, making Breck freeze. She could not stop her eyes from fluttering closed when his calloused fingertips swiped across her left cheek with surprising tenderness. The touch, combined with how close he was standing to her, made her stomach flip over pleasantly. She could not recall a man ever touching her in such a way. She had been hugged and held countless times by her father as a girl, had received brotherly affection from Arthur, had been jostled around by overly affectionate gestures from the men, and had even been – very clumsily – kissed a few times by a boy back in Ireland when she was younger. But Breck had never had a man stand before her, looking at her the way Gawain was and caressing her cheek in such a tender way.

Quite suddenly, the gentle touch on her cheek took her right back to that dream about Tristan once again. Breck found herself leaning into the touch, imagining what it might feel like if it was Tristan, not Gawain, standing before her, his body so very close as his fingers glided along her cheek.

The moment she realized where her thoughts had gone, her eyes popped open and she quickly pulled away from Gawain, as if scalded by his touch. The frown that crossed his features was immediate, but he concealed it just as fast, slowly lowering his hand down to his side with a clearing of his throat.

"There was blood on your cheek," he stated, as though he felt the need to explain his actions.

She was fairly sure it didn't take quite that long to wipe blood from someone's cheek, but didn't dare voice that thought aloud. "Oh. Th-thank you," she said, her cheeks turning pink.

"Tristan!" Galahad suddenly said loudly.

Breck and Gawain both startled in surprise for a moment, before turning to see that Tristan had indeed left the infirmary. He was walking much slower than normal but at least looked sturdier on his feet than he had been previously, one hand resting lightly over the wound she had just tended to as if that somehow made it feel better, or more protected. He did not acknowledge Galahad at first, did not even glance at the man. Because his eyes were locked on her and Gawain, his gaze looking to Gawain first, then back to Breck.

Breck flushed even brighter, an odd feeling passing through her belly at the thought of what Tristan might have seen before they had known he was there – and how he might have interpreted it. After all, to any bystander it would have looked like a very intimate moment. There was no hope of knowing what might be going through his mind, though. His face was a blank slate, and his eyes gave nothing away. Nonetheless, the stare made her uncomfortable.

She was relieved when Galahad hurried to Tristan's side, which finally made the scout turn his eyes elsewhere. She breathed even easier when Gawain followed Galahad's suit, brushing past Breck so that he could go and see his comrade, their awkward moment coming to an end.

"Gods, is it good to see you on your own feet," Galahad said, giving Tristan a light clap on the back. "You gave us all a fright."

"Worry not. I have no intention of dying by the hand of a Woad," Tristan replied.

Gawain smiled broadly at Tristan. "Of course not. I dare say nothing can kill you, my friend." He then gave Tristan a questioning once over. "I am surprised Dag allowed you to leave the infirmary. I thought he would want you to remain there to watch over you."

"He is occupied, and I wish to rest in my own quarters," Tristan said, and something about the tone of his voice led Breck to believe that Dagonet had tried to keep him there, only Tristan had decided to give himself permission to leave.

"You should stay with Dag, in case your wound takes a turn for the worst," Breck said before she could stop herself, her brows pinching together with disapproval.

Tristan's eyes slid back to hers, and whatever sense of normalcy she had felt between them in the infirmary was gone. Granted, she did not feel that same sense of coldness and loathing that she had felt so often before, but he was back on his guard again, those walls he kept around himself rebuilt and reinforced.

"I will be fine."

Then he made to continue on, only he stumbled just slightly, probably because he was still feeling weak from the blood loss he had suffered. Breck found herself reaching toward him involuntarily, but Galahad and Gawain, who were closer, were quick to put steadying hands on him. She let her hand drop back down to her side, still concerned, but also unable to help a small surge of irritation at his stubbornness. It was clear he would benefit from resting in the infirmary, but of course he had to do things his own way.

"Easy now," Gawain said, patting his shoulder lightly.

"I am fine," Tristan reassured them.

"Regardless, let us help you back to your quarters," Galahad told him with a firm nod.

"I am better now. I do not – " Tristan began to protest, beginning to sound irritable.

"Let Galahad and Gawain help you," Breck interrupted firmly, making all three men look to her. "You lost much blood, and you are not at your full strength. Allow them to help, so that you actually make it to your quarters without collapsing in the street."

There was a beat of silence, where Breck and Tristan stared one another down with similar expressions of defiance, and where Galahad and Gawain looked back and forth between them. Her bossing him around in such a way was almost guaranteed to make him angry, but Breck didn't care. He could be as mad at her as he wanted, so long as he stopped being a stubborn arse and accepted help from his comrades.

But Tristan did not get mad – or, at the very least, he did not show it. Instead, Tristan merely gazed back at her before finally giving a conceding nod.

She wasn't sure who was more amazed by the fact that he didn't argue with her – Galahad, Gawain, or herself.

Galahad was the first to recover from his surprise. "Come on then," he said, urging Tristan along.

As the men began to shuffle past, Gawain gave Breck one last questioning look. "You are certain you will be alright continuing on to Vanora's on your own?"

"I will be fine," Breck assured. "Just see to it that Tristan makes it to his bed," she added.

Gawain nodded in understanding, then finally shifted his attention forward as the three of them headed off toward the knight's quarters. Breck watched them go for only a moment, then turned and left herself.

OOO

Breck cursed herself the entire way to Vanora's.

She paid no attention to the strange looks people gave her as they passed by and heard her muttering under her breath. She just continued to berate herself and kicked at some of the rocks that lay in her path, watching as they scattered in different directions, before continuing on with a deep frown on her lips.

Breck wasn't entirely sure what was bothering her more – that awkward moment with Gawain, or the equally awkward moment with Tristan that had followed directly after.

She had suspected Gawain to have more than just friendship on the mind since she had met him, but the way he had behaved outside the infirmary all but confirmed it. Gawain had never been so openly affectionate with her before, and though she was no expert in love or romance, the look in his eyes had been unmistakable. He had done nothing to hide the longing and admiration he clearly felt for her.

Any other woman – no, probably every other woman in town, even some of the married ones, would have given their arm to be in the position Breck had just been in. But what had she done? She had immediately begun to imagine it was Tristan in his place, that it was Tristan touching her instead of him. Then, like an insensitive imbecile, she had pulled away from Gawain as though he carried some kind of horrid, infectious disease.

He might have tried to hide it, but she had seen the confusion, the sting of rejection that had flashed across his face when she had pulled away from him. Just the mere fact that she had caused him any kind of hurt made her heart clench with guilt, made her despise herself. Things between them might've started to get a little muddy and confusing, but at the end of the day, Gawain was still her friend. The last thing she would ever want to do was hurt him, or hurt their friendship.

The problem was that Breck just truly did not know what exactly it was that she wanted anymore. She knew, logically, that Gawain would be a fine choice for a romantic partner if she were ever to venture down that road – he was handsome and kind, he made her laugh, and he was fiercely loyal to those he cared about. All in all, he was a good man, and she did like him. She had ever since they had first met.

So why was it that whenever she was with Tristan, she all but forgot that Gawain even existed? What was this pull that she suddenly felt toward the quiet scout? And what did it say about her feelings for Gawain that her affections had been swayed so easily? And by a man who despised her, no less.

Yet…perhaps that wasn't the truth of it anymore, was it? Tristan had told her himself that he was not her enemy, that he was not repulsed by her, as she had previously believed, and his behavior the last few times they had seen one another was certainly not that of a man who hated her guts. He had been treating her…differently. Not the same way he treated his comrades, or even Vanora, whom he actually was very polite to, but certainly better than he had done previously.

She didn't know what to make of their interactions and conversations in the infirmary today, and she especially didn't know what to make of his reaction to seeing her and Gawain having a moment that would have looked far more than friendly. All she knew was that when she had seen him staring at them, she had felt something suspiciously close to guilt, as though even having such an interaction with Gawain was wrong, and that only confused her even more. There was no reason to feel guilty about anything, not when she was free to do whatever she wanted, and especially not when Tristan had given her zero indication that he even felt a sliver of the things that she had been feeling toward him recently.

So then why did she still not like the fact that he had seen her and Gawain like that? Why did she dislike the fact that he might have misinterpreted a completely innocent moment – on her part, anyway – for something it was not?

Breck had no answers, but she was more than happy to forget about Tristan and Gawain as Bors and Vanora's house came into view. Inside, the house was unusually quiet, but outside some of the older children had posted up on the porch with varying expressions of impatience and fear on their young faces. It was very obvious that they were waiting for somebody to turn up with news about their father.

Sure enough, the moment the children spotted her walking up to the house, they jumped up and came running towards her. "How is father?" Three asked immediately, concern filling his gaze. "Is he alive?"

Breck rested a hand on his shoulder and nodded, offering a gentle smile. "Yes, he lives."

The children in front of her immediately rejoiced at the news, looking visibly relieved to hear that their father had not met an untimely end. As the children hugged each other, and her, with relief, Breck did not have the heart to tell them how bad off Bors currently was, nor that his survival was more of a hope than a guarantee. She wanted them to believe their father would be alright, because that was what she wanted to believe as well.

"Where is your mother?" she asked.

"Inside with Lord Arthur," Five replied.

She nodded and went that way, followed by the children. When she walked through the door, her eyes immediately landed on Arthur and Vanora. They were sitting at the table, Arthur holding one of the distraught woman's hands in his own as he spoke to her in low, soothing tones. The rest of the children were scattered about the room with varying expressions of worry, fright, and confusion.

The instant Vanora and Arthur saw that Breck had arrived, they were out of their chairs and rushing toward her. Vanora pushed through her brood of children to stand in front of Breck and grasp her hands, a wild, fearful look in her eyes.

"My man – does he live?" Vanora asked, her cheeks red and tearstained.

"Aye, Bors lives," Breck told her. "And Dag is optimistic that he will make a full recovery."

The news immediately made Vanora start sobbing with relief. She threw her arms around Breck, hugging her tightly and crying into her shoulder. Breck, who had never felt adequate when it came to consoling others, returned the hug and patted the woman's back in what she hoped was a comforting manner. She looked to Arthur over Vanora's shoulder, and though Arthur looked weary, he still managed a relieved smile. He came over to join them, resting a comforting hand on each of their backs.

"God is with us on this day. We must give him many thanks. We might have lost two good men if not for the good fortune He has bestowed upon us."

Breck smiled and nodded, hugging Vanora more firmly as the woman continued to cry.

Vanora suddenly pulled back and frowned at Breck in concern. "Arthur said Tristan was injured, too. How is he?"

Breck flushed a tiny bit, knowing fully well why Vanora was asking her and hoping Arthur wouldn't think too much of it – he didn't need to know she had a new, blossoming attraction for his scout. "He is well," she answered with a nod. When she spared Arthur a glance, he seemed too relieved by the news to be suspicious of anything.

"Good," Vanora said, finally pulling away from Breck so she could wipe at her tears, a half-attempted smile working its way onto her pretty face. "You men and your missions," she said to Arthur with a shake of her head. "I might very well kill Bors myself for worrying me so much!" she added with a watery laugh, clearly trying to lighten the mood. "The stupid fool."

"Try to avoid doing so in front of the children, if possible," Arthur joked with a smirk, which did pull a small, genuine laugh from the woman. Then he looked to Breck and raised his eyebrows in silent question – no doubt he wanted to speak with her about what had been happening while he was away. Breck merely nodded her head in agreement. "I hate to leave you in such a delicate state," Arthur said to Vanora, squeezing her shoulder, "but Breck and I have business to attend to. Are you fit to be on your own?" he asked with concern.

"Yes, yes," Vanora said, still patting her cheeks dry with the material of her skirt. "I shall be fine. Go and do whatever you must," she urged, waving them off. "We will see each other soon enough."

Arthur nodded, and after they had both said their goodbye's to the family, he led Breck out of the house with a hand on her back.

Though he had washed the blood off of his face at some point, Arthur still wore his bloodied armor and filthy clothing from days of traveling. As they wove through town, more than one person shot him a wary look, obviously finding him a rather intimidating sight, and scurried out of the way as they passed by. Breck also couldn't help but notice that a number of people were staring at and whispering about her – probably because she had ridden into town like a raving madwoman when the nosy crowd outside the stables had needed dispersing. Breck just turned her eyes elsewhere, ignoring the stares.

When they made it to Arthur's estate, he led her inside and then into the first private space they came across, which happened to be a small alcove in the hallway with a window that overlooked the courtyard outside. Arthur faced her once they were there, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he leaned back against the wall of the alcove.

"This is not how I envisioned our return to Hadrian's Wall," he admitted, rubbing a weary hand over his face.

"Nor I," Breck said. "I am sorry about Bors and Tristan," she told him, reaching over to squeeze his arm, knowing how upset he likely was that two of his men had been wounded, one of them grievously so.

"As am I," Arthur said with a frown. Then he patted the hand she had placed on his arm. "I am grateful to you for helping Dagonet with them."

Breck smiled a bit. "Bors is my friend, and Tristan is…" She didn't really know what Tristan was to her now, so she decided against trying to finish that statement. "I could not stand by and do nothing. They needed help, so I did what I could," she said instead.

Arthur gave a small smile of gratitude. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

Breck nodded to him. "You are welcome."

When his hand left hers, she released the hold she'd had on his arm. The moment she did that, the smile that had been on Arthur's lips slipped away and his arms crossed over his chest, his brows furrowing with consternation again. "Do you wish to tell me what happened while we were away?" he asked, not bothering to beat around the bush.

There was no use lying to Arthur about it – he would be able to see right through her anyway. "I know about Gerland," she said, mimicking his pose and crossing her arms over her own chest.

His frown, if possible, deepened. "You know what about Gerland?" he asked for clarification.

"The things he said. The threats he made. All of it."

"And how did you come to discover this?" Arthur questioned. His tone was neutral, but his eyes were anything but. She could see something beginning to stir within the green depths, something she knew would come to life the moment she told him about her encounter with Gerland.

"You are terrible at lying to me, Arthur," Breck reminded him gently. "When you were called away on that first mission, when you asked me to stay with Vanora, I knew that you were hiding something from me. When I went to Vanora and expressed my concerns, the way she responded clearly said that she knew something. So I asked and she told me." Arthur started to open his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand. "Before you get angry with Vanora for telling me the truth, know that she told me so that I would be better prepared should anything happen," she explained quickly. When Arthur closed his lips again, she continued. "Neither of us knew it was Gerland at the time. I did not even know who he was, nor begin to even suspect him, until I began encountering him myself. It was Tristan who confirmed that it was Gerland behind all this nonsense the morning before you departed for this past mission."

Arthur's shoulders had tensed. "What do you mean encountering him yourself?" he asked in a low, dangerous tone.

Breck shrugged a shoulder. "He has approached me once or twice."

"What did he do?" Arthur immediately asked, the expression fast turning into one of anger.

"Arthur – " Breck started in a reassuring voice.

"What – did – he – do?" he asked again, emphasizing each word and letting her know with his sharp tone that he expected an answer. And now.

Breck sighed. "The first time I met him he attempted to buy me a drink in the tavern and did not take kindly to my rejection. Before the situation could escalate, Tristan came to my aid and frightened him away," she explained. "Despite that, he has not been deterred. I felt him watching me while you and the men have been gone, and today, when I was taking Lugh for a ride, Gerland decided to approach me again. He stopped me on the road and was acting suspiciously." She briefly considered not telling him of Gerland's friends, but decided it would be best not to lie about it. Tristan would probably end up telling him, anyway. "He was also not alone. There were two others with him."

Arthur cursed under his breath and rubbed his jaw roughly. "This situation is getting worse," he said gruffly, his eyes turning to the window.

Breck sighed. "I will admit the encounter today was…unsettling…but thus far I have not been put in any sort of danger," she said, hoping to placate him and keep him from getting so angry that he did something rash. "These have been minor incidents, Arthur."

His eyes flicked back to hers. "You have not been put in danger yet," Arthur corrected her with a scowl. He sighed heavily and shoved a hand through his mop of wavy hair, giving her a bothered look. "Why are you speaking about this so calmly? Are you not concerned?"

"To an extent, yes," Breck admitted. "But I have dealt with men like him before, and I know how to protect myself. I have no intentions of allowing him, or his henchmen, to cause me harm of any kind," she said resolutely.

Arthur frowned deeply again. "I do not think you are understanding the amount of danger here, Breck," he scolded. "You dismiss this as if it is nothing, but you have no idea how dangerous a man possessed can be." Arthur sighed and shook his head to himself. "Something must change," he mused aloud, sounding more like he was talking to himself than he was to her. "We cannot risk these men getting close to you. I must find a way to keep you better protected."

Now Breck knew, without a doubt, that she was lucky to have a friend that was so protective of her and so worried about her safety, but she couldn't help the feeling of annoyance that was beginning to grow at his words. If there was anyone in the world who knew the power of a man possessed, it was her – after all, her entire family had been cruelly murdered by one malicious man seeking to avenge what he had considered a betrayal. And though she loved Arthur as though he were her brother, the fact that he continued to treat her as though she were a helpless, defenseless child was very much starting to grate on her nerves.

"Quite the contrary, I know exactly how dangerous a man possessed can be," she said, barely able to keep the bitterness out of her voice. The shift in her tone made Arthur quirk an eyebrow at her. "Do not think me ungrateful of your over protectiveness," she continued with emphasis, "for I am thankful to have a friend so concerned for my well-being. But what must I do to prove to you that I am no longer that little girl you knew all those years ago? I have been the one ensuring my own survival all these years, and I am perfectly capable of continuing to do so. I do not need to be coddled."

Arthur stared at her in silence for a moment. Then, without warning, he wrapped a large hand around her arm and began dragging her along behind him, beginning to lead her through the maze of hallways in his estate. Breck, unsure what Arthur was doing, protested and tried to free her arm from his grasp. Unfortunately, her friend was much larger and much stronger than she was, and her struggling earned her nothing but a hard glare and the tightening of his grip around her arm, ensuring there would be no escape.

They eventually reached a door and he roughly opened it, pulling her inside. Breck realized that he had dragged her to his personal quarters. He slammed the door shut behind them before finally releasing her. While Breck rubbed at the ache in her arm and glared at his back, Arthur wordlessly moved to a trunk at the foot of his bed and began rifling around in it.

"I have never known you to be so barbaric, Arthur," she growled, seriously considering finding something in the room to throw at him, just to pay him back for all the manhandling. She thought better of it, though, knowing it would probably only make him twice as mad. "Must be the Britain side of you showing it's true colors."

Arthur ignored her comments and stood again once he had found whatever he had been looking for. He turned and stalked back over to her, shoving the item into her hands once he was standing before her. Breck paused, her anger and annoyance faltering as confusion swept through her. She glanced at the old, crumpled parchment that was now in her grasp before looking back up at Arthur with uncertainty.

"Read it," he commanded.

Breck eyed him for one more moment before turning her attention back to the paper in her hands. It was obvious from its worn corners and the softness of the parchment that it was old, so she unfolded it carefully, mindful not to tear it – if Arthur had kept this in his possession for as long as he had, obviously it was something important to him. When she finally got a look at what was written on the parchment, however, Breck's jaw dropped. The writing on the paper, though not as bold as it had been upon first arriving, was one that she had seen before.

Breck's eyes lifted to Arthur's in shock, her lungs suddenly not working properly. His expression softened a little, then he nodded to the parchment pointedly, silently urging her to read the letter.

Artorius Castor –

Many years have passed since our last meeting, young Artorius, and though this letter may come as a surprise and cause you to feel some confusion, it is an important matter of which I write to you about this day.

Your memories of me may have grown hazy over the years, but I trust that you can still clearly recall my beloved daughter and your dear friend, Breck. Do not fear, she is well and she is safe. I write to you now to remind you that I am a wanted man. I may have changed my ways, may have started anew in the hope of living a better, quieter life, but that will not matter to the long list of enemies I have acquired. Nor will it matter to my greatest enemy of all – Cerdic of Saxony. The man who has hunted me for so very long. The man who will never forget my betrayal of him, and who will never rest until he exacts his revenge on me.

My daughter and I are safe for now, tucked away in the countryside, but I fear our time of peace will soon come to an end. I received word from your father, Uther, that Cerdic and his army have crossed the sea and are coming to Ireland. There is little doubt in my mind what has caused him to come here. I cannot say how, but he knows we are here, and he is coming for me.

My greatest fear now is what will become of my daughter should Cerdic succeed in killing me. I love Breck more than anything in this world, but I am not blind to the woman she is growing into. As my daughter grows older, it is impossible to overlook the anger that resides within her over what became of her mother and unborn sibling. She has felt the thirst for revenge, and I do not know if there is anything I can say or do to rid her of it.

I suppose, in the end, there was no avoiding it – it is, after all, in her blood. I wish so greatly to cater to the girl she is, to try to steer her away from our sort of life, yet the warrior blood in her grows thicker with each passing day. When my time on this Earth has come to its end, which I fear it will soon, I know that my dear daughter will leave this place and seek the revenge she so avidly yearns for.

Despite her anger, despite the vengeance she desires, there is still softness in her heart, young Artorius. It is only a small fragment that she reserves for myself and for you, the dearest friend she ever had, but it is there. Even now, after being apart for so long, she still loves you as the brother she never had. I strongly believe that when the time comes for her to leave this place, she will come searching for you. So now, young Lord, I have a request to make of you.

If Breck finds her way back to you, protect her, Artorius. My daughter has seen too many hardships in her young life. She deserves hope and peace and friendship, and I know she will find this with you. I wish only to see her be made safe and I know in my heart that if there is any other person in the world that wishes for it too, it is you.

I cannot say how much longer my life may be, for I know my former friend Cerdic is drawing nearer every day. But my heavy heart rests easier knowing Breck has a friend in you, that even when I am gone, she will not be completely alone in this world. She will need you, even if she will be too stubborn to admit it. And I trust that when the time comes for you to decide what you must do to help her, you will know the right thing to do.

May your God be with you, Artorius.

-Kenrick

Breck lowered the letter, her hands shaking and her chest beginning to heave with emotion. It took a few moments for her to work through the feelings coursing through her.

"Wh-when…when did you receive this?" she finally managed to ask, looking to Arthur with wide eyes.

"Based on your accounts when you first arrived, I presume it was sent shortly before he was killed," Arthur answered gently, all his previous anger and roughness now gone.

It had been years since Breck had last cried, but as she read the handwriting of her father again, something she had not gazed upon in so many years, the tears began to flow freely from her eyes. Arthur immediately stepped forward and pulled her into a tight, comforting hug, securely enfolding her within the safety of his arms. Everything that she had held in, the anger and the sadness and the loneliness that had been bottled up inside her for so long, all came pouring out in that moment. She finally allowed herself to weep in a way that she hadn't since her father had died, clinging to Arthur like her life depended on it and burying her face in his shoulder as her body was wracked with sobs.

"Do you understand why I am so protective now?" Arthur asked gently in her ear, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "I promised him, Breck. I promised your father and I promised God that no harm would ever find you if you were brought back to me again. It is a promise I have never forgotten and one that I intend to see through, no matter the cost."

Breck heard his words, but she was still too busy reeling from what she had learned to respond to them. "He knew Cerdic was coming," she whispered painfully into his shoulder as she tried to get a handle on her emotions. "He knew Cerdic had found us, and yet he allowed me to believe that we were finally safe. That Cerdic had forgotten us. He lied to me, Arthur."

"He did it to protect you," Arthur responded, pulling back so he could meet her tearful gaze. "He did not want you to know."

"Why then did you feign surprise when I told you of his death?" she accused, eyebrows furrowing together. "You knew it would come to be!"

Arthur shook his head, looking both sympathetic and remorseful. "I never wanted to believe the pair of you could be found – not by Cerdic or by any enemy," he said, squeezing her shoulders. "I prayed to God every day that you both would remain safe, but…it was not enough, in the end. It was a fool's hope to think Cerdic would not find you. I know that now."

Breck frowned, then released a heavy sigh. "How could he not tell me?" she said, shaking her head.

"He desperately wanted a normal life for you, one where you were not afraid or constantly watching over your shoulder for enemies," he said. "I share that same desire, Breck. I want you to be safe and happy." Arthur paused, his lips turning down into a frown once more. "But I am no fool. I see you, friend. I see the anger and the darkness within. You wish to avenge your family and that will never cease, nor will a normal life ever be possible until you see your enemy defeated." Arthur gave her a serious look. "I promised that I would help you plan your revenge against Cerdic when you first arrived, yet I have avoided speaking to you on the matter in the hope that, perhaps, if you were comfortable and happy here, then you would decide against it. I know now you will not." He took one of her hands and held it tightly in his own. "I do not intend to merely help you plan your revenge anymore, Breck," he said. "Now, when the time comes and you go to meet Cerdic, I will be by your side. And I will help you kill him myself."

Breck was stunned. Arthur offering to help her plan out her revenge was one thing. Him helping her to actually carry out the deed was something else entirely. It was an offer that also struck fear into her heart. Cerdic was no easy man to kill, and it was risky enough for her to be chasing him. But that was the path she had chosen for herself, a mission she had never intended to involve anyone else in. The last thing she would ever want would be to put Arthur in danger.

"Arthur – " she began to protest.

He immediately shook his head, making her go silent again. "I will not be deterred on this matter, Breck," he said firmly, his expression resolute. "After my duty here is complete, before I continue on to Rome, I will help you kill Cerdic. And that is final."

Breck swallowed thickly. As much as she did not want him being put in another dangerous situation after all the years he had spent facing countless dangers already, despite how worried she would be now that Arthur was putting himself at risk, there was a small, slightly selfish part of her that still felt somewhat relieved to know that she would have him by her side, no matter what. Arthur was her best friend, her closest companion, her brother not in blood, but in choice. He was also the greatest warrior in Britain. She could think of no better person to help her see this mission through than Arthur.

"Arthur…are you certain about this?" she still asked.

Arthur nodded without hesitation. "I will help you defeat him once and for all."

She let out a shaky sigh, then pulled him into a tight hug. Arthur returned the fierce embrace. "Thank you," she said, because that was all she could think to say.

Arthur just hugged her tighter in response.

They finally pulled away from each other, though neither seemed to know what to say. When she could stand the silence no longer, Breck finally huffed out a laugh and ran a weary hand through her hair.

"I do not know about you, but after all that has happened today, I find that I desperately require a strong drink," she asked, thinking alcohol would do nicely for relieving the stress of the day.

Arthur laughed softly, the tension in the room finally seeping away. "I do as well. More than you could possibly know," he said, before placing a hand on her shoulder and leading her out of his room. "Let us drink alone tonight, though," he requested. "I do not have it in me to be in a loud tavern tonight."

She nodded her agreement, more than happy at the idea of just a quiet night in with her very best friend. "Aye, that would be nice."

Breck hadn't thought it possible for her to respect Arthur more than she already did, but she had been proven wrong. She had only ever thought him over-protective because of his own brotherly affections towards her, but now that she knew about this promise he had made to her father, she had to marvel at how truly amazing of a friend – and man – he really was. He had made a promise to her father to protect her, despite years of being separated from her and with no way of knowing when, or if, they would ever be reunited. Knowing that the two men she loved most had made this pact, that Arthur had still cared so greatly for her even while they had been apart, suddenly made her feel as though a small part of her wounded, battered heart had begun to mend itself.

"Oh," she said as an afterthought as they made their way back through the halls of Arthur's estate to locate some alcohol to indulge in. "What about Gerland?" she asked. Their conversation had taken such a sharp turn that she'd nearly forgotten all about the reason she and Arthur had had this discussion in the first place.

Arthur immediately frowned. "I can do nothing so long as he does nothing, unfortunately," he said with a sigh. "We will just have to be very careful from this point on, and always keep a wary eye out."

Breck nodded, though there was something that felt distinctly ominous about that response. "I am certain he will not do anything now that you and the men have returned," she said, ignoring the feeling. Arthur didn't look very convinced with that. "I will always have someone by my side, though, just as a precaution," Breck added with a nod.

"Good," Arthur said approvingly.

Breck nodded, feeling like that settled the matter. "Since the other men will likely be stuck to me as if they are my own shadow, I suppose you may relieve Tristan of his guard duty now," she said. "He needs time to heal from his wounds, and I know he must tire of having to follow after me."

Arthur paused, then looked down at her in confusion, one eyebrow quirking upward. "What do you mean? I relieved Tristan of that command nearly a fortnight ago," he said. "Given how angry you were about it, and since you are always surrounded by the knights anyway, I thought it wiser to rescind the order so that you would not shout at me again."

And just when she thought that she couldn't possibly be surprised anymore than she already had been that day, Breck turned a stunned expression up to her friend, unable to believe her ears.

Tristan hadn't been following her these past few weeks because he'd been told to do so.

No, he had been following her because he'd decided to do so on his own accord.

See you next Friday!