Sooo…oops!

Yeah, never intended for it to take this long for this update to come, but things happen, you know? The good news is my son's operation went super smoothly and everything has been perfect with him since. I can't even begin to describe how happy I am that all of that is over and done with!

The bad news is that I don't think I'll be able to keep up with weekly updates anymore. Honestly, the fact that I was able to keep it up for seventeen chapters is a miracle all in itself. But between life with a husband and kids, my renewed determination to maintain some sort of steady fitness routine, and finally paying some much needed attention to my other stories, posting so frequently just isn't feasible anymore. I don't think it will be months between updates, since I already have so much written, but chapters are going to be a bit more sporadic now. Sorry if that's a disappointment!

Anywho, thank you to everyone for your patience! Thank you to OceanxEyes for the follow, thank you to xXGhostNDarknessXx, katha01795zaprani, Stephtoomuch, and MairiMcKinnonO'Brian for the follows and favorites, and thank you to ZabuzasGirl and debbzpurple for the favorites! I think I got everyone, but if I missed you, I'm sorry and know that I'm grateful! And, of course, the biggest thank you of all goes to vermillion aura for checking in on me in my absence and for all of her kind encouragement! You're the best!

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

For what had to be the very first time since she and Dagonet had met, the silence that hovered over them as they sat in his infirmary was thick and uncomfortable.

Dagonet was displeased, that much was obvious. He had been even more quiet than usual since they had left the training arena, and that frown that kept tugging the corners of his mouth downward was impossible not to notice. He did not speak to her, barely even looked at her as he cleaned and wrapped her cuts, which, thankfully, were more superficial than they had originally seemed. They had not even required any stitching.

Breck could not feel relieved about that, though. Not while she herself was so very unhappy.

So many things had gone so completely and utterly wrong in a very short span of time. Tristan had rejected her and been a complete arse whilst doing so. Gawain had discovered, in the worst way possible, that she and Tristan had kissed, that she had wanted that kiss, and now he was hurting because of it. Things were worse than ever between Tristan and Gawain after their brutal fight, and no matter which angle she looked at it from, it was glaringly obvious that she was at the root of every single problem that seemed to be happening at the present moment.

And now, as if all of that was not enough to make her feel horrible, Dagonet, one of her dearest friends, a man whom she had never had even the slightest hint of a problem with, would not even look at her.

Breck couldn't say that she blamed him, really. Two of his closest friends in the world, two of his brothers, had just beat each other black and blue, and it was her fault. Why would he want to look at her? He was probably just as angry with her as Breck currently was with herself.

Breck didn't dare say a word as he worked, did not even attempt to tell her side of the story or try to justify her own behavior. What good would it do? The longer she thought everything over, the more she looked at it with an unbiased eye, there was no denying that she had been in the wrong in so many ways. As much as she hated to admit it, she had led Gawain on. She had selfishly played into his charms and flirtations because they had made her feel good about herself, and then she had been too cowardly to outright tell him the truth about her desire for Tristan when he had finally confessed his feelings for her. Feelings, which, he had believed she returned simply because that was what her actions had led him to believe.

She should have been honest with him. Not just when he had asked to be her man, but from the very first moment that she had begun to feel attracted to Tristan. Because the moment her feelings for Tristan had changed, so too had her feelings for Gawain.

But she had done none of that, and now everything had escalated to a point that she feared there would be no coming back from it. She had hurt Gawain terribly, and ripped to pieces the friendship he'd had with Tristan all in one fell swoop. How would Gawain ever forgive her? How would any of the men ever forgive her?

How would she ever forgive herself?

Dagonet finally finished wrapping her hand, then scooched his chair back a few inches and reached for a rag to wipe his own hands clean of her blood. Breck continued to look down at her wrappings, unable to meet his gaze, wondering if she should just leave and spare him from having to be in her presence when he so clearly did not wish to be.

When he cleared his throat, however, she finally, hesitantly, lifted her eyes to his. The frown was still there, but she thought she saw a hint of concern lurking in the edges of it.

"How do your injuries feel?" he asked.

Breck nodded. "Well enough. Thank you for tending to them."

Dagonet inclined his head, then lifted his brows questioningly. "Do you wish to speak about what happened in the training arena?"

Breck immediately pressed her lips together and looked back down to her lap, the fingers of her uninjured hand toying with the fresh bandage around the other. "What is there to discuss that you do not yet already know?" she asked quietly.

"I still do not know how you are feeling because of all of this," Dagonet pointed out.

"What does it matter?" Breck said with a defeated shrug.

"It matters," Dagonet countered firmly. He reached forward to place a gentle hand on the arm that had not needed to be bandaged, making her eyes meet his again. "Talk to me, Breck."

Breck held his gaze for a moment, then let out a heavy sigh. "I feel wretched," she finally admitted to him. "There is so much that has gone wrong, and…I am the cause for all of it. I have ruined the friendship between Tristan and Gawain. I have ruined my own friendship with Gawain. But worst of all…" Breck closed her eyes and shook her head. "I hurt him, Dagonet. And there are not enough words to adequately describe how horrible I feel about all of this."

Dagonet nodded slowly, his lips pressed into a grim line. "There is no denying that this situation between you three has grown to be very…complicated. And I shall say it plainly – you have made mistakes," he added, which made her cast her gaze downward again in shame. She forced herself to look up again when the hand on her arm gave a gentle squeeze. "But you are not the only one to have done so, Breck. They made mistakes, too."

Breck shook her head. "It is not fair to blame them."

"Nor is it fair to solely blame yourself," Dagonet countered. "I have watched these past weeks as the rift between Tristan and Gawain grew and grew. They have had their disagreements in the past, but never like this. All of us knights have been urging them to merely speak to one another, to find some sort of common ground so that they may move past these problems. But they chose not to. They instead chose to let this problem fester, and now this is the outcome of that. That was their choice to not discuss things like grown men, not yours."

Everything he was saying was very sensible, of course, but it did nothing to abate her guilt. "And yet, had I myself acted differently, had I made different choices, then their problems may not have arisen in the first place."

Dagonet sighed, looking a little frustrated with her self-pitying talk. "And what, exactly, would you have done differently?" he asked.

"I would have told Gawain the truth instead of cowering away from it. I would have made it known sooner that I only desired friendship from him. That I…" She trailed off, hesitant to voice her next words aloud. It would mean admitting to something that she had only admitted to Vanora, and even then, the woman didn't know the full extent of it.

"That you wished to be with Tristan instead," Dagonet supplied knowingly.

Breck pressed her lips together tightly, then nodded in confirmation. "Aye. But instead of doing the right thing," she continued with a frown, "I led Gawain on and lied to him. I made a horrible mistake that I cannot take back."

Dagonet finally released her arm so that he could cross his arms over his chest. "You were enamored with Gawain when you first arrived, were you not?" he asked.

"I was," Breck admitted.

"And then those feelings faded, as can happen," Dagonet said. "It would be expected for Gawain to think you returned his feelings, since there was a time that you did. I do not, however, believe you led him on intentionally. Your feelings simply…changed."

"But I was still wrong not to tell him about how I felt for him, nor how I felt for Tristan," Breck argued.

Dagonet looked to the ceiling, impatience flitting across his face. "This conversation is becoming redundant," he said, looking back to her. "You made poor choices, they made poor choices. That has been firmly established. I understand your guilt, but what is done is done. There is no changing what happened in the past. What you should be focusing on now is what you intend to do about all of this."

Breck blinked in surprise, because trying to navigate the fallout of everything had not even crossed her mind yet. She'd been so busy wallowing in her guilt and self-pity that she hadn't even begun to think about how to fix this problem she had helped to create…assuming, of course, it even could be fixed.

"I do not know what to do," she told Dagonet honestly. "How do I even begin to apologize to Gawain for the hurt I have caused him?"

"He is generally an understanding man," Dagonet said. "If you talk to him, explain your side of things, perhaps it will help put your friendship back on the right path," he told her encouragingly.

"After what happened today, I suspect Gawain will want to stay very, very far away from me," Breck said.

"Then if it is space he desires, give him that," Dagonet advised. "I do not think Gawain will wish to banish you from his life entirely – he cares for you too much not to at least keep you as his friend. It may be difficult, and it may take time, but I do think you two will be able to overcome your problems," he said with an encouraging nod.

As much as she appreciated his optimism, she found it hard to feel the same way. "You are far more hopeful about it than I am," Breck said ruefully.

Dagonet gave a flicker of a smile, before his expression turned serious again. "What about Tristan?" he asked. "Are the two of you together now?"

Breck pressed her lips together, her stomach flipping uneasily.

Try as she might, she could not feel any hope in regards to him, either. Not after how he had run away from her after their kiss, and especially not after how he had behaved today. In one fell swoop, he had made it abundantly clear to her that he not only regretted kissing her, but that there would never, ever be anything between them. Even that friendship they had managed to achieve felt like it had slipped through her fingers. He would be her trainer likely until his servitude was finished, and then they would be going their separate ways for good. End of story.

Even with everything that had happened, even though it should have been the least of her worries in that moment, the rejection still hurt something fierce. She had opened herself up to Tristan, allowed him to get past those protective walls she had kept around herself for so long, only for him to turn around and cut her to the quick.

It was all likely for the better…or, at least, that was what she was trying to convince herself of now. With the different paths they walked, she supposed there had never really been a hope for them anyway. The sting in her heart would linger, she was sure of that, but in time it would fade away. Then, someday, when they had all left this place and gone on with their lives, Tristan would only be a distant memory, and none of what had happened would even matter anymore.

"No, we are not together," she told him as neutrally as she could. "Nor shall we ever be."

Dagonet seemed confused. "But he kissed you."

Breck couldn't stop the scoff that escaped her lips. "Aye, he kissed me. Then he ran away as though he feared he would catch the plague from me and then, in our next encounter, he avidly avoided any sort of discussion about said kiss and nearly chopped my arm off," she ranted, gesturing to the bandage on her forearm. "Even if he has not said it aloud, his actions have made it quite clear where his feelings toward me stand. In his eyes, that kiss was nothing but a mistake he wishes to forget about."

Dagonet sighed and rubbed a hand over his jaw. "I can see why you would believe that," he said carefully. "His actions are certainly not favorable, nor do they bode well." Dagonet raised his brows at her. "And yet…I do not think you are correct about the nature of his feelings for you."

Breck looked at him as though birds had just flown out of his ears. "Have you not heard anything I have just said?" she asked incredulously. "Furthermore, have you not been witness to how he has behaved toward me since the day I arrived at Hadrian's Wall?"

"It is because I have witnessed his behavior toward you that I believe, quite firmly, that his feelings for you run far deeper than he has let on," Dagonet immediately countered.

He spoke with such certainty and confidence that Breck had to blink in surprise. "What?"

"I have known the man for fifteen years," he said. "I have never seen him show interest in anyone in that entire time span, and yet…since you arrived, the man can hardly keep his eyes off you. The way he protected you from Gerland, the time he has spent with you since you began training, the fact that he actually brawled with Gawain over you? That is only further proof to me that he cares for you, Breck."

Breck wanted so very badly to believe Dagonet, but she was hesitant to let herself get her hopes up again. She had allowed it to happen once and been sorely disappointed. Her heart was aching enough already without enduring that disappointment a second time.

"I do not know what to think, Dag," she said with a shake of her head. "He has maddened and confused me since the start." She sighed heavily and rubbed her forehead with her uninjured hand. "Even if you are correct – which I still doubt that you are – then why would he behave as he did today?"

Dagonet shrugged unhelpfully. "I cannot say with any sort of certainty why he acted the way he did. But if I might wager a guess, however, I would say that perhaps he is guarding himself."

"Guarding himself from what?" Breck asked unsurely.

Dagonet gave her a look. "Many have believed that you fell for Gawain's charms the moment you arrived at the Wall. Even the men have believed that. Perhaps Tristan has been unsure where your feelings stand, and therefore chose to protect himself in the case that you did, in fact, choose to be with Gawain."

Breck blinked with surprise, then frowned thoughtfully. When he put it that way, it did make some sense. "I…suppose I had not considered that," she said.

"I will reveal something else, something Arthur said to us when you arrived here at the Wall," Dagonet continued. "He warned all of us Knights that unless the intentions were good and true, you were not to be pursued in any sort of manner," he revealed. "Because of that, I do not believe Tristan is merely acting out of rashness or attempting to play you for a fool. He would not risk Arthur's wrath merely to toy with your emotions. Nor would he risk our wrath," he added meaningfully.

"Your wrath?" Breck echoed.

Dagonet raised his brows at her. "Surely you must know that I, as well as all of the men, would beat Tristan within an inch of his life if he were to wrong you in such a way. If you did not know that already, then I dare say you have grossly underestimated our affection for you."

Breck immediately felt awestruck by what he had said.

She had known that the men cared about her, they had made that very obvious by now. They had been protective of her ever since the Gerland incident, and she knew that they would have no qualms putting any man who so much as looked at her the wrong way promptly in their place. But to hear now that they cared for her so much that they would actually pummel their comrade, their brother, into an oblivion purely in her defense?

It should have made her happy, made her feel important, and perhaps, in a way, it did. Yet, it also made that guilt that had been eating away at her bite even harder. Because with how complicated and difficult things had become with both Gawain and with Tristan, she suddenly could not ignore that nagging voice in her head that told her she did not deserve such friendship. Not after everything that had happened, not after all the mistakes she had made since coming to the Wall. That little voice began to whisper that life for the men might have been easier had she never come into their lives at all.

"Do you doubt the truth of my words?" Dagonet asked, obviously able to see that she was having some sort of internal conflict.

Breck blinked, then focused on him again. She cleared her throat and fiddled with the bandage on her hand once more. "It is not your words I doubt, but rather…whether or not I am deserving of such affection from any of you," she said. "I will admit that I…find myself thinking that perhaps it would have been better if I had never come here to disrupt your lives the way I have."

Dagonet blinked in surprise, then that frown was back on his lips. "Disrupt our lives?" he echoed, quietly, calmly, but with an undertone that plainly stated how ridiculous he thought the notion to be.

When Breck did not respond, could not even meet his eyes, Dagonet sighed heavily.

"I had a sister, back in Sarmatia," he suddenly confessed.

Breck had to look up in surprise, partly because it was such a rapid change in the conversation, but mostly because this was news to her. "You have never mentioned one before."

"Because speaking of her is…difficult for me," Dagonet told her. "Her name was Amira," he continued. "She was young when I left, barely five at the time. My mother and father tried for years, unsuccessfully, to have another child after I was born, to give me a sibling. But my mother struggled with pregnancies, and all the babes she fell pregnant with after birthing me never met this world…not alive, anyway," he said with a frown. "When Amira was born, I was overjoyed to finally be the older, wiser brother. We took to each other instantly. We were inseparable, despite our age difference."

"Being her brother – teaching her, guiding her, protecting her – felt like my mission in life." Dagonet sighed once more, his expression turning bitter. "And then the Romans came, brought me here, and all the years I should have had with her, to watch her grow and flourish…I was robbed of them."

"I was robbed of my sister, and I have carried the grief of that for all these years. Grief for all that I have missed, all that I will never be given back." Finally, a gentle smile pulled at his lips. "Until, one day, a stubborn, smart, wonderful woman from Saxony came to the Wall, and she decided that one of her favorite places to be was in my infirmary, telling me of her adventures and trusting me with her secrets, and being some of the best company I have had in many, many years. And finally, finally, I felt that ache in my chest begin to abate."

He reached forward to grasp her hand, giving it a squeeze. "I will not speak for the men, but I know that my life has been made the better since you came here. I am nothing but grateful for your presence, because while my servitude to Rome may have robbed me of one sister…I feel fortunate to have now been rewarded with another."

Breck didn't know what to say, didn't even know if she could speak around the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. It was perhaps one of the kindest, most meaningful things anyone had ever said to her. With how emotional she had already been feeling, there was no stopping the tears that sprang to her eyes, some of which escaped and had her hastily wiping them away.

Dagonet frowned with uncertainty. "Are these tears happy ones?"

Breck let out a watery laugh and nodded. "Aye, they are," she confirmed, which made his frown quickly vanish. "It means a great deal to hear you say that, Dag. And…you should know that it is a feeling that is not unreciprocated. There is a reason I invade your infirmary as often as I do." Breck smiled a bit. "Strange as it may sound, you…remind me of my father, in a way," she finally admitted to him.

"How so?" he asked interestedly.

"To the outside world, you both are imposing men. Not just because of your physical size, but also because of your notoriety as fearsome, battle-tested warriors," she said. "But despite appearances and reputations, you are – and he was – kind, generous, and good. The sort of man anyone would feel privileged to have in their life."

She swore that Dagonet flushed a little at the compliment. "I dare say the Woads would disagree with that statement," he said.

Breck shrugged. "I care not about what the Woads say," she said dismissively. "I know you, Dag – the real you. I knew from the moment I met you that you were nothing like the rumors said you were, just as my father was so much more than his past." Breck paused so that she could turn her hand under his and squeeze his strong fingers. "To me, you feel like…family," she said truthfully. "Someone I trust. Someone who accepts me without question or judgement. Someone I know I can always depend on. And that is why I value your friendship so greatly."

Dagonet smiled. Then, in a rare show of affection, he leaned forward so that he could pull her in for a warm, sturdy hug. Breck clung to him, relishing in the comfort and security his embrace brought her, forgetting for just a moment how horrid of a day it had been thus far. When they finally separated, Breck sniffled one last time and wiped the rest of the wetness from her cheeks, offering Dagonet another smile as their eyes met.

"Feeling any better?" Dagonet asked.

Breck shrugged. "Aye, a little."

"Good. Now I will not hear anymore self-deprecating speak from you, nor any doubts about just how integral you have become to my life, as well as the men's. Is that clear?" Dagonet asked firmly.

"It is."

Dagonet merely nodded with approval.

Breck let out a sigh, the happy, warm feelings Dagonet's words had brought on only lasting for a few moments before the thought of all that she still needed to address and fix made them fade away. "I will need to have a talk with Gawain," she mused aloud. "Explain my side of things and hope that we can still somehow salvage our friendship. Though I will admit it is a conversation that I am dreading."

"I do not think you will be alone in that dread," Dagonet said, hinting that he thought Gawain would be feeling the same. "But the sooner the conversation is had, the better," he advised, and Breck was inclined to agree with him. "What about Tristan?" he then asked.

Breck couldn't help the frown that pulled at her lips now.

She could not deny that the things Dagonet had said about his suspicions regarding Tristan's feelings and his theories about the reasons for his recent behavior had reignited a flicker of hope within her. Perhaps, she reasoned with herself, she had been too quick to judge the situation. Perhaps the truth of it was that Tristan did care for her, only he was just as bad at romantic relationships as she was, and was equally confused about how to proceed with all of this. And maybe Dagonet was right – if Tristan had thought she fancied Gawain, maybe he had been keeping her at a distance because of that.

Honestly, what had Breck even expected? He was Tristan, for God's sake. Getting to the point where they were friends had taken time and patience and persistence. What had ever made her think that becoming more would require anything less?

Breck sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I do not know what to do about Tristan," she admitted. "Is romance always this complicated?"

"I think not," Dagonet said honestly. "But he is Tristan."

"Indeed he is," Breck said, and even though she said it as a complaint, deep down she wouldn't have changed him for anything.

Dagonet smiled gently. "Unfortunately, if you wish to make any headway with him, then I believe it shall be up to you," he said plainly. "Given Tristan's nature and his reluctance to speak to you about what happened, I fear if you do not make the conversation happen, it likely never will."

This was something that Breck had already assumed she would have to do, but it was still something she was afraid of actually doing. She had already felt that sharp sting of rejection just thinking Tristan did not wish to be with her like that – if he actually confirmed that that was the truth, the rejection would only hurt even worse.

Yet at the same time, the thought of being involved with him romantically was nearly as frightening as the thought of him rejecting her. Breck had little experience with men, and she did not wish to disappoint him. Furthermore, she had closed off her heart many years ago, and for good reason. She had lost so many people she loved, that she had decided to just stop loving altogether.

Of course, that had changed when she had come to the Wall and been reunited with Arthur, as well as gotten so close to the Knights. But if this feeling she had for Tristan was veering down a path that could lead to something more, that opened up the very real possibility of her heart getting broken once again. And that was a very terrifying thought.

"I am frightened," Breck admitted. "Both by the idea of being with him, andbeing without."

Dagonet smiled sympathetically. "Sometimes, my friend, we must face our greatest fears in order to reap the grandest rewards."

Breck sighed and nodded, knowing Dagonet was right. She had faced countless enemies, had trekked hundreds and thousands of miles just to chase down Cerdic, yet she was afraid to tell a man that she wished to be with him? Nerve wracking as it was, the subject could not be danced around forever. Breck would just have to find her courage and be honest with him, no matter the outcome. Tristan needed to know how she felt, and she, in turn, deserved to know what it was he felt towards her.

The door to the infirmary suddenly opened, bringing their conversation to a halt. Lancelot walked inside, and Breck only had to take one look at him to know that he was not happy. Ordinarily, he carried himself with confidence and charisma, always wearing a grin and always on the brink of saying something witty, as though he were a man that had very little to worry about. At the moment, however, there wasn't so much as a trace of that usual charm anywhere on his face. Instead, his brows were pinched together, creating harsh lines on his forehead, and there was a deep frown on his face. A frown which still somehow managed to sink even further when his eyes found her.

"Good, you are here," he said with little enthusiasm. "Arthur has ordered me to bring you to his estate. Now," he informed her.

Breck and Dagonet shared a look, before she sighed and hopped down from the cot she had been sitting on. "Thank you for tending to my wounds. Thank you for…everything," she said, patting his large shoulder.

"Of course," Dagonet said. "If you need anything more, you know where to find me."

Breck nodded, then left with Lancelot.

OOO

As they started toward Arthur's estate, Lancelot was uncharacteristically quiet and all but refused to look her way. Breck walked next to him in uncomfortable silence, unsure what to say or do. Never before had Lancelot actually been angry with her, and the coldness she felt emanating from him was something she had neither expected, nor did she like.

"You are angry," she finally stated.

"Of course I am angry," Lancelot rebutted without hesitation. "Two of my brothers beat each other to a bloody pulp, and over what? A woman?" he scoffed, as though the notion of fighting another man over a woman was utterly ridiculous to him.

The blunt words made her press her lips together and look down at the ground, feeling ashamed and guilty all over again. She could see from the corner of her eye when Lancelot finally deigned to look at her again. After a moment, he let out an almost weary sounding sigh.

"I do not say that as a slight against you, or your character," he clarified in a gentler tone. "In fact, I suppose if ever there was a woman to fight a comrade over, you make a fine candidate for it." Lancelot shook his head in what seemed like vexation. "But I will confess that this is the exact reason I have never allowed myself to grow too strong of affections for anyone. Love turns even the smartest men into utter fools," he said with a huff and a shake of his head.

"And here I thought your reluctance to take a wife was because there were simply too many beautiful women for you to bed," Breck commented dryly.

Lancelot looked like he was fighting the urge to smirk. "Yes, well…you are not wrong," he reluctantly agreed. "Now do not try to humor me. I am still displeased with you, too," he added, giving her another stern look. "You had your own hand in this whole debacle. I dare say you have created quite the mess."

"I need no reminding of that," Breck told him. "Though I have a strong inkling that Arthur will be doing just that shortly."

"Indeed, he will," Lancelot confirmed, without any remorse whatsoever.

Whatever hope or optimism her chat with Dagonet had provided were now nowhere to be found. They said nothing more to one another as they finished the walk to Arthur's estate in deafening silence. Lancelot left her outside at the door to Arthur's estate, giving her a pointed look as he wished her good luck and then left her to face Arthur alone. Breck watched him go, then, after sucking in a deep breath, stepped inside and headed for the council room.

The entire way there, she tried to mentally prepare herself to face Arthur, to finally confess to him everything that she had been feeling, everything that had been going on, hoping ardently that he would not be angry in the way that Lancelot was, that he would be the understanding friend he had always been.

Breck was so worried about seeing Arthur, however, that she did not consider the possibility of having to face anyone else. Which was why when she turned onto the hall leading to the council room and spotted two men walking toward her, she immediately froze and felt her heart sink.

It was Tristan and Gawain, not speaking to one another and keeping as much distance from each other as the hallway allowed. The fight had been brutal enough, but the aftermath of it wasn't any better. Bruises and welts and swelling were setting in now, and coupled with the blood that still stained their skin, they both looked a gory mess. Seeing them in such a state and knowing that she was the cause of it only made her feel wretched all over again.

The two of them had very different reactions when they saw her. Gawain took one look at her, his steps faltering for only a heartbeat, before he quickened his pace and breezed right past her, leaving her behind as quickly as possible without outright sprinting away. Breck watched him go until he disappeared from view but did not try to stop him. She then turned her attention back to Tristan. Upon seeing her, his steps slowed until he came to a halt a little ways away. He said nothing, merely watched her and waited.

Breck opened her mouth to speak, but struggled to think of what to actually say at first. What could she say, with how muddled and complicated everything had become in the span of the past day? Dagonet may have given her a flicker of hope that she had misread Tristan, but there was a part of her that was still doubtful and confused and, admittedly, a little angry with him for the way things had been going.

There was another part, however, that couldn't help but worry over the blood and the bruises on him.

"Are you alright?" she finally asked.

"I have suffered worse," Tristan answered.

Breck nodded slowly, then looked to the council room doors, behind which Arthur was undoubtedly waiting. "How is he?" she asked.

Tristan didn't say anything aloud, but the look he gave her said more than enough. Arthur was not happy.

"I thought as much," Breck said.

"I shall leave you to your business," Tristan replied after a moment.

He then moved past her to leave, giving her as wide of a berth as the hall would allow. As he went by, Breck's eyes followed him, her gut wrenching, both at the physical pain he seemed to be trying to hide from her and the horrible tension that lingered between them.

"Tristan," she said before she could stop herself.

He halted at the end of the hall and turned back, his eyebrows ticking upward just slightly as he waited to hear whatever she had to say. Breck, however, lost her words again. She wanted to tell him that she was sorry about what had happened between him and Gawain, wanted to tell him how she felt, wanted to tell him everything. But it wasn't the right time, and eventually she just sighed and looked away, deciding against saying anything at all.

Tristan took her silence as his cue to leave, and soon disappeared the same way Gawain had gone.

Breck did her best to push Tristan from her mind as she finally entered Arthur's council room.

Her eyes found Arthur before the door swung shut behind her. He sat at his Round Table, a cup and a tankard of wine sitting before him, his head in his hands, looking utterly weary. When he looked up and saw that she was there, he dropped his hands and stood, his expression turning to one of exasperation. Whether he was exasperated with her, or the two men who had just left – or all three of them – she wasn't sure just yet.

Breck walked further into the room, bracing herself for whatever Arthur had to say. "You called for me?"

"Yes, I did," Arthur confirmed, crossing his arms. "I shall have you know," he began as he started walking towards her, "that Gawain and Tristan were friends without any quarrels before your arrival. Now, however, it would seem as though they have very little friendship to speak of, and, more often than not, I find the pair of them in some form of an argument or disagreement." Arthur stopped before her and raised his eyebrows. "Surely you have noticed this."

Breck nodded once. "I have."

"And I think we both know the reason for it, do we not?" he added with a meaningful look.

She couldn't help but look away, her feet shifting uncomfortably. As the rivalry between Gawain and Tristan had grown more troublesome, she had worried over the effect it could have on Arthur, as well as the other men. In the beginning, they had all seemed unbothered by it, had even seemed to find humor in it. Lately, however, she had begun to see the concern, the frustration, the displeasure over the way the two had been treating one another.

Looking at Arthur now in the aftermath of their brawl, it was plain to see how deeply bothered he was. That niggling feeling of guilt surged again, making it hard to look up from her shoes to meet his searching gaze.

"I noticed a shift in their friendship once Tristan and I started to become friends," she admitted. "I have also suspected that Gawain harbored jealousy over that friendship. I feared that their troubles might lead to this, but I clung to the vain hope it would not."

"That was my hope as well," Arthur said. "But they did."

"Aye, they did," Breck agreed quietly.

Arthur let out a heavy sigh, then turned and went back to his spot at the table. "I will say it bluntly. This entire ordeal has turned into a very wearisome mess." Breck watched in silence as Arthur picked up his cup and took a drink. "As Gawain explained to me," he continued on, placing the cup back down, "he did not just attack Tristan because of the injuries you sustained. He also believed he was defending your honor. He believed Tristan had attempted to force himself on you."

"He was mistaken," Breck said quickly.

"He admitted as much," Arthur said with a nod. "When neither Gawain, nor Tristan, cared to elaborate more on the matter of what really transpired, Lancelot provided the details he had learned. Details which have left me feeling quite confused."

Breck stiffened, but did not say anything in response.

"It was obvious to me the first night you arrived here that you captured Gawain's interest. And it also seemed that he captured yours in return," Arthur stated bluntly. "Over the weeks, many have come to believe that the affection you two shared was far more than just of the friendly sort. Even Gawain himself seemed confident that you returned his sentiments when he informed myself, and the knights, about his attempts to court you. Now, however, it would seem that we were all mistaken."

Breck pressed her lips together for a moment. "There was a time where I thought I did return the sentiment," she admitted. "But circumstances have…changed," she added, Tristan's face flashing through her mind as she said it. "I cannot give Gawain what he wants. I am not the woman for him, nor is he the man for me," she said with a shake of her head.

Arthur stared at her knowingly. "Because it is Tristan you want."

Breck hesitated, then nodded. "Aye," she confirmed softly.

Arthur looked at her for a moment, his expression bemused. "Forgive me for being blunt, but I must ask. How exactly did this happen?"

Breck let out a humorless laugh. "Even I am not entirely certain how this happened," she said truthfully. "I despised the man from the moment we first met. I was convinced he and I would always be enemies." She took a moment to reflect, thinking about all he had done for her, how drastically things had changed between them, and gave a little shrug. "Then he protected me from Gerland. And he agreed to help train me to fight Cerdic. And then he finally let me see the real him. Before long I realized I did not loathe him. Quite the opposite, in fact."

Arthur stared at her, almost as if awed. Finally, he shook his head. "I suppose I should have suspected it, considering how much time the pair of you have been spending with one another. Perhaps I should have suspected it even before then," he added pensively

Breck wasn't entirely sure what to make of his reaction. "Do you disapprove?"

Arthur shrugged at her. "I would have been pleased if you had chosen Gawain," he said, which made her frown. "But I am equally pleased that you have chosen Tristan," he added. "Both are good men that I might have chosen for you myself."

Breck immediately felt herself relax, oddly relieved to know that Arthur thought Tristan was a good match for her, despite all their troubles, both past and current.

"I do not, however, approve of how this situation has been handled. By any of you," Arthur stated, sternness seeping back into his tone. "If you and Tristan wish to be together, that is all well and good. But that is something Gawain should have been made aware of well before he and Tristan resorted to throwing fists at one another."

"I know," Breck said. "I should have told him, but I was…a coward. I was wrong."

"Then I trust that you plan to right these wrongs?"

"I am certainly going to try," she assured him.

Arthur nodded in approval. "Good. Let us hope you are successful then. This feud between them has gone on quite long enough. Hopefully, now that matters are finally being addressed properly, things may return to normal again."

Breck did not dare tell him that she didn't think it was going to be as easy as that. She did not want to ruin his optimism.

Arthur finally turned and went to a small cabinet on the side of the room, where he produced another drinking cup. He brought it back to the table and filled it with wine, before setting it down in front of the chair next to his and indicating for her to sit. Breck moved to do so, watching as Arthur eased into his own chair and took another drink.

Honestly, she had expected more scolding, more yelling for all the trouble she had caused. Yet, it seemed he had said his piece and that seemed to be the end of it, much to her surprise. She couldn't help but quirk a brow at him, which he noticed quickly enough and met with a similar expression.

"What?"

"Is that it?" she asked. "There is nothing more you wish to say?"

Arthur shook his head. "What else is there to say that you do not already know?" he asked.

Breck bobbed her brows as she reached for her cup. "I suppose I expected more of a lecture."

"And when has lecturing you about anything ever made a difference? Only makes you more defiant," Arthur countered. Breck allowed a small smile to pull at her lips in response. "Regardless," he added, his tone more serious, "you are aware of the mistakes you made and I am quite certain you are already wallowing in guilt over it. So no, I do not have anything more to say on the matter."

"Still," Breck persisted. "I wish to say that I am sorry for causing so much trouble. I swear that I am going to do my best to make it right again."

"I know that you will," Arthur said. "And if, in the end, you need assistance in this matter, know that I am here to help you in whatever way I can."

Breck smiled gratefully. She was relieved that Arthur wasn't judging her for causing a rift between his men, nor for having chosen Tristan over Gawain. Though it was clear he wanted her to rectify the problems she had unwittingly caused, he did not seem angry with her and was still willing to help if she needed it. His reaction was far better than she had been expecting.

"Thank you for being so understanding, Arthur," she said sincerely.

Arthur inclined his head, before they both took a few quiet moments to drink and sort their thoughts. Eventually he put his cup back down, his eyes going to her bandages and a crease of worry appearing between his brows.

"How are your injuries?" he asked.

"I am fine," she said. "I did not even require any stitches."

"That is a relief," Arthur said, before pulling a face of displeasure again. "I understood that Tristan would not go lightly on you during your training, but I did not expect he would actually draw blood. Shall I have a discussion with him about this?"

Breck immediately shook her head. "I will speak with him about it. I need to speak with him about many things," she added.

"Yes, I would imagine you do," Arthur agreed. He then lifted his cup to her with a wry smile. "Best of luck, my friend."

"And why do you say that?" Breck asked.

"Because he is Tristan," Arthur said pointedly.

Breck huffed and shook her head. "He is a difficult man, that is for certain. Likely the most infuriating one I have met."

"And yet, you still wish to be with him," Arthur provided.

"Indeed I do," Breck said, unable to deny it. She still wanted him, despite all the awkwardness and uncertainty, despite her doubts as to whether he wanted her in return. "And for that, I must be a fool."

"You would not be the first to be made a fool of by their own heart, nor shall you be the last." Arthur looked at her for a moment, then patted her hand comfortingly. "Keep your chin up, my friend. As difficult as things are now, something tells me everything will be alright in the end."

Breck just nodded, sincerely hoping that he was right.

OOO

Breck wished she could have said that she did not spend the rest of the afternoon hiding away in her quarters, but it would have been a lie. That was exactly what she did. Out of fear of running into Tristan or Gawain before she knew what she was going to say to either of them, and out of concern that she might bump into the other men and find that they, too, were angry at her the way Lancelot was, she decided it would be best to keep to herself until her head felt clearer, and she felt a little braver.

Come nightfall, however, she could no longer deny the fact that she had been stalling, nor could she deny the pang of hunger in her belly. So she finally mustered up the courage to leave the safety of her room, knowing full well that as she headed for the tavern, she would undoubtedly find the men there.

Sure enough, the table the knights usually claimed was occupied by the very men she had been dreading seeing. Lancelot, Galahad, Bors, and Dagonet were there, each man wearing a grim expression. Even from across the tavern, she could feel the uncomfortable air that hung over the four of them. Her eyes did a quick scan of the surrounding tables, then of the tavern itself, but she did not see any sign of Tristan – he was not there. Gawain did not appear to be, either.

Breck, hands wringing together, slowly made her way over to where the men were sitting. As she approached, each one of them sat a little straighter. Dagonet offered a kind smile, but Lancelot still looked unhappy. She couldn't quite tell what was going through Bors's mind, but Galahad definitely did not look pleased.

"We were wonderin' when you'd turn up," Bors said by way of greeting. "Hiding out, were you?"

"Impossible to make trouble if I am not around to cause it," she replied.

Galahad, who was on her right, huffed a little and took a big drink of his ale, his food sitting before him hardly looking touched. Breck couldn't say she was surprised by the fact that he was angry. He was very close to Gawain, and had hinted once or twice that perhaps he had been hoping that she and Gawain would end up together. Given the turn things had taken, given how hurt Gawain likely was, it was only reasonable that Galahad would be angry about that.

"Is there room for one more?" she asked hopefully.

"I think it best to let Gawain decide that," Lancelot countered.

When she looked at him with question in her eyes, he nodded toward the bar. Breck looked that way, and as the crowd thinned out a little, she finally spotted him standing by the counter. Her gut lurched and nervousness immediately shot through her, but she knew she could not avoid him forever. She had to try to talk to him, had to try to start making things right.

Without another word to the men, she turned and headed for where Gawain stood. He was drinking an ale, his eyes fixed on a spot on the wall but his thoughts seemingly miles away. When she finally stopped next to him, he did not even notice her presence, he was so lost in his own head.

"Gawain?"

He blinked and looked her way, then his entire body stiffened. The fact that his eyes were already glazed with the sheen of intoxication and that the scent of ale clung heavily to his breath did not escape her notice.

"Can we speak?" she asked hopefully.

He glanced around for a moment, looking very much as though he were contemplating making a run for it. Eventually, however, he sighed and looked back to her. "I suppose a conversation is in order, is it not?" he asked, as if he saw no choice in the matter.

"We are certainly overdue for one," Breck replied.

Gawain nodded slowly. "Before anything is said, I will take this moment to apologize for putting my hands on you earlier," he said. "At the time, I felt I was keeping you from getting caught in the middle of something that might result in you getting hurt. I did not mean to be rough, and I would never intentionally cause you harm."

She had nearly forgotten that Gawain had shoved her to the ground in the first place. At the time it had surprised her, yes, but she knew already that he hadn't had malicious intent. That was simply not him. "I know that, Gawain. You need not apologize to me for it. In fact, if there is anyone who should be apologizing right now, it is me."

Gawain looked away again, a muscle in his jaw twitching just slightly. "And what might you be apologizing for?" he asked stiffly, even though they both already knew.

"I know that I have caused you a great deal of confusion, and a great deal of hurt," she said gently. "It was never my intention to make you feel either of those things, and for that, I am truly sorry, Gawain." Breck wrung her fingers together. "It also should not have taken you and Tristan brawling for me to finally locate my courage to be honest with you about my feelings. I apologize for my cowardice as well."

Gawain looked at her for a long moment, his expression hard to read. "I already knew, even if I was reluctant to admit it to myself," he said. "I have seen the way you look at him. I have seen how you are with him. I tried to ignore it, tried to convince myself that it meant nothing…but it is now glaringly obvious to me where your heart truly lies." His blue eyes held hers intently, as if he were trying to peer into her very thoughts. "You desire Tristan."

It was not a question. It was a statement. A fact that he already knew. "Aye, I do," Breck confirmed anyway.

Even though he had already known it, hearing her say it aloud still made him deflate, still had that hurt flickering through his eyes again.

"I did not plan for it," she added hastily, as though that would somehow make a difference. "I did not even think it possible, given how much we loathed each other at the start." Breck paused to sigh. "But the truth is that he is the one my heart desires. He is the one my heart chose."

"And yet," Gawain said, his jaw clenching, "you allowed me to believe that your affections lay with me. When I opened my heart to you, you had every chance to tell me how you truly felt. Yet, you did not. Instead, you gave me false hope for a romance that you did not desire." Gawain was beginning to look angry now. "What for? Was it some mere trick? Did you find amusement in leading me on?"

"No," Breck immediately, vehemently denied. "That could not be further from the truth."

"Then why did you not tell me?" Gawain demanded.

"Because I was a coward," Breck told him. "I had not told anyone the true extent of my feelings for Tristan. I had hardly even admitted it to myself. I did not know what to do or what to say. I knew I needed to tell you, but then you were due to leave for your mission and I did not wish for you to ride off with something like that hanging over you. I was going to tell you when you came back. I just…had not found the chance yet."

Gawain did not look as though he was convinced by her words. "And how long have you been sharing kisses with Tristan behind my back?" he asked next.

"We have only kissed the once," she told him. "I did not expect that, either."

Gawain scoffed. "I find that hard to believe," he said bitterly. "All the time you spend together, all the pining looks the two of you have shared, and you did not think it would lead to something? Do not insult me," he scolded.

Breck took a moment to close her eyes and suck in a deep breath. This conversation was proving to be even more difficult that she had anticipated. It seemed no matter what she said, it only made things worse.

"Gawain," she said helplessly. "I do not know what else to say except that I am unendingly sorry. I did not mean for any of this to happen. You have been such a great friend to me, and I care for you so very much. It pains me to know the hurt I have caused you. I do not want to lose your friendship. Please," she practically begged. "Tell me what I can do to right this wrong."

Gawain looked at her for a moment, his bright blue eyes unable to hide just how angry and hurt he truly was, making her heart clench painfully with remorse in response. "I do not know if a friendship between us will be possible," he told her honestly, making her heart drop into the pit of her stomach. "But I do know that I need time away from you."

He picked up his ale, downed the rest of it in a few large gulps, then slammed the mug on the bar, making Breck wince.

"I hope you and Tristan are very happy together," he said coldly.

Then he brushed past her and left the tavern.

Breck stared at the spot he had just occupied for a long few seconds, feeling like the scum of the earth. She had not expected Gawain to welcome her with open arms, but the amount of anger, of complete disdain he had shown her, had caught her by surprise. It felt almost as though he hated her now.

And in that moment, Breck couldn't fault him for it. For it was what she felt like she deserved.

Breck finally looked away from where Gawain had just been, her eyes turning over to the table where the knights sat. All of them were looking in her direction, whispering to one another and looking uneasy. Clearly they had witnessed what had happened with Gawain. The last thing she wanted to do was return to that table and the question they would undoubtedly have – or, even worse, the ire that some of them also appeared to be feeling toward her.

So Breck left the tavern without another word to anybody and headed straight for her quarters. She did not wish to see Gawain, did not wish to see Arthur, did not even wish to see Tristan. She just wanted to go to sleep and try to forget that this day had ever happened.

OOO

Sleep, unfortunately, eluded her, and even by the small hours of the night, she was still lying in bed, wide awake.

The incident with Gawain was weighing heavily on her mind, first and foremost. That horrid conversation, the anger and pain in his eyes, was haunting her. She had desperately wanted to believe that their friendship would still be salvageable, but now, she honestly didn't know if it was possible. Gawain seemed like he wanted to wash his hands of her, and he had every reason to do so.

But Gawain was not the only man on her mind. Tristan was weighing on her too, only for a very different reason.

Everything had gotten far too complicated, and she simply did not like it. She knew they needed to discuss whatever this was that was going on between them, but she was suddenly even more terrified to do so. Despite Dagonet's insistence earlier, she truly had no idea what Tristan felt for her, and with her and Gawain's friendship already in ruins, she couldn't stomach the thought of the same thing happening with Tristan. She was too afraid to face him. Too afraid he was going to crush her heart.

More than anything, though, what was bothering Breck the most was herself, and the way she'd been behaving since coming to Britain.

What hadhappenedto her? The old Breck would have never allowed herself to become so entangled within these soft, emotional feelings. The old Breck had had no need of a man in her life and had been more than capable of handling her own business. Where was her hard resolve now? When had she become the weak damsel-in-distress that she had scoffed at so many times before?

Breck sat up in bed and dropped her face into her hands.

She felt as though she had lost sight of herself completely. For years now, the only thing that had been on her mind, the only thing that had mattered, had been getting her revenge on Cerdic. It was her greatest mission, her only purpose in life, her hatred serving as the only fire she needed to keep going, to keep moving forward.

Yet since she had come to the Wall, she had become so distracted with the men that served under Arthur that Cerdic had become a distant memory on most days. It had been so easy – too easy – to get wrapped up in daily life at the Wall, to grow comfortable in her new life, to let her mind become wholly consumed by Tristan and the desires he had awoken within her.

Did she despise herself for the way she felt about Tristan? No, she did not. But did she hate that she had allowed these emotions and feelings to take complete control of her life?

Indisputably, yes.

Breck moved from the bed to stand in front of the small mirror in her room, peering at herself with scrutiny. She hardly looked like the same woman who had first ridden through the gates of Hadrian's Wall. Back then, she had been a skinny, travel worn warrior, with dirt permanently fixed under her nails and a bad attitude to boot. But now that woman had changed. Her cold guard she had kept around herself was gone. The hatred that had always been in her eyes had faded away. She was clean and fed. She had a place to live, a job to make coin, friends – a life.

At the core of it, the changes were not bad. Her time at the Wall had been the happiest she had been in years, and it had helped her get back in touch with the softer side of herself. But where was the fighter who had traveled distant lands to hunt Saxons? Where was the sharp-witted woman that wielded her father's sword against countless enemies? Where was the girl that had sworn revenge upon Cerdic all those years ago?

There was no sign of that person anywhere.

Breck turned away from the mirror and began to pace.

She could not continue to act like a silly, insolent girl if she wanted to defeat Cerdic. Tristan might have reawakened something inside of her that she hadn't known since she was a very young girl, she might have found happiness here, but there was no denying that she had lost her focus. Tristan, her friends, this whole place had clouded her mind. Breck needed to find some sense of balance between the woman she used to be then and the woman she was now. If she wanted to become who she was truly meant to be, then it was time to merge the inner lover and the inner warrior together.

And that was when an idea came to her.

Breck had tried to get in touch with Melcon, her contact to the north, but her attempts had, unfortunately, failed. But that need for information still burned in her, along with the desire to be back on the road, back in the wild. She had already known that it would be up to her to obtain the information she desired from Melcon, so why wait? It would be good to get away, to get fresh air and clear her head again, without any of the men – especially Tristan – around to muddy her thoughts.

That annoying, nagging voice in the back of her mind began to taunt her, hissed at her that she was just being a coward again and running away from her problems. Running away from Gawain and Tristan and all that had been happening at the Wall. No, Breck firmly told that voice, told herself. She wasn't running away. Would it be good to be away from the fort for Gawain's sake, so that he could have time to work through his hurt and anger without her there making it harder for him? Would it be good for her to get some time away to get her head straight? Yes, it would. But she wasn't running away. Running away meant she didn't intend to come back, and that was simply not the truth of it. She would come back.

And with the nagging voice finally silence, Breck's mind was made up.

The time had come to leave Hadrian's Wall, just for a while.

She would head north and meet with Melcon in person. It had been years since they had been face to face, but she had no doubt that he would be welcoming. Breck would check in with him, see what he knew about the Saxons, give a little time for the dust to settle at Hadrian's Wall, and then come back once she had gotten what she needed. Hopefully, by the time she returned, these troubles between Tristan and Gawain would have settled and everything would have gone back to normal with all the knights. Perhaps they would receive her better, and then she could truly begin to make amends with Gawain, as well as finally settle these matters with Tristan.

And, if all went according to plan, Breck would finally feel like herself again.

Breck turned from the mirror and hastily took off her nightgown, changing into her usual travel attire. She then grabbed the traveling pack she had arrived with and began tossing the important things inside. She packed some nice trinkets she had acquired on the chance that she needed to sell them for coin along the way, parchment and quill in case an emergency arose and she needed to write to Arthur, her father's old traveling cloak, and all of the food that she had in her quarters. Everything else, like her dresses and tools for working in the stables, could stay behind for when she returned.

After she had packed everything she needed, Breck loaded herself down with her weapons, strapping on her bow and quiver, her sword, and slipping her dagger into her boot. With one last look around her quarters, Breck picked up her pack and stepped outside into the crisp night air.

The knights' quarters around hers were quiet, the men inside undoubtedly fast asleep. Breck lingered there for a long few moments, guilt tugging at her heart at the fact that she was leaving them without even saying a word. It was almost enough to have her knocking on a door – perhaps Dagonet's – but she resisted the urge.

None of her friends would understand her reasons for leaving. They would only try to stop her.

She finally left for the stables, glad of the fact that the streets were deserted so that nobody was around to see what she was doing. She made her way quickly and quietly to the stables, where she let herself in and immediately went to Lugh's stall. The noise of her arrival had already caught the attention of the horses, so he was there to greet her straight away, his nose pressing into her palm as she gave him a greeting smile and pet.

"We ride again, Lugh," she said to the steed as she fixed the saddle on his back. The horse's ears perked and she smiled, pausing to pat his nose affectionately. "The journey will be long, but that is not uncommon for you, aye?" she cooed in Gaelic.

Lugh snorted in response. Breck kissed his nose, then set down her things to fetch her saddle. She made quick work of securing it to his back, then attached her pack to it. When that was done, she started to pull herself up into the saddle, but paused to glance around at the other horses, her mind turning, once more, to the men.

Arthur would be furious with her for leaving, there was no doubt about that. She had a feeling the rest of the men would be, too…or, at least, some of them.

She doubted Gawain would much care at the moment. She wasn't entirely convinced Tristan would, either.

Breck decided that she couldn't depart without leaving some sort of message about where she was going. So she let go of Lugh's saddle, went to her pack, retrieved her writing utensils, and scribbled out a quick message.

I have travelled north to meet with a contact. I will return. Please, do not put yourselves at risk to come searching for me.

Look after one another, and stay safe.

Until we meet again,
Breck

Breck folded up the message, then went to Jols' work bench to tuck it safely under a heavy tool, knowing he would find it when he came for work in the morning. By then, she would be long gone, and there would be nothing that anyone could do about it. Whatever repercussion she might face for leaving in such a way, Breck would deal with when the time came.

Until then, she had a new mission to focus on.

Breck finally guided Lugh out of the stables, locked the door behind her, then climbed onto his back. She directed him toward the north gate, the same one she had passed through when she had come back to the Wall. When she arrived, she found a few guards posted there, though the quiet of the night and lack of activity had them looking close to nodding off. The approach of her horse, however, quickly caught their attention.

"Halt!" one of them commanded, which she quickly obeyed. "What is the meaning of this?"

Breck, having already anticipated that she would be stopped and questioned, had already formulated a lie that she hoped would work. "I am to travel north at the behest of Lord Arthur, to make contact with an ally."

The guards shared looks with each other. "What for?"

"That is none of your concern. Now open the gate," Breck all but commanded.

"We do not take orders from you," the other guard snapped.

"But you do take orders from Lord Arthur, and it is under his order that I am to carry out this mission," she rebutted. "Now if you wish to ride all the way to his estate and wake him in the dead of the night simply to question him about how he conducts his business, then do as you must. But I dare say he would not appreciate the interruption, nor would he be pleased to know you are interfering with his dealings," she told them.

The guards shared another look, though now a slightly worried one, as if neither were keen on the idea of provoking Arthur's wrath.

"Perhaps," Breck continued, "it would be easier for all if you were to merely let me pass."

It took a moment, but finally one of them nodded. "Open the gate!" he called.

Breck fought back the smug smirk that threatened to pull at her lips as the doors were slowly opened and she was motioned through. No sooner had she passed the gate than the doors closed once more, the loud boom resonating through the air.

This was it. She was on her own again, at least for a short while.

Breck lingered for a moment, taking a last, long look at the Wall, hoping the men would not be too angry when they discovered that she had left.

Then she pushed thoughts of the men from her mind entirely, turned her attention north, and left Hadrian's Wall behind.

In the next chapter, we get something we never had in the original - Tristan's point of view! I hope you're excited to get his perspective on things, because I know I am!

See you soon!