I truly apologize for the EXTREME amount of time it took me to update this story. I had severe writer's block and then I just didn't have the time... well I hope that this makes up for that! Please review and let me know how I did. Again I sincerely apologize!!! -- TL

Chapter 7

You're Already Dead

Sybilla and Tristan walked towards the kitchen. At this point in the night the kitchen was quiet. All the cooks had gone home for the night and the only noise that could be heard was from the Roman soldiers that were drinking heavily at the tavern. Sybilla had asked a few of the servants to leave a few bowls of warm, clean water in the kitchen. She wanted to be able to clean off many of the bandages that she had used for Lancelot's care.

Tristan and her were silent as they entered the kitchen. Sybilla's mind was not thinking about the man standing next to her, but rather her mind drifted to the knight that was lying upstairs. She was confident in her surgical skills, but she wasn't sure his body was going to be strong enough to fight off infection. It was the biggest problem Sybilla had in healing, and she always knew infection was usually more deadly than the original wound.

Tristan watched her as she walked around the kitchen. She was washing her hands off in the first of a few water filled bowls. He was shocked that he was still enraptured by the way she moved. She exuded a sense of grace in everything she did, even something as morbid as washing blood off her hands and out of bandages. Yet, as he watched her he wondered what had made her suddenly help the knights. She had sworn her life against the men, and now here she was, nearly four hours of trying to save Lancelot's life.

"Why?" he asked her. She turned towards him, but shook her head. "Why are you doing this? You didn't want to help the men; in fact your primary goal was to kill our commander. Why are you helping us now?"

Sybilla stopped washing the bandages and stood with her wet hands on her hips. She turned once again towards Tristan, but wasn't able to find the proper words for him. Truth be told, she honestly didn't know why she had stayed. Sybilla knew that she could never return to Constantinople without having killed Arthur and the knights but she knew now that there was no way she could kill them.

She tried to ignore his question by busying herself with other meaningless tasks. But Tristan knew this ploy, and he wouldn't let her remain silent. She walked around one of the bowls placing a towel on the ledge to dry, but he cut her off before she made it back to the bowl of water. "Why, Sybilla?" He placed his hand under her chin bringing her face to meet his eyes.

Sybilla shoved his hand away as she walked back towards the bowls, but did nothing. She looked up to him, and opened her mouth as if she wanted to speak but did not know the words to say. Another moment passed before she spoke. "Honestly I don't know what is keeping me. But I knew I couldn't leave without speaking with you, I suppose part of me wanted to stay just to make sure you were all right. Obviously you are," she said as she broke off the minimal eye contact and began cleaning the last of the rags.

"You haven't tried to kill Arthur since we put you in the cell." He stated the fact, but Sybilla knew he wanted a reason.

"I couldn't take away the only family you have left. That would make me more of a monster than I even want to think about." Sybilla couldn't make eye contact with Tristan, but instead kept her eyes on the filthy rag in her hands.

"Is that the only reason?" He said as he moved closer to Sybilla. He stood next to the assassin. The proximity of the man sent a shiver down Sybilla's spine; it was a place she had dreamt of for years, but now that she was in the position she wasn't sure what to do.

She looked into Tristan's eyes, biting her lip she quietly replied. "There are other things I have wanted to say to you, but I suppose now none of them matter."

"Things like what?" He said as he moved his head to get a piece of his long black hair out of his face.

"They don't matter anymore, Tristan. Let us leave it at that," Sybilla said as she laid the bandages on a table near the fire. She would check on them in a few hours, hoping they would be dried. She knew Lancelot's bandages would need to be changed by then.

Sybilla started to move towards the door leading outside, when Tristan stealthily moved between her and the door. "What if I don't want to leave it at that, Sybilla? What if I need to know the answer before you leave this room?" She had never heard him speak so adamantly before and wondered what was bringing on this sense of charisma, for it was entrancing.

"Why?" she finally said through clenched teeth.

"You tried to kill Arthur, and for all I know this is a game you're playing. You want to get close to us… you get close to us, we let our guard down and then you strike."

"If I wanted to do that Tristan, then Lancelot would already be dead. I wouldn't waste my talents on someone I was only going to kill later. I'm not that cruel!"

"Then why, Sybilla?!" he began to raise his voice, something Sybilla had only seen him do once before. When Sybilla had been foolish enough to steal his father's sword and hide it in the little stables they had in their village. Tristan had become livid when he couldn't find the sword to practice with, he was ranting and raving around the village, before Sybilla finally told him where it was. He didn't speak to her for a week, and only then had she promised to herself, she was never going to cross Tristan again.

"I promised you that no harm would come to them, and I never go back on my word, Tristan. You know that!" Sybilla shouted back, her anger started to rise within her. In her younger years she was too cowardly to stand up to Tristan, she had only ever wanted to please him, but she was older now.

"And what about the word you gave to the man that hired you? The promise you gave him that you would kill us?" The question stung Sybilla harder than a dagger piercing her vein, but it went unanswered.

Suddenly a crash came from the opposite doorway of the room. It startled them both, as they looked to a chair lying on the ground. Galahad and Gawain stood in the doorway, staring at the Eastern and their brother in arms.

"Are we interrupting something?" Galahad questioned as they moved into the room.

"Nothing, I was just getting some things to take up to Lancelot's quarters, Tristan was trying to help me. Too bad he knows nothing about healing," Sybilla said as she pushed her way past Tristan and other two knights. She never looked back towards Tristan, that wasn't her style. She never looked back, no matter what happened in her life, she refused to look back, and it only brought pain.

Tristan stood in the kitchen looking at his two brothers, who looked to him for only a moment longer. Galahad walked over to a large barrel and filled his mug with some ale. While Gawain moved towards the bloodied water bowls that Sybilla had left in the kitchen.

"What was that about?" Gawain finally said to break the silence.

"I don't trust her," Tristan replied coldly.

"Neither do we," Galahad retorted, "but she did save Lancelot's life, and she was well trained on the battlefield. She could be an asset."

"That woman is trouble, always has been." Tristan said as he followed Galahad's action and poured himself a mug of ale.

"And how do you know that?" Gawain said as he took the mug from Galahad forcing the younger knight to get another mug of ale.

"Old friends from home," Tristan said staring into the amber liquid in his mug. "She's an assassin…no good may come her staying here."

Sybilla walked up stairs towards Lancelot's room. She didn't know if the knights wanted her to return to her cell, especially since they hadn't offered her another place to sleep. So for now she had decided that she was going to keep an eye on the knight. Slipping into Lancelot's room she was pleased to see that he was sleeping soundly. The first sign of infection would have been a hot sensation in his forehead; he wasn't showing signs of that. That pleased Sybilla.

She sat down in a chair near the side of his bed, and gazed out the window. It was only open a slight crack, just to allow some fresh air into the room. The rain was still coming down in sheets. It was a new thing for Sybilla to see so much rain, after growing up in the desert. She leaned back in the chair, wondering about her next move. Tristan had brought up a valid point; it wouldn't be long until Arthur questioned her motives. Tristan asking this question so quickly only told Sybilla that it would not be long until Arthur asked the same ones. Her problem was she didn't know what to tell them.

As her mind thought about what to tell Arthur, it also dwelled on the conversation she had with her master, before she came to the Island of the Mighty.

It had been a warm day, as it commonly was in Constantinople. The sun was shining on the beautiful palace that was placed in the center of the city. People were constantly moving in and out of the building, which made it easy for Sybilla to enter. She never entered through the main gate; she either used the servants' passage, which was set below the actual city or the soldiers' gate. At this time in the morning it was safer to use the servants' entrance, most soldiers were still at Morning Prayer – newly found Christians.

Creeping her way into the palace, she found herself admiring the beautiful, priceless pieces of art that lined the walls. She was sure Alexios had no idea the extent of his collection. Pieces of work that would have fed his army for months were placed on the walls and hardly admired. For some reason this morning, Sybilla decided to admire the works; in the back of her mind she felt she wouldn't be seeing them again. If everything was going right today, Alexios would be giving her the last assignment of her enslavement. She would do her job, her despicable job, one last time and then she could have the life she had always wanted – a home, and a family.

She had reached Alexios' private chambers and knocked quietly four times. At this hour he answered the door himself, and allowed her in. It was rare person to be able to gain an audience with the Emperor at only an hour past dawn. But Sybilla was no average person, she was his servant. He had paid for Sybilla when she was only a young girl, and her enslavement had been for eleven years, which was up this year.

He looked her up and down, with his demeaning but at the same time adoring eyes. He hadn't gained his position because of his intellect or his renowned respect, Sybilla had killed for it. Senators, soldiers and royal family had been assassinated for Alexios to be in his position, and Sybilla was not one to let him forget it.

"Good Morning Assassin," he said with a demeaning tone.

"Sire," she said giving a slight nod in return. She maintained a sense of grace when she was around him, although many times he revolted her.

"Your last mission," he whispered as he motioned toward a scroll on the desk. She walked over towards the scroll and opened it. It revealed the markings of Rome, one she was used to seeing after the devastation she had created in the scramble to make Alexios Emperor.

"Artorious Castus?" She continued reading out loud. "And what has the great Artorious done to require my specific talents?"

"The Emperor of Rome is fond of the man they call Artorious. If he falls, the Empire in Britannia falls – then the Byzantine Empire can pick it up."

"And what would you want with the grey lands of Britannia? They have nothing to offer an Empire such as ours."

"No, but through them, and through the Sarmatian Knights that Artorious commands, I can get to Rome."

"The ever-grasping hand always wants more." Sybilla said under her breath.

"I want Rome that has always been the ultimate goal."

"So my killing for the throne of Byzantium wasn't enough for you? You want the whole of the Roman Empire as well?"

Alexios looked at her with critical eyes, "don't try and talk politics with me, you will lose Assassin." He never wanted her to forget her position.

"Of course not, my Lord." There was a slight pause while she tried to re-read the scroll. It wouldn't be leaving Alexios' chambers. "So Artorious and all his knights are the assignment?"

"All of them, if Rome thinks that they've been killed by the natives then he'll make war with them and wear their own armies thin. And who will be there to scoop up the pieces?"

"Emperor Alexios," Sybilla said to ease his mind. She threw the scroll into the fire of the hearth.

"Don't forget Assassin," she looked to Alexios already certain of what he would say next, "if you're captured you're already dead, and you never existed in Byzantium."

"Promise me one thing… per usual...." her voice drifted off, waiting for Alexios to finish it.

"Psellos will be alive when you return… and unharmed," he said with a smile on his face. She didn't think he would be stupid enough to kill his highest lieutenant but she would put nothing past the most unscrupulous man she had ever met.

"Then consider Artorious and his knights already dead," Sybilla said as she gave a final bow and left the room.

She walked down the hall into the attached garden of the palace. It was one of the most serene places she could find in Constantinople. It was always a bustling city, one thing she disliked about it. But in the garden she could cleanse her thoughts.

"It went well I suppose?" A voice said from behind her.

She spun around and walked over to the awaiting arms of Michael Psellos. It was no hidden love, at least not from the members to Alexios' closest staff. Michael and her commonly met in the gardens when she was in the city, most of the staff though didn't know who she was. Just another woman of the Imperial Court they would guess. Michael held her close as she took in the warmth.

"I have my last assignment, and then I can be done with this. It can be just me and you." Sybilla whispered into his ear.

"And the ghosts you carry with you," he said in return. They broke from the embrace and settled on a bench in the rising sunshine.

"Ghosts we both will carry with us."

"But both different," he said giving her the look he did when he would make clear that her job was much more gruesome and evil than his.

"You take lives when you have to, as do I. I am given an order and it must be obeyed. We are servants of the same master, you in plain sight," Sybilla said running a finger up and down his red cloak. "And me in secret."

"At least it will soon be over," he said bringing his face close to hers.

"Very soon, my love," she said pushing their lips together.

A flock of birds flew away from one of the olive trees in the garden making a racket and telling Sybilla it was time to fly from these shores. Michael held her one more time, before she reluctantly let go of him and they began to walk their separate ways.

"Sybilla," he called before they had left the garden. She walked back over to him, never wanting to shout when so many unwanted ears may be listening in. "Just be careful in Britannia, I've heard horror stories of those shores. Uncivilized men, brutish tactics and spies everywhere."

She cupped his face in her hand, "You make it sound like we don't live in the same conditions here." He smiled at her retort, it was true, Constantinople was just a bad. "Michael, be careful here. I don't trust Alexios."

"Neither do I."

"Watch your back." She said as she kissed him one final time good-bye.

Sybilla suddenly woke up, curious as to where she was. It was a comfort and a fear that she really was in Britannia. She looked over and saw Lancelot roused a bit from his slumber. Shaking the sleep from her eyes, she walked over to the bowl of fresh water she had brought up with her from the kitchen. She hadn't realized how much she missed Michael until now. Not returning to Constantinople could mean undue pain for him, but she knew if she returned without nine dead knights, it would mean her death. Shaking her head, Sybilla knew she needed to think this out more clearly.

She walked over to Lancelot and placed a cool cloth on his forehead. He had not gained a fever and she took this as a good sign. He woke up as she rung the towel out near his bedside.

"Wha-what are you doing here?" he said, still weak but trying to show her that he was not.

"Relax," she soothed as she placed her hands on his shoulders. She pushed him back down into the bed, and picked up the towel again. "You were injured yesterday in a battle with the Woads; you're back at the fort with a healing side. So please don't strain yourself." Sybilla placed the towel back on his forehead.

"You're not trying to kill me?" He asked suspiciously.

She smiled and gave a small laugh, "now why would I heal you, just to kill you later? Seems like a waste of time and talent if you ask me."

"You healed me?"

"That I did."

"Why?" He asked with a strained voice, just this small conversation was wearing him out.

"Because I couldn't come up with a good excuse not to," she said with a grin. "Now go back to sleep, your body needs to re-cooperate."

"You won't kill me while I'm asleep will you?" He said with a cautious grin on his childish face.

"If you promise not to kill me while you're awake."

"Deal."

"Deal."

He allowed himself to fall back into the bed, as Sybilla pulled another blanket on top of him. The wind and picked up a bit and she didn't want him to catch a cold. Walking to the window, in order to shut it, she realized that the rain had stopped and a red sun was rising on the horizon. A strange feeling gnawed at her stomach, as if something she was least prepared for was heading in her direction. She stood at the window, letting the wind whip past her. Someone was coming from Constantinople, and she knew it was going to be her death.

I hope you all enjoyed it! Please review and let me know what I can change/improve etc. Thanks!!! I hope to update ASAP!!!!! Keep those reviews coming!!