Lys: Night Comes to the Eyrie

Just like that, the conversation went over her again, she forgotten and left to listen. Faith, they should be thankful I am who I am, with all I am allowed to hear! That they would trust her, an enslaved Scotti, not to fly off and report to some enemy or other, was something of a wonder.
But Gauls were worse than Romans, and she'd voiced that opinion at least once.

The trust did not go unappreciated.

Artos- Artos, of whom she had heard so much, now laid low with a wound- made an exclamation, and it broke her from her reverie. Suddenly she realized the enemy was coming here. Here, to Lord Ambrosius's rath. And beyond that, the people who lived here did not seem very secure. There was a bustle and a small flurry to get things ready- a battle was coming soon, much sooner than she'd expected, and her heart tore to think of such a welcoming place laid bare to violence.

She rose when Lord Ambrosius rose, bowed as he left, and dutifully helped Master Lucius to his sleeping quarters, Cu trailing along behind them. He had found a friend in Jason's dog, for which Aithne was glad. It could've gone the other way just as easily.

Wulf was already there to see to Master Lucius's evening routine, so Aithne left the room, feeling suddenly awkward at the prospect of Artos, Lord Ambrosius's own nephew, showing her, a slave, to her quarters. She stood by quietly and waited for him to lead or send as he would.