Hello friends. I was a little stunned at the lack of Joshua Graham (3) on this website, so I wrote a thing. Reviews appreciated. As I side note I also took the name Lavinia from Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus. Enjoy!

Romans 2 (2-4):

Now we know that God's judgment against those who do such things is based on truth.3 So when you, a mere human being, pass judgment on them and yet do the same things, do you think you will escape God's judgment?4 Or do you show contempt for the richesof his kindness,forbearanceand patience,not realizing that God's kindness is intended to lead you to repentance?

I was blessed with a husband. Nervous on the day of my engagement of course, but in the end, the good Lord God had blessed me. Men here are not kind, nor gentle. The day that we are betrothed is one of agonizing anxiety. Women here—we are treated like servants. Although perhaps servant is too kind of a word. Slaves. Trash, even. If we are lucky, we are betrothed to those in high enough standing, that we are able to be arm-candy. Our only purpose being to look pretty to be an asset to our man. We are to serve our husbands, treat them like kings, maybe bear a few children. But if we are married, if we have made it far enough to even become betrothed, we have overcome immense difficulties. Women are slaved since young-adulthood. Worked until they can work no more. These women are less lucky than even us. They live in squalor and die in silence.

But the women do more than the men think.

They think that we are quiet and obedient. They think that we do not interfere with the politicis of the Legion, that we would never go behind their backs.

Wrong.

I once knew a woman who called herself Chiquita. A woman of Mexican descent, captured from the south. She was so outraged by the Legion Captain who overthrew her village, that one day, while he was in camp; she poisoned him by slipping something into his drink one evening. Accusations of who killed him were immediately flung around between the men, yet no one ever would have thought that the murderer was nothing but a lowly slave woman. And she got away with it flawlessly. The women had spoken.

In the end, however, she was crucified for peddling drugs that she would get from the Great Khans and then hike up the prices to Legion men and members of the NCR in order to make money to then buy food and medicine for the rest of the women at camp. She was a genius. I learned everything that I knew from that woman. I was fifteen or so when she finally died.

When she was hung on the cross near Red Rock Canyon to serve as an example in her punishment, the women of the Legion wept. We had lost a hero. We are beyond sure that her soul now rests peacefully with God in heaven, yet she was crucified as a sinner, just as Jesus himself was.

But even Jesus rose from hell.

I remember being dressed up to the finest. Betrothal day. Presentations, they called it, a lovely euphemism for the equivalent of selling human livestock at the market. Bachelors are to put out requests for what type of lady they would like to see as a potential match. Then, we are paraded before them like pieces of meat at a butcher, and if a bachelor likes any of us, they will eventually whittle down the contestants until they have one that they would like to choose as their wife. It is a competitive process. Girls will often do anything to get married to a man in high standing, rather than resorting to being slaves for the rest of their mortal lives. I was not expecting me to get what is known as a call by one of these men. A call could be anything from: all women with blue eyes, to women born out of Legion captivity. I was stunned to hear that I was called at all. One man wanted to see me. Only one. I got one call, and that was all.

Once I had been placed into a long lavender dress and my face decorated with makeup and fine lines, I was told to wait outside of one of the bright red tents where each one of the bachelors were sitting. We would be called in when it was our time to be shown. An excruciating wait ensued.

A man exited a tent and grabbed me harshly by the arm, bringing me all too fast to meet my husband-to-be. That's when I first saw him. The warm smile of his.

"And the third one. This is Lavinia, Sir." I was presented. The man sitting in a chair stared at me for a moment looking like he was locked in deep thought, but no words escaped him. He was in Legionnaire armor, badges and adornments showed that he was in relatively high standing. Not that it mattered to me, I doubted he would take me as his wife, anyway. After several long moments of deep silence, my escort gestured to me and asked: "What do you think of her, Sir?"

"What is her background?" He asked.

"Tribal. Just like you asked. She's an unusual tribal, however. Fair, from the coast of the Pacific Northwest, and her eyes are green."

"Green?" He asked. Then he squinted and leaned forward in his chair, getting a good look at me. He then cracked a gentle smile. A warm smile. A genuine smile. Something so rarely seen on the mouths of the Legion men. "So they are."

He turned and snatched small bundle of grapes from a gigantic bowl of fruits off of a nearby table with his rough and weathered hands. He began eating them, taking them one-by-one off of the vine and then popping them into his mouth like candy. Food such as that was a luxury to us women, unless we were married. It was torture seeing the men eat like this day in and day out, while we were made to starve, eating table scraps and cheap wheat. "Why is her hair so short?" He asked.

"Sir?"

"She has a slave-cut," he remarked, casually, eating several more grapes. I watched them disappear into his mouth. I ached for something as sweet and wonderful as a grape. Just one. And yet he ate them like they were nothing. "I want to know why her hair has been cut short. It's unflattering."

The man who escorted me in looked sheepish as he quickly scrambled for words. I sunk down in stature. Here it comes. "Well to tell you the truth sir, yesterday while we were preparing the ladies in waiting for presentation day, we were so certain that no one had put in a call for Lavinia that we went ahead and chopped her hair and wrote her off as a slave." My hair was cut short, like a boy's. Most of the girls got to keep their hair long and elegant, braided up and twisted and pinned and curled so that when they were to meet their prospective husbands, they would look beautiful and feminine. My boyish cut was very unattractive. A pixie cut. A slave cut. "Trust me, Sir. We were all surprised to hear that you had put in a call for her."

"I requested a call for all of the available women of tribal backgrounds. I like their faces. Why is this one so different than the others?"

"She's a troublemaker, Sir," my escort growled. "She might be pretty, but she is in a lot of trouble."

"How so?"

"Where do I begin," my escort sneered, casting an angry glance at me. "She's been caught doing almost every crime in the book. Lying, stealing…and I even heard rumors that she knows how to read."

"Read?" The bachelor asked in horror. Women not allowed to learn how to read. It might encourage us to think for ourselves and reject our lowly positions as bedmates and slaves. Reading was freedom. And freedom was not allowed for any woman among the Legion.

"Precisely, Sir. She is by all means the absolute wrong choice! I highly encourage you to…"

"She's beautiful," he said with his warm smile, his brown eyes gliding up and down my form. But then something changed. His lovely-dovy look evaporated from his face, and his expression became steely and cold. It was such a sudden shift in his demeanor that it made a shiver go up my spine. This man was mentally unstable. That, or something wasn't right here. He sat back in his chair and stared at me once more. "And a troublemaker…I've always thought that if I were to be married she must have spirit. A work in progress. I could train her. Make her obedient." He paused again, and then a small smirk curled onto his lips. "A troublemaker…yes. She's the one I want."

And that was that.

I was stunned, as was my escort.

"Sir…you cannot be serious," he stammered.

"I am," he replied, firmly. "I will make her mine. Body, mind, and soul. I assure you that you can trust her with me. I have a firm hand, and I will make her obedient. If she does as much as disobey me once, I will assure you she will be punished. Harshly."

My hands gripped either side of my dress, the fabric bunching up between the gaps in my fingers. I had hoped that no one would have chosen me as their bride. In fact, I was completely surprised that anyone had put in a call for me at all on presentation day. And now I was to be married? To him? Another abusive Legion husband? No. This can't be happening.

"Well then," the escort said, clearing his throat and looking rather like he might vomit all of a sudden, "good luck with this one. She's probably going to need a lot of…discipline."

"Discipline is easy. Are you forgetting of my position within the ranks?"

"Yes, Admiral—I mean…no, Admiral."

"Good. Now, I believe it is customary for us to have some time to speak, now that we are engaged?" He asked. My heart was racing. No. No! I refuse to marry this man!

"Yes, of course. Um…simply come out of the tent when you are ready. The weddings are happening in two days' time, so…just…you have time to change your mind. Celebratory dinner is at sunset. You and your…uh…wife will be expected to attend."

"Goodbye, Squire," the Admiral insisted, harshly. My escort, the Squire, left. I was left in the room with this horrible man who I was now engaged to. He made it quite clear that he intended to be rough with me, as all Legion men were. I would not stand for it.

The flap covering the door closed…and as soon as we were alone…his face softened. "I am Admiral Tertius," he replied, warmly. "I'm sorry, I had to put on a show for them. I have to appear tough. To be honest with you, I think the way that most Legion men treat women is sickening."

I stared at him for a moment in disbelief. After that performance, I had to think for a moment if I had just hallucinated the words that just came out of his mouth. "You…" I began. "I'm sorry, I'm just…confused."

"I had to put on a show. I would never lay a finger on you, although—I do hope you don't mind I called you beautiful so unabashedly. My mother did not raise me this way." He smiled.

"Oh…" I said, a smile even coming to my lips. His voice was so soft. It was so uncommon for a man of the Legion, however it was beyond welcome.

"My mother was a tribal," he said, "hence my weakness for tribal women. And she was sharp as a tack. Also hence why I find smart women…quite appealing."

"The men don't like me," I replied quietly, almost in a whisper, my eyes glancing downward at the patted dirt floor. "They beat me and call me a whore. They threatened to cut my tongue out just last week…"

"Your tongue? Whatever for?"

"Telling stories," I sighed. "I was telling some of the children the ghost story about the Burned Man."

"But that's just a story!"

"Apparently it's a dangerous story," I replied with a frown. "It gives people hope. And that's a dangerous thing."

He stared at me for a brief moment in bewilderment, but then he visibly shook it from his mind. "How awful of me," he said, extending his hand. "Tertius."

I gently placed my hand in his. "Lavinia," I replied. His hand was warmer than I had expected it to be. It was welcoming. It gently closed around mine and held it.

"Lavinia," he sighed. "What a lovely name. It's Latin. Were you born under the Legion?"

"Yes," I replied. "My parents were tribals from the North-Pacific coast. My mother was pregnant with me when the Legion sacked their camp. They killed my father. Enslaved my mother. And then I was born. They let her keep me. They've…made it quite clear that they regret making that decision," I said, trying to be lighthearted.

"Can I ask just what it is that you do that makes them so angry with you?"

"I can read, for starters," I replied. "I steal books from tents, read them, and then return them. I teach others to read as well. I've stolen medicine from the doctor when there was someone who needed it, and then lied about it. I've forged notes. I can write, too. I've manipulated soldiers into thinking other soldiers hate them. My laundry list of crimes is hardly short."

"The only crime that you have committed is being smarter than most of the men, here," Tertius sighed. "They don't like smart women. I on the other hand," his grip strengthened on my hand once again, however it was not painfully tight. "I love it when a woman is smarter than me. It's how my mother was with my father, and perhaps I absorbed that as a boy."

I bit my lip and stared at him. "What is it, my love?" He asked, now looking concerned. I took my hand from his, and he looked a little surprised.

"I'm not your love," I replied, forcefully. He was taken aback, but I was not going to take any kind of nonsense from anyone, let alone a man of the Legion. His words were kind, but I was not sure if I could trust him. I had learned long ago not to trust any man. We had to take things slower than that. "We just met. I was just thinking…that you are a very unusual man."

"And you are a very unusual woman," he replied with a shrug. I rolled my eyes and turned from him. He sighed. "I know you have been hurt in your life. Men have been nothing but cruel to you. But I promise you I will not be."

"Well then I suppose we will see if you are true to your words by your actions, Admiral."

"Tertius."

"Admiral," I insisted, a considerable succinct bite to my words, "you are still a stranger to me. I have no reason to trust you just because we are to be married."

He paused at my words, then gave a single and serious nod, pursing his lips together. He immediately knew that I was not going to be won that easily. And I wasn't going to be. Growing up as a woman under these men meant that I had to construct some of the highest, largest, thickest walls around myself, just to make sure that I could protect myself. I've been beaten, whipped, burned, almost everything possible, for doing nothing more than petty crimes such as nicking milk for the babes at the slave camp. They would have died without it. The mothers often could not produce proper milk because they were so malnourished, and heaven forbid a child become orphaned. And I was the one with the sticky fingers. Whenever something was needed—I was the one to call. So I always reaped the punishments.

I was terrified the women and slaves would suffer if I was married to an Admiral. I would no longer be able to live in my same tent, for we would be expected to share a bed as a married couple. Who would take care of them?

"I know," he sighed, hanging his head. "You have no reason to trust me. But…just give me time. I promise you that I will make you feel comfortable. And loved."

Loved.

"We shall see, Admiral," I replied with a nod. "We shall see."

"We will be married in a few short days. It's incredible, isn't it? How quickly this moves."

"Yes, well, it's because we are seen as accessories, not people," I sighed. Tertius cracked a smile.

"I want you to be more than just an accessory, Lavinia." He said, warmly. The way my name sounded in his voice…it was perhaps the first time I had heard my name from the mouth of a Legionnaire in way that was not filled with contempt or anger. It was calm. It was gentle. It was filled with admiration. And it was…lovely. "I understand your position."

"Thank you," I whispered.

"You're welcome. Dinner is soon. Are you…hungry?"

"I…get to eat with you?" I asked. Real food! Food for the Legionnaires! Roasted meat, fresh vegetables, wine…

"You probably haven't had a decent meal in a long time," he said, warmly, seeing the excitement in my eyes. "It might be nice to put a few more pounds on you. Get you to a healthy weight. Get some nutrients."

"I would…I would be honored to eat with you!" I cried with joy. My stomach had been empty for so long that I had ceased feeling hungry at all. I was so used to getting by on so little, the prospect of eating such a grand meal as a celebration dinner was both exciting and daunting.

"Then let's eat, my bride-to-be," he replied with a smile, offering his hand to me once more. I took it, and with an excited smile, he led me from the tent and we walked united out into the sunlight.