Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, plot details, or other bits of information having to do with the King Arthur movie or legends. The title was taken from a ZOEgirl song. Not mine.
Some nights she would lie awake, drifting between waking and sleeping, between present and past. That dusky hour before exhaustion took hold was the only time in which she could relive her memories freely. The rest of her time was centered firmly around the harsh reality of her present. Her daylight hours were devoted to an unwavering routine of work in a household that did not belong to her. She was grateful, as was expected of her, for the security with which she was provided, but she could not learn to love a life that was not her own. A servant's life. A grim future full of labor but lacking its fruits. However, her nighttime musings transported her back to a time when she had been free. She had even been happy.
A small girl stood at the bank of a river, having just finished the day's wash for her pregnant mother. She was a dutiful child, loyal due to her love for her family. She normally would not have delayed her return for a moment, but now she lingered, mesmerized by the play of several boys of the village. Never in her decade of life had she seen anything so entrancing. Their game was one of war, neither surprising nor out of place at that time. The boys flew at each other with sticks and toy weapons, not yet understanding the meaning nor the necessity of their game, not knowing that they had already begun the training that would take them nearly two decades to complete. Their movements were clumsy now, but in time, they would learn the dance of deadly grace; they would be swift and efficient in battle, bordering on ruthlessness in their accuracy.
The girl watched this phenomenon unfold and take shape before her. She felt the natural awe while watching them, but there was also a cold shudder of fear inside her. She feared for her brothers, though she had no reason. It was only a game. She stepped forward to return home, but a hand caught her wrist, halting her were she stood.
"I've got a prisoner!" a large boy shouted to his comrades, "Don't move, Ava, woman prisoners never fight back." Ava had not struggled; she did not want to spill her freshly cleaned clothes.
"Let her go, Theran," another boy cried. He was much smaller than the first, but immediately conveyed great intelligence and empathy through his bright eyes.
"I won't until you give me a reason to," Theran taunted. The smaller boy ran at Ava's captor and the two began to tussle. The other boys surrounded the pair and cheered them on. Ava quickly made her escape, looking back once to see both boys being congratulated by their friends for a fight well fought. She smiled at the unfathomable ways of boys and turned into her parents' home to help start dinner.
She sighed and turned over on her cot. The moon shone too brightly for sleep tonight. Rising and donning a light summer robe, she left the small room for the milky-blue courtyard. She paused briefly, remembering the reports of disturbances along the nearby countryside, but for tonight, she decided not to worry. It was too nice a night to be concerned with savages and war. A slight rustle alerted her of another's presence behind her, and she turned to see the strained face of her young mistress.
"Cardea," the lady of the house could not pronounce her barbarian name Ava, and she called her by the name she had given her, the name of the old Roman goddess, the protector of children, for that was one of the servant's duties.
"I couldn't sleep," she gave as her answer.
The frightened woman looked sharply at her. "Did you dream of them too?"
Cardea peered into the eyes of the woman who had been something of a friend these past five years. "Of whom do you speak?" she murmured in her accented Latin.
"The knights," the lady replied, "They come to fight the barbarians who attack this house." She looked out to the edges of forest a long distance off as the light breeze became a gust of strong wind. Cardea started at the strange declaration.
"Should I wake the children? I will protect them, Juliana. You needn't fear for them."
"Yes, go to them. They will be frightened and you alone can calm them."
Cardea nodded silently. She knew her mistress had always been jealous of the bond Cardea shared with the children. She had practically raised them, and they looked to her first for comfort and guidance. As she entered the nursery, the wails of the small children met her ears.
"Hush," she whispered, "don't cry little ones." She latched the door snugly behind her and sat the two children on her lap. Stroking their hair and rocking them slightly, she began to hum a tune from her own childhood. Beyond the room's walls, she heard the horses crying out in fear. Whether it was the wind or the commotion of the household that had woken them, the animals sensed the coming danger far more keenly than any of their human companions.
"Shall I tell you a story?" she smiled down at the toddling boy and the wide-eyed, thumb-sucking girl who reminded her so much of herself, "Once upon a time, there was a kingdom that was set upon by enemy soldiers. They ate all the food and stayed in the people's houses. The people of the kingdom could not defeat the enemy on their own. They didn't know how they would ever be rid of them, until…"
"Arthur!" the children cried.
"That's right!" Cardea laughed, "Arthur and his Knights of the East. They came to help the people and freed them from the enemies' clutches. The people were so thankful that they held a great feast to celebrate. No army dared attack the kingdom again because they knew it was under the protection of those knights."
"Cardea, will the knights come to free you?" the little girl asked innocently.
Cardea smiled. "Now, I'm not set upon, am I? This is my home now. It will be when you both have grown up and gotten married, and it will be even after that." Behind her smile, the dark cloud of dread dimmed the light in her eyes. Her worst fear was to remain a servant to this family until her death. They were not unkind people, but Cardea valued nothing more than her freedom. Since birth, she had been taught to cherish it above all else, even her own life.
"Ava," her mother sat next her at the water's edge, bathing her toddling son, "you are so quiet today. What is wrong, little one?"
Ava remained silent until she had finished braiding her younger sister's hair. Watching the little girl run off to play, she sighed. "You have told me many times that one day I would be married. When the knights return from their Roman service, I will wed one of them."
"That is true. Your father served Rome, as your brother will someday. Since you are the daughter of a knight, you will marry the son of one of his comrades. You know this, but what is troubling you?"
"The knights, are they not free? I am free until I must marry, but they will never know freedom again." She frowned, confused as only a child can be by the traditional ways of the world.
"Little one," her mother smiled, "marriage is not a tether as the Roman service is. It is the celebration of a bond between two people. That bond is so strong that it can never be broken, not even by death. When you are married, you will be free to be yourself with your husband. He will be the only one who truly understands you; you and he will be as one forever. That is true freedom."
Ava merely stared in awe at her mother. The knights had been gone for almost a year now. It would be fourteen years before they returned. She wondered how they could wait so long to be free.
Cardea had dozed off in the warm room with the children next to her, but a loud thud against the door awoke her instantly.
"Hide in the cupboard, little ones," she told them, helping them into the crawl space in the wall.
"Cardea," the children moaned, but she shushed them quickly. She then shoved open the window, hoping that when the attackers broke through they would assume the children had already escaped through it. As soon as she had forced it open, the door gave way. Cardea whipped around, only to catch a blow to the jaw that threw her to the floor.
"Where are the children?" demanded a gruff voice from above. His tone might have been harsh, but his Latin was perfect. The two men standing before her were not barbarian savages after all, but part of a rival company of Romans.
"I will not give them to you," she answered in her native eastern tongue. She knew she needed to buy herself time. She had no idea what these men had done to the rest of the house, and in real life, Sarmatian knights did not appear out of thin air whenever there was trouble. The Romans indeed seemed confused by the unfamiliar language, and Cardea took the opportunity to flee through the open window. She was halfway through when she felt a tug on the hem of her robe. The light fabric tore easily; she was free. Stumbling from the house and climbing the adjacent hill to gain a vantage point, she took in the total damage to the house. There was little structural damage, but she had no way of knowing what havoc the soldiers had wreaked within. She would have felt uneasy leaving the children alone in the cupboard, but from her perch, she could see a group of her master's friends and comrades riding toward the estate. They were sure to find the children in the nursery and care for them as was fit.
With nothing tying her to the house below, she struck off into the woods in search of that which was most valuable to her, the one thing she had pined over these last five years.