The story starts when Arthur and his knights are at Marius Honorius' manor, waiting for the Romans to gather their things and watching Dagonet break into the dungeon. Please review :)

Disclaimer: Toril is mine, but nothing else is.

The faint sound of drums came through the air, rhythmic and pulsing until it seemed to even alter the cadence of their heartbeats. The peasants stopped to listen fearfully before hurrying off to gather their meager belongings, almost stumbling over each other in their haste. The Roman soldiers scanned the sky as if they were trying to see the drummers hovering there, above the trees. Even Arthur's knights and the Roman commander himself looked edgy as they watched Dagonet smash through the stone and plaster barrier at the door of the low hut, several of them adjusting their hold on their weapons. The only one who hadn't changed his expression was Tristan. He watched as Dagonet crashed through the stone and mortar and then kicked the rough wooden door into splinters. He watched as Arthur, Lancelot, Dagonet, Gawain, and several of the filthy priests entered that dark hole and disappeared from view.

After a moment of waging war within himself, Tristan swung off his horse and stood at the door to the dungeon, his expression still not changing. He had no need to go in and was needed more outside, but he felt something pulling at him, something telling him to go in, something that would not be silenced. So with a pointed glance at Bors and Galahad, he strode into the low building behind the other knights, past the instruments of torture, following the stairs down, down into the cool depths below ground. His nose wrinkled slightly, almost imperceptively as he descended and a strong stench became apparent. There was death down below and he grimaced.

Although he was often scorned by the other knights for finding pleasure in dealing death, he took no pleasure in hanging around afterwards. This, combined with the stench and the walls closing so tightly in around him almost caused him to turn back, to escape back to the open air and broad sky where his horse and his hawk were waiting. But that something inside him clenched at the thought of turning back, at not seeing what was down there, so he continued on.

Almost immediately the stairs ended and it opened up into a large chamber, filled with smaller cells sealed with bars. Tristan entered the large chamber in time to see Lancelot pull his sword out of one of the greasy, unkempt men who evidently controlled this underground lair, and he joined the other knights in working his way down the long room, checking each cell for life.

Moving past where Arthur was pulling a young woman from her prison, Tristan walked past several cells where the inhabitants had wasted away into nothing. In the last cell, however, Tristan's gaze was met by a pair of pale, icy blue eyes set in the thin white face of a woman. She was lying on her side angled away from him, her cheek resting on her shoulder. Her gaze was intense, and Tristan blinked. It was almost as if she recognized him, as if she knew he would be the one to find her. His eyes lingered on her face for a moment, on the brown tattoos on her cheekbones, identical to his own, then his curved sword sliced cleanly through the chains holding the cell door in place.

A small groan escaped her lips as he pulled her towards himself and she shook her head. He frowned at her, not understanding, and she raised her arms. Tristan's eyes widened slightly as he saw that she had been tied limb to limb, face to face, with the person who had previously inhabited the cell. His throat clenched and he had to force his features into their usual non-expression.

"There is not enough room in here." Her jaw worked slightly, but she nodded, wrapping her arms around her dead cell mate so that Tristan could pull them both out easily.

Once they were in the bigger chamber Tristan wasted no time in separating the woman from the dead body, and as soon as she was free, she scrambled as far away from the rotting corpse as the walls and her strength would allow, relief etched across her pale face. Tristan sheathed his sword and crouched beside her, moving to pick her up, but she shook her head again.

"I walk out of this hell." Her voice was low and throaty, with an accent he had never heard before. He nodded shortly and helped her to rise, then walked close behind her as she limped painfully towards the stairs, her arms wrapped around her middle, but her head held high.

More than once she stumbled on their way up the stairs, but she pushed Tristan's hands away and continued unassisted, albeit more slowly and painfully. Tristan could hear her breathing becoming laboured, and he had almost made up his mind to just sweep her up into his arms when they reached the surface and the open air. When they had made it several steps away from the low doorway, she breathed in the fresh air and sighed, slumping against his chest.

Tristan lowered her gently to the ground where she leaned comfortably against him, her back to his chest, her head on his shoulder. He motioned to Jols, who was there instantly with a water skin. The woman sputtered and coughed as the water first touched her parched throat, but she gulped it down gratefully, handing the empty skin back to the squire with a whispered thanks. She then tipped her head back against Tristan's shoulder so the sun touched her face, and closed her eyes with another sigh.

"Is the boy Lucan out?" Tristan scanned the crowd for a second.

"He is with Dagonet." She nodded.

"And Guinevere?"

"With Arthur." Another nod.

"Good." As she enjoyed the feeling of the sun on her face, Tristan took several seconds to study the woman he had freed. She was thin from lack of food, but not desperately so. After a few good meals, he realized, she would be beautiful. Her face was slim, but not pinched; with smooth, creamy skin, a full pink mouth, a small, pert nose with a small scattering of freckles across it, high cheekbones with their tattoos, and eyelashes so long that they lay softly almost to her cheeks. Tristan found himself wishing that she would open her eyes so that he could see the colour again, and shook his head slightly, switching his gaze away from her face, past her long blonde hair, and towards the woods on the other side of the clearing. He didn't need to see her eyes.

A movement in the trees caught his gaze for a moment and he tensed, only to relax when he saw that it was a great white owl taking wing from a branch and swooping down close to the ground to disappear out of sight. He blinked once, and then turned his attention back to the woman in his arms.

Remembering the way she had gripped her middle as they left the dungeon, he gently adjusted the tattered rags she was wearing to see if he could find a visible injury. When he saw her abdomen and ribs, his jaw clenched and his eyes flashed. Her entire stomach was covered with angry red cuts, all obviously infected. He could feel her eyes on him and raised his head to meet her gaze. Ice blue. Like a winter sky. Her eyes captivated him and he couldn't tear his gaze away as she spoke.

"I had only been down there for a few days...a week at the most. There is no day or night underground...only candlelight and the routine of the priests. Guinevere has been a prisoner for longer than I...she knows not how long. Lucan was taken only a day or so after me. They would not have lasted much longer." Tristan nodded and stood, lifting her easily in his arms and carrying her towards the wagon where Dagonet was already settling the ones she called Lucan and Guinevere.

"What is your name?" She blinked once, slowly, her piercing gaze never leaving his face.

"Toril." He nodded and set her gently in the wagon where Dagonet then transferred her to a pile of furs by the wall.

"Her stomach." The giant nodded silently, his gaze pitying as he looked at Toril. In one smooth motion Tristan mounted his dappled horse and moved to where Toril was looking out the side of the wagon, her hand pressed to her stomach and her blue eyes pained. Tristan's jaw clenched again.

"Dagonet will take care of you while I am gone. You are safe now." Her pale eyes slid shut, blocking the light emanating them. Her face relaxed.

"I know." With one last lingering look at her face, Tristan galloped away.