Part Two

A/N: Many thanks to Mustang Gal, Quinn-FanFicAddict, and rigbear for their reviews! Much love to you. Hope you enjoy this! And yes, I completely concur, there should be more Dagonet fics.

Part Two

We traveled steadily East for a few days. Over that period, I began to gain a sense of the people that I was with. Slowly, I began to trust them. I do not trust easily, but I find that these people are genuinely good and want to help me, not destroy me. The young boy, Lucan, is my delight. To pass the dull time of travel, I tell him great stories of warriors, wizards, and faeries, and times long ago. They are tales form my own land, tales that he has never known. I also teach him counting games and riddles so that he may not be brought up ignorant like many peasants.

Of the young Woad woman, Guinevere, I know little. We are very different, she and I. She enjoys fighting and men-craft. She is a warrior; of that much I am certain. Myself on the other hand, I am quiet and reserved. My trade is that of a healer. Such skills as mine are hard to find in these parts I am told.

Today, Guinevere insists on telling my about the cause her people are fighting for. She is adamant on seeing her people free to live in their own land.

"What about you, Fainne? Don't you want to see our people to live in the lad that is ours?"

I sigh at her. "Guinevere, they are your people, not mine. My people are of the Western Isle, known to my people as Erin. The Romans know my land as Hibernia. My people are the Celts."

She peered at me in the dimness. Tentatively, she reached a hand out touch my long auburn curls. "Such wondrous hair, bright summer blue eyes, milk white skin. Your people are just like out of the faery tales that my mother used to tell me when I was a child. I never knew that your people existed. Haven't the Romans come?"

"They did; that's why I'm here with you now." I shook my head as memory overcame me. "They came to our shores and tried to enslave my people. The clans rallied together and stopped the Romans. But still many of my clan-members remained enslaved."

Guinevere looked at me. "What so you truly want Fainne?"

"A home and a family to go home to. I've been away for so long…" I leaned back against the wagon's walls. I was about to speak when Guinevere's attention was stolen by Arthur. I could clearly see that she fancied him. Her attention always strayed to him. I was not about to stop anything either.

I had come to understand the dynamic of the Sarmatian knights. Arthur is their captain beyond a doubt. The men of Lancelot, Tristan, Galahad, Gawain, Bors, and Dagonet would follow him through the dark deep and back again. Goddess knows that each of them is a formidable warrior and courageous as well. They have all been very kind to me. Each of them is very different in their own unique way. Lancelot is our voice of reason, the one fully aware of the reality around him. Tristan is our rogue, an intriguing mystery. Galahad is our dreamer, the one who wishes to be free of his so-called duty to return home. Gawain is our fighter, not caring if he should die in battle. Bors, with his many children, so I am told, has a desire to be the governor of a village when the Romans leave. All of these men are dear to me in their own special way.

But strong and quiet Dagonet is the one that I trust the most and endear myself to. I see how he takes care of Lucan as a father would, and I am touched by the gesture. For all of his ferocity on a battlefield, I see an innate gentleness inside of him that he cannot show often. Even his care of me is gentle and careful. It is as if he does not want to break me.

Desperate for some movement and to let my mind wander on simpler things, I leap from the wagon to walk beside it. My bare feet crunch the snow, but I am barely aware of the chill. For a sense of security in a strange, but beautiful land, I pull Dagonet's deep brown cloak closer to my body. Gazing at the trees, I loose myself in simple thoughts of the landscape.

"Well hello, fair maiden."

Spinning around in mid-step, I come face to face with one of the Roman soldiers from Marius' estate.

"Leave me," I say, hoping that he would.

No such luck. Instead, he snakes an arm around my waist, letting his hand graze my butt. I try to pull away from the vile creature, but he holds me hostage with his arm.

"You must be cold, let me warm you." The Roman pulls me closer.

Sickened and frightened, I try to jerk away. Tears start to trickle down my face. "Let me go!" I struggle to break free.

The Roman sneers at me. "You want to play rough, wench?"

"Don't touch me!" I cry. My mind whirls and reels out of control. I beg the Goddess to let everything stop. "Goddess be merciful" I whisper.

Heedless of everything around us, the Roman flings me to the frozen ground. He hitches up my skirt and straddles me. I thrash about beneath him and hit my head on a rock. He holds me down tighter and my screams of protest grow louder.

The next thing I know is that the Roman is being yanked off me and a broadsword is at his throat. Above me stands Dagonet, his blade at the Roman's throat. "You shall not touch her. Do so, and you will die."

Standing shakily, and trying to pull together a scrap of decency, I wipe away my tears and smooth my skirt. It is torn beyond reason. I pull Dagonet's cloak around me to hide rips and smudges of dirt and snow.

Arthur then rides up. "What is the matter here?"

Mustering my courage I say, "This Roman tried to rape me." Fresh tears begin to slide down my cheeks as I recall the incident.

"Dagonet's order stands firm. Touch her and die." Arthur rides off, leaving me with Dagonet and the Roman.

"Be gone," Dagonet snaps at the Roman. With hard features, he watches the Roman skulk away. Turning to me, his features soften. Without asking why I was out of the wagon or passing judgment on me for the occurrence, Dagonet merely requests, "Ride with me." I nod in assent, and then his strong arms are picking me up and placing me atop his horse. Then, he swings up behind me and wraps me in a firm but gentle embrace. We rode ahead of the caravan for a time, scouting out the road ahead and looking for a place to camp for the night. We reported back to Arthur and he decided to make camp.

While making camp, Lucan made is quite clear that he would not be separated from either Dagonet or me. This changed the plan a bit. I was supposed to share a tent with Guinevere, but now I was moved to be with Lucan and Dagonet. It was decided that I would sleep with Lucan in the makeshift tent while Dagonet slept just outside. Before I could settle in for sleep, Marius' wife, Flavia made me a warm bath the clean the filth off me. She even gave me a new gown and a pair of sturdy boots.

"I'd hate to see one such as you die of cold," she said to me.

Ignoring Guinevere's wandering of the camp, I made my way back to Lucan and Dagonet. He was just tucking Lucan in when I returned. Such a simple gesture made my heart melt.

"Sit with me by the fire," he said. After some considerable time of silence he asked, "Why me?"

His question was abrupt and it startled me. "Why?" I paused and searched my mind for the truth. Honestly, the truth was right in front of me. "You saved me when I thought no one would. You have shown me great kindness that I feel unable to repay. You, Dagonet of Sarmatia, have helped me live again."

With his steady gaze of bright blue eyes, he looked at me carefully. I believe he is trying to judge the sincerity of my words. To be honest, I meant every one of them. He would find no lie in my eyes that night. He sighed and gave my hand a tentative caress. "You best get some sleep. We've Saxons to avoid."

I crawled in beside Lucan. He was fast asleep. Dagonet tucked a blanket around us before settling down just outside. Contentment and security washed over me as I fell asleep that night. I had never known such peace before. I hoped against hope that is would last.