Disclaimer: Same as always, I own nothing.

AN: I'm back after a terrible two week absence. I think I was more upset by it than anyone reading this story, but now I am back and will be updating regularly once again!

Chapter 26 Cell of One's Own

Tristan sought Cassia out at the market after his meeting with Arthur. Cassia was buying the scout a new supply of apples as she did once every couple of days. She was looking rather well on this day. Tristan's ability to spend his bloodlust on Woads and not her was doing wonders for her entire being. She could actually stand up straight to her full five feet five inches as she looked for the best pieces of fruit from her favorite vendor. The blotches of blue and black on her olive skin were fading to a sickly green, but it signified healing if nothing else to Cassia. Tristan marched up to her through a noticeable parting of villagers. No one wanted to be close to the scout these days. He was becoming more unpredictable than normal, and it was unnerving to everyone. So the villagers parted to give him free access to the small, honey haired, Roman.

Cassia barely even noticed when Tristan grasped her arm and spun her to look him in the face. Cassia bowed politely to him when she realized who it was and said, "Good afternoon, Sir. What can I do for you?" Tristan just threw a coin at the merchant who simply nodded his acceptance, and dragged Cassia out of the market without a single word. He dragged the loyal slave to his quarters and threw her against a hard wall in irritation that showed itself only to her.

"I must go scouting for Arthur. You are not to leave this room until I return. One of the maids will bring you your meals until I return. Do you understand me," he asked threateningly. "I do not think it is necessary to chain you up, but I will if you give me reason to." Tristan's voice was as low and ominous as it always was as his dark braids obscured his penetrating eyes. He betrayed little emotion even now. Cassia simply nodded as she sat up from where she had fallen.

"Who shall do the wash," she asked innocently as he removed his weapons from their case with a reverence that she still envied. Tristan let his fingers scamper down the blade of his saber in a loving dance. Each weapon was touched as gently as he would a lover and probably cherished more than any lover he had had. Cassia missed the tender scout that she had glimpsed in the first few days of her enslavement. That was the master she was loyal to, not the beast he had become.

Tristan glared at the Roman through his fringe as he removed the chains from his chest as well. Without another word he threw the links at her and she chained herself to the loop in the floor, knowing that she had asked the wrong question. "I will be gone several days. Perhaps in that time you will learn when to keep you mouth shut, or maybe I will teach you to keep it shut when I return," the scout spat as he shouldered his packs and left the room, locking it as he went.

Cassia just sat staring quietly at the door for several moments trying to recall the kind man that had promised that no harm would come to her so long as she was his servant. She remembered the kind looks he would give her as she sat beside the stream scrubbing the stains out of his threadbare tunics. Perhaps he would return the man she had become loyal to, or maybe she would have to continue to show him nothing but kindness, in hopes that he might remember that he too had a soul once. Cassia shook herself from her musings as she stretched out along the dark wall and went in search of sleep. Sleep, like the scout's kindness, had eluded her since Percival's death. She could only hope that today it might allow her even a restless moment of unconsciousness.

The knights sat in the tavern since there was little else to do as the torrential rains pounded the already soggy earth. Two days it had done nothing but rain and the entire fort was feeling anxious. Gawain and Galahad stood before a broken stool, endlessly throwing dull knives at the wooden circle. Considering the number of times they had thrown the small daggers, their aim wasn't any better than when they started. Bors and Dagonet sat with several of Bors' younger children, nursing their ale as the afternoon faded into an evening that brought little change in the weather. Lancelot and Kay sat with a wench a piece, seated in their laps, as they gambled with a few of the more friendly Romans of the fort. Vanora could barely keep up with all of the requests for ale since she was the only barmaid attending her duties instead of a knight.

Gawain and Galahad called the exhausted redhead over for more ale, and Vanora begrudgingly complied. "Van, where has Cassia been these past three days? I have not had the pleasure of her company in too long. Not to mention, I am running out of clean tunics," Gawain laughed as Vanora filled his empty mug with a scowl.

"I do not know, Gawain. I haven't seen her since before the rains began. Perhaps she is staying in the scout's quarters and out of the rain, like a smart individual," Vanora answered lowly, a bit worried for the Roman slave as well. "Perhaps I shall find her and enlist her help with this crowd of fools," Vanora finished her task before returning to the cluttered bar. Empty mugs scattered its wooden surface, while the former contents of some of those mugs seeped into the cracked wood.

Three days Cassia had been seated on the cold floor waiting for the scout's return. The maid had brought her only one meal in that time, and had ceased coming after the first day. Cassia could hear the rains beating down on the soft earth as she lulled between sleep and consciousness. Cassia had faced worse hunger many times on her journey, and she had bore worse circumstances. She, however, had never had the added burden of worrying for another. Now, she found herself worrying more and more for the scout's safety with each passing hour. She did not know how long he was expected to be gone, and the anticipation of him returning injured or not returning at all was eating away at her.

Cassia had counted the grains in the gnarl wood of the walls so many times that her eyes were now continuously sore. She had worked her wrists raw with worrying her shackles, and she could move little more than enough to relieve herself in the chamber pot several feet away. Cassia was exhausted from her captivity and sent prayers toward the cracked ceiling constantly, hoping for the scout's return.

Cassia barely noticed the creaking of the door as it slowly shifted open just missing her, as a soft figure stepped into the darkened room. "Cassia, are you in here lass," came Vanora's sweet voice from the darkness of the doorway. Cassia didn't answer, afraid that Vanora would see what Tristan did and confront the scout about it upon his return. A candle was lit on the small table beside the door, as Vanora looked about the room.

She would have missed the small pile of discolored fabric that was Cassia, had she not heard the slight rustle of chains coming from behind the door. Vanora nearly screamed when she saw the kind Roman woman sitting huddled and chained to the wall. "That cold hearted Sarmatian bastard," Vanora shrieked as she immediately enfolded Cassia in her arms. "It's alright, lass. I'll get you out of here," Vanora said as she went in search of a key to Cassia's bindings.

"You won't find one, Vanora," Cassia's voice was small and raspy from lack of use. "He keeps it with him at all times along with the key to the chest over there." Cassia didn't even need Vanora to tell her what she was looking for in the meager lighting of the room, it was obvious to Cassia.

Vanora looked appalled as she realized that Tristan must have done this before, for Cassia to talk this way. "You mean that you are to tell me that he has chained you up before, and you have never uttered so much as a complaint as to his treatment," Vanora screamed. "That bloody son of a whore. I swear that I shall gut him myself when he returns," Vanora was seething as Gawain came running into the room holding his axe at the ready.

"What's wrong Van," Gawain growled as he realized that they weren't being attacked. His chest was bare as well as his feet, and his hair was in shambles. It was obvious that he had been courting a wench before he heard the commotion, but he had not been too occupied to come at the first sign of trouble. His eyes were blazing from both too much liquor and the prospect of a fight.

"Look at what that arse of a scout is doing to her," Vanora wailed as she pointed to a retreating Cassia. Gawain paled considerably as he saw the chains connecting Cassia to the floor. He had become used to the shackles that adorned her wrists because they were simply a symbol of her slavery, but to chain her up for days was just despicable in the fair knight's eyes.

"Is this why we haven't seen her since he left," Gawain asked as he took his axe to the links without another thought. The weaker metal broke with the force of Gawain's swing, leaving Cassia free of the floor. The Roman woman made no move to rise even once she was free. Instead she tried to reason with them.

"Just leave me here. Tristan could be back at any time, and if he finds me out of the room or free of these chains he'll be angry," Cassia said meekly from her place on the floor.

"Who cares what the scout thinks. You are not an animal to be tied up when he doesn't feel like watching you," Gawain argued.

"I care what he thinks. I care if he is angry. I am the one who faces his wrath if I do not obey his orders, not you Vanora, and certainly not you Gawain. I am his slave and if that means being locked up here while he is away, I shall do it. I chose to steal that damned sword and I shall bear its consequences. So please, leave me here," Cassia pleaded.

"Cassia, you look as though you haven't eaten in days. Forget about Tristan and think of yourself. You could be wasted away before that stubborn fool returns," Vanora pressed.

After several long minutes of arguing, Cassia acquiesced. "I will come with you on one condition," Cassia finally said. "You are not to utter a word of this to the others and Tristan shall not know that I was out of his chambers."

"That is impossible. What, do you want us to lock you back up after supper? It is out of the question. If the scout doesn't like it, them he can try explaining it to Arthur," Vanora spat.

"No, I do not wish to make a fuss. Just promise me that you will speak to no one about this," Cassia pleaded as Gawain aided her to her feet. Both Gawain and Vanora reluctantly promised as they hurried the Roman woman to the tavern.

"There is the woman I shall bed tonight," shouted Lancelot as the three entered the tavern. Cassia found herself being lifted by the womanizing knight before she could even take three steps through the door. "Where have you been, lass? My bed is cold without you," Lancelot joked as he spun her toward the knights' table. The entire tavern was still crowded even at the late hour. Vanora groaned as she realized there were hours of work ahead of her, and Gawain seemed to forget about the whore that was probably still waiting for him. Gawain simply followed Lancelot as he carried Cassia's lithe frame to the knight's table.

"Then your bed shall remain cold, I fear, because I shall not be the one to warm it," Cassia laughed as the other knights welcomed her to sit. Over the past three months they had become close to the honey haired slave that snuck in and out of their rooms carrying bushels of laundry. Cassia, however, stopped the gaiety before she could not escape. "Forgive me men, but I am here solely to aid Vanora because no one else will," Cassia said as she rose from the table. Each of the men looked sufficiently down trodden at her departure, but would probably forget it after several more beers.

"Perhaps afterwards, you shall join us for a drink," Kay asked kindly as she stepped around the rambunctious knights. Cassia simply nodded and kissed his forehead lightly as she moved off to help Vanora serve the unruly crowd. Men constantly grabbed and pulled at her, but as soon as they saw her shackles, they let her go faster than she could often catch her balance. Several hours of shoving off hands and gropes, and Cassia found herself thoroughly exhausted.

The tavern was nearly empty by the time she had a chance to sit down with the knights. She took a seat that was only partially covered in ale and sat between Kay and Dagonet. Cassia was absolutely exhausted from serving all night. Vanora curled up in Bors' lap with no energy to clean up the mess. Bors held his three month pregnant wife close as she lightly dozed in his arms. Cassia lay with her head in Dagonet's lap and her legs across Kay's lap. Both knights absentmindedly stroked her back gently as she too began to doze. Everyone quieted as the two women found sleep in the arms of or laps of loved ones. When the knights realized that the tavern was not going to be cleaned this night unless one of them did it, they threw dice to see who would do it. Lancelot, in his infinite bad luck, lost and was left with the duty of cleaning the messy tavern. He mumbled and groaned as he lifted the empty mugs to be cleaned, but he did it because he knew the work both did for them daily.

Dagonet was about to lift Cassia and carry her to the scout's quarters, but Gawain beat him to it. "Don't worry Dag, I've got her. Told her I'd make sure she got in alright anyway," Gawain lied as he lifted the Roman woman out of both Dag and Kay's laps. The blond knight carried her with the greatest of care to Tristan's quarters where he placed her gently under the covers before kissing her brow and leaving her to her dreams.

XxX

Well, I'm back. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. As always thank you to my wonderful reviewers, you keep me writing! In my long absence I actually wrote out the rest of the story, so I should be quicker in my updates from here out.

Tell me what you thought of Vanora and Gawain. It's hard jumping right back into it after three weeks of just scrawling on paper, so tell me what you think. It's always a great help.