Author: Triane
Disclaimer: Not. Mine. Except Iona. Everything else belongs to someone else. Even more so now, that we're into movie territory - I've done what I could to gloss over using the actual dialogue, but if you recognize dialogue or action, its because it's. Not. Mine.
Summary: Waiting for trouble is worse than the trouble itself
How quickly everything can change, Iona thought an hour later. With one look at a pair of scared eyes and a mop of curls, life is completely different.
She and Ardin were walking quite close to the wagon designated for the two pulled from the dungeon, close enough that Iona could see Dagonet's hulking form inside, close enough that she could see Lucan's bright eyes fixed on her. She smiled gently at him, and watched as he fell into a restless, feverish sleep, broken by soft moans of pain.
Upon leaving Marius Honorius' villa with the nobleman, his family, and the peasant villagers, Iona had joined Dagonet in the wagon to help set Lucan's broken arm. Their soft words and quiet tones had soothed the boy, and after they wiped the tears of pain from his cheeks, he watched the two of them as if he could hardly believe his good fortune. Now Iona rode beside the wagon, close enough that Lucan, who had become agitated and worried when she moved to leave, could still see her. She could also see the quiet mouse of a Roman woman, Fulicina, totally absorbed in watching Dagonet, and she shook her head with a quiet snort. Doormats aren't his type, mousewife. In the far opposite corner of the wagon, Iona could also see the young Woad woman, and her eyebrows knit together thoughtfully.
Guinevere. Of course she is. Of course she would be. She shook her head slightly and sighed, already noting how both Arthur and Lancelot were prowling around the wagon more than was strictly necessary.
And here we go. The future queen of Britain, a new addition to my husband's fan club, and more enemies than we can shake a stick at. Why can't things ever go smooth?
Iona's musings were cut short by Arthur swinging into the moving wagon, and so she directed Ardin towards the front of the caravan. The rest of the knights were also patrolling up and down the straggling line, making sure everyone was keeping up and that there was no sign of trouble. Tristan was off in the woods somewhere, she knew, patrolling for Saxons. We may have enough trouble here with us, Iona thought darkly as she caught a glimpse of Marius sitting imperiously in a wagon surrounded by his personal guards. He glowered at her as she rode past, and she simply stared at him with a deadpan expression. His face twisted into a grimace, and as he leaned forward to speak to his captain, Iona rolled her eyes and urged Ardin forward.
Romans.
