Disclaimer: I do not own any of the King Arthur characters. (Arthur, Lancelot, Galahad, Gawain, Tristan, Bors, Dagonet, Merlin, Guinevere, Cerdic, Cynric, the Bishop) I also do not own the song "River Lullaby" from The Prince of Egypt. I own all the characters who were not mentioned above.

Iona is pronounced ( I – own – na)

Chapter 1

"Lancelot!" I ceased running and tried desperately to catch my breath. "Lancelot, can I play with you?" I stood five feet away from the group of boys and held my mother's shawl tightly around my shoulders. It was early September and starting to become nippy. I would assume my eyes had a pleading look to them. Being the youngest and a girl, I was not sure the boys would take too kindly to this intrusion.

"Iona, leave us! You are being a nuisance." My brother Galahad said with a look of disgust. He always believed me to be a weak girl and good for nothing, except maybe to play pranks on. Galahad was six years older than I.

My eyes narrowed at Galahad and I hissed, "Why can't you disappear forever? I despise you!" Then I gave a little gasp and clamped my hand over my mouth.

While Dagonet walked away, Lancelot opened his mouth and was about to agree with Galahad when Gawain interrupted, "Galahad, let your sister be. She is only four and does not know any better."

Dagonet returned with a doll in his hands. My eyes would surely have lit up at the sight of the doll. He held it out to me and I remember slowly reaching over and grabbing the doll. While the boys chased each other and had mock fights, I sat on a tree stump and cuddled the doll.

Fallen branches snapped as the boy known as Tristan jogged over to join the group. Words passed between them, and then Bors gave him a shove while Tristan walked over to the big rock. He sat in front of it and started to draw on it with another rock. I stared at the boys, trying to decipher their ages. If memory served me correctly, Lancelot was thirteen years old; Dagonet was sixteen years old; Gawain was fourteen years old; Bors was eighteen years old; Tristan was fifteen years old. My brother was the youngest by far.

I resumed my care of the doll and started to hum the lullaby my mother used to sing to me. It was a song started by my grandmother's great-great-great-great-great grandmother and passed down through my family. All the womenfolk knew the song by heart and it was my turn to learn it. I struggled with the lyrics and after many hours of memorization, I finally become skilled at reciting the words. Mother was instructing me on singing the song. Galahad and I assumed my voice would stay as harsh sounding as it did the last time I sung. It was one issue us siblings could agree on. The doll wished for me to sing so I opened my mouth and let my voice ring out. My voice was hesitant at first and many notes were off-key.

"Hush now, my baby
Be still love, don't cry
Sleep like you're rocked by the stream
Sleep and remember
My lullaby
And I'll be with you when you dream"

Then it started to gather strength and build in volume.

"Drift on a river
That flows through my arms
Drift as I'm singing to you
I see you smiling
So peaceful and calm
And holding you, I'm smiling, too
Here in my arms
Safe from all harm
Holding you, I'm smiling, too"

As I sung, I felt surer about my ability to sing. I managed to hit the right notes at the right times during the song. My voice cut through the chilled air and rang clear along the meadow.

"Hush now, my baby
Be still, love, don't cry
Sleep like you're rocked by the stream
Sleep and remember this river lullaby
And I'll be with you when you dream
I'll be with you when you dream"

As I finished the song, my eyes slowly opened. All six of the boys were staring at me.

"Staring is rude." I stated in an embarrassed voice. No one was supposed to hear me sing.

The boys pointed at me and laughed in their annoying way.

"That's not what happened... They enjoyed my singing..." A rooster crowed as I sat up on my pallet, which served as a bed. A dull pain was spreading through my head. I started dreaming of my childhood a few months ago. After each dream, I would feel a dull pain in the back of my head. That certain scene took place almost fifteen years ago. I am now in the employment of the emperor, as a royal scribe. My brother and his friends were taken away the day after Dagonet gave me the doll.

After checking the amount of daylight seen outside my window, I lied back down on my pallet and drifted on to another dream.

"Iona, look at the dress I sewed for my doll. Isn't it pretty?" Lancelot's sister held up a dress made of wool and asked me.

I had spent the night with Lancelot's family and was just getting ready to return home. I held up the doll Dagonet gave me.

"Ooooo! What a pretty doll! Can I hold her?" Gwenn held her hands out.

I hesitated, "Well..." Gwenn had a habit of being too rough with new dolls. She followed my gaze to the pile of broken dolls.

Before she could say another word to me, Lancelot galloped into the camp. "They have come, Father!"

With fear clenching over my tiny heart, I ran over to Lancelot, "Have you seen my brother?"

"He was taken a while ago." Lancelot answered gruffly.

As a four-year-old, I could not really comprehend that. I turned to face a group of riders that consisted of my brother, his friends, and a few Roman soldiers. Lancelot embraced his family and mounted his horse.

Galahad dismounted and led his horse towards me. I cringed when he stretched out a hand to me.

"You cannot leave me, Brother." I believe I started to sniffle. I pleaded with my eyes. "I need you, Galahad..."

As I extended my hand to reach for his, Galahad pulled me towards him in an embrace. "Do not worry, Iona. I'll return someday, with the other boys." He said while cradling my head to his chest.

"But I do not wish for you to leave... I did not mean what I said yesterday... Do not disappear forever..." I felt tears well up in my eyes.

The Roman officer cleared his throat and grumbled. Galahad glanced at him and released his hold on me. Before he mounted his horse, Galahad kissed my forehead. Tears flowed freely down my face. The group of riders kicked their hoses into a gallop and rode to their future home.

I asked Gwenn, "How long will they be gone?" I expected the answer to be a couple months or a year at most.

Gwenn sniffled, "Fifteen years..."

A hard knock on the door broke me from the spell the dream had on me. "Iona, time to awaken. The Bishop wishes an audience with you." A voice said through the door.

I slowly sat up in bed and raised my hand to my face. I felt a wetness there that showed me I had been crying in my sleep. I quickly washed my face and dressed in a light wool gown. Then I rushed to the Bishop's office.

"You wished to see me, my Lord?" I said softly while I pushed open the door.

He looked up from his pile of papers. "Yes, Iona. The emperor is sending me to Britannia to give the Sarmations their freedom papers. Would you like to escort me?" He asked politely.

I smiled and attempted to control my excitement. "That sounds like an interesting adventure. When shall we depart?"

"After our midday meal. You are dismissed." The Bishop returned to his paperwork.

I hastily paced back to my room and gave a shout of joy.

"What are you hollering about at this hour?" My roommate sleepily muttered.

"I apologize for disturbing you, Morgan. The Bishop just asked me to accompany him to Britannia to free some Sarmations." I said in a hushed tone, so as not to wake our neighbors.

"Why does that excite you? I have freed many slaves or warriors before." Morgan stated blandly.

I sighed, "My brother and his friends are Sarmations in Britannia who will earn their freedoms this year. I am hoping against all odds that this group is them.

Morgan helped me pack and the Bishop and I, along with many guards, started for Britannia. I was dressed in the armor of the Roman legions, to disguise my gender.

"It may be wise if people believed you were just another guard. Can you use a weapon?" The Bishop asked me.

"Of course. You should not be surprised since I am also a Sarmation."

"Forgive me, I had forgotten, Iona."

The journey to Britannia was uneventful, until the last leg. We stopped in a port city in Gaul. We boarded a ferry with our horses and continued making our way to Hadrian's Wall. As the Sarmations, Arthur's fabled Knights, came into view, another army exploded from the forest. I gave a cry of terror as what I believed to be Sarmations descended on our caravan.

A soldier grabbed me and thrust me behind him. "Draw your sword, Lass!"

"Why? These are the Sarmations, are they not?" I was thoroughly confused.

"They are the Woads, part of the Britains. They are enemies of Rome."

I frantically drew my sword, but I did not know what to do with it. I had never been in a battle. All the experience I gained of the sword was from exercises my brother and his friends taught me. I had never held a sword before. My weapon was a wooden stick. The soldier protected me with his life. A bloodcurdling cry rose from him and I saw him fall. I stepped backwards onto the hilt of a sword at just the right angle to send it plunging into my attacker's chest. I knelt down and vomited what little lunch I had after my armor was drenched in his blood.

I ran into the litter and ripped off my blood-soaked armor. The clangs of metal on metal could be heard clearly in the litter. I felt something behind me and turned around to face a corpse. His eyes were bulging out and an arrow protruded from his chest. I screamed and threw his body out the litter. My trunk was sitting right underneath the seat and I removed a forest green dress and a cloak from it. I continued to dress, even when more arrows pierced the litter. One lodged in my leg and sent pain jolting up my spine. I tried to remove it but fell into unconsciousness as the white-hot pain exploded throughout my body.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Hopefully I'll have time to write more of this before summer ends. :)