Vulpes Inculta had not slept well since that night.
He had been kept awake, fire burning his loins as he had stared into the black during the dark hours of the night. He kept his eyes trained to the far end of the tent. Where Diana softly snored in her cot with no concern for the revelations he had bestowed upon her.
She still did not remember. His words did not stir the hidden memories. His Diana was still a prisoner to her amnesia. And thus, she still saw him as a stranger.
She had given her thanks to his revelation, saying her good night before stumbling to bed. Their kiss had been treated like an awkward afterthought - as if it had not happened at all.
Her breathing was a steady rhythm. He watched as he laid on his cot, at the darker shadow in the black that rolled over before returning to her snores. She seemed to be sleeping fondly, oblivious to the dangers of the world and the dangers in their shared tent.
He had feared she would have been troubled and disturbed, after learning that most of her origin had died or were now with him, now and forever belonging to the Legion. And yet, she would sleep soundly, like a child that knew no violence.
Despite her peace, he found himself reliving the past.
"Fox, dance with me!" She had found him, sitting by himself and staring into the flames of a fire one night while the drums were beating. A flute was playing. Music, the smell of smoked meats, the laughter of their tribe, and the warm night surrounded him as he observed his friends and family.
He had just returned from one of the caves nearby, where he and his friends had gone to drink some fermented cacti and eat some peyote.
Knowing he would be missed, he had to return early. His mother had waved at him, his father nodding in approval at his punctuality. The ceremony announcing his engagement with Diana would conclude the festivities, and due to him at first being opposed to the union, his parents had been worried he would have avoided the ceremony too.
"Come on, Fox. Why are you sitting here all by yourself?"
He smirked, admiring the way her eyes grew and shrank, fluid-like. His visions were surreal. He could feel the spirits around him. "Waiting for you, princess."
"Well, your wait ends. Come. I want to dance." Ever since her rebirth from her drowning, he had willingly given himself to her demands. He kept his promise to the spirits. And Diana lived, because of it.
He was overwhelmed with joy, seeing his Diana with her dark hair braided down to her waist and her cheeks full and pink as the sunrise.
He had enjoyed watching the colors of the flames but seeing the shadows dance upon her face was a newfound spectacle for him to admire.
"Fox? You're acting strange." She stepped up and kissed his nose before giggling. "Your eyes look so deep. Like the edge of the world."
Every word went through him, filling him with wonder. "Perhaps you should fall in."
She laughed and took his hand, leading him to the throng of dancers who swayed to the rhythm of the drums. "Fox, you say the strangest things."
When her hands pulled at his, he found her fresh marks fascinating. The bold black lines were moving on their own. Triangles were flashing, dancing with them. With the music.
"Come on, tell me the truth." She was close to him, so close he could smell the agave on her breath. The citrus oil in her hair.
"The truth?" He felt bashful. She knew. She probably already knew he was dwelling in the spirit realm at that moment.
"Yes. You have to tell me. I will be the wisewoman of the tribe. And your wife. You shouldn't have secrets from me, Desert Fox."
He was sweating. He saw her outline, a silhouette that was glowing with the rainbow.
"I… I ate peyote."
"I see." She smiled, broadly. "My turn." She leaned into his ear and softly whispered, "So did I."
He balked and she laughed.
She had never been afraid of the truth. Even then. Him telling her of their tragic history had not scared her. Even at the risk of being hurt, the truth was more important to her than her fear. Even her life.
Like when the Legion came. She knew death was her future, and she welcomed it with open arms. She had chosen to dive straight into its arms, to embrace it so long as she could dig a knife into its back in exchange.
Seeing her, being tossed over the side of the cliff, as he sat there and let it happen, was seared into his vision, replaying over and over again.
And then he realized there was light peaking through the seams of the tent. Dawn had broken.
She had awoken, sitting up, hair askew and yawning.
There was one appealing improvement since the night before.
"Good morning," she rubbed her eyes, voice thick with sleep.
She seemed to finally be at ease with his presence. She seemed to trust him.
"Heus." Hello. She looked confused. He slightly stiffened, the Latin had escaped his throat in his sleep - deprived stupor. A habit.
She had begun to gather her belongings. It seemed she would continue to not acknowledge their intimate moment the night before.
He did the same. The two of them had a simple meal of maize gruel he had collected from the mess tent, the two eating in silence.
The darkness of the tent had been pierced by the ever intensifying sunlight that streamed through the fastened front tarp, giving him a view of the lake at the bottom of the hill. Two slaves were being escorted down to the auction stocks, the jeers of loud men clammered behind them.
He turned to her.
She was looking towards the direction of the noise. Tugging at the pendant around her neck, she played with it between her fingers.
She had barely eaten.
"Diana."
She turned to him and he had to keep himself from faltering when she looked at him like she used to. Sweet and fascinated, as if he was the most important thing in her world.
"Eat. You will likely not have another meal for a while."
She nodded, complying. He allowed himself a small smile at her obedience.
He enjoyed this change in her. "One more thing."
"What?"
He gave her a smile, enjoying the return of worry in her face. "I must blindfold you."
She blinked, her frown deepening. "Why?"
"To protect you. I know your fear of the water well. Whenever you needed to cross the river, I would take you, with your eyes covered. It helped."
She was biting her lip, looking resistant.
"Remember your promise, Diana."
"Fine. Do it."
He had secured the cloth around her face, blinding her, and taking her down to the lake with careful footsteps. He gripped her arm and kept her close to him, steering her past the men who were unphased by the sight of a blindfolded woman being steered by the upper arm towards the boats.
When they reached the docks, the ferryman had straightened with large eyes at the sight of his Frumentarius headdress. "Frumentarius. Who is this woman with you? A new bride for Legate Lanius?"
He felt her fidget against him and he squeezed her wrist in warning. "This is the famed Courier. I am taking her to seek an audience with the Son of Mars. She bears the Mark of Caesar."
The ferryman nodded. "I see. Why is she blindfolded?"
"To ensure she does not know how to bring any NCR dogs back to our Caesar," he made his tone suggest an obviousness to this. He wouldn't dream of revealing Diana's debilitating weakness.
"Of course." The man sounded nervous and wordlessly gestured for them to approach the ferry.
As expected, Diana had managed to remain calm throughout the journey. When they arrived, she had been patted down. Her various knives were removed at each pocket, up her sleeves, her ankles. When the guard had proceeded to put his hands to her hips, he stepped in, keeping the urge to shove the man away strong.
"Do not disrespect Caesar's guest. I know she holds no other weapons."
The guard scowled but nodded. "Caesar is not at risk by this weak woman." He pushed Diana forward, proceeding to pilfer her backpack, taking out all the meds she had brought. "We will return your possessions when you leave."
He removed the blindfold. "Welcome," he whispered, "to Fortification Hill."
She stepped forward, wincing from her eyes adjusting to the sunlight. "No," she whispered, taking a step forward before he stopped her.
"There is nothing you can do," he kept his voice low as he promptly spoke against her ear. "Caesar is at the top of this road. Speak to no one else. Remember what I told you. Obey me, and you will leave here intact."
She cast a cool stare at him before turning and marching up the hill.
The woman who was being whipped for dropping her burden was letting out low pitiful moans in between the cracking of lashes inflicted by one of the slave watchers.
Diana's hands balled into fists but she walked by. He was pleased by her restraint.
She was learning. She kept herself placing one foot in front of the other and calm. He knew she would have wanted nothing more than to leap upon the man with the whip. To make him eat the ninetails, to claw the skin off his face.
She simply walked on.
When they were halfway, climbing the many wooden planks along the cliffs, she stopped to admire the red sky. He allowed her this moment to take in his world, her eyes eastward back to Arizona, where Legion rule was deep-rooted.
Do you wonder what lies to the East, Diana?
He would tell her. It was not so blatantly cruel, unlike this cradle of war where they stood at the frontlines of battle. In Arizona, the women were treated… gentler. Most were wives, priestesses, and yes, slaves. But they were treated fairly. Justly. So long as they obeyed their masters.
Arizona was far from the reach of these men who suffered endless violence and only had lust to bring some comfort to their lives.
He did not intend for her to be preyed upon by those men.
"Faster or I'll throw you off the side!"
Young boys were sprinting up the hill, hundreds of laps completed already, red faced and panting as their instructor jogged beside them as he barked insults and threats.
When they reached Diana, they barely paid her any mind but one boy had gotten distracted at the sight of a free woman and tripped, falling on his face.
He couldn't stop her before she ran forward. "Are you all right?" She knelt to the child, who looked perhaps ten years old the most.
"Back away, woman," the instructor ran up to the boy. "What the fuck was that? I've seen crippled slaves move faster than that."
The boy shoved himself up to his feet, knees bleeding and face scraped, without a tear shed. He merely let out a youthful growl before running to catch up with his group.
Diana looked on, shock on her face as the instructor looked down at her with scorn, which briefly faltered at the glint of gold around her neck. "Mind yourself. These are future legionaries, not profligate pets to be coddled." The man ran to tail the boys, catching up to them easily while sending another barrage of verbal assaults.
Inculta approached her, her back to him and the view eastward, now staring at the western ascent where tiny footsteps in the dust pathed the rest of their journey.
"Tell me," her voice broke the tension, authoritative. Grave. "Were you one of them?"
"Was I trained like them? Obviously."
She turned her head and he saw the shining gloss of tears in her eyes. "How old were you, when they took you? How old were we when-," she looked away.
He understood she was upset. Children were always a sensitive subject to women and profligates. "I was fifteen years. You were twelve. I was trained at an older age than most." My submission allowed it, as did all who rendered unto Caesar.
She stood up, wiping her eyes briskly. "What was it like, when we were children?" She continued the walk and he accompanied her.
"We were," he thought of her, standing over the old log and crossing the river despite the jeers of their tribe's sons. The dry wood splintering, her losing her balance and falling in. "Safe."
"Can you tell me about it? Anything?" She paused when she saw another slave, carrying a giant parcel strapped to her back as she limped down the hill, a red 'x' boldly declaring her as property. She stopped again, eyebrows furrowed. He noted her fisted hands were beginning to tremble.
He needed to distract her, to coax her into calm. "When we were young, we had not been close, despite our parents wishing us to be. I was not a kind child. You were." She had slowed down to study him. "Wherever I went, you followed. I desired to distance myself from you as I had friends I wanted to play with." He noted he spoke of the word as if disgusted. "But you wanted to play with me."
Recalling their childhood drama, it seemed so trivial compared to where they were now. Like a distant dream. "So I would push you away, believing if you hated me, you would leave me alone. I had set about doing so. I would put snakes in your bed. And instead of being terrified, you would name them, thinking them as… cute. You thought I had an affinity for small creatures. So after that, you started to catch lizards. Small beetles. Scorpions, even. And you would show them to me. Every single one."
He thought of the time she had revealed a small scorpion in her hands, holding it out proudly to him in front of his village gang.
Even Redrock, the toughest kid in their group, had run screaming like a girl at the sight. He struggled to keep himself from laughing at the memory, though he recalled being as terrified of the venomous arachnid, especially as its tail twitched in her palm.
And yet she had not shown any indication of fear. He had wondered if she was ever truly afraid.
"Is this it?" She was referring to the largest tent on the peak of the hill that overlooked the canyons and Lake Mead. The giant red banner of the bull was another obvious indication.
"Yes."
She took a deep breath. She rolled back her shoulders and cracked her knuckles. "Fine. Let's go."
He stopped her, hand over her shoulder. "Diana. First, I must have you remove your remaining weapons."
She looked alarmed, flushing red as she stuttered. "W-what? I was already searched."
"I stopped the guard earlier, as I had no intention of being witness to him molesting you. But I know you hide blades in more intimate places," his eyes swept her body, the majority of him wishing to take his time exploring every possible hiding spot for weapons. "Above all else, the son of Mars must be safe. And I am a careful man."
They were alone, which was ideal. He had her spread her arms apart; her legs outward. He allowed himself to enjoy feeling her joints lock when he ran his hands over her arms, feeling every curve and muscle. Every scar and bump.
He moved to her sides and stomach. And then reached for her backside, struggling to not linger as he patted her back pockets, feeling the protrusion of metal. He removed everything he found, casually holding up a knife blade to her neck, tauntingly with a tisk.
"You've been defiant, Diana. And foolish. The praetorians would have stopped you before you even unsheathed these." He had found every lingering danger upon her, except for her teeth that had begun to bare their sharp canines at him.
"You don't know for sure. I'm fast."
He didn't raise his hand to her, but he instinctively wanted to. Especially here, in his domain, her speaking with such insolence did not fit.
"You may continue. Behave."
She cast one final dirty glare at him before disappearing behind the tent flap.