I'm so sorry for my shameful slackage. Honestly, I meant to update, but we had finals, and then I had to go to bible camp, which was rather frightening. I had to take a few days off to regain my sanity. So, therefore, I finally bring to you…CHAPTER 2! Woo Hoo! Also, any readers of MonDieu666 should know this. She is not, as I had previously feared, dead. No, she is simply having problems with people dying, computers crashing, and a new love interest. What a twist in the plot! Lets see how many various metaphors we can draw from her stories to life! Anyway, she will be updating with a HUGE chapter in a couple of weeks. Keep your eyes open!

Jaulli Bass- I thought it was pretty sneaky myself…Esma was my personal favorite. I'm not quite sure kind is exactly the word to describe her…

Realtfarraige-I pine for Sebbi. Honestly. I'm working on my "Sebbi/Aine one-shot at the moment, and having the time of my life! In that one, Sebbi gets drunk, and then must resort to poetry to win his lady love back. That's all you get till I finish it!

Camlann-Don't worry, I plan on killing off some of my characters, so that should help out. You won't have to remember them all! (they are a bit confusing…but thankfully, you have a handy index!)

Queen of Gore- That would be awesome to do the Romans! Heathens all! (what a great saying!) Anyway, I'm going to read "The Hollow" when I have time, as I prefer to read things all at once. Thanks for reviewing!

Camreyn- Yes, this is the night before the battle of Badon Hill. It should be lots of fun! Though, some sad things will happen, I can't stand too much of that, so you'll probably all think it's sappy. Oh well. As I told Camlann, you won't have to worry about getting everyone mixed up after the battle.

Devona rolled over in her sleep.

She was surrounded by the heat; smoke catching in her throat. Her people were falling all around her. Aefre, Colby, Bernia, Drefan, Esma, Abrecan, Banan, Stearc, Aglaeca, Atyhtan, Cwen, Estra, Anbidian.

All dead.

She knelt beside them in the flames, kissing their brow before shutting their eyes forever. She paused beside Abrecan, combing her fingers through his dark hair, resting her head on his chest, searching in vain for a heartbeat. Her tears mingled with his blood. She had been a fool, never telling him…now he was gone. It was so final, so unfeeling.

She raised her eyes and saw the arrow. At another time, she would have fought it, cursed it. Now, she welcomed it with a drugged smile, open arms. It couldn't' come fast enough. It teased her, slowing to a near standstill, inching forward. She let out a frustrated cry, and it finally came, lodging in her chest. She stared down at it, oddly surprised to see it there. She took one last look at the smoke, flame, and death around her before her lifeless body slumped onto Abrecan, pushing the arrow still farther into her flesh. It was finally over. The wait had ended. The worries were fleeing. One of only ten Saxon cavalries had been destroyed.

It was a true blessing.

Devona's eyes snapped open. Her breathing was ragged, uneven. It was only a dream. A recurring dream. It was not always Abrecan. It was always someone new. She dreamed before every battle, but she herself had never died. This was a new twist in an old nightmare, and she didn't like it. It had made her nervous, edgy. When the call came from outside her tent, she jumped. She took a deep breath, telling herself 'it was nothing…' and went to meet the page.

Often, Cedric would send for her before battle. She had become his daughter, in a way, as he had no daughter of his own. She, in turn, had no family and enjoyed being in his company. She knew he was not always the most honorable of men, but the, who was? She had lived long enough to know that honor was a lie. No one had honor. It was all an intricate web of fantasy, a carefully choreographed dance of fallacies. No one wanted to learn new steps. No one wanted to break the chain of dancers. They lived in a dream of fantasies, and Devona wished that they would wake up.

The squire didn't even bother to tell her why he was there. They had gone through this routine before. She nodded to him, and he led her through the winding mass of tents, until they reached the largest one. The squire bowed and retreated, leaving Devona to enter the tent alone.

Cedric had his back to her, consulting a map. He turned at her approach, and very nearly smiled. She was a good girl, his Devona. She always came when called. He wished that she had been his son, instead of that, that…embarrassment, Cynric. He embraced her.

"You will be careful?" he asked.

"I always am." She responded.

It was their ritual, their own dance. The question and response were nearly scripted by now. Ritual was comforting. It assured one that things hadn't changed so much after all.

"Good." He said with a sigh, "Then go and ready your people." He said, dismissively.

She bowed, and left the tent.

As she walked back to her own tent, she noticed that most of her people were already awake. Good. Esma stumbled laughingly from her neighbor's tent, earning a glare from Devona. She knew the rules! When Esma noticed the glare, she fixed an innocent expression upon her face, as if to ask 'What did I do?' Devona lifted an eyebrow, and Esma dropped her act, giving her a salacious grin. Devona shook her head, defeated. There really was not talking to that one!

She glanced around frantically for Abrecan, and let out a sigh when her eyes found him. He was very much alive. They all were. For now. She tried to smile, but couldn't. Instead, she went to her tent, arming up.

A shadow followed her. She knew who it was. He was the only man to ever enter her tent. His hands rested on her shoulders, turning her to face him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, staring intently at her face, searching for truth.

She gave him a wry smile. "Nothing is wrong. This is just like any other battle that we've been in." she said, more trying to convince herself than him.

"There is something wrong. You will tell me. Is it that idiot Cynric again?"

She made herself laugh. "Do you think I cannot handle Cynric?"

"I have no doubt that you can handle Cynric. That doesn't mean he isn't a problem." He countered.

Devona sighed. "He only bothers you. For reasons that shouldn't be." She said, quietly.

His stare intensified. "And what reasons might those be?" he asked, stepping closer.

Devona was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable. "You know the reasons. My saying them won't change anything."

"What if you're wrong?" he asked, head tilted in question.

She really wished he wouldn't do that. It was distracting at best. Intoxicating at worst. She tried to concentrate on something else, anything else. She couldn't. Her blue eyes met his grey, as she tried to back away, to remove herself from the situation.

He was unwilling to let her get away. Too many times, he had watched her retreating back, her hesitant yet firm smile of refusal. She would not refuse him now.

He caught her hips as she turned, holding her in place. "You will not run from me." He said, quietly. "If you want me to leave, say it to my face, not the wall."

Devona was having trouble breathing regularly. His hands were turning her around again. She didn't stop him. She could have. It was that knowledge that most disturbed her. She was letting him.

He saw her eyes without their usual confidence, without their usual bravado. And yet, there was something new there. A curiosity, a spark of something he couldn't identify. He pulled her to him, her breasts skimming his chest. Almost as an afterthought, her arms snaked up his arms, attaching themselves behind his neck, bringing him closer. They stood there for a long while staring at one another, not quite believing that this was happening. Here. Now. Slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, he lowered his head so that his lips hovered just over her own.

"Do you still want me to leave?" he asked, his lips brushing hers as he spoke.

Her eyes flashed with dread for only a moment. "No." she said, pulling him down, crushing her lips on his. He met her with equal ferocity and hunger. He had wanted her for so long, not knowing what she thought, what she felt. It had been torture, every moment of it. But, he had survived, and now, he would reap the rewards of his patience. He pulled her to the floor.

Devona couldn't understand what was happening. Everything seemed to be happening so fast! One moment, she had wrapped her self around him, the next they were on the floor, her legs straddling him.

He was running his hands over her back, her thighs. A strangled noise issued form the back of her throat as his hands swept under her tunic, teasing her.

Devona couldn't remember the last time she had been kissed. Actually, that was a lie. She remembered it very well. Abrecan had just joined their cavalry, and he had pulled her into the nearest tent at the opportune moment, catching her completely off guard. She had pushed him away then, but she pulled him to her now, wanting him more than breath.

It was when Abrecan had thrown her tunic to the side and flipped her under him that she remembered the day's agenda. But, this felt quite…well, nice was not the word. His head was buried in her neck, his lips, breath, on her throat.

"We…have things to do…" she managed to gasp.

"Yes, we do." He said, reaching for the waistband of her trousers.

"No. I mean, there is that rather insignificant battle to attend to." she said, still catching her breath.

He groaned, leaning back, bringing most of his weight with him. Devona wondered where her tunic had gone. Without his skin on hers, the tent was very cold. She grabbed his shoulders, hoisting herself up. He looked regretfully down at her, stroking the sides of her breasts.

"This isn't over. When were done fighting for this godforsaken island, I will bring you to my bed." He said, firmly.

He picked her up, and set her on her cot, thinking that she would want to get ready by herself. She didn't appear to want to move, however. She looked a bit dazed, come to think of it. She would need some help. He found the tunic that he had tossed aside in the corner, and tugged it over her head taking care to smooth out all of the wrinkles. He strapped her weapons to her body, making sure that they were just as she preferred them. When he had finished tying the last strap, she sighed, leaning into him. He stroked her hair, wishing that they didn't have to fight today, and could simply stay here. He kissed her temple.

"We will win quickly, they don't have many fighters left. Then, we're coming right back here. I get you for a day at least. You won't even want to venture from this tent." He said, smiling slightly.

She laughed, trying to cover her nerves. She was feeling more uneasy by the minute. Devona suddenly clutched the front of the soldier's tunic, terror quite apparent. The dream was coming back to her now. Dead. Each and every one of them. Gone.

"You won't get killed, will you? You must promise me…"

He shook his head. "I will be here with you forever. You know that."

She was still afraid for him, for all of them. She pulled him to her, just holding him. Who knew if they would ever see one another again? How could he really promise that he would stay with her? It was at that moment that Devona realized just how insane she was behaving. She was a commander of the Saxon army. She should be seeing to her men, not her man.

He felt her spine straighten, her shoulders set. His commander was back, in the flesh. He sighed, but knew this was for the best. He didn't need a lover now. He needed a leader. He pulled away, as small, ironic smile on his face.

She stood, and walked past him, out into the dawn. He followed. Esma gave him a lusty wink when he appeared, and looked at Devona.

"How can you scold me for playing with the boy next door when you seem to have found your own playmate, eh mother?" she asked.

Devona was in no mood. For once, her face hardened at her friend, and Esma decided this was probably not the best time to upset her commander. Perhaps Abrecan was not all he was said to be in bed…

Devona looked around at the souls who were entrusted to her. If they did not survive today, it would not be for lack of trying. She would give this battle all she had, and only hoped to rise from the rubble with the majority of her limbs. No one else seemed worried though, and that in itself made for more worry for Devona. They were growing complacent, and complacency was never helpful in matters of life and death.

Aefre had attended to their horses. The soldiers always looked upon them with envy, as they had to trudge everywhere. The Saxon's did not rely on their cavalry, it would have been illogical. They did, however, keep a small number for emergency. There was a chance that they would not be needed at all, though that was wishful thinking. They were always needed in the end.

Bernia inspected Abrecan, as though trying to decide his motives. He must have passed her test, as she turned away and finished checking her weapons.

Drefan was a bit affronted. He wasn't good enough for her but this "Abrecan" was? That was quite a jest, and he was waiting for them all to say "You fools, we were only joking!" but no such exclamation came. In fact, just before they left, he saw Abrecan kiss her, a bit chastely perhaps, but it was a kiss all the same. Something was definitely off, and he would sort it out later. Right now, he had other things to think about.

Atyhtan pulled Cwen behind a tent into the shadows, and kissed her. He wanted to make sure she was taken care of. He had a bad feeling about this battle, and if he was to die, well, at least her would die happy.

Devona took a deep breath and mounted her horse. Dreams were full of deceit, and couldn't be trusted. It was only a dream…

Please review! I love to hear what you like/hate, what I can do better with…etc. Also, if you want to review Artemis de Luna's story, so that she will update…that would be great…her story is awesome, and I'm the only one reviewing it now!