Disclaimer: I am poor and own nothing. And because I'm poor, this is my only source of entertainment, so please do not sue.

Authors Note: In case anyone is curious, Roxana means Dawn. And Cornell means horns. Oh and I'm dedicating this story to Tracy137.

Chapter Two: Hell

She'd kill him that much was certain. Even if she had to do it from the spirit plane she would. These were the only thoughts that kept Roxana sustained as she rotted away in the man, if anyone could even call such a demon that, known as Marius's cell, in the far north of Britain. But unlike so many others in the dungeon, she was not plotting Marius's death per say. She did plot his as well, but he was menial enough to wait. No the one whose death she plotted wore the guise of a childhood friend.

She could not believe the audacity Cornell had when he came up to her, not three moons after her husband had been collected to fight for the Romans, and asked for her hand. Apparently he had found it more insulting than she had fitting when she laughed in his face. She was after all, already spoken for, and if it did come to pass that he did not return to her, a thought that she did not often entertain, then she would recognize the mourning rituals, and never wed again. Granted she could, but after Tristan, how could she ever love another. They had been kindred spirits, and together since she had been birthed into the world and her mother had placed him in charge of her protection at the tender young age of three.

But she could not entertain these thoughts at the moment, being that the pain in her body was too great, and the one in her head growing as the monks chanted outside, as they did everyday trying to convert the "heathens" as their prisoners were so lovingly referred to as. And since Cornell was the reason she was in this predicament, then he was the one to focus on. She still didn't know how it was he tricked her parents and Tristan's into sending him with her to find her husband, but once he had they had become very insistent on the matter. They had trusted him to watch her back. She had not.

Once again she cursed herself for not slitting his throat when she had the chance, on the boat over to this accursed isle. But instead she had decided to be kind. Stupid was more like it, but what could be done now besides hunting him down and killing him, avenging the wrong that had been done to her and to her family. She was Iazyge after all. She heard the monks outside say their final prayers and thanked the Goddess when she heard the door close behind them, indicating that they had gone for the night.

She could still remember first coming here, Cornell had managed to tie her up, with the aide of several mercenaries, and sold her to Marius for a rather large sum. She had been thrown into the dungeon for killing at least a dozen of Marius's men, trying to subdue her when their master had wanted a taste of his newest purchase. After that they had beaten her and thrown her down here to rot, which had been slightly better than the alternative. At least this way she kept her vow and besides, death would be a welcome change. Especially after what Cornell had told her.

Her husband, the man who was the dusk to her dawn, had been killed in a battle with the Woads. He had connections there that sent him the news. She had not believed him at first, until Marius's kindly wife had been unable to find out if he lived or not. That broke her heart in more ways than she could imagine. A part of her still believed he was alive. Could still feel his soul breathing with her own, but this could very well be a trick of the spirits. Perhaps now, he only walked besides her.

She closed her eyes again, willing away the tears. She would not cry here. It was the one thing she refused to do, despite the regularity of the beatings and the pain in her heart, she would never cry here. She would be free, and she would kill Cornell. Either that or crawl to Tristan's grave, and die at his side as she always vowed to, the memory of his face and their dead baby son being the last thing she saw as she passed into the realm of shadows.

She longed to be free of this hell as she sat once again in silence, save for the moaning of her fellow inmates a few cells down. She was not surprised when she heard the door open again, and the soft footsteps of Flucinia, Marius's wife, heading into the bowels of the prison. She came when she could, with a warm smile and equally warm food. Today was no exception. She went to the others first, as was Roxana's insistence, and fed them before coming to the bloody Sarmatian woman, and opening her cell.

They had beaten her again, beyond reason this time, Flucinia noticed as she stepped into the cell, hurrying over and cupping her face in her hands. "Poor girl," she whispered, taking some water and giving it carefully to Roxana. She would not survive much longer. She had already out lived all the others, which is what angered Marius the most.

"Do not pity me Flucinia, you know I can't stand it," Roxana replied in a voice that was now reduced to no more than a whisper. "I will free us both yet."

"You worry too much for me dear," Flucinia stated, as she moistened a cloth and cleared some of the blood from Roxana's face. "I survive yet."

"You are a good woman and deserve a good man. He is not a good man and not of the God he and his worthless priests go on about," Roxana ground out.

"You should know," Flucinia smiled kindly at her, tearing off some bread for the girl. "Tell me of your husband. I love to hear your stories," she stated, settling back and gave some of the bread to Roxana who ate it hungrily.

"He was a good man. Never once did he lay a hand on me in a non-loving way," Roxana smiled, particularly at the memory of the last night they spent together fifteen years earlier. "When we were but children I would beg to play knights with the boys, but none of them thought I could. He would always stand up for me and say, if she wants to play, let her play. He had this silent way about him, but I could always tell what was going on behind his eyes," she smiled again and took a drink of water. "I shudder to think of what his eyes would say to see me like this," she whispered sadly.

"Why?" Flucinia asked concerned, scooting over to sit next to Roxana and wrapping an arm comfortingly around her.

"Because my people are warriors. Even the women are regarded as such," she whispered. "And yet here I am, rotting in a cell, the fight all but gone from me."

"Only because they do not let you get it back," Flucinia stated in a hushed tone. "I see it in you still, that fight to survive. If you could only leave this place, I know that you would be well again."

"I wish I had your confidence," Roxana smiled at her. "But it seems as if your husband has finally broken me."

"No!" Flucinia said forcefully, causing Roxana to turn her head sharply to look at her. "You are far from broken. Broken is coming to feed the prisoners but never doing what is truly right," now the dark haired woman looked off slightly to the distance, her mind elsewhere. "No, we are not broken tonight," she added turning back to Roxana, new determination in her eyes. "I never found out for certain if your husband is dead, he may yet live. Go to him."

"What?"

"Go to him, this good man you have told me so much of. He will see you are tended to, and if, heaven forbid, he has crossed over, then you will no longer be plagued by the uncertainty of knowing. And most of all," she took Roxana's head in her hands and stared directly into her eyes. "You will be free."

"I cannot, I have no horse."

"One waits for you in the stables. I will have Alecto distract them so you can retrieve it."

"I am too weak to make it far."

"God will go with you, of that I am certain. And if not mine, I know yours will."

"What of you?" the true worry that was on her mind.

"I have managed a beating from him before and I can again," she hugged Roxana tight. "You are stronger than I ever dreamed of being. You fear for others far above yourself, which is a noble quality. Go and be free and remember the one thing that you have told me so much. You are Iazyge and both you and your husband are argaragantes."

Roxana smiled and hugged her back. "You have remembered much," she pulled back to look into Flucinia's eyes. "And I am proud to call you friend."

Flucinia smiled at her and bowed her head before helping her from the cell, taking the bit of food with them. She hid Roxana near the stables and went to fetch her son, whom appeared quickly, nodded in Roxana's hiding direction before seeing to the guards. As soon as he had them cleared from the stables Roxana entered, finding a beautiful black Stallion, and as luck would have it, her weapons, which one of the guards had liberated from her upon her arrival here three months earlier, she quickly made friends with it and took it from the stables, mounting painfully.

Flucinia appeared again and handed her the food. "Be safe my friend," she whispered.

"You as well and do not fear, when I am able, I will liberate you from him," Roxana smiled down at her and bowed her head before spurring the horse ahead.

One way or another, she would be at her husbands side again.