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: This story is dedicated to Tracy137. Also, I had every intention of posting this sooner, but it was giving me some problems. So I decided to take some more time with it. I am loving writing this story too much to just let it go like that, and a big part of that is you guys. Everyone who has reviewed has been so encouraging and supportive and I want to take this time to add an extra thank you to you all. Most of you are authors yourselves, and know how tedious this can be, especially when people come and bash you and I've been fortunate to not have that happen with this story. You guys are just all so very wonderful and I love you all so very much for that. As a bonus point this is a really long chapter, so I hope you enjoy it.
LANCELOTTRISTANBABY – Glad you're happy. I couldn't kill the big lug though and leave Lucan an orphan again. And I'm afraid of what would happen if I killed Ana at this point. Thanks for the review.
Lucillaq – Thank you for your review once again. I love writing for the two of them together. They seem to play off each other so well. Thanks again!
Tracy137 – Did you really think I could kill the big guy? Especially after reading such a wonderful story by a certain wonderful author I know where he is the star? (I'll keep him and the others alive if you bring back Tristan and Devon. And that is my attempt at bribery.) Your poor dog though. Mine does that all the time. He gets excited and falls off stuff, runs into stuff, and all kinds of other stuff. Poor baby. Yeah, that's me to. I would have made them suffer too…oh wait, I did. :o) Go me. Especially since I earned 20 out of 10 (happy dance!). Again, I wouldn't worry about the last review. Oh and I forgot to mention how I loved the fact that Dag was married before Devon. It was so sweet that Vala came to wish them the best and what not. And the best line was Tristan's; well it was quieter after you left to Lancelot. I forgot to put that in my review.
Dw – Glad you're liking it so far. From here on in there is going to be more changes compared to the movie. Which is a good thing cause it means I won't have to watch the movie with the subtitles on, pausing to catch everything correctly. Thanks for the review.
Priestess of the Myrmidon – Well you know how we authors can be sometimes. Doubting our work. Glad you liked it though. And thank you for the review!
Ryn the whitepanther – Glad you liked it! And no, Dag is safe. (I love the big lug too much to kill him.) And your question is answered in this chapter. And you're very welcome for the update. I'm trying to keep up with this one, mostly because it's my current baby. Thanks again for the review. Makes me so very happy.
TriGemini – Don't worry, Tristan's not going to hit her or anything. Probably just yell at her for scaring him a bit. That was my favorite line too and I'm glad it made you laugh. That was it's sole purpose after all. The reason Roxana liked to play with Marius so much was because he tortured her so badly. That's why there was not tact or anything and why she got so much pleasure out of it. The reason Tristan indulges her is cause he loves her, and well is kind of whipped, but no more than she is. And yeah, she does enjoy playing with her prey, mostly cause her prey has hurt her in some way, or her family, and she doesn't believe they should die easily. I'm not sure by your review if you like that about her or are chastising her for it. If you could clarify that for me, I'd appreciate it, mostly cause I'm curious. I was just going off of Alecto from the movie. When Arthur approached him after Guinevere killed his father, he didn't really seem to be hurt by it, and basically said the same things that I had him say here. And because I love Dag, and thus couldn't kill him like that, Roxana risked her life for him. And also to cement her bond to the knights. Tristan is not the only one she would die for, although he would be the first if the situation called for it. Again, thanks for the long review there and I hope you like this chapter as well.
Op – Glad you liked it. Hopefully you enjoy this one as well. Thanks for the review.
Lunawolf – Yeah, Tristan is not a happy Tristan. Still a sexy Tristan, but not a happy Tristan. And nope everyone is still kicking. As I've said before, I have plans. I wish Marius could have suffered more as well, but since I was following the time line of the movie, it couldn't be helped. After here though, the movie stuff pretty much goes out the window. Especially after the Saxon battle cause then, there will be Cornell to deal with. And I hope you definitely do a jig then. And I hope you enjoy the bit of Cornell torture in this chapter. I used one of your many brilliant ideas. Thank you for the review.
Cardeia – I'm glad you liked it so much. It was the first real action chapter so I was a little worried about it. But your review made me feel a lot better about it. This chapter is all original so I hope it lived up to your expectations. I was struggling a bit with it, and I'm not sure why, but I tried to just take my time and step back for a few moments before I put it up. Again, thank you so much for your review. I may just have to write a, how did you put it, steamy scene in here for you to show my appreciation. :o)
Dmitchell1974 – How very true. Author is very happy, and Cornell has yet to die. Hope you liked this chapter as well. It was kind of difficult to write although I'm not sure why. Thank you so very much for the review.
Evenstar-mor2004 – Yes, yes she is. But she knew she would be running out there. But it was worth it to save Dag. Thanks for the review!
Dellis – I try not to, really I do. Thank you for your review. Please continue to love this story. That makes me so very, very happy!
Texasgrrl – Oh good, then I'm not the only one is doing that to. Thank you for your review. Guinevere kind of bugs me at times too. Although I'm trying to like her more while writing this story, it is hard.
Sorceress Misha – Well I'm always happy to see a new face on the review board and I'm glad you are enjoying this story. I'm not sure what exactly you are wanting to do, so if you could explain it all to me, then I'll consider it. I'm glad you like Roxana, she's one of my favorites as well. Thank you for your review.
Chapter Twelve: Homecoming
Roxana awoke with a groan, hearing a fire crackling nearby and feeling the heat of a warm body to her right. She was a bit lightheaded and her left shoulder throbbed as someone worked at changing the bandage. She looked to her right and saw Dagonet resting besides her, Guinevere tending to his wounds while he slept fitfully. She was just glad to see his chest rising steadily.
Guinevere looked up and noticed Ana watching her closely. "He burns a bit, but otherwise he is doing well," the Woad said, as she finished up, pulling his blanket up around his neck and rose, going over to where Arthur and the others sat at the other side of the fire. Slowly she turned her head to look up into Tristan's face, as he fussed over the wound in her shoulder.
"What happened?" she asked, not remembering how she got here.
"You passed out while I was stitching," Tristan answered, not looking at her face.
"Blood loss," she whispered, closing her eyes as he synched the bandage around her arm, and began to cover her again. She gripped his hand as it came up near her right shoulder, taking it and holding it against her cheek, kissing the palm.
Tristan let out a sigh and ran his thumb over her cheek slowly. She had scared him more that day than he had ever been in his life and he wasn't sure if he was ready to forgive her for that yet. But the things she did to him with merely a touch of her hand, or a glimpse of her eyes. He had never once been able to resist her, and what was worse, was that she knew that. "How is the pain?" he asked pulling his hand away from her face and sitting next to her.
"That in my shoulder is nothing to the pain I feel at the anger in your eyes," she answered, reaching painfully for his hand, which he made no move of giving her. She sighed, and looked away from him, not meeting his eyes as she spoke again. "I will not apologize for how I reacted. He would have died had I not done what I did. I am however sorry for the fear I caused you."
Tristan growled and gripped her face, forcing her to look at him. "Damint Roxana!" he said, his hand caressing her cheek. "Have you no idea what you did today? He still may die and we could have lost you both!"
"But you did not!" Roxana protested, her eyes meeting his. "I will be healed within a few days. And Dagonet is doing well. I know what I did upset you today but I would not do it differently if given the option!" as she spoke she rose painfully up and pushing his hand away.
"Do you not understand!" Tristan rose and began to pace. "You almost died today!" he had risen his voice, something she had never heard him do before, and the act frightened her.
Roxana rose then, standing on unsteady legs to face him. "But I did not!" she yelled back, the others across the way trying to pretend like they did not see what was going on before them. She was about to fall then, Guinevere rising to rush to her only to be grabbed by the wrist by Arthur, she looked at him oddly and he shook his head slowly before indicating the arguing couple.
Before Roxana came near the ground Tristan had her in his arms, pulled tightly against his chest. "I am not ready to lose you yet," he whispered into her ear, pulling her even tighter against him and burying his head in her hair.
She was caught off guard for a moment before her arms instinctively went around his neck, stroking his hair comfortingly, ignoring the pain in her own shoulder. "Shh," she soothed, one hand rubbing his back between his shoulder blades in a circular motion, the other still stroking his hair. "I am right here Tristan. I am right here."
xoxoxoxoxoxox
Dagonet awoke the next day, sore and stiff, but obviously doing a bit better. He would need more tending, but insisted upon riding out with the others to catch the caravan. Roxana and Tristan rode near him, as they raced across the frozen land.
By midday they had caught up with the villagers and Dagonet and Roxana were ordered to the wagon. As soon as the large knight entered a crying Lucan tackled him to the floor, hugging him tightly about the neck.
"Mind his injuries Lucan," Roxana said as Fulcinia rushed in and hugged her as well.
"He need mind nothing," Dagonet grinned weakly at her, leaning back and taking the boy into his lap, stroking his hair and comforting him quietly.
Roxana smiled at them, sinking down herself and gratefully accepted the bit of stew Fulcinia brought for her and Dag.
By mid afternoon Roxana was back on her horse at her husbands side, and they were riding through the gates of the wall and towards the stable. They all dismounted as the bishop rushed forward, heading straight for Alecto.
From above, on the roof of the stables, Brenna, Sybil and Eirwen watched on, ignoring the Bishop as they examined their sister and brother. Roxana stood next to a large bald man, helping him to stand while they waited for their papers, Tristan at her side.
"She's injured," Bren stated, her voice low, looking at Eirwen.
"So is he," Eirwen answered her sister, inclining her head towards the large man. "And their commander from the looks of it."
"I don't trust him," Bren added, indicating the Bishop, raising her bow, the arrow already in place, taking careful aim.
"Stop," Sybil said, raising her hand. "He matters not any longer," she added, watching her brother walk over to two of the soldiers and take the box that had held their papers. "Come, let us greet our family."
They followed the knights, moving along the roofs of the buildings, as they went towards their meeting room. After they got far enough from the stables, the three girls dropped soundlessly to the ground, landing behind Gawain, Galahad and Tristan, the latter spinning and connecting his sword with Sybil's. Chocolate brown eyes regarded chocolate brown eyes for a moment as they stared each other down.
At the sound of metal meeting metal, all the other knights whirled, drawing weapons, Roxana struggling with most of Dagonet's weight alone as Bors left his other side his wrist blades already in place, the large knight still unable to balance when standing alone.
"Goddess Tristan, is that anyway to say hello?" Bren asked grinning and winking at her sister.
"Brenna?" Roxana asked after a moment, her eyes shooting to her other sister. "Eirwen?"
"Did you save some Saxon's for us then?" Brenna asked grinning wildly as Eirwen moved over to help Roxana.
"Ana do you know these women?" Arthur asked, re-sheathing Excalibur.
"Sadly," Roxana replied with a grin as Eirwen immediately went to work examining Dag's wounds. "They are my sisters."
"These need tended," Eirwen said, looking up at Roxana and taking Dag's other arm. "Bren get my kit."
"On it," the younger girl said, running off full tilt across the compound.
Meanwhile, Sybil and Tristan had not moved, their blades still crossed as they watched each other closely. She had been ten when he had left and both had changed much and she wondered if he would recognize her. Suddenly he spoke, one word, but she understood and offered him a grin. "Disarm."
A moment later she was attacking him, years of training and practice under both her father and Roxana's coming through to the surface. Their swords met in a fury of clangs, each moving precisely and expertly. At the same moment that Brenna rounded the corner, returning with a rolled piece of leather in her hand, Tristan disarmed his sister, catching her sword in the air and jamming it into the ground. Both were breathing heavily as he regarded her for a moment before speaking. "You've improved sister."
As the word left his mouth she smiled broadly, rushing to him and wrapping her arms around his chest. "I've missed you big brother," she smiled against him as he embraced her as well.
"Well isn't that sweet," Brenna said as she paused next to her sisters, earning a kick in the leg from Roxana.
"Ow," she grumbled, rubbing her shin.
"Where can I tend to these?" Eirwen asked, ignoring the other two girls and turning to Arthur.
"The meeting hall is this way," he began to be interrupted by a yell coming from across the compound.
"BORS!" Vanora raced towards them, running into Bors open arms. They kissed passionately and he spun her around.
"Oh my little flower," he stated, kissing her again, her arms wrapping around his head.
"Van showed us were," Eirwen said, before turning to Bren. "Help me, she's injured as well."
Brenna rolled her eyes and looked at Lancelot who happened to be standing next to her. "Here, be useful," she said, slamming the roll against his chest before moving Roxana from the way and supporting Dag as they began moving towards the meeting hall. He looked at her oddly, a smirk already forming on his face as he went to follow.
The other knights followed in behind them, and once Eirwen had Dagonet comfortable, she had his shirt off and was cleaning the wound as the others settled around the table, Roxana next to Tristan, Vanora in Bors lap, Guinevere near Arthur and other two finding available seats near Gawain and Galahad.
"Now, please tell me why you are here and not at home finding husbands," Roxana stated, glaring at Brenna and Sybil.
"Like I need a man slowing me down," Brenna scoffed. "Besides, ask Sybil."
"I had a vision, and we had to come sister," Sybil said, looking over at them.
"What?" Tristan asked, looking between his baby sister and his wife.
"She was blessed with the gift of vision," Roxana explained. "And when I left, was off training to be a Priestess."
"What did you see lady?" Gawain asked then, looking closely at Sybil.
"Nothing good," she answered looking to the others. "So we join you here to fight."
"Fight who lass?" Bors asked concerned.
"Saxon's, who else," Brenna said, leaning back in her chair and kicking her feet up on the table.
"But we already defeated the Saxons. Why would they come here?" Galahad asked confused.
"To claim the land," Gawain muttered, looking pensive.
"Perhaps if you told us exactly what you saw, we could help you more," Lancelot said, slightly annoyed. Their freedom papers were in their hands now, and here was more trouble brewing.
"Saxons attacking," Sybil answered in the short, clipped speech that was common of her brother.
"Yes, as much help as that is, perhaps you could elaborate," Lancelot continued, earning a glare from Tristan.
"Good luck," Brenna muttered.
"Well let us think about it," Roxana began, trying to avoid a confrontation. "Tristan saw an entire army marching when we were at the villa and yet a mere two hundred men attacked us on the lake. Where would the rest go?"
"Here, for the wall," Arthur answered knowingly.
"The Romans are withdrawing," Guinevere supplied. "They would think it an easy claim."
A silence fell over the group as the reality of the situation set in. Arthur looked at Tristan then. "How long do you think it would take them to reach here?"
"If they do not camp," the scout said gravely, taking his wife's hand in his own and gazing at their commander, "by nightfall tomorrow."
Arthur held his gaze for a moment before sighing in defeat and rising. "Than we will worry on it tomorrow," he said slowly. "Tonight, we celebrate our freedom."
xoxoxoxoxoxox
It was later that night and ale and wine were flowing freely at the tavern as the Romans prepared to leave in two days time and the knights celebrated their newfound freedom. Well at least tried to celebrate, despite the feeling of foreboding that hung thick in the air, which was difficult to ignore. They were all gathered at their usual table, and Gawain, Galahad and Tristan were throwing knives while Arthur, Lancelot and Brenna sat playing dice with some of the Romans nearby. Eirwen sat near Dagonet, Lucan in her lap with his hand latched onto Dag's while she watched the giant closely. She had always been more healer than fighter. The only weapon she found true comfort with being her bow, and the worry she had for his wounds was clear on her face as she checked them periodically, rising also to check her sisters injury and Arthur's, both of whom she had seen to after tending Dagonet and Lucan. Bors stood near the bar, Vanora close to his side and his baby in his arms.
Roxana and Sybil sat at the end of the table, watching everyone carefully. A smile spread over Ana's lips as Ten came running up suddenly, wrapping her arms around Tristan's legs and grinned up at him. He carved a small piece of apple from the one he was eating and knelt down, handing it carefully to her. Her smile broadened as she accepted the treat and ran over to sit on a bench nearby, watching the contest.
"Have you told him yet?" Sybil asked, also smiling at the exchange.
"Told him what?" Ana asked absentmindedly, turning back to her husband's sister.
"Of the child you carry?" Sybil stated, her eyes locking with Roxana's.
"How could I tell him of something I myself was not sure of," Roxana asked, looking down at her hands. "If it is true, then I may not carry it for much longer."
"Why do you speak so?" Sybil asked, taking her sister-in-laws hands in her own.
"I lost much blood," Ana whispered back, looking towards the wound in her shoulder.
Sybil reached out a hand and rested it on her sister's abdomen, causing Roxana to look up at her. "You will not," she stated firmly, a knowing look in her eyes. "No matter what happens, you will not loose this child."
Tears sprang to Ana's eyes as she clutched Sybil's hands. "Thank you," she whispered, leaning over and hugging her tightly.
"And if she fights the Saxons," a new voice spoke up and the girls turned to see Tristan staring intently at them, Galahad and Gawain close behind him, all of them having heard the exchange.
Sybil sighed and closed her eyes, her hand still on Roxana's abdomen as she concentrated. "I still see the child," she said, a smile playing on her lips. "Alive and well."
Roxana smiled as well, looking at her husband whose eyes were trained on his sister. She reached out and took his hand, giving it a squeeze before looking back to Sybil. "How long did it take you to learn to control it?"
Tristan moved over and sat down, pulling Roxana into his lap while Gawain sat next to Sybil and Galahad sat next to him. "At least two summers," Sybil smiled, removing her hand and opening her eyes. "Could I have some water?" she asked after a moment. "It takes a lot of energy to control."
"Of course," Gawain said. "Vanora, bring us some water!" he called to the red head, who nodded before going for a glass. "That is a very impressive gift you have," he added looking at Sybil.
"Thank you," she smiled kindly at him. Glancing over at Roxana and Tristan who were snuggling close, talking in whispers, his hand resting protectively over her belly.
"Will you still be a Priestess when you return home?" Galahad asked, picking up his drink and taking a swig.
"I do not think so," Sybil replied taking the water from Vanora and nodding in thanks, Bors coming to sit with the baby. "There is more I want from this world than that," she said, eyeing the little bundle, her eyes glancing sideways again at Tristan and Roxana.
"You little harpy! They were about to skin you alive!" Lancelot's said loudly as they came to join the table, Brenna grinning proudly, counting the coins in her bag as they walked.
"They didn't stand a chance," she replied, plopping down at the end of the table, Lancelot next to her. "Besides, they couldn't prove anything."
"Cheating again?" Eirwen asked, Roxana turned and raised an eyebrow at her younger sister.
"Openly," Arthur said, sitting down as well, smiling at his men, a sad look haunting his eyes.
"It is not my fault they made it so easy," Brenna stated grinning, lacing the bag and throwing it in front of her. "And what is with the two of you eh?" she asked, as Tristan and Roxana sat close.
"She's with child again," Eirwen grinned, leaning back against a post, and adjusting the now sleeping Lucan, his hand still resting in Dagonet's.
"Is that all you two ever do?" Brenna asked raising an eyebrow in their direction.
Roxana merely grinned while Tristan shrugged, taking a drink from the mug before him.
Sybil giggled and Brenna merely rolled her eyes, picking up the mug a maid placed before Lancelot, ignoring his injured expression. "And here I thought Sybil had told you of Cornell," she stated taking a swig.
All the knights at the table fell quiet, as did Roxana, gazing hard at her sisters. "What of him?" she practically growled.
"He came back while you were away," Vanora stated, still at the table. "Tried to rough me up behind the alley."
"What!" Bors bellowed, waking the sleeping infant in his arms as he rose, glaring at her.
"We came upon him threatening her life," Bren stated. "Eirwen took care of it though," she added, casting a proud look in her sisters' direction, who shifted slightly.
"What did you do to him?" Roxana asked, her voice low and her eyes an icy blue.
"Lets just say, he will never use that hand again," Eirwen said after a bit.
"Where is he?" Tristan's voice was eerily calm as he asked, his dagger in his hand as he examined it closely.
"The jail," Sybil answered. "Enjoying his stay I'm sure."
Tristan and Roxana rose, as Bors handed the infant to Vanora. "Now wait just a bloody minute," he called after the couple. "I want to hit 'em first."
"Why?" Tristan asked, turning on his heel to stare at his brother.
"No one touches my Van but me," Bors replied back. "Besides, you two won't leave anything, so I get him first."
"And who say's you'll leave anything either?" Roxana asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I'm more likely to," he replied, glaring at them both.
"Why don't you wait?" Sybil asked, rising and coming to stand next to them, the others joining them as well.
"Yeah, take your time. He's not going anywhere," Bren added.
"We do have other things to worry about," Eirwen added. "Is he more important than the Saxons trying to kill us?"
"Dog shit is more important than that man," Roxana muttered, glaring at the ground.
"Then just go down and say hello," Bren moved and wrapped her arms around her sisters' waist, resting her chin on Ana's shoulder and looking up towards her face. "Give him something to sweat over."
"Well, I do feel like a game," Roxana said, looking over at Tristan who nodded his approval. "How bout it Bors? We make him sweat a bit and then later we can decide who hits him first?"
Bors crossed his arms and scratched his chin for a moment, as if in deep thought. "Aye, that works for me," he agreed. "Who ever kills the most Saxons hits him first."
"That's okay Bors, you don't have to give him to me," Bren teased, releasing her sister and going back towards the table.
Sybil grinned and shook her head slowly, giving Roxana's arm a squeeze before going back to the table.
"Well, I guess I get to hit him first then," Lancelot boasted, as Bren rolled her eyes at him.
"Only after I," Galahad stated proudly, hitting his chest for effect.
Arthur watched in shock as the knights continued to jest over Cornell's fate, joined by the three sisters. He had decided he would stay, but never once had he suspected his men would as well. A lump rose in his throat and he had never been prouder than he was at that moment, to have them to call his friends. He felt a hand run across his shoulders and he looked up to see Guinevere walking to sit next to him. He nodded to her, thinking of the talk they had had earlier, when he had gone to his father's grave to think. It had given him a new sense of purpose, and he was grateful to her for that.
"Come then," Roxana said, taking Tristan's hand. "I wish to play."
"Very well wench," Tristan replied, pulling her to him and draping an arm over her shoulders. "Let us go play."
"You coming Bors?" she called back to the large knight.
"Of course I'm coming," he yelled back, kissing Vanora, the baby and Ten quickly. "Must show you how it's done."
"I believe I will retire," Dagonet said, sounding rather tired as he rose slowly.
"Come I will change your bandages again," Eirwen agreed, rising as well, moving Lucan to a more comfortable position.
"Why do you clean them so much?" Galahad asked, more than a little drunk at this point.
"Staves off infection better," she answered as the two made it slowly back towards his quarters. "Good night every one."
"Night Weni," Brenna called.
"Sleep well," Sybil added, and the others all bid them good night as they left.
"So tell me lady, can you drink as well as you gamble?" Lancelot asked flirtatiously, his half smirk covering his face, leering over at Brenna.
"Better," she replied, her voice just as flirtatious, as she leaned forward. "Are you just as bad at it as you are at gambling?"
"Lets find out," Lancelot grinned, ordering a round of drinks for them.
Sybil shook her head slowly. "Good night everyone," she smiled, heading for the door, adding "Be nice Bren," as she left.
"I'm always nice," Brenna called back, already raising her mug.
xoxoxoxoxoxox
Dagonet and Eirwen made it back to his quarters at a slow pace. When they entered, she noticed that a cot had been set up at the other side. Looking to the knight questioningly, he smiled softly at her before running his large hand over Lucan's hair. "He said he would not leave me until I was well. I thought this would be wise," he indicated the cot.Eirwen smiled back to him before walking over and placing the small boy beneath the covers, kissing him softly. "He is so brave," she murmured before going back to the knight, who had sank down on his bed.
"Aye, that he is," Dagonet said proudly already struggling to remove his shirt so she could clean and tend the wounds again. He had never seen anyone so thorough in their work, including, he was sad to say, himself. Eirwen moved quickly to help him, discarding the cloth to the side as she pulled her kit from her belt before un-bandaging them and examining them closely
"Ana told me you were a healer as well," she said in her soft voice as she continued to focus on his wounds, pausing she held a hand over them and was glad to find only moderate signs of heat. That meant there was no infection yet. If she kept to what she was doing, then he would very well live. As active as he was now, she had good reason to believe he would.
"Aye. Although, I am no where near as trained as you are," he added, watching a certain relief flood over her face as she examined his wounds.
"With younger sisters like Roxana and Brenna, I was able to become well practiced," Eirwen grinned. "Although, it also has to do with a desire to heal as well." She began to rewrap the wounds now, careful not to get them too tight.
"Well it shows," he stated. "I have never healed this quickly."
"That has to do with Roxana stitching it quickly," Eirwen said, finishing up. "We both taught her well it seems," they shared a smile and Dagonet found himself lost in her eyes for a moment. He had never seen any so brown before.
"Well, I will leave you to rest now," Eirwen said softly, realizing she was staring. She rose quickly and headed for the door. He rose as well, watching her go. "I will be back early in the morning to tend to that," she promised, opening it and turning to look at him.
"I look forward to it then," he smiled at her.
"Sleep well," she said quickly turning and leaving, fighting the blush that had started to creep onto her cheeks. Once she was a safe distance from his room she collapsed against the wall. "What is wrong with you!" she scolded herself. "It hasn't been that long since a man has noticed you! And besides, he is just grateful that you are helping him," she reasoned as she began walking the rest of the way to the quarters she was sharing with Sybil and Brenna. "But his eyes," she murmured, pausing before she shook her head again, opening the door and stepping inside.
Meanwhile in Dagonet's room he checked on Lucan once more before sinking into the bed, looking up at the ceiling. "Get a hold of yourself," he murmured softly. "She's only helping you because she is kin to Tristan and Roxana," he paused for a moment, Eirwen's face haunting him, her eyes focused on his skin and her hands gliding gently over the wounds. He shook his head quickly. He could already hear Bors and Lancelot, chiding him for not bedding more women. He was being silly, he reasoned, rolling on to his right side and trying to sleep. "But her eyes," he whispered, before finally finding some peace in his dreams.
xoxoxoxoxoxox
Cornell's head throbbed as he rested it against the cool bars of the Roman prison. He was in a small cage, hanging from the ceiling about four feet shy of the floor, his knees slammed painfully into his chest and his body aching from the position. He looked down at his hands and cringed at the sight of his dislocated fingers. If he couldn't set them soon he'd never fire a bow again, and probably never hold a sword. And then he would never stand a chance.
The days of confinement, only being released from the cage long enough for the guards to torture him, thanks to Brenna's encouragement and the fact that he was the only prisoner currently being held, had done one thing for the man. It had cleared his mind and made him understand why he had done the things he had.
Ever since he was a boy he had been insanely jealous of Tristan. While he was a limigantes, Tristan was an argaragantes. While he would never know the joys of riding into battle and being a brave knight, Tristan was an accomplished warrior, scout and knight, serving with the already legendary Arthur Castus. While he had loved Roxana since the day he laid eyes on her, Tristan had won her heart and her hand. He knew now that it was that jealousy that had driven him mad.
Now he sat, rotting in a cell, awaiting his punishment, praying that perhaps Roxana died on the road to the fort, and he would only have to face Tristan's wrath. That was a far better fate than the both of them combined. Especially considering Roxana's reputation.
He shuddered at the memory of his childhood, when he had made the mistake of telling the other boys Tristan was really a demon, and none should play with him for he would eat their souls. Somehow, that had made it back to Roxana, through Brenna no doubt, and he had ensured her wrath upon him. She had come up to him one day and pushed him into the mud and had a dagger her father had given her at his throat before he could realize what was done, an odd glint in her eyes.
"Do you like your head?" she had asked sweetly, the innocence gone from her twelve-year old face. He hadn't know what to say, so he merely nodded slowly. "Then enjoy it while I let you keep it," she responded before rising and walking away, the dagger going to its place at her belt.
He remembered for several weeks being insanely paranoid around the girl. Every snake in his bed, every animal that crossed his path and every shadow that followed him he knew she had sent to get him. It was silly really and he began to relax until in the middle of the Winter Solstice celebration she looked over at him suddenly as she danced with Tristan and winked, her hand fingering the knife.
Yet still he loved her, the fire about her and the passion in her eyes as she fought and trained and hunted. And the looks she would give Tristan as they grew older about drove him mad. He would lay in his tent late at night and pretend that for an instant, she was casting that look to him. When Tristan and her wed, he had cursed the union with every fiber of his being, and still nothing could come between them. When she was with their first child he had to leave the camp, unable to look at her while she walked around, her belly large, and pride in her and Tristan's eyes. He returned when he got word that the infant had died, hoping to find a wedge between them. But their bond was only stronger, and he cursed it once again.
When Tristan was finally commissioned Cornell saw his chance, and was about to offer himself to her when Tristan's mother announced the joyous news. Roxana was with child once more. He could not stand it then, for she would never take him as a lover while her husband away if Tristan's child played in the same tent. So he went, and he plotted and found the snake, killing it and keeping it for the perfect moment.
When the day of the hunt came, it was only too easy to get her separated from the others, and following her in the trees, he threw the snake behind her horse right before she turned it back towards the camp. And as the animals were known to do, it reacted, throwing her from it. He rescued her, was rewarded with a hero's banquet and the knowledge that the child was no more.
He shook his head slowly then, trying to rid his mind of the thoughts that plagued him as he again looked down to his fingers, begging the Gods that only Tristan lived, because then at least he would have a quick death.
He heard the doors open then, but was two weak to turn and see which torturer had come for him. It was late in the evening he guessed, since no light had come from outside when the doors opened, but that did not matter. Sometimes they would come for him after having gotten drunk at the tavern, a certain black haired, brown-eyed demon encouraging them no doubt. One thing was certain, Brenna and Roxana were both their fathers' daughters, and very much alike when it came to the fun they had with their victims. Although it shouldn't surprise Cornell really. Brenna had looked up to her older sister a great deal while growing up, and they had trained together. He let out a groan and leaned his head back against the bars. Why couldn't he have fallen in love with Eirwen, he wondered as the doors closed behind the guards with a loud thud.
"Well isn't this a bloody mess," he heard Bors voice before feeling his caged hit hard, sending it rocking back and forth, causing him to groan in pain.
Suddenly someone grabbed it and turned it so he could face them. Cornell gulped as he looked into Tristan's cold eyes, his face impassive as always. "Not bloody enough I think," the scout said, noting one of Cornell's hands nearby, the fingers sticking through the bars where he had tried to steady himself as the cage spun. "Where ya been eh?" he asked, glaring at Cornell, who had turned white. Without warning Tristan grabbed his fingers and gave them a hard pull, causing the man to howl out in pain.
"Screams like a bleedin' woman," Bors stated, crossing his arms over his chest, his wrist knives in place as Tristan nodded, stepping back, his hand on his blade.
"Tristan you must believe me, I am sorry for what I have done," Cornell cried out, cradling his injured hands to him. "I was mad, I understand that now, and Vanora, poor Vanora, should be proof of that."
"Do we look like priests boy?" Bors growled and hit the cage then, slamming it into a nearby wall, anger and rage clear on his face.
"I now know why, and if you let me explain perhaps you can understand," Cornell begged, not ready to die just yet.
"No," Tristan answered coolly.
"Please, have mercy on me old friend," Cornell sobbed openly now.
"Friend?" Tristan questioned before looking at Bors. "Tell me friend, would you kill my unborn babe and sell my wife to be tortured?"
"Nay, but I would kill anyone who tried," Bors answered.
Cornell sobered then, glaring at the two men who regarded him with such hate. "Very well, then I ask that if you intend to kill me, please just make it quick, for the Romans have tortured me enough."
"Oh I don't know about that," a cold voice answered from the darkness and he watched in horror as Roxana emerged from the shadows. "You still have all your fingers." The scars from her abuse had faded a great deal, but were still apparent on her face. She came to stand before the cage, reaching a hand out and spinning it slowly. "Besides," she continued, "why should the Romans have all the fun."
"Roxana, please let me explain," Cornell began, fear apparent in his voice as tears rolled down his cheeks. "I was mad with love and jealousy! I did not mean my actions," she stopped the cage then and held a finger to her lips, silencing him.
"Shh," she whispered, her voice soft and sweet. "You anger my husband and his brother." She smiled as she began walking towards the fire, poking at the instruments lying around as she went. "Besides, it has been so long since we spoke, let us catch up first. How are you?"
He looked at her strangely so she shrugged and continued, poking through the tools again before she found what she was looking for, walking over to the fire and placing it in the flame. "I am quite well personally. I found my husband, the one you said was dead do you remember? I believe you told him the same about me," she twirled the long piece of metal in the flames, watching it begin to glow with fascination. "My injuries have healed, and I will bare a child before the next season." She rose now, the end of the metal glowing a bright orange as she turned and walked towards him. "Sadly for you, there are no snakes to throw in my path this time," she regarded him coolly.
"Ana please," he began to plead, her face growing even colder.
"Don't you dare call me Ana," she stated, shoving the metal through the bars and against his left cheek, causing him to scream in agony. The smell of burning flesh quickly filled the room and Bors made a disgusted face as she pulled it away, revealing the skin still smoking a bit. "Oh, did that hurt?" she asked, throwing the branding iron across the room.
"Please, please," he begged, clutching at his face.
"Pathetic," Bors snorted.
"I agree," Roxana stated, moving over to take Tristan's arm. "I never begged."
"I am proud," Tristan said, kissing her gently.
"Come, let us go have a drink," Bors said as they began moving towards the door.
"See you on the marrow Cornell," Ana called back. "Or, perhaps not," she grinned sweetly as they disappeared from the prison, leaving him bloody, broken and sobbing for his mother.
xoxoxoxoxoxox
"Don't tell me your done," Brenna chided, leaning forward to poke Lancelot in the arm but only succeeding in falling over and landing in his lap, laughing hard.
"Lady, you need not be so forward," the dark knight grinned drunkenly, leaning forward, his face a mere inch from Brenna's, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath. "All you need do is ask if you wish to share my bed this evening."
Brenna pushed him back, laughing as she rose. "I'm sorry dear knight, but you are not quite handsome enough for my bed," she slurred, grabbing her mug and pouting when she found it empty.
Lancelot looked slightly insulted as he grumbled, "No woman has ever turned down my bed."
"Well, when all the women you converse with are barmaids, that will tend to happen," Brenna grinned. "I am more picky in my choices. Besides, I have given up on men for the time."
Lancelot downed the rest of his drink in one gulp and looked at her thoughtfully. "Why is that?"
"Because, I've decided I'd like to know what it was like to love the man I was bedding, or at least respect him," Brenna answered, sobering slightly. "So the next man I bed, that will be why. Besides, they just slow you down."
"You daft woman," Lancelot stated, leaning over the table and regarding her for a long moment. "That way only leads to pain and heartache."
"It did not for my sister," Bren argued.
"You did not see him when he thought her dead."
"Aye, but I did see her while he was a way. Now tell me brave, noble knight, how is that pain and heartache any worse than the feeling of loneliness you entertain."
"I am not lonely and you can ask any of these women to verify that," he was sobering up now as well, and defended himself adamantly.
"Oh yes you are," she was completely sober now as she regarded him.
"And how do you presume to know this?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.
"Do not think for an instant you are the only one to hide behind flirtatious smiles and sarcastic retorts," she said lowly before rising and heading for the door, leaving him in shock and alone.
xoxoxoxoxoxox
Sybil smiled as she stroked her brother's horse, the animal snorting happily at the attention. She hadn't been tired and decided a walk to the stables would do her some good. The animals had always calmed her.
She moved onto the next animal, a shining white creature. Slowly she stroked his nose, and ran her fingers through his main, earning a contented sigh from the beast, which moved forward in the stall to allow her a better angle.
"His name is Ashton," a voice said from behind her, startling her and making her draw her sword as she spun, stopping it at Gawain's throat. He held up his hands. "I did not mean to frighten you," he said as she re-sheathed the weapon.
"It is fine," she answered, turning back to the creature and scolding herself for letting him come up on her. What would her father say? She shook her head slowly before asking, "Is he yours?"
"Aye, that he is," Gawain answered proudly, coming up and patting the creature lovingly.
"He is very strong," she observed before turning to regard the knight. "And loves you a great deal."
"Can you speak to animals as well?" Gawain asked smiling down at her.
"Nay, but I can read them, as my brother can," she answered, a small smile gracing her own lips. "Our father taught us how."
"He taught you to fight as well?"
"Yes. As did Brachus," she paused for a moment before moving on to the next horse. "What tribe are you from?"
"A branch of the Roxolani."
"Do you remember home?" she asked, moving to sit on one of the benches.
"Not much, no," he admitted moving to join her.
"It is beautiful there," she smiled. "Do you plan to return?"
"I know not," he answered honestly. "I think I would like to one day go back there, and find a beautiful Sarmatian woman to take as a wife. But it would be difficult."
"To leave your brothers," she finished for him and offered him a sad smile. "My father and Brachus were the closest of brothers when they served under Uther, like you and Galahad I believe, only more quiet. They stayed close when they returned home, but were saddened that they did not see any of their other brothers in arms again."
"How do you know of my closeness to Galahad?" he asked curious.
"It is apparent when you stand together, and laugh together," she smiled over at him. "And Vanora told me."
Gawain chuckled slightly. "And what will you do?" he asked. "When this battle is done."
"I know not," she answered, her face becoming impassive. "I will decide when my brother and his wife do. And the others I suppose."
Gawain nodded in understanding, plucking a piece of hay from the bale nearby and rolling it between his fingers. The two sat in companionable silence for a long time, just listening to the sound of the horses before Sybil rose. "I should be going to bed," Sybil said. "But I thank you for sitting with me."
"Think nothing of it. Here, allow me to accompany you," Gawain rose as well, throwing the hay away and offering his arm to her.
"It is not necessary," she smiled at him.
"What kind of chivalrous knight would I be if I did not escort a lady home?" he asked, his arm still offered.
"How very true," she laughed, taking his arm as they both began heading towards the rooms.
xoxoxoxoxoxox
Tristan watched the smile playing on Roxana's lips as she sat upon a chair near the fire, her fingers flowing through her hair as she undid it's braid, a comb resting in her lap. In the firelight her skin almost seemed to grow and as he watched from the bed, he imagined what she would look like in a few months time, when their child began to show. A smile pulled at his lips as he rose, sneaking up next to her and kneeling, wrapping his arms about her waist and kissing her neck. "Come to bed wench," he growled playfully, against her skin, his lips trailing lazily down her shoulder, hovering near the wound.
"My hair is not done yet," she stated, her smile growing as she leaned against him, her hands resting over his arms, her hair forgotten.
"It is fine," he murmured against her skin, his hands beginning to move around her waist and up her abdomen, cupping her breasts, his lips continued at their task. "It is not possible for you to be more beautiful."
She moaned softly her hands going up and finding his hair, as she leaned further back, slipping from the chair and into his arms, which moved to scoop her up and take her to the bed. She turned in them, kissing him deeply as he carried her over and laid her down gently, his lips leaving hers to trail down her body, stopping at her stomach. He placed a kiss at her navel before coming back up, his lips finding her own again.
"We have much to celebrate," he stated softly, his hand going to her belly and settling there.
"We do," she agreed, her hands snaking around his neck, caressing his bare shoulders.
His hands began to move again, pulling the gown from her body as she worked at his belt, their lips never far from one another's for very long as slowly they became one again, as they had almost every night since the Goddess had returned them to one another, their moans echoing into the night as everything was forgotten. Cornell, the approaching Saxons, and the battle to come, none of it mattering, leaving only them and their joy and undying love.