An Optimist's Dream in a Time of Darkness:

Chapter 5: The Siege on Hadrian's Wall

AN: Salut! Sorry it has been so long, it took me a while to write this one plus I've been super busy. I painted my room this past weekend and finished my last drive time with the driving instructor! wOOt! So yeah, I'm glad to have updated. I love this chapter because it gets into the battle but unfortunately because it gets into the battle I feel it takes away some of the finesse of the characters. But I'll let you read and you can tell me for yourself what you thought of it. Okay? Alright… get reading…lol!

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Arthur had been sleeping in his chamber when Vanora burst in screaming. "Arthur! ARTHUR GET UP! THE WALL IS UNDER ATTACK! GET UP!" She thrust him out of bed and onto the floor, where he landed uncomfortably on the stone slabs.

"What?" He squinted through his weary eyelids up at the young woman.

"No time to explain, just come with me, and hurry!" Vanora latched her hand around Arthur's arm and pulled him up from the floor in one enormous jerk of her body. "Let's go!"

They raced out of the room, Vanora leading down the hall towards the staircase with a bundle of sheets in her left arm as she dragged Arthur along with the other. All that he could see of her constantly moving and shaking body was her hair as it tumbled down from its usual stance on her head, everything else was a blur. She was sweating and panting, and burning up with frustration once they had reached the main level. "Damn, I can't see anything with all these people." She turned to Arthur and pleaded with him. "Look, the wall is nearly breached, I am to take you and as many of the other servants down into the cellar for safety. Grab a hold my arm as tight as you can because from here on out we're running through a maze to get down there. Are you ready?" Arthur grabbed a hold of her arm and nodded.

They were off, constantly banging into the townspeople who littered the streets and the livestock that had been set free to run. As they passed the main part of the Villa Arthur caught a glimpse of the wall and the fire that was blazing up on the other side. His soul shrank back within him and he was left in a trance, his home, his people would die on this night, and he had had the ignorance to bicker with Aislin on a day like this. Tears fell from his eyes and rolled down his rosy cheeks. He might never again set eyes on her determined figure or hear the sound of her voice as they raged on in their own duel; this was his companion, his friend and he let her slip away.

"Arthur, come. There is not much time left. Do you see the wall? They will be in here at any moment, come." Vanora jerked him away from his trance and back to the thick dank smell of reality, they were at war.

"Aislin! We must find her." He cried out, whilst he begged and tugged on her gown.

"Arthur, we cannot. She probably is already down there; she is a smart girl. She would've known to go to the cellar for protection. Come, now!" Vanora pulled him along with a force she never knew existed, but she knew that she could not lead him to his suicide, for that is what he would go to if he left her side. If Aislin died then a trusted companion was lost, but if Arthur died then the future Commander of a powerful noble fleet would have been lost to the ashes, and that was something Vanora could not let happen.

The two of them packed themselves into the cool damp cellars and bundled up with the sheets that Vanora had been so thoughtful to grab. The young boys head bobbed around the crowd searching for any sign of his cousin. "Aislin! Aislin! Has anyone here seen my cousin Aislin?" Though his cries were all in vain, for no one had seen her.

He took off up the stairs, Vanora quick on his heels. "ARTHUR! NO, LET GO OF ME!" She turned and tried to fend of the villagers who were desperately trying to keep her safe in the dank tomb. "ARTHUR!" Her last cry was all that escaped from the slowly closing cellar doors. As the light from the outside became few and far between her sobs became worse until she had finally fell to the ground in her own distress.

-

"Aislin," Tristan called her over to Kade's stall once more. "You remember that I told you he was marvelously tame?" She nodded in agreement. "Do not fear him, for you must ride with me to the cellars. There will be many distractions, many people running around, try not to think about it, he will guide us, all that matters is you getting to safety. Do you understand, no matter what happens you will get to safety?"

At his last words she began to panic, 'what of you, won't you come with me to the cellars?"

His eyes left hers, which had already begun to tear up, and scanned the stable. "I cannot, I must help as many of the other's as possible." Tristan's shadowed eyes moved back to face her. "You promise me now, that no matter what goes on you will stay in the cellars." He saw the waver of fear fly across her face, "Aislin, promise me."

"Yes, I promise." her voice was hollow as she spoke.

"Good," he lead the horse out and did not even bother to place a saddle on before lifting her onto its back. He made sure the other two knights were ready to go before he climbed up and lead the horse out.

At first there was no commotion, no screams of torment, only the sound of the wind rushing past Aislin's ear as the horses shifted into full sprint through the village. Eventually cries were heard, then people were spotted, and then the terrible sound of the gate being smashed open. The young girl turned her head and watched as the Woads poured in to the garrison, their swords and spears gripped tightly within their palms, ready for battle. "Do not think on it, you are going to be safe in the cellars." She heard Tristan mutter to her as they came further into the village.

She had spotted something not moments before, a child running. Aislin's gray eyes searched for it again and then she saw him. "ARTHUR! STOP TRISTAN! STOP THE HORSE!" When he didn't halt she resorted to pulling on the horses mane and halting him herself.

The young girl had flung herself from the horse's back, and rolled on the ground for a moment while she caught the air that had been knocked out of her. "Aislin, get up, are you-." Tristan was caught off guard and knocked from his horse by a Woad. Aislin jumped back narrowly missing the falling knight and his attacker.

"Tristan!" She went to lunge at the Woad as a reflex but found that he had knocked her to the ground in his effort to kill Tristan. Her mind was swimming and her head aching with pain.

"Lancelot, get her out of here!" Tristan shouted as he fought his way out of the Woad's hold.

Aislin hadn't even noticed the second knight until he pulled her from the ground and dragged her away from the scene. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw the brutal scene in its entirety. Romans were dueling with Woads and most were losing. Bors and Gawain rode a few down with their steeds, while Tristan continued to wrestle one in the dirt, blood draining from his lower lip. The young girl was in a state of shock, how could it have gotten like this.

She had been in so much of a daze that she hadn't even truly realized she was saved. Her mind started to filter back to the reality of the situation; she was running, or more or less being dragged by Lancelot through the side streets of the village. He was talking to her though she did not hear a word that came from him, until he mentioned Arthur.

"He came through this part not ten moment ago. I had been following him all the while, trying to stop him and bring him back to the cellars. That's when I saw Tristan and you," he broke off, noticing her distressed face.

"Is he still out here? We must find him! We cannot leave him out here to die!" She screamed in panic.

Lancelot grabbed her shoulders, "do you want to die?" His eyes were hard and unkind, "I didn't think so. If you stay out here any longer you will. I will come back out with the rest of the Sarmatians and I will help find him, he is our future Commander and as such we cannot leave him behind. But for now, I am ordered to keep you safe, so whether you like it or not, you are coming with me."

Aislin felt the anger rise within herself, she struggled with his hold of her until she was free. She would not stay with him; he was the last person on this God forsaken Earth that she would ever feel safe with. She let her feet carry her away from him to the only exit, back to the battle.

-

Arthur's feet were raw and blistered, in some parts they were even bleeding. He slowed to a stop in his running and leaned himself against a wooden post, his breathing not as harsh as before. His mind had gone blank with fear; all he could see was smoke, all he could hear was the shrieks of women and cries of men, all he could smell was the sent of oak ablaze with an unrelenting fire.

He began to wonder once more, stumbling over rocks and fragments of wood. As he turned the bend the scent of burning oak changed, there had been something added, something foul. It reminded him of the way pigskin smelt as it was being branded, the way meat from animals smelt when they were dried by the fire, except this smell was much stronger. He turned the corner and saw the burning dwelling not far off; he saw the woman within it and took off down the hill.

At the bottom he tripped over a clump of dirt and fell into the fence, tears ran from his eyes, but not from pain, from a breaking heart. "Mother! MOTHER!"

A wagon was thrust down the hill, its contents causing it to pick up speed. Arthur climbed the fence, he would try to get to it, but it was too late. The rattling of the wheels had subsided and the entire wagon was now ablaze with the flickering red substance that tortured his mother. "ARTORIUS!" Her last word rang through Arthur's mind as if it had been a warning bell. He stood for a moment and watched as her body fell back into hell's fire. That awful smell of burnt flesh stinging his nostrils.

As he stood his anger rose, his palms had become sweaty and clenched into fists. His mother, the only woman to have come close to him, had been destroyed by these heathens, these barbarians of the woods. Arthur's feet trudged through the debris that littered the streets without his minds knowledge. He ignored the occasional Pict that was caught in a duel, as they ignored him, and continued on his way. He would kill the leader, the head of the Pict rebellion, Merlin.

-

Aislin skidded to a stop as she reentered the battleground. The breath in her lungs was released in a tremor of shock; she had not even begun to imagine the entirety of a war before this point. No matter how often she watched the knights practice battle skills, it was of no comparison to this. Men were being butchered, their blood staining the ground, the same ground that not a day ago they had walked to fetch chickens and milk cows. Their home was abolished and now they were as well. Blood splattered over Aislin's trembling body as a farmer's head was sliced clean from his shoulders. She had neither a voice to scream nor a clear mind to command her body to move.

She was so lost in shock as to what she had been witnessing that she hardly noticed the arm that had wrapped around her waist and pulled her to the ground in a sliding motion, narrowly avoiding the spear that would have taken her life. Aislin watched in disbelief as Lancelot thrust his sword into the gut of the Woad who had threatened her life. Thick crimson blood ran down the length of the blade until it reached the hilt and dripped onto they young girl's forehead. Her fogged eyes starred at her savior in bewilderment. She could see through the pits of his eyes to the shaking hand that held the blade in position that he had never before taken someone's life.

Her heart raced as she latched onto Lancelot's hand and helped to pull the blade from the corpse. They needed to get away from here; she would not die like this. She had looked at the dead man's face and saw pain, saw horror, a kind of horror she did not want to feel.

"We have to get out of here," his voice was small but determined and Aislin, despite her hatred towards the knight, did not intend to find a reason to disagree.

He pulled her from the ground and glanced around for a safe exit, but they had already been pulled into the thick of battle. There wasn't even a split second to think before they were attacked once more. The knight shoved Aislin to the side successfully knocking her to the ground again. She rolled to avoid a descending sword before trying to stand up and regain her balance.

There was nothing that could have prevented the next moment as she was lifted away from the dirt, her feet dangling desperately trying to reach the coolness of earth's crust. Her mind dozed in and out of reality before she took notice of the cold metal against her throat. She could feel the warmth of the warrior's breath as it blew on her ear and his binding grip around her stomach. Aislin felt the vomit rise to her mouth; she choked on the horrible taste of last night's pork and stale wine and did her best to keep it confined.

Aislin heard the tearing of the Woad's flesh and the heat of his blood as it trickled over her shoulder. She was released and dropped to the ground vomiting what was left in her mouth. The stench came to her nostrils and she turned in disgust of her own weakness. Aislin watched as her captive was speared straight through to his back, her stomach churned and she threw up once more at the sight of this death. She was not meant to see this, she couldn't handle it, and she knew she would not last another moment out here.

"Aislin! Are you injured?" Tristan had huddled to her, his worn hands searching her face for wounds. She shook her head still in a deep trance. "Where's Lancelot and the other's? Do you know?"

"He was here, was right here." Her sentences were fragments of information just as the battle was fragmenting and breaking up. "He saved me, but attacked, he-." She caught a glimpse, something so frightful it made her heart leap in her chest. The knight was being beaten, kicked and sliced as if for sport. She saw the bow raised, the arrow aimed and the leader of the Woads holding it all in place. Aislin had no conscious reason why she had risen and ran toward them. Perhaps she felt she owed a debt to Lancelot for saving her life, perhaps she wished the fighting to stop, or perhaps she wanted Merlin to see her in all of her hideousness. Whatever the reason, she left all common sense behind her and went to them, as if a moth to a flame.

-

Arthur entered the rotting cemetery and headed for his father's burial mound. He knelt before it in a begging manner and spoke softly so only the heavens could hear his whispered prayer. "Father, please forgive me but I need your guidance, your strength to wield your sword. I need your help to protect our people to avenge mother and to destroy our enemy. Help me."

He struggled with the sword, his grip as tight and as strong as he could muster. But it was to no avail he could not retrieve it. "Please Father, let loose your sword!" At his cry he pulled with all his might and released the double-edged spatha. "Bless you Father."

Arthur carried the burden of the sword's weight in both hands as he made his way past the crumbling dwelling that was his mother's confinement. His tears had all but dried up though his pain was still great. He toppled over in agony begging for vengeance and revenge over the Woads who destroyed everything that Arthur had come to hold close to his heart. He prayed for the will to carry on, for courage to face the beasts, the heathen's who destroyed him.

He thought of Aislin and who she was, who she could become if she were indeed still alive, and he detested the thought. His eyes wondered to the battleground through the broken down fences and singed dwellings. He saw the Roman's prevailing, he saw that the Woads were outnumbered yet they still fought, then he saw Aislin and he too ran.

-

"Stop!" She tripped over the dead corpses that littered their fields and stained their lake. "Please stop!" Her eyes were blood shot from painful tears and the burden of life and yet she charged on, ignoring the sickness that threatened to show itself once more. "Please you mustn't! MERLIN!"

His eyes flickered towards her and he watched as she collapsed to the ground in pure exhaustion. He knew what he wanted to do, he wanted to end this on going battle now and be rid of the Romans. But he also knew what he had to do, he was outnumbered and there was no hope of taking the field with so many casualties, he had to retreat.

Aislin glanced around and took in the state of everything little by little. She saw Lancelot being held on his knees by a Pict, his face bloodied and his tunic torn. The young girl starred on as the knight's captor hit him in his side. "No!" She cried out as she crawled in the mud over to Merlin. "Please, no more blood. No more." She muttered, tears streaming from her eyes.

Merlin hesitated; sweat dripping from his forehead as he battled with his conscience. He starred down at what he had done, how he had placed his own people in jeopardy and marched out here in all rashness. He glanced at this young Britain, this girl whom he placed here for safety and how he boldly turned against that pledge. He lowered the bow and proceeded to let it fall to the ground. "You are safe, Aislin child of the forest." He stated blankly and gruffly. "Release him," Merlin's voice was steady as he commanded his warrior.

"But sir," he pleaded.

"I said release him." He commanded again and this time Lancelot was let go of. He caught himself before he hit the dirt and then slowly eased himself to the ground just before he passed out.

Aislin toppled over and fell unwillingly into a deep sleep as well. Her mind swimming far from that butchered place. "Father!" A young man came running up the side of the hill, a scowl burned into his face. "We must kill her. She is one of them now."

"No," he breathed, "she is of our blood. I sent her here so that atleast one of our people might have a chance at living a free life. I will not destroy what I once saved." Merlin turned to walk away.

His son, though how stubborn he was, was not grasping the whole of the situation. "If you do not put an end to this now she will marry and produce a child. A Roman child."

The Woad leader gazed at his young minded son, he looked him over with an understanding of the rages produced by youth. "That child will also be half Britain. She will secure our claim on their side as her Aunt has done. We have made our point here today, but we have lost too many and we must save our strength for another day. Call the retreat, we are finished here." Merlin continued down the hill to the band of rebels that were his army.

The son faced the young child and pulled his sword, "It is my duty to our people Aislin, and you must come to understand that." The blade was to the ten-year-old's throat and he was about to make his move when he felt the familiar pain of a sword to his own neck.

"Remove your sword," Tristan's voice was level and his eyes keenly on the irresponsible Pict. "I said, remove your sword." He gave a jerk of the Spatha and made a minute slice in the young man's flesh.

The Woad boy tossed the blade to the side and held his hands out before turning to face the knight. Tristan took in the sight of him, dark eyes, and dark hair to his earlobes, painted skin, and a small tattoo on the center of his forehead in the shape of a sun. He wasn't frightening but vengeful. "Now leave, unless you want to die?" The Woad, without so much as another word was gone back down the side of the hill.

Tristan bent down and scooped Aislin up in his arms. He stood for a moment balancing the weight and watched as two Roman legions helped pull Lancelot from his huddled position in the blood and dirt combination. Then he too, began his stroll back to the burned out village, limping every now and then.

When he made it to the bottom of the hill Arthur greeted him with a disheveled look. Tristan's footing slipped and dropped to the side, with Aislin still clenched to his chest. The young boy ran to him. "Are you-." He stepped back, his face running pale with horror, "Aislin!"

"She's alive, but extremely exhausted and I would-" he stiffened with pain from his back, and then released a wavered breath. "I would imagine she would be devastated by what she's seen though. For now we need to get her to-." He paused rethinking what he was about to say, safety. Was there any safe place within the tattered remains of this garrison? "We need to get her somewhere where she can rest."

"Most of the Villa is still intact, perhaps we could find a place there." Tristan nodded and began to stand once more.

"Your father's?" He pointed to the sword in Arthur's arms.

"Yes."

-

AN: Thought that might be a good place to end it. Now a note to y'all, I know it seemed as though Lancelot and Aislin were starting to like each other in this chapter… not so fast. After this chapter it is more like they have a certain respect for each other, they no longer loath the other person they just dislike them… a lot. But the good news… after the beginning of the next chapter time flies by and the story will begin to pick up pace. So that's always something to look forward to. Well, if you have any questions feel free to ask. And as always that you to all that have reviewed! And a special note to KateMary77, yes there will be romance and it will start to blossom over the next few chapters. Ta!