Chapter Four – Northern Country
I wanted to find somewhere to hide
And I opened up and left those fears inside
And I wanted to be anyone else
Only to find that there was no one there but me
But I woke up to the real life
And I realized it's not worth running from anymore
When there was nowhere left to hide I found out
That nothing's real here but I won't stop now
Until I find a better part of me
I let those hard days get me down
And all the things I hate got in my way
I could have screamed without a sound
I found myself silenced by those things they say
But I woke up to the real life
And I realized it's not worth running from anymore
When there was nowhere left to hide I found out
That nothing's real here but I won't stop now
Until I find a better part of me
That's out there somewhere
And it can't be that far away
That's where I'll find myself
And I'll find my way out
That's where I'll find out
But I woke up to the real life
And I realized it's not worth running from anymore
When there was nowhere left to hide I found out
That nothing's real here
but I won't stop now
Until I find a better part of me
"The Real Life" 3 Doors Down
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470 A.D.
Badon Hill…The next morning found Aylin kneeled in a dazed silence. Dawn was just now creeping on Badon Hill, casting a slight glow over the fortress.
The call of the birds brought her back to reality. She glanced to the woods in front of her and smiled when she saw the brightly colored blue birds flying at high speeds around the trees. But soon the smile vanished and her eyes were drawn once again to the green mound before her.
Aylin couldn't remember how long she had been there. Shortly after returning to her room and finding that sleep once again eluded her, she had come to this place.
Looking for closure.
So far, she hadn't found it. Sighing, she placed her hand on the raised earth.
"Brother…" she whispered, willing herself to cry.
But no tears fell, and she hated herself for it.
"Perhaps…it is best. That you are already gone, so you can't see what they've made me… What I've made myself," she added, but then stood and whipped around at the sound of footfalls behind her.
"Whoa! It's just me," Gawain said softly, hands raised in peace at the dagger raised to his throat.
Retracting her weapon and placing it in its proper sheath, Aylin stared at the man expectantly.
Seeing the hint, Gawain said, "I saw you from the fortress and decided to join you."
She seemed to accept this and moved again to sit at Kavan's grave. Gawain took a chance and sat next to her. When there was no protest, he settled more comfortably.
"I recognize that," she said so quietly that Gawain strained to hear her.
Aylin was looking at the sword that was embedded at the head of the burial mound.
"It was my father's sword… Before he was killed. I had forgotten that Kavan had taken it."
"It rightfully belongs to you now, as his only surviving relative. Why do you not take it?" Gawain asked after a pause.
With a mirthless laugh, Aylin answered,
"No. I couldn't do that. He earned the honor of bearing the sword of our Father. I will not take it from him now."
Gawain watched her from the corner of his eye. He noted the harsh look upon her tan face, the iciness of her blue eyes. He also took notice of their softening when looking upon her father's sword.
Aylin felt the sadness in her grow when her eyes came to the sword's hilt. There lay something she never thought to see again.
Moving to her knees, she reached out and grasped the necklace, identical to her own, that hung there. Rubbing dust off the surface, she gazed at the crest of her family and her own name.
Gawain saw what she held and smiled sadly, saying,
"Kavan would rub that pendant for luck before we went on missions."
"You knew him well did you not?" Gawain nodded in answer to her question. "Far better than I did I'm afraid. Isn't it terrible? That a man's own sister didn't know him…"
"It wasn't your fault, Aylin," Gawain said in earnest. She looked at him questioningly.
"Kavan told me of what happened in your village: of your parents' deaths, the separation. Rome took him away from you. If there is any fault in you not knowing your brother like you should have, it belongs completely to the Romans."
She gave him what could pass for a smile as she clasped the pendant around her neck to hang with her own. At least in this one little thing, brother and sister could be united again.
"I think if he were still alive the feeling would be mutual. He wouldn't recognize me as that carefree little girl he knew back in Sarmatia."
Gawain hesitated, unsure if he had gained enough of her trust to ask more questions. Though he had only met Aylin the day before, he felt a bond with her. After all, Kavan had been one of his closest friends, his brother.
"That makes Aylin my sister as well. And as such, I need to know about her," he thought and then asked,
"Aylin…what did you mean earlier…when you said 'what they had made of you?'"
"Exactly that." At his confused look and also because he had been a friend of her brother, she decided to elaborate. "Everything I am. Everything I'm made of… Came from necessity, not choice."
She stood and looked down at him.
"You and the others would be ones to understand that certain experiences shape the person," she said as she turned away, saying a Sarmatian farewell in her heart to Kavan.
Gawain stayed for a while longer, surrounded by his fallen friends. He couldn't help but wonder now if he would be able to go home, or if he would join his comrades here, in the little cemetery on Badon Hill. Because he didn't want to think about it, he stood and walked away, leaving the dead behind.
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Hadrian's Wall, training yard…
When he came to the training grounds outside the stables, Gawain was surprised to see a small crowd of soldiers, women and children circled around. Curious to see what the fuss was about this early in the day, he made his way to the fence that separated those training from the spectators.
Already there were Bors, Galahad, and Lancelot sitting on the fence. Gawain leaned on the fence in between Bors and Lancelot and watched Tristan and Aylin's archery competition. So far, Aylin looked a happy at competing with someone who posed a challenge.
Across the way were two man-shaped straw targets. Each was riddled with arrows.
Tristan waited expressionless as Aylin aimed her shot. When released, the arrow split another previously shot in the center of the target. With a nod acknowledging her skill, Tristan pulled three arrows from the quiver on the ground next to him. Lining up the bow, he pulled pack the string.
A loud gasp, followed by laughter erupted from the crowd as all three arrows hit the target in three strategic places: the head, the chest, and the groin. The knights present merely shook their heads in amusement, proud to see that their scout was still the superior archer.
Aylin turned to Tristan with a shocked grin on her face.
He just looked at her and shrugged, his hair falling across his face, but he wasn't quick enough to hide the smile that tipped the corners of his mouth. Aylin's own smile grew when she saw his.
"So the aloof scout has a sense of humor after all!" She mused silently.
Still, Aylin wasn't satisfied. She had come to the grounds with the intention of working out her emotions with a fight. Tristan had already been there, idly shooting his bow, waiting for Arthur to signal their departure, so she had decided to indulge him in a little competition.
Unfortunately, the contest hadn't erased the frustrations she felt. Aylin grabbed her sword from the scabbard at her hip. Once again, glad that the maid had finished washing her clothes. Sparring in a dress wasn't an impossible task for Aylin, but one that she highly detested. Twirling the blade, she looked at her audience, willing someone to come forward and help her with her task.
Lancelot was only too happy to oblige.
Hopping off his perch at the fence, he pulled out his twin swords from their sheaths that he had hung on the fence and walked toward her. She answered with a smile filled with the lust for battle and took up her stance.
The other knights took up bets with each other and some in the crowd, cheering on who ever they had picked to win.
The first clash came seconds later. Lancelot had taken the first offensive move with a heavy slash to Aylin's shoulder, which she pushed away with her sword, but had to jump back as his second sword came around toward her stomach. Looking into his eyes, she saw the arrogance and teasing that came along with his devilish grin.
'Watch your opponent's eyes and do not focus on his weapon's movements, otherwise you will become dizzy and miss a block.' Cornelius's advice came to Aylin as she noticed that Lancelot watched her body's movement with the sword, and not her eyes. Her friend had taught her well that an opponent's eyes betrayed his next actions.
Determined to wipe the smug look off his face, Aylin rushed by him before he could hit her with his swords and tapped him on the back with the flat of her blade.
Lancelot spun around, wondering how she had gotten behind him so quickly. "Damn is she fast," he thought.
He lunged and found himself yet again without a hit because his opponent was behind him, and damn it, she was smiling.
Lancelot came at her with the force of his twin blades and while she parried most of the blows, her sword still became locked between his two. Pulling her closer, he smirked at her through the X of the blades.
"Give up yet?" He asked sweetly. The grin vanished when she winked at him.
Quickly moving her sword to the right detached the interlocked blades. Aylin kicked up her right leg, hitting Lancelot's left hand, knocking the sword into the air, which she soon caught in her left hand.
Grinning, she twirled her sword and one of Lancelot's before tossing his to the ground a few yards from them.
"Come on Lancelot! Beat her so I can get my money!" Bors yelled over the cheers and groans coming from the spectators.
Regaining his focus, Lancelot lunged again, while Aylin parried his thrusts. She could tell he was tiring, and so decided to end it soon. The next time his sword came swiftly down on her shoulder, she moved to the side, crouched, and kicked his legs out from underneath him.
The air in Lancelot's lungs rushed out as his back hit the ground. Aylin walked to him, kicking his sword away and crouched next to him, sword at his throat.
"Lesson learned: Watch your adversary's face. The eyes tell you what they plan to do next. Do you yield?" Aylin stood when he nodded and offered her hand, which he took.
"Not too bad…" came the attempt to save face.
Because she understood pride, Aylin smiled, then handed him one of his swords. She walked to fence and climbed to where she was straddling the top rail, while Lancelot grabbed his other sword and walked to the stables.
"Thank you Aylin. You just won me some money!" Dagonet shouted. "I happened to come up when bets were being made and it sounded like you were a pretty good one to take."
"Why, thank you Dagonet. Do I get a percentage for my troubles?" She asked teasingly as she took done her long braid, her hair already falling out of the plait.
He laughed and tossed her three copper pieces, which she placed in her pocket before resuming her task.
Gawain was leaning on the fence behind her. "Feel any better?"
She glanced at him over her shoulder, brushing through her black hair with her fingers.
"I don't know what you mean," she said then turned back.
"We both know that you needed to get something off your chest. Kavan used to do the same thing. I'm just asking if it worked."
She turned her head so she could see him over her shoulder again; surprised he compared her to her brother.
"Yes. It worked."
He smiled, showing his straight white teeth, blue eyes sparkling. "I'm glad." Then he walked off, probably to the stables.
Aylin watched him until he was out of sight then turned her head forward again.
A group of Roman soldiers stood a little ways away to watch the "dark angel," as they had dubbed her, tie her silky hair into a knot at the back of her head.
Dagonet saw this and looked back to Aylin; seeing that when she had her arms back to tie the thong in her hair, her tunic pulled across her breasts.
Turning back to the soldiers, he glared. One saw him and pointed it out to the others. They quickly found something else to do.
For some reason, Dagonet had decided to take up the role of the overprotective big brother, and he could tell already he was going to have his work cut out for him.
But Dagonet wasn't the only one who had seen; Tristan clenched his dagger from his position by the targets, but relaxed slightly when he saw the men leave. He had no idea why he had reacted in such a way, but he did know he didn't like how the Romans had all but drooled over Aylin.
Aylin finished and climbed down from the post. She walked past Dagonet and patted him on the arm appreciatively, because she had seen the soldiers watching her and what he had done about it. Both of them, followed by Bors, walked to the stables to prepare for the journey.
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Hadrian's Wall, stables…When Arthur walked into the stables a little while later, all the knights were there doing various tasks: cleaning their weapons, readying their horses. Or in Galahad's case, giving him a hard time.
The young knight was circling his white mare around the center of the stable and when he saw Arthur, he didn't bother to stop as the commander walked past him.
Dagonet, leaning against a stall, frowned at him in disapproval. This seemed to have some effect, as Galahad stopped, dismounted and found something else to occupy his time.
Aylin was seated at the back of the stable, Lancelot and Bors on either side of her on a level, with Gawain in front and Tristan behind them.
No one said anything.
Apparently, there were still some upsets about this extra mission. Especially Aylin, as this would be an extra mission added onto another extra mission.
Tensions that were already high, became even more so when Germanus walked in with Horton following like a hound behind him.
"As a representative of the Church of Rome, Horton will accompany you on your quest…to make sure you do your duty to the Church and…to watch over you," the Bishop announced, the last part said directly to Aylin, a bland mask on the Bishop's face.
In response, Aylin narrowed her eyes in suspicion, while she flipped her dagger over in her hand repeatedly.
"My duty is also to my knights," Arthur said firmly.
The Bishop turned to him with a highly exasperated look. "Then get them home."
After a slight stare-down, Arthur ordered Jols to get Horton a horse. The Bishop smiled disgustingly and left the stables.
Aylin stood, walked around Gawain and up to Horton. Looking her in the eye seemed to be too much for the man, who remembered the altercation with Aylin the night before, because he quickly looked at the ground.
"Stay out of the way, Roman. Whatever the Bishop might have said, you are to disregard or you might find you'll have an… Accident," she said in a threatening tone.
Horton looked up in fear, saw that she wasn't jesting with him, nodded and quickly went to find the horse Jols was loaning him.
Aylin turned to face the men. "If he was told to watch us, then we need to return the favor and watch him."
Arthur nodded his agreement, as did the others. They started to add whatever armor was left to put on when someone clearing their throat interrupted them.
All turned to look at the Roman Lieutenant standing in the center of the stable. Aylin recognized him as the one who had led the caravan from Rome… Bennett was his name, she remembered.
"Yes, Bennett. Did you need something?" She asked, not impolitely because she considered him kind and one of the few good Romans that she knew…and she knew a lot of Romans.
"Yes, My Lady Marsile… I wanted to tell you that it was an honor to have met and served with you, and the others think so as well. We all hope that once you are free… you will still stay in Rome sometimes. I'm sure the Lord Herminius agrees as well…" He rambled on, stopping only when he realized he had spoken of the Emperor's son, not some common soldier.
The poor man; not only did he have the attention of the warrior Marsile focused on him, but also that of the Sarmatian Knights of Hadrian's Wall.
The knights were doing very well hiding their amusement at the man's nervousness in speaking to Aylin. It seemed he had the same reaction to her as every other man did.
Taking pity on Bennett's embarrassment, Aylin stepped forward and placed her hand on his shoulder.
"Thank you Bennett. You may pride yourself on being one of so few from Rome that have ever heard my thanks." She smiled and went back to her preparations.
Bennett smiled a very large smile, bowed his head to the knights and left the stables.
Arthur grinned. "Herminius? The Emperor's son?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Aylin warned.
Lancelot couldn't contain himself any longer. "Do we have a 'special' relationship with the 'Lord Herminius?'" Laughter came out with the rest of his question.
"Lancelot…" she said lowly as she turned toward him. "I said I don't want to talk about it.
"The man annoys the hell out of me. Every time I hear his name I feel like beating something… And right now you look pretty good to me. Did you not have enough earlier?" She had succeeded in turned the others' attention to him, because they started in on his loss to her earlier that morning.
Aylin came up beside Artay, rubbing his neck and whispering comforting words to him in her native language.
Tristan watched, as it seemed that the animal almost answered her back. He had heard of "Marisle's" skill with horses and it was even more real now that he knew she was Aylin. He picked up the bundle next to him and walked over to her.
Aylin looked up at his approach and smiled. He handed over the bow, quiver and arrows he had collected for her at the grounds. She took them, strapped the quiver to her back, and placed the bow on the saddle as she thanked him. He didn't answer but nodded and walked to his own horse and mounted.
Aylin followed his example and swung up on Artay's back. Moving the stallion out of the open stall, she stopped when she saw the Jols and the knights still talking.
Finally Arthur spoke, "Men, I would like to arrive at the estate before the Saxons."
They took the hint and mounted their horses. The nine trotted out of the stable and through the courtyard. Horton scrambled to mount the mare Jols had given him to ride and hurriedly rode to join the knights and their squire, afraid to be left behind with the Bishop's wrath.
Nearing the large gate to the North, they rode two by two down the narrow path. Arthur and Lancelot led the group; Bors and Dagonet were next; then Aylin and Gawain; after were Galahad and Tristan, his hawk soaring overhead; Jols and last was the little Roman, Horton, trying desperately to catch up to the powerful war horses on the mare.
The group reached the gate as the heavy doors were pulled open by massive Clydesdales, dust shooting out of the hinges from lack of use.
And then they were off into the Northern Country on a journey that would stir up things much more complicated than simply escorting a Roman family.
Next Chapter: History
A/N: Hey guys. I just wanted to tell you that on Wednesday, June 22, I will be leaving for a five-day vacation. But I will try to have to next chapter up sometime at the end of next week. Thanks.
Also, some of you might have noticed that Aylin's relationship with Gawain has changed. In the first version, there was a Gawain/OC pairing. But after writing a few chapters, I realized that Aylin had much more in common with Tristan and truly believed that Aylin and Gawain could just be friends. Hope those of you who like Tristan/OC fics are reading and sorry to those who were rooting for Gawain. – Chevalliata