Almost Had It All
Oh my goodness guys, sorry for the delay! School and work has been a hassle for the past couple of weeks and I didn't have time to sit down and write. The story's rating has been changed from T to M officially. The "Sexual Situations" mentioned in the summary will occur in this chapter–so you've been warned.
Chapter Thirteen: Executed Plans Part II
They tell you where you need to go
They tell you when you need to leave
They tell you what you need to know
They tell you who you need to be
But everything inside you
knows there's more than what you've heard
There's so much more than empty conversation
Filled with empty words
You're on fire
When he's near you
You're on fire when he speaks
You're on fire burning at these mysteries
Give me one more time around
give me one more chance to see
Give me everything you are
give me one more chance to be near you
When everything inside me
Looks like everything I hate
You are the hope I have for change
you are the only chance I'll take
And I'm on fire when you're near me
I'm on fire when you speak
I'm on fire burning at these mysteries
I'm standing on the edge of me
I'm standing at the edge of everything I've ever been
and I've been standing at the edge of me, standing
at the edge
I'm on fire
When you're near me
I'm on fire
when you speak
I'm on fire
burning at these mysteries
These mysteries
These mysteries
Yeah
You're a mystery
You're a mystery
"On Fire" Switchfoot
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
470 A.D.
Hadrian's Wall...
After an hour or so of talking and planning, Bennett left Arthur in the Meeting Hall.
Leaning back in his chair with a sigh, Arthur rubbed his face with his hands.
"Dear Lord, please know that this is for the bestForgive me."
With that little prayer for understanding, Arthur leaned forward again to compose the letter that would be sent to Merlin. (A/N: In my story, I'm going to go ahead and assume that Merlin can read Latin)
The Roman made sure that the letter was legible and then sealed it. Calling out for the servant he knew waited at the door, he asked the man to bring Guinevere to the Hall.
The young man nodded and went off to complete his errand, while Arthur wondered if perhaps getting Guinevere involved wasn't the best idea.
He'd yet to make up his mind when the woman entered. Her dress hung off one shoulder and Arthur found it difficult to draw his eyes from the soft curve.
The woad smiled devilishly at his obvious stare. The grin slipped into a smirk as the commander shook his head and brought his eyes up to hers.
"You wanted to see me?" Guinevere asked huskily.
"Yes. I wanted to speak to you about getting a message to your father for me," Arthur replied, oblivious to the narrowing of her eyes at his "business" tone.
Internally clenching her hands in frustration, Guinevere appeared calm and poised as she so politely asked Arthur what the message entailed.
Arthur gave her a measuring look. No, he thought, I don't think I can trust Guinevere to know the specifics.
"Just strategies that I believe would be helpful to your people against the Saxons. Once Rome and my men leave, the Woads will be on their own."
Gritting her teeth, Guinevere refrained from lashing out at the comment. This is not how things were supposed to go, she thought.
She held out her hand for the letter. Arthur placed it in her palm, but quickly grabbed her wrist before she could snatch her hand away.
"Make sure it gets to Merlin, Lady. If it does not..." Arthur let the rest of his sentence trail off, but the look on Guinevere's face told him she knew exactly what he meant.
Jerking her arm out of his grasp, Guinevere stormed out of the hall. Her pouting attitude made Arthur realize how truly young and immature she was. She may have been only a few years younger than Aylin, but her actions showed that she still had a lot of growing up to do.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Shivering in the pre-dawn chilled air, Aylin once again cursed Germanus, and Crassus–well, just men in general–between coughs.
Thankfully, Brutus had yet to return to kick her some more.
Probably found some dim-witted barmaid to suck his cock for him, she thought, remembering that he had harshly asked if she would like the pleasure of doing so.
She also remembered the swift punch in the stomach he had given her in response to the spit in his eye.
When the sounds of heavy footsteps reached her ears yet again, Aylin didn't bother to look up.
"This cell seems to suit you, Marsile. Pity, we can't just keep you here," came the bishop's vile voice.
Lifting her cerulean eyes to glare at Germanus, Aylin replied, "Go piss on yourself Roman. I have better things to do than listen to you."
"Oh really? And what would that be? Counting the scratches on the wall? Or perhaps counting away the minutes until your death?"
"No actually. I could be thinking of the most painful ways to kill your sorry ass once the door on this cell is opened."
Aylin statement effectively wiped the grin of Germanus' face.
Pleased, she said, "Ah, I see. You can spit all the insults at me that you wish when there are iron bars between us, but the prospect of what would happen if they weren't terrifies you. What? Afraid your God wouldn't do anything to protect you? I heard he doesn't like hypocrites. But don't worry, I'm sure Marius Honorius has saved you one of the best seats in all of Hell."
Germanus didn't seem to have a reply as he turned on his heel and ordered the accompanying soldiers to bring her to the courtyard–but only after he had left the jail.
oOoOoOoOoOo
When the guards brought her up out of the stone structure, Aylin realized just how early in the morning in truly was.
The streets were quiet and empty.
Houses were dark and silent as their inhabitants slept.
The sky held not even a hint of morning light. The only light coming from the torches held by the soldiers.
And tucked away in the far southeastern corner of the fort wall, was the contraption that Germanus had had built while the knights were away.
It was a wooden structure, rectangular in shape, with a sturdy post mounted in the center. Hanging limply from this post was a thick noose, which was threaded through a bored hole and winded its way down the structure to a spinning wheel.
With a jerk of his bald head, Germanus signaled to have Aylin bound to the post, her hands tied tightly around it and her feet shackled to the hooks imbedded on the floor. Once she was incapacitated, the bishop stepped forward and took the 'honor' of placing the noose around her 'heathen' neck.
Holding Aylin's defiant gaze, even in her current position, Germanus moved away from her, crossing himself as he did so.
"May God have mercy on your soul."
The bishop nodded and the wheel began to turn, the pressure increasing.
oOoOoOoOo
Jols had lived at Hadrian's Wall his entire life, was born there, had begun his duties as a squire at the age of seventeen and had made many trips from the main building of the compound–where the knights and visitors and himself were housed–to the stables in the course of those duties.
So many trips that he knew the way like he knew his own hand; he could make the walk in his sleep, so the darkness was of no consequence to him.
It was on one of the these walks to the stables, long before dawn, that he noticed something that was not of the ordinary at such an hour.
In one of the southern corners of the compound, the dancing of torchlight could be seen on the stone on the wall. Curious, Jols quietly made his way in the light's direction and peered around the edge of the grain house.
Though the view was partially blocked by torch-bearing soldiers, the squire could clearly make out Aylin's form tethered to a post and he quickly took notice of the slowly tightening noose about her neck.
With wide eyes, Jols retraced his steps as quietly–but much more quickly–as before back to the knights' rooms.
He rushed down the corridor and didn't bother keeping his voice down as he knew that the bishop and the soldiers couldn't possibly hear him.
"Arthur! Arthur! Come quickly! Knights, wake the bloody hell up!"
Doors were opened and wearied faces were exposed to the torchlight of the hall.
"Ah, come on Jols. What are you goin' on about?" Galahad asked around a yawn.
Ignoring the youngest knight's question, Jols looked directly at the now present Arthur.
"What is it, Jols?" The commander asked in a stern voice.
Taking a deep breath in order to abate his panting, the squire replied, "The bishop was completely serious when he said 'morning execution'. In the southeast corner, Aylin's execution is in motion as I speak!"
"What!" Lancelot and Gawain exclaimed, as the men rushed back to their rooms for their weapons.
With Excalibur in hand, Arthur ordered Dagonet to fetch Bors from his rooms he shared with Vanora and their bastards behind the tavern.
The knights ran in the direction Jols had pointed them in, hoping to reach the corner before any irreversible damage was done.
"Where is Tristan?" Gawain growled as he ran. The scout's skills could really come in handy right about now.
oOoOoOoOo
Tristan stood on the northern wall facing the woods from which he and his fellow knights had just so recently come.
He could not hear the drums from his position, but he wasn't sure whether that was a good or bad thing.
The scout's trained hearing could pick up the sound of dogs running through the alleys–looking for a morning snack–and the flap of his hawk's wings above him, but not the steady, ominous drum of the Saxon army.
He had remained there after his murder of Brutus hoping to clear his mind of its angry haze–hoping to find some way to keep Aylin from death at the hands of the Church.
He had also seen the woad, Guinevere slip out of the gates and ride quickly into the northwestern woods. He didn't ponder her actions–he knew that the girl was obsessed with two men at this fort and wouldn't leave willingly without succeeding with one of them, so she must've been on an errand.
Tristan was about to release a frustrated sigh when the sound of voices reached his ears.
They were indistinguishable and on the opposite side of the compound, but he thought he also heard the jangling of chains accompanying them. When he turned to face the direction he believed the sounds were coming from, his sharpened senses recognized the frantic shouting of Jols from the main building just to his right.
Suddenly, the jangling of chains made more sense. Pulling his daggers from their sheaths, Tristan leapt down the stairs from the parapet and sprinted toward the southeast end of the fort.
oOoOoOoOo
Germanus watched happily as the rope tightened and as Aylin's lips' pink coloring slowly gave way to a sickly blue.
"See, with this little device, we can apply a vast amount of pressure on the criminal's throat, rather than relying on their own body weight hanging from the noose to do the job for us," the bishop explained with almost giddy air about him.
Meanwhile, Aylin was trying to keep her bloodshot eyes from closing as she wished to glare at the roman for as long as she possibly could. She could feel the rope rubbing the thin flesh of her wrists and neck raw as it simultaneously kept her from drawing sufficient breath.
Just as she thought she was going to lose consciousness from lack of oxygen and her eyelids began to drop, Aylin wished she could she the calm and eager face of Dominic one last time as opposed to the frightened one he'd last bore at her sight of him.
Yes, she'd like to see her son again. And now that she thought about it, Aylin wished she could she the dark, mysterious face of the scout again...just one last time.
As her blue eyes rimmed with red closed, Aylin missed the sight of knights arrival clad in mere breeches and thin tunics–no battle armor–but no less intimidating and dangerous with their deadly weapons in hand and a mighty urge to use them.
While Arthur and the others distracted Germanus and the soldiers, Tristan came around from behind, slit the throat of the guard manning the wheel with one dagger and cut the rope with the other.
With Excalibur under his chin, Germanus howled in frustration.
"You interfere where you ought not, Artorius."
"I'll interfere where I please at my own fort, Bishop," Arthur replied in a tone that dared Germanus to argue.
The bishop scoffed.
"You think you will stop it? She is marked for death by the Church itself! She will never be able to escape its reach. Her death is assured, but now you've only signed the death warrant of that bastard brat of hers as well, Artorius! The Church will hear of this!"
Arthur pressed his sword into the bishop's flesh, drawing but a bit of blood.
"Today, you leave this fort and I pray to God that I may never have to see your wretched face again, Bishop."
"When I leave, I take the whole of the infantry stationed here with me," Germanus retorted.
Arthur's bored expression showed how much he cared for that statement. Huffing, Germanus stalked off, the Roman soldiers not far behind him.
With the bishop and guards gone, the men could turn their attention to the structure, where Tristan was releasing Aylin from the noose about her neck.
The woman took a deep, wheezing breath once the pressure was gone and opened her weary eyes.
As the scout unbound her wrists and unshackled her feet, Aylin nodded her gratitude to them all–the bruises already sprouting up on her neck revealing the strangling of her vocal chords for the moment.
Noticing that Aylin was practically asleep on her feet, Arthur refrained from entering any conversation with her and had Tristan escort her to her quarters.
On the way to the main building, when the scout attempted to grab Aylin's elbow when she swayed on her feet, she shook him off. Tristan went unperturbed and actually smirked–he knew enough about pride to understand her actions and was happy to see she was acting like her usual self.
When they entered her rooms, Aylin sat on the mattress and stared blankly at the man.
"Do you need anything?" Tristan asked gruffly.
Swallowing–and wincing at the pain the action caused–she nodded and hoarsely said, "Water."
Tristan nodded and went to his own room to retrieve the fresh water from his table. Once he left, Aylin reached under the mattress corner and pulled out the sack of her Morpheus stash.
Tristan returned to her room and gave her a questioning stare as he took in the sack and the spoon in her hand.
"I need it," she whispered.
The scout nodded and dipped her out a cup of water. Aylin took the offered cup and spooned the drug into the water and quickly drank it down before handing the cup back to Tristan.
He refilled it and this time, Aylin merely drank the water, allowing it to quench the thirst she'd felt since she'd entered the cell the day before.
She set the cup on the table beside the bed with a whispered 'Thank You', before lying down and surrendering to the overwhelming exhaustion she'd refused to give in to in the jail.
Tristan watched Aylin for a while before he brushed a hair from her face and left her to her sleep.
oOoOoOoOo
Guinevere rode hard into the woods. Though unhappy at the manner in which he'd treated their conversation, Guinevere was hoping that her completion of his request might win herself favor in his eyes.
Maybe I would do better with the other, she thought.
No, no. It has to be Arthur, she reminded herself and nudged the borrowed mare into a faster run.
It didn't take her long to arrive at her father's 'command post' deep in the forest.
Once she'd efficiently delivered the letter and spoken with Merlin for a few moments, she remounted the horse and went back the way she came, knocking on the gate the way in which she and the soldier who opened it for her had agreed upon.
oOoOoOoOo
For the first time in a little over a day, Aylin felt warmth creep up her body, felt softness under it.
She slowly popped open an eyelid and watched the sun rays stream in from her open window, judging it to be about early to mid-afternoon by their strength. She noticed that she was no longer on the cold, hard ground of the jail, but laying face-down on the warm mattress in her room.
The eyelid closed again and stayed that way for a few moments before a shuffle of feet suddenly had it and its twin open again.
"Are you all right?" Dominic asked, as he peered at her through wide eyes from the side of the bed.
More noise from behind her, had Aylin painfully lifting her head from the pillow and watching Fulcinia nervously flit about the room, nodding and tidying it for lack of nothing better to do.
When the roman woman realized that the boy's question was not directed at her, she whirled around and sighed with relief at Aylin's open eyes.
"Oh, thank you, Lord! You're awake!"
"Yes, I'm awake," she whispered, shifting over to her back and groaning when she rolled over the cauterized arrow wound.
Aylin looked back at Dominic, who had come closer and laid a hand on the bed beside her.
"I'm fine," she said softly and placed her hand over his.
Going to the door, Fulcinia called out and soon Dagonet entered.
"You're finally awake. I need to check your wounds."
Aylin nodded, refused Dagonet's hand and sat up on her own–albeit very slowly.
While Aylin oriented herself with her new position, Dagonet quietly asked Fulcinia to take Dominic to the tavern–where Lucan was acquainting himself with Vanora's children–in case there were any "grievous injuries that he shouldn't see."
The knight first checked her neck, which had a dark blue and black band around it now from the bruising, for any broken bones–luckily there were none.
Then he had Aylin lift her tunic. Dagonet hissed at the bruises and cuts that hadn't been there before she was arrested.
"They tore some of the stitches. I'll need to re-sew them," he said lowly.
Aylin waved a hand, telling him to do whatever he needed, when Arthur knocked on the open door and walked in.
The commander pulled a stool up next to the bed and asked how she was.
"I'm fine," she repeated.
Arthur looked at Dagonet to acquire an accurate report.
"She's got quite a bit more bruises and scrapes than yesterday, and a few popped stitches, but other than that, she's fine," the man replied.
"See?" Aylin croaked sarcastically.
The three were silent for a few minutes before Arthur spoke up.
"The bishop left late this morning," he said, standing from his seat.
Confused, Aylin asked, "Then why is Fulcinia–and I assume Alecto as well–still here?"
"Bennett–the officer who led your caravan–has stayed behind with preselected soldiers from the wall and from his own men. They will escort the Lady and her son back to Rome," Arthur stated after a brief hesitation.
Suspicious, Aylin replied, "Why would he stay behind? Why not keep all the Romans together on the journey back ?"
Arthur gave her a meaningful look, then left the room.
She glanced at Dagonet, but he was not looking at her. She yawned, resigned, knowing that whatever they had planned, she'd find out eventually.
oOoOoOoOo
When she next woke, Aylin took notice that the sun was no longer shining and that night had fallen, though how long ago, she did not know.
She also took notice of the presence she sensed, and looked at Tristan sitting on the same stool Arthur had sat upon earlier in the day.
Neither spoke, but much was said in the way they looked at each other.
Aylin sat up and pulled away the sheet that had tangled in her legs. And so they sat–he on the stool, she on the bed–facing one another with question in their eyes.
After a moment of deliberation, she moved and sat on his lap–straddling his legs and placing her arms around his neck.
They held gazes as their lips met. Aylin's lips parted easily to allow Tristan access.
For several minutes they discovered each other with tongue and hand–his hands moved from the sides of her knees to her waist and small of her back; she realized that his earlobes were very sensitive to the touch when she plowed her fingers into this hair and brushed the lobes with her thumbs.
Aylin leaned back and yanked Tristan's tunic over his head. Once his arms were free from the sleeves, he replaced them around her and began a wonderful torture on her neck–the light kisses soothing to the dark bruises.
Her fingers traced the scars that marked the corded muscles of his back and nibbled on his shoulder as he continued his assault.
After a few more moments, Tristan pulled away and returned the favor by ridding Aylin of her tunic.
With the cloth on the floor, he couldn't help but take in the full breasts, smooth tan skin, and... the bruises and cuts given her by Brutus and the scars that had been received long ago by enemies unknown to him.
Aylin watched his face as he watched her body and saw the anger show in his eyes and in his clenched fists. Placing her hands on either side of his face, Aylin drew his gaze to her own.
"Don't. Don't think about it. Not now." And kissed him.
Tristan did something then that he'd never let a woman–and almost anyone–do: take control.
Aylin explored his mouth with her tongue as her fingers rubbed across his chest and stomach.
But when her short nails scratched against his lower belly, Tristan decided that she'd controlled enough.
Growling, Tristan stood, holding Aylin to him with his hands on the underside of her thighs, and plopped them both down on the bed–his hard, lean body pressing her into the soft mattress.
His hands roamed all over her body, but were gentle when near her wound.
Soon, the rest of their clothes joined the tunics on the floor and flesh met flesh completely and to the full satisfaction of both.
Aylin felt him hard against her thigh and couldn't help but sigh in absolute pleasure. Not only did her body need this after so much hardship, but she needed this.
When he entered her, they both groaned at the sensation. Aylin wrapped her legs around his waist to draw him in even further. Tristan didn't move right away, but payed close attention to her breasts, bringing them to his mouth and enjoying the purr that practically flew from her throat.
That sound alone elicited a lightning response from him. He withdrew and plunged back in, picking up a rhythm that drove them both wild until the pressure built to the breaking point.
They lay there entwined and spent for several minutes, before Tristan rolled to his back, keeping Aylin to his chest.
When their breathing and heart rates returned to normal, Aylin propped her chin on her fist and spoke.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"Everything," she paused, "For what you did this morning. I don't like to say 'rescue' or 'save', but that's what you did."
After another pause, she whispered, "You know, I thought that Brutus had found some wench to keep him busy and that was why he didn't come back. But now I see what happened. So, thank you for that too."
She pulled herself forward and laid her lips upon his. And when she started to pull away, Tristan pulled her right back.
oOoOoOoOo
From the trees the fighters watched the roman soldiers escort the carriage. With a bird-like whistle, the captain signaled the ambush.
Blue warriors raced out from the coverage the forest had provided, catching the romans off-guard.
Despite their numbers, the Roman infantry was outnumbered by the Woads, which made for an easy battle.
When all the soldiers were dead or dying, the captain approached the carriage and–with the help of a few of his fighters–pulled the men from it.
While two of his men dealt with the small, squealing man, the captain himself took the pleasure of killing the bishop with one swipe of his axe.
With Germanus' head rolling on the ground, the captain said, "Alert Merlin. The deed is done."
Wow, 13 pages! That's quite a lot for me, huh? I felt badly for leaving you guys hanging for over a month, so here was a nice, LONG chapter. I'm sorry to say that I can't guarantee a quick update after this–because semester exams are coming up–but I'll try my absolute best! Review please!