Almost Had It All
AN: All right, guys. This is the last chapter, which will be followed by an epilogue. I hope you like it!
Chapter Fifteen: Almost Had It All
I never thought it'd be possible to find someone again
I searched long and hard for someone I didn't know
Instead of my best friend
Now I have her in my arms and I've been trying to say
Those three words won't come out right
So I'll just say
You take me to
A place with you
That only I feel safe to say
That I'm in love with you
In your arms feels like no harm
Could be done to me
The way your chin rests on my head
Your love it captures me
Every second of the day I wish
To spend it with you
Now I know the reason I never loved before
Was to save all my love for you
You take me to
A place with you
That only I feel safe to say
That I'm in love with you
So don't go away
I need you to stay
To hear me say that I'm in love with you
You take me to
A place with you
That only I feel safe to say
That I'm in love with you
You take me to
A place with you
That only I feel safe to say
That I'm in love with you
"Utopia" Socialburn
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
470 A.D.
Hadrian's Wall...
The sun hadn't even begun to rise in the early morning sky when Aylin woke the next morning. It took her a few moments to realize where she was and who was lying next to her.
She was slightly surprised to see that Tristan was still sleeping. But it faded away as Aylin took the opportunity to observe the mysterious scout without his knowledge–an impossible feat were he awake.
Their legs were tangled, his arms around her (tight, even in sleep), her head on his shoulder and her face snuggled into his neck. But she could see, when she looked up, that his face was relaxed and she could feel his breathing, steady and slow, against her side.
Aylin moved her head back slightly, and studied the tattoos that graced his cheekbones. The dark symbols only further reminded Aylin that he was returning home, along with the other men she had come to respect and admire as good men, good knights, and good friends.
She closed her eyes briefly and when she opened them again, they were gazing directly into Tristan's.
They were two warriors, had both suffered much at the hands of Rome, and had spent most of their time killing, but at that moment, as they stared at each other, they were merely a man and a woman.
"You're not coming." It was a statement, not a question.
"No," she replied. "I can't, and you know why. Plus, someone has to stay to make sure Arthur doesn't get himself killed." She'd tried to say it lightly.
"Plus, there isn't a home like we remember to return to, we both know it. I think the others do as well, but–like Galahad–don't want to admit it. I know how he feels–eager to go back and try to forget it all happened–as I was the same way, though that was several years ago."
"Galahad has never accepted what is our lives," Tristan said.
"Part of him shouldn't have to. No one should ever have to accept enslavement," Aylin whispered.
They remained quiet, both knowing that anything talked about was said only to keep from saying what was needed. Instead, Tristan rolled over, pressing Aylin into the bed. She pulled him down to press her lips to his. As he slipped into her, Aylin couldn't help but think that this is what she wanted, to wake up to this every morning.
It's too bad that you can't always get what you want.
oOoOoOoOo
When Aylin walked into the Meeting Hall to find Arthur–dressed in full armor, with his helmet on the table next to him–poring over maps, the sun had already begun its ascent into the sky.
"How long have you been in here, Arthur?" Aylin asked, slightly worried that he would say 'A fair time' or something similar.
"Since just before dawn," the commander replied, briefly glancing up at her before returning his attention to the maps.
Aylin, glad he hadn't been there all night, walked to him and looked at the maps over his shoulder.
He had little squares of black wood grouped where the southern woods were and red squares north of the wall, where the Saxon army was currently camped.
"What is our strategy?" She queried.
Arthur paused, then looked sharply at her. " 'Our'?"
"I'm staying here. You really don't expect me to leave you with a few peasants with no training, do you? Anyway, where would I go? I don't have any papers to get me through if I'm stopped by soldiers."
Arthur looked at her and saw determination.
"Merlin and his people will be here," he pointed to the black squares. "They will have catapults to ignite fires to the oil we'll have placed on the hill. We'll open the gate to let the Saxons in. They won't see the Woads, just smoke, so once their confused, we'll attack."
They spent the next fifteen minutes or so going over the plans. When Aylin heard about Guinevere's involvement in the upcoming battle, she couldn't hold in the disgusted snort. Arthur merely glanced at her. By now, he had become used to the women's hatred and accepted that they would never get along in the foreseeable future.
The two were about to leave the Hall, when Aylin stopped.
"Arthur?"
He looked back at her, confused. "What is it?"
"The request Merlin mentioned in his missive... I never thanked you for it," Aylin didn't say anymore, as she knew that Arthur arranging the murder of a member of the Roman Church was a subject he didn't wish to discuss.
The commander nodded, but did not say anything about the murder. They resumed their walk to the courtyard, where the knights were preparing their horses.
The plan was to get Lady Honorius, Alecto, and some of the peasants away from the wall, escorted of course, by Bennett and his soldiers, and the knights themselves.
Aylin knew that the goodbye would be difficult. Not only because she was saying it to Tristan, Dagonet and the others, but because Dominic was currently in the wagon with Lucan, Vanora and her children.
"How to explain this to him," she mused silently, walking into the stables and away from the wagon.
The men were in the stalls, tacking their horses, and for a moment, Aylin was brought back to their preparations, before leaving for the Honorius estate. Of course, then she hadn't known the identity of their 'rescuees'. But some part of her wished that she had gone back. Before she'd known that her son was there, before she'd learned of Germanus' plan, before she'd gotten involved with Tristan.
Because, before all of that, Dominic hadn't known her (thereby sparing him the disappointment), Aylin had planned on returning to old life (perhaps she could've spent more time in Greece), and she certainly wouldn't have these unexplained tugs in her chest just thinking about that damn scout.
It's too bad that you can't always get what you want.
She silently retrieved Artay's tack and set about prepping the warhorse. Unlike Arthur's white stallion, Artay had no mail. The commander's horse had been trained with such armor, while Artay had no such experience and Aylin didn't wish to confuse her horse by making such a change before a battle.
She took her time putting the bridle on, dragging out the duty until the other men had left the stable and just she and Tristan remained.
Aylin moved until she just behind him, but he didn't acknowledge her and stayed focused on the saddle of his dappled gray.
She had about resigned herself to being ignored when Tristan spoke, his back still to her. "You don't need to stay, you realize that don't you?"
Aylin sighed. "I thought I already told you this. If I leave without papers, I'll–"
"Don't say that! You know that I would protect you!" He cut her off with a harsh whisper, turning to her now, his eyes blazing.
"You must not remember what I told you! You know what that physician told me before I left Rome," she retorted back.
Tristan didn't say anything. He did remember, but he'd almost forgotten. Aylin had been good at hiding her weaknesses before she'd met the knights, but she'd gotten better since.
"I don't want to wait for that to happen. So I'm going to do what I do best... killing. And there's no better opportunity than the army right outside these walls."
She walked up to him and placed a hand on his cheek.
"You have a chance to go home, something that has passed me by many times. Go, live out your freedom."
They were both too stubborn and wary to say anything else.
oOoOoOoOo
Arthur hadn't stayed to see them off Aylin noticed. He'd said his farewells, ignored the pleading look in Lancelot's eyes and ridden off to the Hill, the lone banner he held a very solemn symbol of his heritage and determination.
Aylin sat atop Artay near the knights, as the group watched the soldiers and refugees began to leave the fort and head south. Aylin caught Bennett's eyes with her own as he rode past. His grim nod assured her that he remembered her request.
The wagon carrying Vanora, her bastards, Lucan and Dominic had just passed by and the knights about to follow, when Aylin spoke up.
"I hadn't known how much I had missed the company of my own countrymen until I came to this bloody island. It was has been... a pleasure to know you all. I hope your journey is a safe one."
The men looked surprised, with the exception of a quiet Tristan and an understanding Dagonet.
"Goodbye," she said and received the words back from the stunned knights. She kept her gaze on Tristan, who attempted to avoid her eyes, but then looked up at her. It was a further reminder that, with them, things were communicated through the eyes, and everything that hadn't been said came through loud and clear.
She looked at Dagonet and said in a low voice, "Say goodbye to him for me?"
Dagonet, the man who had become such a friend to her, nodded and Aylin gripped the reins and pulled Artay around.
oOoOoOoOo
Dominic watched the exchange from the wagon while his stomach twisted and knotted. His panic only increased as Aylin turned around her black stallion and began to ride back to the Hill.
He ignored Vanora's yelp of surprise as he leaped from the slow moving wagon and ran after him mother. The knights looked at Dominic with pity as the boy ran past them.
"What are you doing? Where are you going?" He yelled to her back.
When she didn't turn around, Dominic stopped running and merely stared after her.
"Why are you leaving again?" He sobbed, falling to his knees and watching Aylin ride off through tear-filled eyes, her eyes.
His fear and sadness evoked an anger in Dominic. "Why wasn't she listening to him?" He asked himself.
"I hate you!" He yelled, standing once again, his cheeks wet. "I HATE YOU!" He screamed.
His heart knew that he didn't mean it, but his head was hoping that she would hear it, and come back.
But she didn't, and Dominic gave in to the new tears welling up that hampered his view. He didn't even seem to really notice when Dagonet rode up, bent down and pulled him onto his horse.
And he didn't seem to care as he was passed to Vanora and laid down on a blanket in the wagon. All he could think about was the fact that, now that he'd finally met her, his mother was leaving him yet again.
oOoOoOoOo
When Aylin finally reached the top of Badon Hill and joined Arthur, he noticed that her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. The sight shocked him, as he had never seen Aylin show much emotion. He had heard Dominic's words from all the way up on the Hill, so he knew for certain that she had heard them as well. But he wisely chose to say nothing about it.
"I have seen the white flag. It seems that the Saxon leader wishes to have a few words Perhaps he has terms," Arthur stated.
"You're not going down there by yourself. It's stupid to risk yourself that way. It could be a trap. I'm coming with you," she replied in a tone that said she wouldn't have it another way.
They waited until those leaving were out of sight, then went down to the gate and slowly made their way to the Saxon leader, waiting alone and away from his army.
Aylin stayed back, allowing Arthur to speak with the leader, Cerdic, alone. She had no desire to discuss terms with the barbarian leader and had come only as backup in case Arthur was attacked.
The talk did not last long, as the men growled and spat at each other. "So much for terms," Aylin thought wryly as she and Arthur rode back through the gate.
oOoOoOoOo
The men were silent as their horses clomped along with the caravan. Knowing that they had left their commander, Arthur, and their comrade, Aylin, behind to die a certain death while they rode off to freedom, did not sit well with any of them.
So when the Saxon war drums echoed through the sky, and their horses refused to walk further, the knights knew what needed to be done. Weapons were gathered, and horses armored. Tristan released his hawk, and Bors gave his farewells to his worried lover and children.
It did not take long for the men to cover the ground back to the Wall and the sight of two figures on horseback at the peak of Badon Hill was a comforting sight.
It meant that it hadn't begun yet. That they had been in time.
The Sarmatian Knights of Hadrian's Wall would fight once again.
oOoOoOoOo
The din of battle was deafening. Every where Aylin looked, Saxon and Briton were engaged in a fight for life. She couldn't remember how long ago it had started–probably less than an hour–but it seemed as if she'd been fighting this war her whole life. She'd lost count of the men she'd killed, and truly, did not want to know the number.
The wound in her side had split and her side was soaked with hot, red blood. There was a crossbow bolt in her right forearm that forced her to use her left hand for the sword.
She was the most tired she'd ever felt. Her hair, whipping into her face with the wind, had long ago come undone of the tight braid she'd tied it into.
She caught glimpses of the knights every once in a while. And though injured, she at least knew that they lived.
There were some close calls that she'd noticed. Tristan was still moving slowly after his encounter with Cerdic. (Aylin thanked every god that would listen that Arthur had aided the scout.) Gawain had been hit with a bolt, but it didn't look serious.
Aylin had given slight pause when she sighted a painted Guinevere falling heavily under a backhanded blow from a large Saxon with a bald head and braided beard. She'd briefly thought about going to help the Woad, but decided that if she did, it wouldn't be appreciated, so Aylin left that alone.
Her attention was harshly stolen by a stocky blonde, swinging his battle ax in one hand at her stomach. Jumping back to dodge the blow, Aylin brought up her sword to block the blade in the man's other hand. The impact reverberated throughout her body in icy shockwaves of pain. His blade slid off of hers and bit down into her thigh.
Crying out in pain, Aylin didn't move quick enough as the Saxon grabbed her injured arm and twisted the bolt, taking advantage of her openness with a hit to her stomach with the blunt tip of his ax.
Pleased with the hit, the Saxon didn't notice the knife in his gut until Aylin had wrenched it at a fatal angle.
Fighting off the agony in her thigh, Aylin clamped a hand on the large gash in effort to staunch the bleeding. Looking across the field to see if there were any other foes coming her way, Aylin met the gaze of none other than Tristan through the smokey haze.
oOoOoOoOo
Tristan had to force himself not to grip his side, because he knew that would make the wound all the more real. He wasn't sure how it had happened... He'd thought he was focused entirely on the Saxon in front of him, but he had still been injured. And as much as it stuck in his caw, if Arthur hadn't stepped in, he would have been finished.
He slashed his way through some more Saxons, while trying to avoid Woads. After fifteen years of fighting the blue natives, Tristan had had to stop himself from killing them in this particular battle–though one unlucky fellow had met an unfortunate end by being the first thing the scout had seen after beheading a Saxon brute.
He could tell that the clash was coming to a bloody end–the field that had earlier been filled with soldiers and Woads and the occasional flash of Sarmatian Knight, was now a mass of bodies, both painted and unpainted.
But through the screams and clanging of weapons, Tristan's ears picked up on the sound that he hadn't wanted to hear.
Aylin crying out in pain.
His eyes found her through the smoke and saw her sweaty, bloody and tired as she pushed the stabbed Saxon away from her. Saw her grab her leg and the blood seep between her fingers.
Saw the agony in her eyes as they met his across the field.
And... He saw the enormous Saxon coming up behind her, spear in hand.
oOoOoOoOo
Aylin noticed something on Tristan's face that she'd never seen before... Fear. But fear for who? She didn't even have time to think the question before she heard the loud breathing behind her.
She whirled around in time to take a spear in the gut rather than the back. Gasping for breath, Aylin looked down at the staff protruding from her stomach in shock. Her sword fell to the ground in a muted thump.
Grinning, the Saxon pushed on the spear, shoving Aylin backwards, tripping her up on the man she'd just killed until she fell to the ground. He pressed further on the spear, tunneling it into the ground beneath her, pinning her. When he was positive she wasn't going to move, the Saxon grabbed hold of the staff and broke it, earning a weak cry from Aylin.
Coughing and feeling the blood flow from the corner of her mouth, Aylin looked up at the man above her. She made a feeble attempt to reach for her sword, but the Saxon stepped on her hand and she was sure she heard bones crack.
And the man had the gall to pick up her own sword–her sword–and raise it above his head for the death blow.
Aylin wasn't sure how he had gotten there so quick, but the sight of Tristan's sword through the man's throat was about the greatest one she'd ever had the privilege of seeing.
Shoving the corpse away from them, Tristan quickly knelt and grasped Aylin's face between his hands.
"Keep your eyes open. Damn it, keep them open!" He shouted at Aylin as her lids began to lower.
When she did as he said, Tristan noticed how large her pupils were, almost hiding the ice blue of the irises. And, he noticed the tears slipping from the corners.
"Yo–You saved my ass..." she whispered with a grimace. "Bastard was goin' use my own damn sword..." She was shivering now. He wiped the blood from her mouth.
"You're going to be fine. Just hold on," he said, trying to be firm, but his voice quivered slightly.
She shook her head slowly. She motioned him closer and leaned down, their cheeks nearly touching.
"We almost had it, didn't we?" Aylin whispered.
Tristan pressed his eyes closed and buried his face in her hair. Then he heard it. That final breath, more of a rattle.
Pulling back, Tristan found himself looking into empty blue eyes and felt tears come to his own.
oOoOoOoOo
Arthur was immensely relieved to see his knights walk up to him as the last of the Saxon army was being finished off. They were bloody to be sure, but they were alive.
"Has anyone seen Tristan or Aylin?" Dagonet asked, a new gash on his cheek to join the scar.
The men shook their heads no and began to search the field. They didn't find Tristan and Aylin–alive or dead–in the area around them, but they did find the body of Guinevere, her lifeless hand clutching the bolt in her chest. Arthur stared at her body for a moment, saying goodbye.
"Arthur!" Galahad shouted, pointing to the sky.
The commander looked up and saw the circling of Tristan's hawk across the field. The knights took it as a sign and sprinted as best they could to the area.
They came to an abrupt stop when the horrible sight came into view. The ground was saturated with blood, puddled in some places. And in the center of the lake was Tristan, Aylin's head in his lap, her glassy, lifeless eyes gazing upwards to the heavens.
"Oh, God," Arthur breathed, and his knights–who before this point had never said a word to God–couldn't help but agree.
oOoOoOoOo
"How can you be so cold one moment, then filled with warmth the next," Aylin asked herself, opening her eyes, expecting to see a cold, bloody field.
But what she did see was the last thing she'd expected.
A sunny sky, yellow fields of grass hip-high, and a solid stone wall with a large door.
"Where the bloody hell am I?" She asked aloud.
"My, my. What language from my baby sister's mouth."
Aylin froze. She knew that voice, though it had been eighteen years since she last heard it and it had gotten deeper in its absence. Turning slowly, she came around to face the owner of the voice.
Standing a few feet away from her was tall man, dark-haired and blue eyed.
"Kavan?" She whispered.
"Well, who else were you expecting? I've been waiting for you a while now, you know," he said in that way only he could.
She ran to him as she had eighteen years ago and was immediately enveloped in a crushing embrace–she barely noticed that her once broken body felt no pain.
"I've worried about you for so long," he muttered into her hair. "I had nightmares about that night for years afterward. I'd needed to know what happened to you, but wanted to never find out. I don't think I could have handled it."
Aylin pulled back from her brother. "It over now."
He nodded. "Come, they're waiting for us." He pulled her by the hand closer to the door. "Who is waiting."
He stopped at the door and began to fiddle with the rusty handle. "Mama and Papa, of course."
Aylin's heart pounded at the thought of seeing them again. Her heart hadn't felt like that since...
Tristan.
Looking back, Aylin saw only yellow hills. Nothing that she would find on the battlefield of Badon Hill. Rubbing the area above her heart, Aylin smiled slightly and whispered, "Goodbye Tristan."
Her brother whooped with accomplishment as the door swung open. "Come, Aylin. They're waiting."
She stared at the hills for a few moments and somewhere, deep inside her, past the hurt of leaving the one man who she'd found herself falling for, Aylin knew that things would turn out all right.
"Come on, Aylin!" Kavan said in the same exasperated voice he'd used when they were little.
Smiling, she turned and walked through the door, shutting it softly behind her.
All right, you guys don't kill me! I knew from the beginning how this story was going to end–I mean the title should have been a dead giveaway that it wasn't going to be a happy ending. Plus, if you guys read close enough in one of the earlier chapters, Aylin revealed that she was dying slowly from long-term Morpheus use.
Anyway, there will be an epilogue after this, dealing with Dominic and Cornelius' reactions to the news.
REVIEW! And Happy New Year! 2006!