Title: Sarmatian Ladies

Author: Jmaria

Rating: PG-13 - R

Disclaimers/Spoilers: Joss owns the Buffy crew, Bruckheimer, Franzoni, & Fuqua own this incarnation of Arthur & his knights

Summary: Honey, I'm home!

A/N: Ok, so there has been a lot of demanding that I get on with it already. Sorry, but RL has been insane for the past few months between school, work, and all that goes along with it. Didn't help that every time I went to work on this part I'd get blocked or couldn't find the same motivation to work on it. Sometimes things get stuck and can't be rushed, sometimes new fics have to be started because otherwise the creative juices would go dry. If I can't fit it into one fic, I have to compensate and put it into another fic. That said, enjoy this part.

9. Chivalry Is Never Dead

"Here was heroism at its last and loftiest possibility, its utmost summit; this was challenging death in the open field unarmed, with all the odds against the challenger, no reward set upon the contest, and no admiring world in silks and cloth of gold to gaze and applaud; and yet the king's bearing was as serenely brave as it had always been in those cheaper contest where knight meets knight in equal fight and clothed in protecting steel. He was great, now; sublimely great."

- A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, Mark Twain

Rome

Lanyon felt his stomach tighten painfully as the woman whipped around the corner. She avoided a near collision with another car - but just barely. Honestly, he was going to be killed by a crazy woman driver. The blonde merely smiled at him.

"So, what brings you to Rome?" she yelled over the noise of the traffic.

"Business."

"What kind?"

"I'm a photojournalist. It's a travel - bloody hell!" Lanyon shouted at a particularly tight left turn.

"My exit," she shrugged.

"God have mercy on my soul," Lanyon muttered.

"He sent you to me, didn't he?"

"That's what I'm worried about."

Road to Hadrian's Wall

Dawn shifted uncomfortably in the van. They'd been driving for the better half of the day, well into the night, and would hopefully reach their new home in the morning. Garrett and Gwen were playing twenty questions.

Her hand rested protectively on her stomach, watching as the clouds drifted in and out of her view. She tried to keep her eyes open, but found herself drifting off to sleep anyway.

Rome, 462

Morgana gritted her teeth as she was hurled before the sainted Pope and slaver of her people. A year and a half extended service to the Lord Death had not brightened the young Sarmatian warrior woman's demeanor, and the constant contact with his doomed child weakened her resolve, battered at her defenses. She prayed to her gods and goddesses that her sisters were well hidden in the city's few sanctuaries.

"You choose not to speak, Lady Raven?" Europa taunted from the edge of her cage.

"Not to Roman concubines. He'll never wed you, demon," Morgana's laugh was low and hoarse from disuse.

"How little you know, seer. He has already sworn to wed me, for I carry his son," Europa crowed.

Morgana's head seemed to constrict, her chest tightened as she set her eyes on Europa's stomach. Images of a blond demon flashed through her mind, the child cowering before it with an infant hidden behind her. And the father watched, while the demon's throat was trapped in his hands.

"Do you think it is your children he wishes to claim, demon? You are not what he has hunted for these last two years, Europa! Why do you think he has kept me prisoner? To draw her out! He wants her, Europa, he has never wanted you or your children."

Europa strode forward, her hand striking out through the bars of Morgana's cage to grab the warrior by the collar. Her mouth was a thin line of anger.

"Do you wish for me to kill you, Seer? To put you out of your misery?"

"He wants the Lady Lion, Europa. He does not want you!" Morgana spat.

"You want me to kill you so he will hate me, but I will never disobey my lord, Sarmatian." Europa released her.

"No, you will be a lapdog to him, and stand idly by as he kills your children," Morgana hissed.

"My children will be his greatest triumph, and I will be his wife."

"You will watch them die, Europa."

The demon glared at her, but twirled her skirts as she strode out of the dungeon. Morgana fought back the tears as the image of the two children dying burned itself into her mind. Europa would not learn his true darkness until it was too late.

"I swear by the gods, I will not let him kill you little ones," Morgana sobbed.

Rome

Lanyon braced himself, sure he was going to go flying through the windshield of the car. Buffy glared at him when he crossed himself. Shoving her glasses up on her forehead, she turned to him.

"I'm a good driver, you know."

"Good for what? Nearly killing people?"

"Hey, my driving has never killed anyone," she grinned.

"Just given them minor heart attacks?"

"I've only been in one accident, and it was the other guy's fault."

"I'm sure it was," Lanyon said shakily, rolling his eyes.

Buffy grinned at him. There was something so familiar and comfortable about him. He grinned back at her. Buffy blinked, trying to place that look. She'd seen it somewhere before, but couldn't be sure. Before she could smile back, she felt a cool breeze settle over her skin. A shadow slid over the driver's side, and Lanyon felt the skin on the back of his neck tingle. A charming looking man in what looked like an Armani suit smiled at Buffy.

"Mi bella, I worried when there was no word from you," The man smiled, and Lanyon felt like hitting him. Why, he didn't know but he knew it couldn't hurt. Buffy smiled weakly at him. "Who is this?"

"Oh, um, Lanyon this is Mort. . . my boyfriend. Mort, this is Lanyon. I pulled a good Samaritan and gave him a lift," Buffy said tightly. "What are you doing here, Mort?"

"Business lunch, an associate had some news for me."

"I should really get going," Lanyon said cautiously as the other man continued to glare at him. "Thank you again for the lift."

"No prob, I was headed out and you happened to be going my way," Buffy smiled.

"Well, still you could have left me on that corner," Lanyon grinned, but Mort seemed to anger by the second.

"Buffy's heart is often too giving," Mort answered. "Marco will take your car home, mi bella. Come, I've a surprise waiting."

"I - sure. It was nice meeting you, Lanyon."

"You as well, Buffy."

Mort led her away from the puzzled man. He had seen them both somewhere before, but could place neither face. It was odd. Before Lanyon could think on it much longer, his cell phone in his pocket began to vibrate. He flipped it open.

"Yes?"

Rome, 463

Morgana was drawn into the main hall of the Lord Mordred to be shown off to his peers. This fine specimen of Sarmatian breeding. And sitting near his hallowed mother, was his demon concubine and his offspring. A fat little baby boy who was content with drooling on his mother's dress, and a young girl of ten who was looking more and more distressed with each passing day.

Jessamina, the daughter of Death would not last long in this world. Europa may choose not to believe her, but Morgana knew the truth. She had seen, had heard with her own eyes and ears the true plan of her captor. Three years he'd been planning it. His intended would not take in his bastard children.

Morgana felt someone bump into her from behind, heard the apologies before she saw it's face. A face that was hauntingly familiar.

"Are you mad?" Morgana hissed, stepping back into the shadows.

"I thought you a captive and here you are, celebrating with your Romans," Isolde hissed.

"Mordred has dragged me here, Isolde. He is making contact with the Masters."

The dark haired woman froze, her spin stiffening at the thought. To hear that a tyrant such as Mordred was contacting Master Vampires was a disconcerting thought.

"To what end would he seek out those abominations?"

"The end he has been chasing the past three years, sister. He wants Elaine, and is willing to sacrifice the next slayer and her infant brother to whomever takes up the cause."

"Slayers are myths, Morgana. How could he even find one?"

"He bred one, in the belly of Europa. He's contacted the Master, Kakistos and Lothos," Morgana replied.

"He would kill his own children for Elaine?"

"Three birds with one shot. Europa will blame the vampire, Elaine will be recovered, and his new intended will be overjoyed that her child will get his fortune."

"What would you have us do, Morgana?"

"Run. Leave the city, head for Sarmatia."
"You've just told me that he is going to kill those children, and you tell me we are to run?"

"Do you ever wish to see Tristan again? Does Elaine not wish to see her Lancelot? And Viviane, does she not wish to find her family? I would rather see you three safely on your way than remain here to save his offspring."

"And you?"

"The girl will die eventually, she is chosen. The boy, I might be able to save him -"

"Morgana, you are the only one who knows -" Isolde snapped. Morgana grabbed her hand and forced something into it.

"No longer do I hold you back. Fight your way to Briton, find your love and live your lives. Your freedom is long overdue. Do not look back for me, Isolde. Lead them home."

Morgana turned away from her sister in arms and strode back into the crowd that had threatened her world and her people for so long. And her eyes rested on the innocents who would die for their father's greed. She did not have to watch Isolde leave to know that her sister would follow orders and get them to safety.

One man stood out in Mordred's royal gathering. He wore simple garb, not the ornate monstrosities the others wore. A simple man in a complicated setting. Pelagius. A man worth speaking with.

"I hear your have seen the great Artorius, have spoken with the man keeping things in line in the North," Morgana said quietly.

"Pardon me?" the man asked, stirred from his thoughts.

"The commander in Briton, it's said you know of him?" Morgana pushed on, her eyes locked firmly on Mordred.

"Yes, I do know Arthur. He is like a son to me. And you are?"

"A slave to Lord Mordred, formerly a gladiator."

"A slave? You do not seem a slave, my lady."

"The bonds are not visible, but I assure you they are there."

"No one deserves to be a slave," Pelagius said quietly.

"I fear you are in the world, Pelagius. The Roman world exists only on the backs of those they have enslaved. They rob generations of their women, their sons and drag them away to their outposts to serve your Pope," Morgana laughed.

"All men should be free to live as they choose," he frowned, watching her.

"Yes, all men. We women are to be left to the wayside, still slaves to men's will."

"I know your face, it is familiar to me. Who are you?"

"Morgana, Lady Raven - do treat us with your backwards beliefs of the Amazons," Europa called, distracting Morgana from answering.

Morgana's jaw clenched as the gathered Romans laughed. Her fist clenched at her sides as a calming hand came to rest on her shoulder.

"My Lady Europa, I am sure our customs are as backwards to the Lady Raven as her noble Sarmatian ways are to us," Pelagius called out. "Our children are reared on our understanding and acceptance of the cultures that make up our world."

"I am not an Amazon, I am Sarmatian, Lady." Morgana glanced over at the priest. Why would he risk the demon's anger to protect her.

"Sarmatian, Amazon. Both are only good for one thing: Sport," Europa laughed, but her eyes burned with anger at being reprimanded. But she turned away from the two and resumed her conversation with the respected guests.

"You remind me very much of a woman I knew long ago," Pelagius said softly, jarring Morgana from her thought.

"Really? Who was she?"

"A Sarmatian woman who followed her husband to Briton. He died, and she returned home to her people heavy with child. I could swear you look like her, but it has been many years, and my age is catching up to me." He smiled at her, and Morgana saw some things in him she wished she had not. The Truth and the future.

Road to Hadrian's Wall, 2005

Dawn slept heavily in the back of the van, her head resting on Gavin's shoulder. It had taken her a long time to find sleep because her mind kept straying to the last time she traveled this road.

He stood across from her by a clear blue lake, his beige tunic freshly cleaned and his weapons hidden from sight. She blinked. Dag was dead. He could not be standing here waiting for her. But he was. Her Dag.

"My Dawn," Dag smiled, and Dawn felt her heart break.

Tears coursed down her cheeks as she raced towards him. Her arms circled his shoulders and back, her fingers brushing the nape of his neck. He felt warm, strong, and real to her.

"You grow more beautiful every time we meet, my Lady Dawn," Dag whispered against her ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin. "As you grow heavier with our child, your beauty grows."

"Yeah, distance makes the heart grow fonder," Dawn laughed tearfully, tucking her head against his chest just to hear his heart beat.

"I have told you, you are beautiful. Do you question my eyes?"

"But I'm not beautiful, Dag. I'm just - I'm me."

Dag pulled back to look at her. She wasn't beautiful, she was broken and without him, she wasn't sure she could be fixed. He brushed away the tear on her cheek, kissed her forehead gently before speaking. She didn't think she could break any more than she already had.

"You are a beauty that is not often granted to men such as me. You are beautiful because of who you are, Dawn. My love, the mother of my child, the only woman I have loved." Dag kissed her gently, like he had their first night together. Dawn felt the tears course down her cheeks as he held her close.

"I'm so scared that this isn't real, more scared because I know it's not," she cried, her fists clenched in his tear-stained tunic.

"But it is, Dawn. I have never left you, my love."

"But you did."

Dawn jerked upright, her head smacking Gavin's chin. It stung, and her heart ached. She'd hoped it would get better, but each of these new dreams made her heart break all over again. She couldn't keep thinking about him, but it was a hard thing to do when everything she touched and knew had to do with him.

"Why did we stop?"

"Ow," Gavin muttered. "We're here, we're home."

"Funny, but I always thought it was bigger," Garrett called from the front seat.

"Oh, that's funny," Dawn said dryly. "I haven't ever heard that lame joke before."

Rome, 463

Morgana heard the screams from the upper chambers long before they began and long after they stopped. She cringed over in the corner of her cage, trying to bloke out the children's death cries. She barely heard the cell door open.

Europa stood before her, her expensive dress covered in the blood of her dead children. Her face a blank mask of grief and rage. Morgana feared her reasoning.

"He gave them to Lothos for her. Just as you said he would."

"Jessamina - she is dead?" Morgana asked softly.

"And Felix, my precious baby. Slaughtered so you would tell him where the Lion hides! So Lothos would send his minions to seek her out!" Europa screamed, her body quivering in pure rage.

"I am sorry - "

"You will not tell him where that bitch is hiding. I will not give him the satisfaction of questioning you."

Morgana closed her eyes, expecting the death blow she deserved for failing those innocent children. Instead, a leather pouch hit the ground before her with a dull thud.

"Safe passage throughout the Empire. Take it, and hide your Lion where he will never find her."

"Why?" Morgana demanded.

"It is only fair that I deny him the same happiness he has denied me."