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: The crossing of paths...
A/N: Well, inspiration struck again and for the third time in two weeks I find myself drawn back to my baby of a fic. More like an overabundance of inspiration, as I seem to keep finding little tidbits of information that seem to draw me deeper into the story. Like finding out who played Sir Gaheris in First Knight, buying a novelty coin that will inspire an upcoming conversation Morgana will have, reading Greek mythology and plays for class, and above all having a genius professor who knows more obscure tidbits and history than anyone I've met, much less who taught me.

11. Surfacing

Maimed and betrayed and enchanted, his hands become talons and his eyes grow round and gold: he is suddenly an eagle circling above my head and screaming.
- The Winter Prince, Elizabeth E. Weir

Rome, 2005

This call could not be ignored. Much of this hinged on the actions of his most reliable assassins. The Immortal left Buffy, his eyes fixed tightly ahead of him as he spoke.

"You have found the nuisance, Gianni?" The Immortal snapped, his blazer flipping open as he strode through the halls of his penthouse.

"He has left, my lord. But I have sent the brothers after him. This Fairview man is of little consequence, sir. Cedric and Cyril assure me that he will be handled in due course," the voice crackled over the phone.

"Assurances are not enough!" Mort yelled, his voice reverberating along the marble corridor. "Due course is not enough."

"Yes, of course milord," Gianni backtracked quickly.

"They must finish the job," The Immortal glanced back at his love's room. He must not lose her again. "Get rid of the child."

"Milord?"

"I did not stutter, Gianni. Kill the offspring if you cannot find the nuisance."

"Yes, milord."

The Immortal slapped the cell phone shut. The Powers had left him very few options.

Kingston Clinic
North of Hadrian's Wall

Dawn felt her throat constrict as she stared up at the smiling doctor. The smiling doctor who was also the King of the Britons. The man she was supposed to be looking for and who in turn, would be delivering her child. If she could have passed out, she would of. Of course, the fact that his name was Kingston should have been a big old flashing light.

"Arthur?" she croaked, trying to make sense of it.

"Yes," he laughed. "I suspect you invisioned a stodgy old country doctor? Good, kindly old Doctor Kingston?"

"Um, well, yeah."

"Sorry to dissapoint." Arthur smiled, and it hit Dawn that she hadn't really seen him smile at all while she'd been back in time. He had a nice smile, and Gwen was gonna be one lucky girl - you know, if she didn't do that whole sleep-with-his-best-friend thing when they found Lancelot. "If you'd gotten pregnant and moved out here a few months earlier, you would have had the stodgy doctor."

"Really?"

"Yes, my father retired a few months back, and I took over the practice." Arthur skimmed over her chart before pulling the stool out and sitting down. "Now, you're roughly 18 weeks along?"

"Yeah."

"Any unusual symptoms, spotting or nausea?"

"No, I - well, I cut my foot the other night on a paint chip - we're repainting the house, and well, I didn't notice it -" Dawn babbled, focusing on her other problem. What the hell could she say to him to make him remember that he was the high king of England? "I kinda freaked out over it."

"The old Jameson place? It hasn't been repainted since - oh, since I was about fifteen."

"You've been there?" Dawn asked, trying to figure out where she lost track of this conversation.

"Not since Mrs. Jameson passed on, but yes. She was childless, and my father used to send me out to do chores for her. She used to bake cookies as payment for everything."

"Wow, you're a regular boy scout in every life you've got, aren't you?" Dawn said without even thinking.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing," Dawn covered, clearing her throat. "Are there any kinds of tests you need to do?"

"Just a few, and some questions."

"Great."

Morgan Lofts,

Northern England

Lanyon Fairview couldn't sleep. Which was completely insane, beacuse he was truly exhausted from his trip, work, and the glare his editor and long time friend Marty had been giving him. It was too hard to try to explain why he'd cut his trip short, and he was just worn out. Ever since he'd met that woman in Rome, he'd been plauged by dreams that made absoultely no sense.

He kept dreaming of a little girl making him a solid oath, followed by brief and horrible flashes of death and war, and finishing with a strange man and woman looking down on him as he died. The last thing he saw before waking up was the woman who'd given him a lift in Rome, weeping beside two swords that had been stuck into the ground. The stranger stood over her, trying to comfort her. He didn't know why, but it was this last image made him the most angry and confused for some reason.

Lanyon sighed, staring down at the assignment sheet Marty had handed him before kicking him out of the office an hour earlier. Why in the world would Marty want to send him just past Hadrian's Wall to check on a man who'd been in a coma for several weeks?

Kingston Clinic: Waiting room

Boris pushed the door open, hoping to see Dawn waiting for him. He'd already gotten the groceries home, greeted both Gwen and Willow and gone back to fetch Dawn. The waiting room was empty save for the nurse who sat doing some filing. He might as well check on how long she'd be.

"'Scuse me, love, but is Dawn Summers still in with the doc?" Boris asked, trying to catch the woman's attention.

"And you are?" The woman didn't even raise her eyes from the papers she was looking at.

"Her friend, I dropped her off."

"She's still in with the doctor, Mr. -" the nurse raised her face to see him finally, her voice ringing in his ears, pounding out all thought. He could barely hear her whisper. "Bors?"

"Vanora?"

Road to Sarmatia, 463

The dark haired woman spoke very little to Morganna as she led the way out of the city. The sun began to rise, and yet the woman still did not speak to her.

"You are friends with Pelagius?" Morganna pressed, hoping for some conversation with the woman.

"I am."

"He mentioned your name, one that is very peculiar to me. Ismene?"

"It is common to my ears, it may still remain foreign to you," Ismene replied, her gaze looking for something.

"We go the wrong way if you are truly leading me to Sarmatia."

"We are not going directly to Sarmatia, for you are the only one who knows where it is, do you not?" Ismene smirked.

"Where are you taking me?"

"The site of the Oracle. She has asked me to lead you there, and I am still in her debt."

"The Oracle is gone, if you speak of the one in ancient Delphi."

Ismene cocked her head to the side, a smile on her lips. It chilled Morganna a bit, as if Ismene were hearing a joke that she herself could not hear.

"Now where would a Sarmatian hear of the Oracle at Delphi?" Ismene asked.

"Where would a Thebeian hear of Sarmatian teachings?" Morganna counterd.

"Ah, so you recognize my origins?" Ismene smiled, casting her eyes out again." As for Delphi, the emperor might have destroyed it, at the Pope's behest, but it still remains. Less regal, of course, but a Sarmatian such as yourself will be understanding. Come, we've far to go."

Kingston Clinic

Dawn answered the questions as best she could. But by the time he'd finished examining and questioning her, she still hadn't figured out how to trigger his past life memories. It was getting to the crunch time when he followed her out to the waiting room. He was about to hand the file over to Jenna when his eyes landed on both his nurse and the man who was staring at her.

"Is everything quite all right out here, Jenna?" Arthur asked, his eyes landing on Boris. "Bors?"

"Arthur?" Jenna frowned up at him, as if she were seeing him for the first time. Then they fell on Dawn, and she shrieked. "Lady Dawn! You died!"

Arthur whirled around to face her, confusion in his eyes as they travelled between her and Boris. Dawn gave a weak laugh.

"Okay, there's a really complicated answer to your question that I could try and give you here, but it would really be better if I told you at the cottage. It might actually make more sense there."

Hollis Cottage

Felicia Hollis' day wasn't going much better, to be perfectly honest. Lizzie was insisting she was somehow related to the King Arthur, the babies were fussy, and the two older children were nowhere to be found. On top of that, neither was her husband.

"Mummy, can I have a lolly?" Lizzie asked, almost too sweetly.

"How many have you had, Lizzie?" Felicia asked, wiping her hands off on a tea towel.

"Two and a half, but -"

"Then no more. Uncle Alec and your da will be home soon, and dinner's nearly ready," Felicia sighed, knowing the girl was going to sneak it off anyway. "Where's Lucas at, Lizzie?"

"If I tell you, can I have the lolly?"

"Felicia, we're home!" Her husband's voice cut off her reply.

Joel Hollis held the door open for the two younger boys that followed him inside. The older of the two boys looked more like Felicia, with her dark hair and light eyes. The younger boy favored his father.

"I didn't know you'd taken Lucas," Felicia said as Joel came in to kiss her cheek.

"It's Wednesday, love," Joel replied, mussing up Lizzie's hair.

"Is it? How's he doing?" Felicia asked, peeking over her husband's shoulder to watch her son. "Has he woken?"

"No, poor bastard's still as unchanged as the day Lucas found him on our trip," Joel said tiredly. "Dr. Kingston's sure they'll take him off the machines soon."

"Artie can't be that heartless!" she gasped.

"Oh, he's not. Artie can't deny anyone anything, why would he be the one to pull the plug? It's his da who's fighting for it," Joel answered, taking the baby from her so she could focus on the meal.

"Dr. Kingston's retired, surely they've given the case to someone else?"

"It was his patient first, and he's refusing to hand it over."

"Oh, let's do talk about something more cheerful than this, Joel," Felicia sighed. "How's Alec doing?"

"I thought you wanted to talk about something more cheerful," Joel snorted.

"What has he done now?"

"Don't know, but his teacher's sent home a note he's trying to hide from you."

"Thanks a lot, you -" Alec muttered from the kitchen table.

"Watch your tongue, little brother," Felicia cut him off. "Da asked me if I would look after you so you could finish your schooling at home while he was away. You're to treat Joel and I with some respect. Now what have you been doing at school?"

"I mouthed off a bit - but only because the teacher got it wrong!" the teenager protested.

"And I suppose you've gone on to university and gotten your teaching certificate, then? Tell me what they got wrong, professor," Felicia demanded.

"It was about the old Roman fort, I couldn't let him go on and teach it wrong," Alec huffed.

"Really, Alec. It's called obsession."

Felicia left it at that, turning her full attention back to her cooking. She'd just settled the littlest one down in her high chair when she remembered what had happened earlier.

"I met the woman who moved into the old Jameson place today, at Artie's clinic."

"Really? We thought we caught a glimpse of them at the market today, when I dropped the boys off. A big, burly fellow."

"She's quite young, and a few months along. Sweet girl, stopped your daughter from running off earlier."

"Why is Lizzie my daughter whenever she does something wrong?" Joel laughed.

"Because she takes after, Joel."

"What's her name?" Alec asked. Felicia stared at him as if he'd lost his mind, and he rolled his eyes at his sister. "The woman's?"

"Dawn Summers. I think she said she's living up there with friends, but no mention of her husband," Felicia frowned. "I think we should do a dinner, get Artie to come, and her lot, maybe a few other neighbors."

"So you've no other gossip to tell me, wife?" Joel smiled.

"Other than you've got no dessert coming?"

Higher Planes

Morganna was careful to tread lightly as she made her way to where the guides were kept. Merlin had given her the awful truth, and there was only one whom she could trust to get the dead knight back. The dark haired woman stood with her back to Morganna, and she was taken back fifteen hundred years.

"Ismene, I need your help once more," Morganna said quietly.

"I have none to give, Morganna."