Previously in The Exile

"Now I've got a few other farewell gifts for you. This is from the staff." He handed her a leather satchel. Inside it Guinevere found a purse heavy with coppers, a meal for her lunch, the cap Enid had been knitting for her daughter -It would actually match her travel cape perfectly-,a belt knife that Elyan had made for himself years ago and most importantly two envelopes that could only be letters of recommendation. Guinevere felt her throat tighten and the start of tears in her eyes.

The parting gifts given to Gwen by her friends in Camelot.

"I truly don't understand it all, but Leolin and I are finished."

"Just like that! But only three days ago he was talking about going to your father and he gave you that lovely bracelet. It can't be over Janet."

Janet's eyes strayed to the gleaming band of silver on her wrist. She recalled the guilty pleasure of Neiren's arms.

"You can have it." Janet slipped the band from her wrist and placed it in Mared's palm.

Janet to Mared in The Exile, Chapter Two On the Road

"Oh," she tried to think of something else to say. "Are-are Enid and Abigail at home?"

"Yes."

Haf tried to smile. She liked babies, they were adorable and sweet and they liked being held and cuddled.

"Abigail is very pretty."

"She is starting to walk now."

"I'll visit her when-," she didn't know when, "later."

Dafyd and Haf in The Exile, Chapter 21, Spring Flowers

"Sire forgive my boldness," the woman was bowing her head giving him the view of only a linen cap and few strands of dark fly away her. When she spoke her words quick and breathless, "you may not recognize me. I am Enid, a friend of the Goode family."

Arthur took a breath "What can I do for you?"

She lifted her head, wide eyes, pale and desperate met his own.

"Sire, you must help up. Sarah is not an adulteress some evil magic has pushed her to this. Please don't leave this in the hands of the magistrate. It's more than he can handle."

"Magic?" Arthur felt his upper lip curling "you are mistaken Madame." He turned to go and started when he felt the woman's hand clutch his arm.

Enid to King Arthur in The Exile, Chapter 13, And the Truth Will Out

Rated Mature for violence and warfare subjects. Please scroll to the author's notes at the end before reading for possible trigger warnings.

Janet hurried from the magistrate's home, head and eyes downcast, blonde-brown hair escaping in gentle wisps from the plaid kerchief that covered her head. She looked neither right nor left; she knew the way, knew the streets of Camelot as well as she knew her name. As well as she knew her own sadness.

She kept her head and eyes down to hide the shimmering of tears in her pale grey eyes. She'd done this often enough-walked the streets of her home hiding tears and people had learnt to recognize her by her kerchiefs; one plaid and one pale blue, fancifully embroidered by her long dead mother and fraying about the edges.

She'd walked like this as crisp red and gold leaves swirled around her, and she cried for the loss of her father and brother burnt at the stake for witchery. She walked as snow covered the hem of her skirt as shiny white flakes drifted around her, she cried for the loss of her mother, dead of a broken heart. She walked as flowers bloomed and bits of green pushed up through the earth, transforming Camelot into a riot of color, and she cried for the loss of her betrothed; not to death this time but for her own foolish, mistaken passions. And she walked it once more as the grain ripened in the fields and the trees filled out with green. This time, though, she cried over [the theft of something precious to her]. Once again she was a victim of Pendragon cruelty-not King Uther, but his daughter, Morgana, and the magic she had so cruelly and carelessly let loose upon the city in order to shame Guinevere and drive her from Camelot.

Salty hidden tears slid down her cheeks, some of them landing on the parched earth visible for just a moment before winking out of existence.

Janet's tears were always successfully hidden, her scarf telling the story instead. It was only when she opened her front door that she raised her head, to show her tears to her grandmother and the golden flames making a circle round the pupil of her eyes.

The Blighted Blossom, Tale the 3rd

The soldiers seemed to think that they were slaves. Never mind that she still had to work at the palace; she now had to come home and cook for them, clean up behind them, run their errands, entertain them sometimes, be friendly, and tell them stories. They'd taken over the house, too, crowding Janet and her grandmother into one tiny bedroom.

Then about a week into the occupation some relief came; three of the four soldiers living in her house were sent out on patrol. King Arthur had yet to appear and Morgana wanted him found. Janet found herself wishing for poison to slip into their food and drink. When they were gone she prayed night and day for them to fall and break their necks.

The fourth and the youngest of the soldiers, was still recovering from an injury to his leg. Though he was up and about, he didn't move well, and so he remained in her home.

The second evening after the soldiers' departure, Janet returned home to the smell of cooking and the sound of her grandmother's laugh.

She found the soldier that had stayed behind tending the spit and taking direction from her grandmother. Her grandmother sat at the wooden table smiling and showing missing teeth. Her thin gray hair covered with a kerchief, and her gnarled, knobby hands clasped on the rough wooden table in front of her. Janet had inherited her blonde hair and grey eyes from her grandmother, but warm brown skin and wideness of eyes from her father.

"Janet, Nacio offered to help out with dinner. Isn't that sweet?" Grandmother's voice trembled ever so slightly when she spoke.

"Thank you, Nacio."

It was a simple meal of fish stew with herbs and dumplings. The meal shared amongst the three of them was the beginning of a friendship between herself and Nacio. She learned that he was originally from Portugal and had began his career as an infantryman at the age of twelve. Since he had managed to survive to the age of fourteen, he'd been given wages and real training. He was a professional soldier; the thought made her ill. Still, he was living in her home and being pleasant, cooking meals, doing men's chores, and being polite to her grandmother, so they developed a friendship in spite of that.

They talked about the deaths in their families and eventually she told him about Leolin and their canceled wedding. He seemed truly saddened at her hardship and loneliness. Janet began to think of him as a true friend.

She walked out of the servant's entrance to the palace and drew her shawl tight about her shoulders against the unexpected coolness of the evening breeze.

"Janet."

"Leolin?" A well of heartbreak and confusion bubbled up in her at upon seeing him so close. For a moment she stared at him.

The only thing outstanding about Leolin's appearance were his eyes, they were the deep rich green of the forest. His hair was a plain brown, his height average, Leolin was a plain man, but when they had been courting she could have stared into the warm, rich, green of eyes his all day.

"I just finished my shift and I thought I might walk you home."

She thought of him rejecting her at Grigor's home, after the magistrate had told them about the bracelet.

"I-"

"I just want to walk you home, if that's not too much trouble." His eyes were soft and thoughtful, as they had been so many times before, and she could not, but remember when things had been good between them.

"Yes I think I'd like that."

"Are you and your grandmother well? It can't be easy with soldiers living in your home."

"It's not, but there is just the one right now, and he is helpful and friendly."

"They haven't hurt you or anything, have they?"

She shook her head. "No."

"I heard in some of the villages they burnt the crops of those that refused to submit."

Janet felt her blood boil and searched the streets for any sign of a patrol.

"If you had the Witch in your power what would you do?"

Leolin didn't say anything; merely gazed at her, eyes dark and thoughtful.

"It's her fault Sarah, Rolfe and John are dead, Gwen is gone, Dafyd died of an infection and now Enid is widowed. How many of our friends were shot and killed last year and us-"

"-I'd show her no mercy."

They ambled along talking about the months between the cancellation of their marriage and the invasion. Leolin did not leave her side until she was safely at her door.

She found her grandmother and Nacio inside sitting at the table. Her Grandmother was laughing long and loud at whatever story Nacio had been telling, while he grinned at her, pleased with the effect of his humor.

"We waited for you," Nacio said as her grandmother's laughter died down.

"Sorry. I walked home with a friend." She smiled. "I suppose we walked a little slowly."

"Well as long as you're all right..." Nacio smiled and gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

"We should eat this wonderful-smelling dinner," Janet said.

"Of course."

They supped on a dinner of bread, potatoes and carrots, and a roast chicken that Nacio had bought out of his wages. He told them funny stories of some of his past marches and campaigns and Janet found herself laughing at them. When they'd done and it had grown late Nacio got up to clean, but feeling more than a little grateful Janet insisted on doing the washing up. Nacio had nodded with a smile, gave her shoulders a gentle rub and left. She imagined he was joining some of his other friends. The soldiers were drinking up all the mead and ale in the city and doing a brisk business at the whorehouse.*

"Abelia," her grandmother oft called her by her mother's name. "Abelia do not be too friendly with this Nacio."

"Of course not Grandmother, he is a soldier and our enemy."

Leolin walked her home the next three evenings. There was a curfew, but summer days were long and they could meander home avoiding the patrols that might otherwise harass them as they went.
"Janet..." Leolin halted them in front of an empty market stall. He produced a length of red ribbon, and

Janet felt her eyes go wide.

"When?"

"A while now. I couldn't get rid of it."

"Oh." She smiled.

"Here."

Their hands brushed as she took the ribbon, sending a delicious frisson through both of them.

"Thank you." She ducked her head, suddenly shy.

"I think I could forget everything if we keep having walks like this; talks like this," Leolin said.

She looked up at him now, not quite daring to believe what he was saying.

"It was in truth my fault. If I had only done my job as I was supposed to, you never would have worn that bracelet in the first place. I never stopped loving you, Janet."

She felt her gray eyes go wide and he leaned forward. For just a moment she savored the feel of his warm and work worn hands on her, his scent of basil and myrtle. She savored that brief moment of anticipation and the warmth of his skin close to hers and then she let her eyelids flutter close. His lips touched hers, a sweet chaste kiss where his mouth, warm and soft lay atop hers making her lips tingle with delight.

Afterward he put an arm around her shoulders and walked her home. It was near dark when they arrived and he gave her another quick kiss on the forehead before she went inside. Janet was all smiles through dinner. Nacio was quiet and irritable throughout, but grew friendly afterward. He even insisted on Grandmother taking her room back, claiming he felt guilty in keeping an old woman from her bed.

"Janet."

She opened her eyes; it was almost entirely dark in her little room. The light of the half moon spilled in through the bedroom window. Nacio was sitting on the edge of her bed; his pale eyes glittered in the moonlight. She sat up fully awake.

"Nacio," she said pulling the thin coverlet over her bare body. "What are you doing here?"

Fear began to churn in her stomach, while she waited for his answer.

"I heard you cry out. I thought something had happened to you." He placed his hands palm down on the bed on either side of her. "Don't worry Janet I've come to take care of you."

And then he kissed her, not the sweet, hope filled, loving kiss, she'd shared with Leolin, but a desperate forceful kiss that stank of wine and silenced her as he pushed her down and onto her back. Everything happened fast after that, his hands were everywhere. He hushed her, told her to be still, and threatened her grandmother even as he told her how pretty and sweet she was, how the strange combination of her dark skin and gray eyes enchanted him. She tried to think of a spell-think of anything, but fear froze her.

At first light, Janet crept out of her home and headed straight for the bathhouse. She could, of course, have had a bath at home, but could not imagine doing such a thing now. The water was just getting hot when she arrived, and she had to wait in line a short while, smelling him on her skin every time she moved.

He had forced himself her several times that night before finally going to lie down on his pallet by the hearth. He didn't seem to care that it had hurt, or that she had said no, he just hurt her. As she soaked Janet went over the meager spells that she had managed to teach herself and learned that she knew nothing that would harm Nacio or help her. She was no Morgana or Morguase, no prophesied hero, just one weak, lone woman.

She went directly from the bathhouse to work. Everyone was surprised that she was early, but there was plenty to do. Morgana, Lord Agravaine and Helios were all very demanding, eating up the stores and running the servants of the palace back and forth on the smallest of the errands. She wanted to go to Leolin, tell him about what Nacio did to her, wanted to see him stand up to Nacio for her, but-

-She remembered the way he had looked her when he'd found her with Neirin. How even when Magistrate Grigor had sat them done in his home and told them about the bracelet ,about Guinevere,about Morgana, the other women, he had still looked at her with anger and doubt. She didn't think she could bear another such rejection, not now. And if he did side with her against the soldier what could he do? He had no wealth, no authority. He would be hurt or worse. She chose to avoid him.

Janet remained at work as late as she dared; she didn't have permission to be out after curfew and she couldn't go to someone else's home for the night. Morgana's patrols did random head counts and bed checks.
At one point, Daisy reported to her that she'd seen Leolin waiting for her. She'd nearly burst into tears at the memory of the sweet kiss they'd shared only yesterday.

For some naive reason it didn't occur to her that he'd do it again, so on the second night she was both surprised and horrified to wake and find him getting into bed with her. On the third night she wedged something under the door and though she heard him knocking and scraping at it, he seemed unwilling to raise a racket though and left her alone.

On the fourth morning when she woke, he was short and irritable with her, as if she had somehow wronged him. It occurred to her then that he had some expectation of lying with her nightly. Janet kept from crying and left immediately for work.

She did not go directly to the palace, but went instead to Magistrate Grigor's home. He was always a fair man and had even arranged for citizens housing soldiers to be given a break on food expenses. Perhaps he could have the soldier removed. However, when she sat down to tell her story; the words froze in her throat. Instead of telling him how she was being hurt, Janet found herself saying only that she would like Ignacio out of her home.

"I hear such complaints daily Janet," Grigor frowned. "No one wants the soldiers in their home. I have four of them in my home; you are only housing the one." He said with some sharpness. "You should consider yourself lucky."

"Lucky!" She shrieked and his frown turned into exasperation. Janet took a breath, Nacio had to go. "Please Magistrate Grigor listen, my grandmother and I- we're just a girl and an old woman, we shouldn't be housing soldiers."

He studied her and his expression softened.

"Is that it Janet? Is there nothing else you need to tell me?"

His tone softened and she tried to think of the words- How did she say what had happened?

"Janet?"

"Magistrate Grigor," the door of the office opened then. One of Morgana's soldiers stood there. "The Captain requires your immediate presence."

She felt a sick, sinking feeling in her stomach.

"I am working."

"C'pn wants you to work out at the smithy."

Another soldier came in then and Grigor frowned.

"I'm sorry Janet, but we all got to keep on dancin'."He forced a grin and then sighed. The magistrate got to his feet.

"But-"

"Wait here we'll talk about it some more when I return," he'd already turned his back on her. "Efan and Haf will take care of you." The three men left then, pulling the door shut behind them.

When they were gone she sat in the magistrate's study letting a few silent tears fall. How long would this go on? What if King Arthur never returned? The king had not lifted the ban on magic, but he was not burning people at the stake and he cared for the safety of the people at least he seemed to. She felt the sudden heave of sickness in her guts and clasped a hand to her mouth. That was when she saw it.

A knife with a brass hilt. For a long time she studied it, the smooth knob that topped the hilt, the spiral of gleaming brass along the hilt itself, the blade shining in the afternoon sunlight. She picked it up, tested it's sharpness against her thumb, and saw a fine line of red before she felt the pain. How easy it would be to hide it under her pallet. How simple to slide it into Nacio's side when he was forcing himself on her blind to her pain and lost in his own pleasure. Janet wrapped the blade in her kerchief and concealed it on her person willing it to be invisible to all eyes, but her own.

Up next is the last of The Wartime Tales, The Fallen Shield, Gwaine's tale.

A/N- trigger warning: rape