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September 2008
Topic Started: Apr 22 2010, 01:55 PM (2,542 Views)
golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Unicorn
Date: Thu Sep 18, 2008 2:26 pm
Dagonet


He could not help it. He could not help that he felt bad...
both in body and heart. Linnette has eased him in his guilt
and made him feel a little more himself than few days before.
But still... he could not help the ache inside his soul. He
felt awkward knowing that this woman will give birth to his
grandchild... that the child will grow exactly how Gedeon has
before, without his real father.

This was a tragedy with what Dagonet had difficulty in facing
it. He didn't want to face it but was left without a choice.
It hurted... deeply.

Linnette
 
"I'll come back tomorrow,"


Dagonet wanted to say something or just to simply nod his head
but was caught off guard... surprised. Linnette leaned quickly
towards him and gave him the most unexpected and the most warm
gift he could get.

She hugged him...

His arms instantly went to he slender form also and returned
this little gesture. He could feel her cheek upon his own and
the warmth of her body, just for a brief second. But this
brought happiness to his heart.

He finally felt some of hope entering his mind and heart. The
heavy guilt finally loosening even more.

It made him smile.

So that when she broke off the contact Dagonet was still a
little surprised but half-smiling at this.

Linnette
 
"Good night, Saoirse,"


Dagonet watched her go with the older man and closed his eyes,
a light frown returning to him. He turned his head to look at
Saoirse and gave her a sad smile.

He still had family. He still had people who cared about him.
It was good feeling to have.

"This was hard..." he murmured and leaned slowly towards her
to put his head upon her shoulder, while squeezing her hand
weakly.









Mirtha

Why was he here anyway?

Again?

Why was he holding the bottle? Why the hell was he again
drunk? Was he angry? Was he disapionted? Why the hell was he
thinking about her? and her child? It was not his child! It
was not his responsability! It was not his problem!

So why was he thinking so much about it?

Why did he even care?

He got drunk again, almost because of it. He was still at the
point of almost drinking himself to unconsciousness... Mirtha
looked at the bottle, into it then and shook his head. This
was not the way for helping her or himself.

It was cold and he was trembling standing outside leaning over
a wall. It was late... He looked around. nobody around... He
took another sip of liquid and shook his head looking
downwards benting his head. WIth a deep sigh Mirtha threw
bottle to the ground with anger... watched as disolated pieces
of glass scattered, soaking in alcohol which still burnt
inside Mirtha's throat.

He should talk with Ione... He should find her and say what he
felt about it... and what have she made him think and believe
towards her. What he felt.

She wasn't at her shop... Crossing the courtyard with heavy
heart Mirtha wasn't angry anymore. What if she was hurted?
What if she had done something to herself, just because he had
not prevented her from doing so?

He reached the infirmary and walked into the room, searching
for her.

And there she was... with some people around. Who, to his own
surprised didn't matter to Mirtha. Only her...

"Ione? What happened?" he asked geting near her bed, and
kneeling beside it.

It was akward as the two of them had actually met in the
infirmary. But then he was looking for Aisling his former
employer.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Pinkie
Date: Fri Sep 19, 2008 4:15 pm
Mari


Was it even true? Could she find herself in that position
again but with love instead of fear and not think of him?
Could it be possible to have someone touch her intimately like
that and not imagine the feel of leather instead of skin? Mari
wanted vehemently to believe she could move on from that
horror, she wanted to believe that nothing like that could
ever happen again and that from now on she could be happy,
safe and unharmed by Milan. In anything.

He took her hands and Mari sighed, looking down as his warm
lips caressed her skin. She felt all the energy drain from her
body and her eyelids drooped. Small shoulders sagged and the
young woman gave a faint, wispish smile.

Milan
 
"Come...ss..sleep..."


Mari nodded her head and slinked in under Milan's arm as he
stepped backwards. She leaned her slight form against him and
let him lead her to the bed where she promptly bumped down
onto the pitiful mattress, uttering a chuckled 'ow' to feel
the hard planks beneath the thin mattress. Sighing again, the
young woman released Milan's hand and bent down to remove her
boots. They thudded onto the floor and she shivere, quickly
squirrelling under the small coverlet. It was a mild night of
sorts - milder than they had had up until then at least.

Blinking back the tiredness, Mari looked up at Milan as he
readied for bed, holding the blanket right up under her chin.

"Do you believe in forever? In.. in in ... in things after
this?" Mari asked in a quiet voice, an uncertain voice, a
tired voice - "I mean, do you believe there's something after
life? Do you think we'd know each other?" her words were
warbled at the end as she spoke through a jaw-splitting yawn.







Amadeus

Arthur
 
“Amadeus Elpidius Scipio…before I dismiss you sir, I am
going to make myself perfectly clear and I will only
state it once. I realize that you are new to this post
and that you do not know me and that my ways are also
unknown to you….but while you are here, you will follow
my example and do things my way. I did not request your
assignment here, therefore I owe you nothing. However,
you must earn my trust and my respect if you are to
survive here in the wilds of Britain. I do not kill
without cause. You will never again execute helpless
captives. They were no threat to you and therefore no
reason to end their lives…we become barbarians ourselves
when we begin to behave the same as them. Have I made
myself clear? You will follow my orders….and perhaps you
will survive your term here….and then you can return to
your opulent villa… wherever that might be…and curse me
to Hell then if you wish. I will remind you that I, too,
serve Rome…..and above all, I serve our Holy Father. I
will do my level best to keep you alive as long as you
do as I command. I have no care for what you might have
been previously told about me or my men before your
arrival here…but while you ARE here, you will follow my
directives. You WILL behave in a manner that pleases me.
Is that understood? Now unless you have anything further
to add to the days’ events or what it is that I require
of you on the morrow, you may go to your rest. Good
night, Optio Scipio,”


Oh he was good. He was acutely good, painfully good,
obsessively good but as with all heroes, Arthur Castus had a
fatal flaw.

A flaw that Amadeus clung to like a limpet! He looked into the
man's steely green eyes and suffered his degrading dress-down
with as much grace as one might expect of a man with a
background like Amadeus'. His one reaction was to simply raise
an eyebrow when Arthur began by telling Amadeus, in his own
words, that he didn't want him there at all. He did not react
other than that one arched brow - outwardly he did not react.
Inside each and every word from the commander's mouth was
stoking a vicious fire, a burning hatred and a desperate,
calloused fear in him of this man.

Not because he thought Arthur could best him - no no. He
feared Arthur because he actually believed that the woads
could be handled by treating them well, that there was some
outcome for Britain that had the Romans living in peace with
the Woads. Was he crazy? There had not been peace in Britain
for four hundred years, why would this man think that he could
change that?

To claim woads, even bound and gagged as they were, were no
threat was ludicrous!! Did Arthur believe Merlin's men would
show any kind of mercy if the situation had been reversed? God
no! And that was why Malcus, the imbecile, had grabbed a
traitorous whelp and brought her back to Badon... for fear of
Merlin's opinion of 'mercy'.

The scorn in Arthur's voice when he referred to a non-existant
villa made Amadeus go cold inside. His expression became dead
and nothing else that Arthur said seemed to penetrate the icy
shield he held up. Little did the Commander know that the
Optio had his grey sights set on this fortress that they both
now resided in. Little did Arthur know...

The torrent of unwarranted reprimanding came to an end
finally. Amadeus had not moved, his brow was still hovering in
a modest quirk and he looked vacant. He had not nodded nor
indicated his attention to anything that Arthur had thus
ordered of him and he had no intention of doing so either. He
felt a chill down his spine and rose to an impressive height.
He gave a stiff nod of farewell to Arthur and started to the
door woodenly, his grey eyes fixed ahead, unseeing, as his
mind went through the whole thing again.

Was he being threatened?

Not once, not twice but three times Arthur had, in a
round-a-bout way, indicated that his life was in danger. That,
should he try break the mould of listless, mindless weakling
soldiers that currently filled the ranks at Badon Hill, that
he would be .... killed? The Optio tensed his jaw as his hand
reached for the door-handle and he paused. He glanced over his
shoulder at the stolid commander and cleared his throat,
ground his teeth and turned back to the door.

He was going to tell Arthur that, despite what he might think,
that Amadeus Scipio was capable, that he had faced enemies and
that Arthur Castus was the problem here. He wanted to tell
Arthur that in no other Roman Fortress would an officer be
chastised for killing the enemy regardless of circumstances.

But instead he pulled open the door and walked out without a
word, stalking down the corridor with his grey eyes fixed
ahead, a burning fury raging in his veins. His boots pounded
as he wound his way towards his room, conjuring an image of
Rowan in bed, of her immaculate body and ... A groan gurgled
from the mans' throat as he got to his room, haphazardly flung
the door open and practically fell inside, grasping at his
throat as a sudden urge to scream and vent his frustration
could barely be contained.

He staggered towards the window and shoved it open, bowing his
head as he tried to prevent the red haze from taking over. He
could barely see the stone beneath his palms so intense was
his fury and bitterness. Amadeus tossed his head backwards,
his narrow neck tensed, the tendons straining against his
grubby skin, his Adam's apple rising and falling with every
hiccupped breath that managed to rasp through thin lips.

"Damn him." Amadeus finally gasped in defeat.









Saoirse

Linnette
 
"You're welcome...Father. I'll come back tomorrow, Good
night, Saoirse,"


Saoirse's eyes widened just a little when Linnette leaned down
to hug Dagonet. Her blue eyes looked at the woman's arm and
then to her auburn hair and back to her arm. An indescribable
feeling of unworthiness made Saoirse's heart quicken. She
frowned, looking down as Linnette said goodnight. The Irish
woman glanced over at Linnette and gave her a wan smile,
feeling a quick blush rush to her cheeks. Dagonet seemed
oblivious as he squeezed her hand, laying his head on her
shoulder. The red head felt tears pricking the corners of her
eyes as she raelised why she felt so inadequate, so damn
unworthy.

Dagonet
 
"This was hard..."


"Mmmm." Saoirse made a small, comforting noise as she stared
down at Dagonet's huge hand holding hers.

Linnette was the type of woman that Dagonet deserved. Someone
nice, pleasant, proper - someone who would not disappoint him
or break his heart the way she had done so often. Saoirse knew
it was ludicrous to think on such a silly thing but she
couldn't help it. No one would ever believe this 'father'
business between Dagonet and Linnette - true as it might be.
Now that Gedeon was no more it seemed .... strange, to
Saoirse.

Swallowing hard, the red head turned her face to Dagonet's
bristly head, kissing it gently before resting her cheek
against his crown.

"She's..." Saoirse stopped, licked her lips and shut her eyes.
Why was she doing this? "She's a good woman." the Irish woman
said, knowing DAgonet could do nothing but agree which would
inevitably make Saoirse raelise that everything good and
admirable about Linnette was something that was missing in her
own character. Sniffing gently, Saoirse shut her eyes and
skooched lower on the bed, gently resting an arm across
Dagonet's hard stomach as she snuggled in for the night.









Drake

Drake did deliberately walk behind Linnette. It was a
defensive position. He could see what came ahead of them and
he could prevent anything coming from behind them and at this
moment in time he considered himself as nothing more than a
protector for her. Drake didn't consider himself companion of
'friend' material. It was a foreign subject to him.

Brothers-in-arms, oh yes. He could have those - but friends...
? No. He never had friends before - why would he start now in
such a late stage of life?

Also walking behind ensure he could look at her to ensure she
was well, to make sure that she was not going to break down,
to make sure she was not going to attempt to assault another
wall. He watched the pace of her feet a moment, then the way
her elbows were tight to her body, defensive almost, holding
herself together. He gave a warning look to a messenger who
was barrelling along the corridor to their right - a warning
for him to slow and not interfere in this whatsoever, even to
interfere with the noise of his feet.

When they arrived at her .. their doors, Drake walked around
to stand in front of Linnette, head bowed looking at the book
in her arms, held tight to her body. He cocked his head and
glanced up at her face to meet her hazel eyes and he felt the
whole world drop from beneath him. He was staring into
oblivion and he wasn't sure how to make himself move or do
anything. It was like the whole world shifted - for the
briefest seconds the world went sideways and fixed itself up
again with nothing more than a tilted picture on the wall to
prove anything had happened at all. The tilted picture frame
was Drake.

Swallowing hard, the Spaniard looked down, frowning as was his
habit.

Linnette
 
"Well... Good night,"


Another audible rumble broke the silence as Drake cleared his
throat and lifted his head with a noble purse to his lips. He
looked at Linnette with a tight expression and nodded curtly.
He was going to just leave it at that but his lips had moved
and his voice betrayed him by whispering her name --

"Linnette..."

Now what?

Drake flexed his fingers against the palm of his hand, feeling
the bandages from where he had been stabbed through the hand a
while ago shift slightly. He lifted the same hand and wiped it
down his face in mild frustration, the sound of his calloused
skin rubbing against his bearded face quite audible as green
eyes looked to the rafters for inspiration.

"Linnette ... " another pause, a frown, a sigh of defeat,
"Sleep well. You know where I am." his hand reached backwards
to drum thick fingers against the wood of his own door and he
gave her a sheepish half-smile that made his eyes glitter
fantastically in the moment before he ducked his head... again.

One large hand reached out and touched Linnette's upper arm.
Drake cursed himself for starting it but he had little option
other than turning and running - so he leaned forward a little
and, instead of kissing her temple, he pressed the side of his
bristly chin to her temple and squeezed her upper arm.

"Goodnight." he said gruffly, intent on going into his room
and spending a good, solid hour chastising himself mentally
for getting involved in this at all.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Elessars Girl
Date: Fri Sep 19, 2008 4:53 pm

Arthur


Scipio appeared to take Arthur’s rather curt verbal
disciplining quite well which gave the Commander hope that the
other man did have some scruples in the matter after all.
Arthur noted the Optio’s stoic and stiff posture while he
ignored the other man’s arched brow as he returned Amadeus’
brusque nod. Scipio was able to match Arthur in physical
height as he had held the Commander’s stern gaze, but Arthur
was the broader man and certainly the wearier one. Could
Scipio turn out to be a steadfast and trustworthy Optio?
Possibly…. if the man followed Arthur’s directives and paid
attention.

Arthur’s intense emerald gaze followed Scipio until the other
Roman strode quietly out of the room. The Commander now
considered the matter settled since his Optio had added
nothing further before taking his leave. Thus Arthur would
focus on what must be done to mend the damage of today by
dealing with Merlin himself tomorrow. Today was done.

Factum est.

Once the door had clicked shut leaving Arthur alone in the
expansive room, his shoulders visibly sagged and his head
dipped as he released an almost bitter sounding sigh. It was
very late now and Lancelot had failed to report….which could
mean only one thing: he had found himself another whore for
the night. But why did that matter? It should NOT mean a damn
thing to Arthur. He attempted to steer his thoughts away from
the memories that always seemed to shove their way into
Arthur’s head the second he was alone…..he turned back towards
the table and reached for his goblet of wine….his gaze
lingered on the tabletop once he’d taken a generous drink and
a memory flashed before his eyes of how Lancelot had
taken…..how the rough grain of the wood had bitten into the
flesh of his back….

…..the goblet went careening across the room and landed with a
loud clunk on the stone floor after colliding with the far
wall. Arthur tightly shut his eyes against the memory and
turned away from the table. He had a thousand other things –
more pressing matters – that he should be focusing on right
now; certainly NOT painful memories from the way things had
been between them. Arthur had Darya to consider foremost now,
especially now that she was with child – HIS child. It was all
wrong…..she had not been the one and now she was to become
what? A liability? A weakness in the Roman’s armor? While it
was true that Arthur loved Darya – in his own way- he had
never even considered having a family with her….especially not
when he lived such a dangerous life that was certain to end on
a battlefield. Arthur Castus deserved no children of his own
and how well could he truly hope to protect this one? He
chewed at his bottom lip to the point of tasting his own
coppery blood while slowly padding across the room towards the
wash basin. Arthur’s wound had been paining him, but suddenly
the pain was radiating from his chest not his side…his heart
ached and his hand slid up to press over the thing as Arthur
willed it to settle.

Was this how Uther had felt when Ygraine had become pregnant?
How had Arthur’s father dealt with it? How would Arthur deal
with a child of his own? He slowly removed his tunic and
splashed a generous handful of water on his stubbly face; and
then for a long moment stared blankly down into the wash bowl
before continuing. And while he went on to meticulously shave
and wash in preparation for bed, Arthur’s mind continued to
grapple with all that he faced…securing peace with Merlin,
food shortages and damaged structures within the fortress
walls and impending fatherhood….and Lancelot. Had they truly
moved beyond what once was between them?

Arthur changed into soft linen trousers and a pale open
collared shirt and somehow his feet managed to carry him to
bed. He had had the presence of mind to rouse the fire in the
hearth before collapsing on top of the furs…..and before sleep
would take him, Arthur Castus prayed to God for guidance, for
strength, for hope and for His absolution…..and Arthur ached
for the answers that would reconcile his troubled mind and his
heart.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Fri Sep 19, 2008 7:08 pm
Linnette and Linnesse


He gave her a curt nod in response to her good night, and
Linnette pressed the door handle down, already in the act of
opening it, sure that this was all there was to it, that that
sudden, inexplicable frown was going to remain there and she
would just have to wonder what had just displeased him...but
then, he spoke again. Her name.

Drake
 
"Linnette..."


"Hmm?" She drew her hand back from the door handle, looking up
at him expectantly, her eyebrows raised and head slightly
tilted to one side, waiting for whatever he wanted to say. But
he said nothing more. The moment stretched, and Linnette,
seeing movement, looked confusedly down to see him flexing his
bandaged hand. Did he want some help with that before
retiring, then? But maybe he was hesitant to ask? Linnette
took a breath, ready to assure him that of course she would
help, that it was the least she could do...but as she watched
him scrub his hand over his prickly, unshaven chin, she
decided that maybe that wasn't what he had been about to say.
So she continued waiting, frozen in her expectant, listening
pose.

Drake
 
"Linnette...sleep well. You know where I am."


"I do." Linnette nodded her reassuring acknowledgement of that
fact, but she couldn't rid herself of the feeling that that
had not been originally what he had planned to say- and the
sheepish smile that followed his words only confirmed her
suspicions. What had it been, then? She took another breath,
debating whether to just ask him- she was very curious- when
all of a sudden, his hand was on her upper arm, his eyes had
locked with hers again, and he was leaning towards her. It
came so unexpectedly that her brain had trouble processing it-
but it looked awfully like he was going to kiss her!

She froze, utterly undecided about what to do. Duck away? Turn
her cheek instead of her mouth? Kiss him back and damn the
consequences? Something else entirely? Her head spun with the
possibilities, the implications, the face of Gedeon
insistently present through it all...and in the end it was
with a wash of indescribable relief that she realized he was
not going for her lips. She let out a sigh, closing her eyes
momentarily, as she felt only the brush of prickly chin
against her temple. He hadn't kissed her- not even there. That
was best. She had no idea what she would have done if he had.

Drake
 
"Goodnight."


A light squeeze to her arm, and then he was stepping back,
turning away from her, going into his own room. It was hard to
form words, but somehow Linnette managed it, her hand once
more on the door handle in preparation for flight inside, her
mouth dry.

"Good night," she whispered, and then she opened the door as
quickly as she quietly could and ducked inside.






Derfel
 
“Much. Er…so I thought. I’d best be still for the rest
of the night, methinks. I thank the gods every moment
for giving me you.”


"I thank them...him…," Having repeated Derfel's exact phrasing
automatically, Linnesse quickly corrected herself, with a wry
smile for the reminder of their differing religions. It wasn’t
any matter to her, though. She adjusted her top leg over him
and cupped her palm around his cheek tenderly as she
continued.

“…for you. Always.” Her hand curved around his cheek and
smoothed back sweat-dampened hair, then glided back down and
traced the curve of his lips. He was tired; she could tell by
the feel that his eyes were already closing.

“Let me get the blanket, love,” she murmured, leaning forward
to press a whisper of a kiss to his lips. She squirmed
backwards from him, trying to disengage arms and legs from
around him with the minimum of disruption to his position, and
reached for the rumpled blanket at the foot of the bed. She
twitched that over Derfel as she sat up, then scooted to the
edge of the bed and stood up, feeling around on the floor with
her feet for the other blanket- the one she had been wearing-
and the pillow she had set behind Derfel’s head as he was
sitting on the floor. Fortunately- the cooler air had already
brought out goosebumps on her pale skin- she found both
quickly and bundled the whole lot back onto the bed, where she
busied herself arranging everything into a comfortable nest
around them.

Well, not quite everything. Her nightgown was around here
somewhere, but when a cursory pat-down of the mattress did not
turn it up, she shrugged and forgot about it. It would have
added extra warmth, but it was nicer to snuggle bare skin to
bare skin with Derfel, anyway. As she wiggled her way into a
comfortable position, stretched out alongside her man and with
the blankets pulled up to her chin, she felt a sudden belated
stab of worry for her sister. Was Linnette all right? Had she
even come back from the infirmary yet? Surely it must be late,
and she had not planned to stay long…

Linnesse levered herself back up to a sitting position, her
head cocked to listen for any sound from the outer room.
Nothing..and she was just about to haul herself to her feet,
find some clothes, and go find out what was the matter when
she heard- thank God!- the slight creak of the outer room’s
door opening, and footsteps coming inside. It was Linnette-
Linnesse could tell by the sound, but perhaps even more by
instinct. A wave of relief washed over her- but she was
apprehensive, still.

Linnesse kept listening as the footsteps moved across the
common area of the outer room. There was a pause by the
central table, the soft, creaky sound of the food basket being
briefly explored, and then the footsteps continued on towards
the bed. A moment later, Linnesse heard the curtain being
pulled across.

There had been no sound of any crying. That, above everything
else, would have brought Linnesse out of bed no matter how
inconvenient or tiring. But there was none of that- not even a
hint; and the pulling of the curtain seemed to indicate that
Linnette was going immediately to bed herself. Linnesse
listened a moment longer just to make sure…but other than a
faint sound that was probably the shifting of Linnette’s
mattress, no other sounds came. Still feeling a little
worried, but with her eyes nearly closing- and reassuring
herself that Linnette in all probability needed her sleep,
too, and that she would talk to her first thing in the
morning- Linnesse sand back down among pillows and blankets
and curved her body against Derfel’s solid warmth for sleep.








Linnette was not asleep yet. She lay on her side, facing the
stone wall along one side of her bed, a piece of bread from
the basket in her hand, desultorily chewing on a bite of it.
She was a little hungry- but not much. She was tired- but
didn't feel like closing her eyes yet. They remained open,
staring into the dark, looking at nothing but the cold stones
of the wall.

What would Gedeon have thought of all this? Was that even a
fair question? Because she would not have even contemplated
that Drake might kiss her had Gedeon been waiting for her in
their bed. For that matter, if Gedeon had lived, Drake
wouldn't have contemplated it, either. For that matter, maybe
he handn't considered it at all. There had been no kiss, after
all. Maybe it was all in her imagination. Maybe she was a bad
woman for imagining it! That thought made her feel desperate-
she hurriedly swallowed the last of the bread and curled
herself tighter into a little ball, trying to imagine Gedeon
there with her with all her might. He would be lying behind
her, perhaps, his body curled around hers, his arm tossed
carelessly over her waist and his breath on the back of her
neck. A protective pose- him protecting her, just as she
protected their child.

That was the image she needed to hold in her mind- not
pointless fantasies and what-ifs. Linnette burrowed deeper
into the blankets, letting her memories wander- it was no
effort now, none at all. Gedeon practicing in the training
yard, Gedeon holding her hand as they walked...it was all
there bubbling up and running over, and Linnette sniffed and
sobbed softly as she shifted closer to the wall, curling so
that her forehead lay against the cool stone, letting that
give her its obscure comfort. There wasn't any other.

She did sleep, eventually; she got some rest, and all her
tears were silent. It was better than last night. But it
wouldn't be right without Gedeon ever again.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: LadyCastus
Date: Fri Sep 19, 2008 7:34 pm
Titrus


Mirtha
 
"Ione? What happened?"


The sound of someone's voice caused Titrus' head to fall
forward as he dozed and jerk him awake. For a moment, the
lieutenant was disoriented and didn't know where he was.
Shaking off the fog from his fuzzy, ale-induced stupor, Titrus
remembered he was in an infirmary room. The sleeping woman on
the bed next to him was confirmation. Ione was sleeping, her
breathing deep and even.

Titrus recognized the man kneeling next to the bed as Mirtha,
the stableman. The lieutenant was quite annoyed with himself
for not having heard the man walk into the room. He could have
been anyone!

"Ssssh!" Titrus hissed. "She's sleeping, leave her alone."

Titrus carefully slid his hand from hers and slowly stood from
the chair, his back creeking and his knees popping. He
resisted the urge to groan. Titrus stretched long and hard,
yawning and balling his fists. He had no idea how long he'd
been asleep, but he knew he must get home right away. His
daughters would be worried.

Titrus peered down at the sleeping woman's face and wiped away
dark curl of hair that fallen over her eyes.

"Sleep well, lady. I pray that all will be well for you," he
whispered, not waking her.

With that, the lieutenant threw his heavy cloak, that one Ione
had sewn for him, over his shoulders.

"Come now!" he said to Mirtha. The man muttered something
incoherently in his thick accent.

Titrus made his way out of the infirmary and headed home, his
shoulders hunched over in cold night air.









Malcus Barbattus

Malcus lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow
morning he would order Titrus, Quintus, Karl and the new
transfer, Brendyn, to accompany Arthur. Titrus, Malcus knew,
was trustworthy and a fine officer, as was Quintus. Brendyn
had the makings of being a fine soldier and Barbattus felt
comfortable sending the young man along. Karl was a strong
soldier and an experienced lieutenant. However Karl could be
difficult to reign in at times. The captain felt Karl was a
good choice though considering the stakes and that he would be
a good asset to Arthur should Merlin challenge the commander.
Yes, Malcus would order Karl to ride also.

Tomorrow would bring about the stable punishment. Three days
was a long time, but Malcus would serve his punishment without
complaint. Damned ratty little fucker, Scipio. Malcus knew
there was darkness behind those beady little gray eyes of his.
Malcus had a bad feeling about the optio. It was obvious that
he and Arthur were nothing alike. A pompous, arrogant Roman
like Scipio couldn't take lightly the conditions at the
fortress. Surely such meagre surroundings were offensive to
his accustoms.

Malcus would keep his eyes and ears open. He didn't trust the
man and as soon as Arthur returned, he would tell the
commander as much when they were alone. Barbattus closed his
tired eyes. Within minutes, he was snoring.












Mona

Mona peeked from under the rabbit furs and scanned the
campsite. The perimeter of the camp, she knew, was well
guarded. Her countrymen would be in their perches, high up in
the trees. The rest of the camp seem deserted, it was so
quiet. The woads had learned to live and sleep in complete
silence, careful to never give away their location, even as
they dreamed.

Mona yanked back the furs and the cold air hit her hard. She
moaned slightly from the discomfort of her many wounds. But no
way was she near death. She had deflected most of Guinevere's
blows expertly, just like the princess herself had taught her.
Now make no mistake - Mona had definitely been injured. One
may even consider her wounds to be severe, but the woman had
suffered worse over the years. Slowly, Mona stood and
stretched her muscles, then crouched low to the ground and
crept to the far end of the camp, going around the longest
way. She was careful not to make a sound and to stay low to
the ground so that she would not be seen.

There were many furs where Merlin slept. The area had been
cleared and a comfortable space made to give the leader as
much comfort as possible. Mona stiffled a giggle and silently
cursed herself. She'd come too far to mess up now. Her plan
was almost complete. She had wanted to kill Guinevere before
she made her move, but it had not happened that way. The bitch
was too fast. Never mind, though, it really didn't matter.
Guinevere would be of little consequence once Mona was woad
queen.

Mona stood over Merlin for a moment, hearing him breathe
deeply as he slept. He slept on his side and the furs were way
up past his ears. Mona could barely see his his head.

Getting down on her knees, Mona quickly lifted the furs and
slid under them, sliding close to Merlin and spooning her body
to conform to his. She snuggled next to him, wrapping her arm
around his waist and nuzzling her nose into the back of his
neck.

She sighed with contentment. Finally, her time had come.
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Author: lady ione
Date: Fri Sep 19, 2008 8:06 pm
Brendyn


Gods above it had been a long night!

The young soldier stretched a bit to loosen his muscles, and
twisted his head from side to side to wear out a kink in it.
It felt so good to be on duty and doing something useful for
the service of Rome and Badon Hill...and his new Commander,
Artorius Castus. What a noble name for one so great! Brendyn
recalled the brief encounter after the battle when he had come
asking to tend to Arthur's wound. He had not gotten to tend to
the wound, but he had briefly met the man as well as the First
Knight. None of the Sarmatian Knights were as Antonius had
described them, but rather the opposite. Each had a very
warrior like attitude, and yet had the closeness he had wished
he had had with the other soldiers he had fought with while at
Aesica. Brendyn liked them, even if some had been slightly
leery of himat first. Gawain, Galahad and Derfel had been very
personable and he hoped to meet all of them again soon...

The cold air smelled fresh with rain and earth.

Brendyn inhaled deeply.

It would be morning soon, and time to get on with other
duties...whatever God put before him. His eyes lifted to the
horizon, and tried to recall the vast beauty of the land that
had spread out before him when he had first begun the night
watch. So mysterious and hauntingly lovely. This was nothing
like Brittany, where he was from, but still Brittany had a
rare beauty all it's own as it was a coastal country. Someday,
he'd go back, but for now, he was duty bound to serve Rome,
and he'd serve it with everything in him.
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Author: Unicorn
Date: Sat Sep 20, 2008 12:13 am
Dagonet


The tall knight was indeed tired by this time... It was not
that he had not enough sleep. In fact he had slept almost
whole day, only awake when somebody came to him. His mind and
heart were tired from the pain he was constantly feeling and
his body was tired from the wound that also inflicted him
pain. But he tried to block this all out.

He was at least trying to be strong again.

Linnette allowed him to feel some of relieve in him, as she
forgave him for what he had done wrong. It was good to hear,
even if the poor woman didn't understand it completely. She
said he had done nothing wrong in her opinion, but even so was
able to say those things.

Saoirse
 
"Mmmm."


Dagonet frowned a little at this. Saoirse was silent for the
whole time he takled with Linnette. She was not interjecting
into the conversation, wasn't throwing any of her opinions as
always. Just silenced her for this one talk. And still was
silent. What was going on in her head right now? Was it
something in Linnette's words or in his that made her acting
so?

The big knight wasn't sure... but it still was strange to him.
Linnette's visit brought him peace of mind and hope to get
better. What have it brought for Saoirse?

As she kissed the top of his head and put her cheek upon it,
Dagonet wondered about what was she thinking. What her mind
made her to believe in right now. Cause he knew that Saoirse
believed sometimes in unlikly things.

He was about to say something, ask her about what was she
thinking, but as always it was Saoirse to have her first
words. Even the situations of not fire emotions, like anger.
Even now in silenced pain and misery they both felt.

Saoirse
 
"She's... She's a good woman."


Dagonet didn't answered. He allowed her to lay down and put
her arm on his stomach... his mind drifting and wondering why
did she say something like that. Yes, it was true that
Linnette was a good woman. She always had been. She was nice,
kind and always willing to help, probably soothing Gedeon's
fears and worries. Yes, she was perfect woman.... for Gedeon.
Gedeon was a lucky man to have her.

A thought of his son's death made him close his eyes briefly.
But he moved it aside. He had to focus on staying strong, not
breaking himself apart.

Was Saoirse trying to say that she was not worthy Dagonet,
cause Linnette was such good woman? Was she feeling that she
wasn't needed?

Instead of confirming Saoirse's words he brought his arm to go
around her shoulders and weakly held her, close to him.

"I love you, little one, you know?" he asked her. "And if you
think that I'm not aware of what are you are trying to say you
are wrong... You are a good woman and you are the only one for
me. I need you." he assured her, only gueassing about what was
she thinking but testing his luck.
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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Sat Sep 20, 2008 8:20 am

Merlin


There was movement behind him, a light tugging at the furs,
and a new warmth under them.

The Woad leader never slept very deeply- some part of him
always seemed to be alert- but this night, his slumber had
been admittedly more profound than usual. It had been an
exhausting day, and he was now practically buried in his fur,
his body curled around Juna's, tightly against her for warmth-
when the unexpected, stealthy movement stirred behind him.

Merlin froze, his eyes opening to the cold darkness of
predawn, as he assessed the stirrings behind him, intent on
figuring out what it was. His first thought was that it was an
animal, some forlorn creature blindly seeking any source of
warmth in the winter night...but that thought didn't last
long. The pulling back of the furs was too deliberate and
careful, and then the shape of the body that now cuddled
itself up behind him...definitely human.

Merlin sat bolt upright, all his senses alert, spinning to
face the intruder as he flung its arm off his waist. On the
other side of him, Juna stirred and also half-sat up, rubbing
her eyes confusedly, but Merlin was all intent on the
interloper. He flung back the fur to get a good look...and
even in the dark, recognized Mona, the "madwoman", lying there
next to him. A sudden surge of disgust filled him- she thought
she could creep up to him and embrace him under cover of
darkness? After what she had done to his daughter, after what
she had done to endager the mission?

"What are you doing, woman??" he exclaimed, with no thought
for the modulation of his voice. Around the makeshift camp,
more sleepers awoke, sat up and peered over curiously, and a
couple of the guards dropped warily from their positions in
the trees. Someone leaned over and threw a handful of small
sticks on the fire- they flared up, showing Mona's face in a
sudden burst of orange light, and there were mutterings and
whisperings all around the circle of onlookers. What had
happened? What was the madwoman doing in their leader's bed?
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Author: lady ione
Date: Sat Sep 20, 2008 8:54 pm
Ione


She felt as though she had slipped into a fog, and all she
could feel was the baby moving within her, and some pain,
though she was too sedated to move into a more comfortable
position. The last thing she clearly recalled was having asked
Titrus about his duties, but she had fallen asleep on him, so
she never would know the answer...though she could ask another
time. She heard sounds, and then Tirus's soft soothing voice.
Now, Ione could hear voices, and even at one point smelled the
strong pungant oder of wine or some sort of drink, and even in
her deep sleep, it almost made her sick just inhaling it. Then
she thought she heard a question What happened... By then she
was too lost in the realm of sleep to even answer. Ione had
not wanted to be sedated so heavily that she'd not be able to
call for help if something further happened, but to actually
sleep....Ione could not recall when she had had a decent
sleep, though this sleep was filled with pain still and
movements. Once she had moaned, ut that was it.

A few times, the pain came, but she tried to concentrate more
on the movement within her. Oh, but she wanted the baby to
live! She had always wanted one, and now she was in danger of
losing it. As she slept, all she could hear in her mind now
was Linnesse's voice telling her of the two losses, Accolan
and Gedeon, while she could hear her own inner voice telling
her that Javier was not coming back...and all of the other
worries and stresses that had happened of late. The loss of
Adian's woman, Thorn, and the child she carried. Inwardly,
Ione was full of sorrow, more than she had ever imagined
happening in her life. When Javier was around, the young
weaver felt as though she was bound for a happy future. Now,
all she could see was a dim future with little hope for
happiness, unless the Gods and Goddesses decided otherwise.

And so, the herb induced sleep held her in a realm of dreams
and thoughts....and of the baby.
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Author: Pinkie
Date: Sun Sep 21, 2008 12:19 pm
Drake


Drake deliberately did not slam the door. He closed it gently
and stood there with his hand on the handle, lips pursed and
eyes beginning to water as he stared down unblinkingly at his
thick fingers, though it seemed as if he were looking through
his fingers instead of at them. After a while his head
straightened up and he was looking at a point on the wooden
door. And then he shook his head, frowning instensely as he
whirled away from the door, kicking his foot at the bedpost
irritably.

"Fuck!" he growled, not realising his exclamation would be
loud enough to be heard through the damn wall. Both of ihs
hands came up to hide his face as Drake dug his fingers
against his eyesockets hard in acute irritation. He turned
away from the bed, hands against his cheeks, eyes peering
blearily above his fingertips before he slumped down onto the
bed, flopping backwards so that the crown of his head was
against the wall.

He realised that his attempt at comforting Linnette had
probably looked all wrong to her, and felt all wrong for her
too. Her hesitant reaction to his attempts to soothe had made
that all too clear. And all he had been trying to do was ...
was ... well, all he wanted to do was to let her know that he
cared. He hadn't been going to kiss her, he wasn't even sure
he was able to kiss her without his haunted past claiming his
present mind and obliterating his sense of decency and sanity
so he would not risk it.

Sighing, Drake toed off his boots awkwardly and over a long
period of time, remaining in his prone position on the bed,
until finally he got fed up and tugged them off roughly,
flinging them noisily at the door. He remained seated and
unbuckled his belt, flinging that with his boots - and then
his leather trousers went the same way. Curling up beneath the
blanket in the blue tunic, Drake fuond himself barely able to
sleep.

Every now and then he looked at the wall next to his elbow adn
frowned. He would look away then and stare sightlessly at the
ceiling. At some point he did sleep but woke up not long after
to resume his vigil at the wall, cautious of any noises he
heard in there.



SUNRISE (MORNING)



Morning came early for a man who barely slept.

Drake clambered out of bed and went to the washbowl to splash
his face, making a resolution to replace the damn stagnant
water sometime soon. He raked a wet hand back through his
black hair, slicking it to his head and donned trousers and
boots once more. He was leaving his room before the sun had
breached the horizon and was buckling his belt as he walked
down the corridor. He was quite proud that he hadn't paused at
her door - but kept on walking until he was out into the
bitter cold air of a winter morning at Badon Hill.

Shivering, the Spaniard took his cloak from over his arm and
threw it over his shoulders, stalking with resolute, heavy
footsteps to the sparring yard. A few of his older trainees
were there, oddly enough, and Drake greeted them with a stiff
nod of his head. With neither a comment or compliment for them
being there without his ordering them to be, Drake set about
doing some minor training with them - tkaing some sympathy on
them for all the troubles they had all been through the past
few days between the siege and attack.









Saoirse

When had she become so insecure? Saoirse lay against Dagonet's
warmth wondering as he was silent, mulling over her words. The
red head had never been confident in herself, using her insane
anger and wiley temper to conceal a rather pitiful girl with
no self-confidence. But after just a short time wondering she
came up with her answer regarding Dagonet .... she had become
insecure ever since she had left him. Ever since she had
walked away from him leaving him in a position whereby he
could take another lover and she could have nothing to say on
the matter. She had become insecure when she had returned to
him and had been taken back by him and when she knew that she
had been awfully wrong about leaving him at all.

Dagonet
 
"I love you, little one, you know? And if you think that
I'm not aware of what are you are trying to say you are
wrong... You are a good woman and you are the only one
for me. I need you."


Little one... Saoirse gave a faint smile. Anyone else to call
her that would be nursing a burst nose or a bruised groin.
With Dagonet it was a term of love and endearment. The big
Knight's rumbling voice speaking such gentle words might have
been comical in another setting - but Saoirse only found
herself bound by his words.

He needed her? No... he thought he needed her. What he needed
was someone who wouldn't damn well hurt him the way she had.
He needed someone to carry his child to full term, to birth it
and then let him hold it, to let him father it the way he so
longed to do. Someone like Linnette who wouldn't dream of
taking so selfishly the way Saoirse had.

"I'm not goin' anywhere, Dagonet. I've told ye -- I don't much
like this livin' business unless you're beside me. It feels
all wrong." she admitted, closing her blue eyes and bowing her
head so that her face was half buried against Dagonet's strong
chest. She breathed in the musky scent of him - the smell of
horse, sweat and all the salves that had been applied to his
deadly wound.

"Now let's go t'sleep hmm? Mornin'll be here wi' all it's own
little problems." she murmured, tipping her face towards his
hard stomach and giving him a kiss through the material of his
tunic. Sighing, Saoirse let her eyes remained closed, her
breathing evened and she slept quietly but lightly, aware of
any movements her lover made, aware of any alterations in his
breathing...









Galahad

Twice he had tried to sneak out of the infirmary overnight and
twice he had been deftly steered back to bed. Galahad lay on
his side, eyes shut but he was definitely awake. He had an arm
wrapped about himself trying to stop the aches and pains but
they were insistent. The hangover was probably the worst
feeling... well, second worst. The worst feeling was when he
thought about where Alina had spent her night.

All his midnight wanderings and thinkings had gotten him
absolutely nowhere. He still didn't know how he felt about
Alina with Kolya, he didn't know if he wanted to fight to get
her back when yesterday had seen him embarrassingly punch up
his Sarmatian brothers instead of landing a decent hit on
Kolya. And was it worth it if that was what Alina wanted?

The young knight gave a protesting groan and rolled his feet
off the bed, his legs followed and he stomped down onto the
ground. He had donned his tunic sometime during the night and
was satisfied the bandage about his middle would last him for
days at least - so long as he didn't go to the baths that was.
His hand was straight out to ward off the helpful nun who had
put him to bed twice the night before.

"No - bugger it, no!" he exclaimed, his eyebrows twitching
into a dark arch over his sorrowful eyes. "I'm going and
that's that. There's nothing wrong with me that a decent
breakfast and some bedrest wont cure so just ... just let me
go ok?" he murmured, stepping around her with his hand still
outspread to keep her away from him. Once she got her fingers
around your arm you were a dead man... figuratively speaking
of course.

The nun pouted at the young knight but he just ambled by her,
making a haphazard line for the door. Once the cold morning
air hit him he started to feel better already. The bruises on
his face were not as bad as they were the day before - darker,
but not swollen. And the wound in his side, though aching, was
feeling less 'full' than it had done when he was put to bed
the day before. Clearing his throat, the dark-haired knight
made his way across the courtyard, his curly hair being
tousselled by the wind and obscuring his vision a little. He
didn't really know where he was going but he figured he would
just go towards the fortress proper at the very least. Maybe
he could find Gawain and apologise for yesterday.
And Lancelot.

That thought made his head ache.
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Author: Unicorn
Date: Sun Sep 21, 2008 1:03 pm
Dagonet


He had never thought that he had done wrong taking back
Saoirse into his protective arms... Having her back as his
lover. He had never thought that he would see her again. When
she disappeared, leaving him only a short letter, Dagonet was
crushed and thought she left for good. That she will never
return.

But even so... he was not looking for another woman. He could
see himself only beside her. He could see only Saoirse's
slender and little body against his, big one. He wanted to
kiss only her lips, nobodies elses. He could not think of
making love to anybody else.

And that some would call foolishness... but he would call this
love.

In the day Saoirse returned to Badon.. he felt confused,
broken because of the fact that she didn't want to talk with
him. When she came to him finally to talk, Dagonet took her in
his arms.

He could love only her, nobody else.

And that is why he had not thought, not for a moment that he
had done wrong accepting her back. He felt good with her. He
loved her too much to let go... even if the fact that she took
away his daughter hurted so much. He had promised himself that
he would never ever let go... And yes, he needed her strong
character, he needed her anger sometimes, he needed her
stuborness to keep him in this life.

And he had not even thought that Saoirse could think
differently.

Saoirse
 
"I'm not goin' anywhere, Dagonet. I've told ye -- I
don't much like this livin' business unless you're
beside me. It feels all wrong."


Gods he was tired... and feeling that Saoirse was geting ready
to sleep beside him, made him more and more sleepy. With her
words Dagonet's lips lifted in a little smile. Living
buisness... Oh, yes, he loved everything about her. And
everytime he heard that Saoirse wouldn't leave him again, made
his heart beat faster with relieve.

Saoirse
 
"Now let's go t'sleep hmm? Mornin'll be here wi' all
it's own little problems."


She gave him a light kiss on his body trought his tunic, put
her head upon his chest and his arm went around her and held
her even closer to himself. His strenghts weren't with him
just yet, and all he could was to weakly feel her body only,
but even this made him feel better. How would he feel, if she
hadn't returned to him? How would he face Gedeon's death
without her?

He was greatful to the gods for having her still beside him.

"Mhm.." he only murmured at her words and stirred a little
finding the best position to sleep.

The mere little movement was enough to make his side ache, but
he did not want to worry his lover, so he pretended that
everything was alright and that there was no pain at all. No
sounds... no wince.. nothing.

Slowly closed his eyes and tried to have some rest. Some
sleep...

But this night was not as peacful as the night before. He was
entirely at ease. He felt so tired that he thought that sleep
will come quickly.

It didn't...

He was trying to get asleep for hours after Saoirse had. But
the oblivion didn't come. Thoughts of Gedeon, battlefield, his
wound, fevered dreams of his son, his friend's worried faces,
Derfel taking care of him with Gawain and everybody else,
meeting with Saoirse and the bad news given to Linnette, her
teary face, her pain... concerned Arthur and Lancelot's visit
- everything mixed up within him and he could not stop
thinking about it. Every time he closed his, Gedeon's face
appeared... The scary vision of him in pool of blood.. or
different images of what happened with his son, when he fell
from that high wall.

The tall knight could not sleep and once he finally was able
to, he murmured something trought it and woke up after few
minutes. He had another nightmare. He hoped only that he had
not awoke Saoirse.

Dagonet had not found any sleep this night and in the morning
felt even more tired than before... he was able to sleep for
only few minutes during the whole night.

In the morning he slwoly brought a hand to his face and rubbed
tired eyes... Looked down at Saoirse and stretched his tired
body slightly, not wanting to wake her up. Just to have some
movement...
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Author: lady ione
Date: Sun Sep 21, 2008 1:04 pm
Vanora


It was time to get up and ready herself for work. She did not
need the sunlight to tell her that much. It had become a
matter of instinct. Rolling over, Vanora sweetly kissed the
sleeping, snoring man next to her, then slipped out of bed.
Stretching, she made her way over to see to the twins, then
moved off to wash and dress for the day ahead of her.

Hopefully, things would be better then they had the day
before. The last few days had not been ones to remember,
except that Bors had gotten home safely.

Looking over at the snoring bulk in her bed, Vanora placed a
shawl over her shoulders and made her way out of the house,
silently closing the door behind her. The morning was damp
with yesterday's rain, and the air smelled fresh and earthy. Vanora inhaled the smells especially of the cook already baking the bread needed for the day. Smiling, the red head made her way into the tavern, closing the door behind her, then making her way to the kitchen area. Seeing that things were satisfactory, Vanora hung her shawl up and then moved up front to the counter ready for the day to start...









Brendyn

It was always a marvel as well as a privilage to watch the
night turn slowly into day. The dark purples and pinks and
yellows and whatever other color God chose to throw in was
always something to watch. Brendyn shifted again and looked up
at the slowly lightening sky, how the colors changed as the
sun rose higher behind the clouds.

It was a new day, and he thanked God that nothing eventful had
happened during the night. God knew the fort had suffered
enough and did not need any more destruction done to it. It
would be about an hour or so, he thought before the changing
of the wall guards would take place. Behind and below him,
Brendyn could hear the tiny sounds of the fort waking up to
greet the day as well.
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Author: Lancelot
Date: Sun Sep 21, 2008 4:10 pm

Lancelot


Grey pre-dawn settled in through Lancelot’s windows, and his
eyes snapped open as if something physical had woken him. He
sat up, his body protesting, his wounded arm and his blackened
eye screaming in pain, since he’d done nothing for them the
previous night.

Other than dally with a beautiful whore that had driven him
from her side with merely a sentence.

Are you afraid?

No…but I think you are. But not of me.

A growl erupted from his lips, but Lancelot forced himself to
stare at the window, and at the filtered, watery looking sky
that was barely lit by the coming sun. His room was dank and
cold; he hadn’t bothered to light a fire when he’d returned.
He’d thrown himself fully dressed onto his bed, and had spent
the night in a dead sleep, his mind thankfully blank, no
nightmares to speak of.

None that he cared to remember, at any rate. Catherine’s face
filled his memory, and despite himself, he closed his eyes,
and rolled his chapped lips inward in defeat. The woman had
shown him no mercy in her examination of his workings, and by
the gods, and even though Lancelot would never admit to it,
she had gotten to him. More painfully than he thought possible
anymore. There was only one person who could hurt him like
that, and that one had shoved him away.

Although…Lancelot had certainly given him plenty of reason.

Catherine’s statements – though she might not have known just
how close she was – had cut too close and everything that had
been distracted and wanting about Lancelot had dissipated like
so much smoke. He’d turned from the whore, dressed quickly in
his too big leathers and borrowed tunic, picked up his swords,
and had blown through the door and into the night like a well
fired arrow from an enemy’s bow. He wasn’t sure what he’d say
to her when he saw her again; not that it mattered to him, but
he didn’t like the idea of his reputation sullied because of a
rash move he’d made.

Especially one that was Arthur’s…damn it.

Groaning, he rolled to his feet, his movement smooth as ever
despite his wounded and dirty body. He dressed in the same
leathers – no choice for this morning, he’d have to see the
clothier or the weaver later on – and picked up a random tunic
that lay on top of the clean pile someone had delivered while
he’d been out fighting with Galahad yesterday. He unfolded it
and began to tug it on – too big by far.

It was Arthur’s. He held the shirt up by the sleeves; whoever
had cleaned it (one of the fortress slaves he was certain) had
done an excellent job and the thing looked almost new – except
for the worn appearance of the fabric. Lancelot felt his mind
wander back to the aftermath of the recent battle – Arthur’s
wan and white face haunted his every step that day, and thus,
he’d done everything he could to make sure the commander would
live. Lancelot needed him. He needed him – not only for his
security and his generosity when it came to leadership and
protection of the Sarmatian “dogs,” but ….

Love is a rare gift.

Something his mother had once said. Lancelot folded the tunic
back up, and found one of his own, with only a small tear at
the shoulder. He shrugged it on, and pulled on his beloved
black vest, lacing the thing quickly. He wore a single sword,
the belt surreptitiously used to hold up his leathers, his
beautifully cared for double blades remaining on the wall
where they stayed when he wasn’t actively fighting or on
patrol. The boots went on last, and he stopped at the small
piece of reflecting glass that had belonged to Tor – yet
another knight fallen by the wayside. His face was ridiculous
– the eye was completely swollen shut, dirt was still smeared
over his cheeks, his lips were raw and dry, and his goatee was
scraggly and his hair!

Lancelot smirked at himself, and picking up a rag, hastily
used a bit of the water in his basin to try and get the
remnants of gore and grime off. When he was finished, he could
see where the sun had left its scorch on his skin, and the
shiner Galahad had given him looked worse because you could
actually see it now.

He threw his head back and cackled, leaving the towel where it
dropped.

The short march down the quiet hall and out into the courtyard
was a blur; he had to blink his eyes (or, eye) against the
soot from the still burning torches and the adjustment between
the early morning sky and the building that housed Arthur’s
quarters was too short. He had to stop when he reached the
other man’s door and wait for his pupil to allow him to see
again. It was hard enough with only one eye working.

Lancelot reached for the latch, and, hesitating, tried to
think quickly of some sort of story to tell Arthur about his
new injuries. He thought and tossed a few scenarios away – how
likely was it that he had been kicked by his own horse? – but
in the end, came up empty. He’d just have to think on the fly.
He was good at that, anyway, especially when it came to
Arthur.

One good thing about coming this late to report – no damned
Optio. Although…Darya?

Despite that small worry, Lancelot shrugged and pushed open
the thick door that cut Arthur’s rooms off from the rest of
the garrison. He shut the thing behind him – a few small oil
lamps lit the room, and the brazier had burned down to embers,
meaning the commander hadn’t yet woken. Lancelot made his way
slowly into the recesses of the chamber, and stopped when he
could see the bed.

One form sleeping atop the furs. He let out a shaky sigh, and
twisted his mouth. Should he leave, and wait until the other
man was awake?

His feet carried him to a chair near the bed, and he sat
stiffly, to await whatever doom might come with Arthur’s
rousing.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Elessars Girl
Date: Sun Sep 21, 2008 5:33 pm

Arthur


Arthur had slept in fits through the night; never truly
resting as a weary and wounded man should. His mind would not
settle – one moment troubled over Darya’s ‘condition’ and then
next over his self-righteous drive to ensure the safety of the
fortress. And then his thoughts would always lead him down the
same dark and troubled path…the one that led to Lancelot. It
had been easier to fight off thoughts of the dark knight when
the two men had been angrier with one another. But something
had recently changed….Lancelot had become kinder towards
Arthur. The other man had tended Arthur in the aftermath of
the battle with care he hadn’t shown in years. Lancelot had
placed Arthur’s needs above his own by using strips from his
own tunic to bandage the Commander’s wound. And then as Arthur
groaned in his slumber and clutched at his current bandages,
he saw Lancelot’s face – still smattered with blood and grime
of battle, yet the smile so genuine and so caring…..

….and hope had crept back into Arthur’s conscience….hope that
their close friendship had been spared in the aftermath of the
breaking of their physical relationship. Or was it hope for
something more?

Hope is the worst of evils, for it prolongs the torments of
man.

The Sarmatian seemed to live within Arthur’s very soul…the two
men seemingly bound by all the trials and tribulations and
atrocious things that they had experienced throughout their
many years together. Only Lancelot had found, albeit
annoyingly enough for Arthur, a way to see the man behind the
mask…every nuance of Arthur’s soul no matter how hard the
Roman would try to hide himself from the other. He sees me for
what I am….and perhaps that is why he cannot…

And what of this child that Darya now carried? More questions
than answers came from Arthur’s mind attempting to wrap around
that particular matter. How could he possibly protect them
both? And why had God seen fit to give Arthur a child now? He
was not equipped nor was he worthy…if anything God should be
punishing Arthur for his sins.

Arthur still lay prone on top of the furs as the hint of the
pale dawn began to filter in through the window. Warmth from
the spent fire had offered little comfort through the night
and the coldness in the room should have awoken him….but it
was something else that finally stirred Arthur from his
slumber. The heavy wooden door creaked and then a quiet click
as the latch slipped back into its place. Darya or Eyla? No.
Arthur then felt who had entered his private chambers…..he
allowed his head to loll to the side and then Arthur slowly
opened his eyes. The room was dimly lit by the oil lamps he
had left burning last night, but he located his ‘guest’ as
sleepy green eyes fell to the all too familiar form now
occupying the chair closest to the bed. Arthur licked at his
dry lips and flexed his right hand in the thick furs.

“Lancelot….you are….late,” Arthur said in a voice that cracked
from misuse. He then groaned while pushing his stiff body up
into a sitting position to better receive Lancelot’s report.
Arthur attempted to shove aside the whirl of thoughts that had
filled his sleeping mind and reached up to rub at the back of
his neck before fully focusing on Lancelot’s dark angular
expression.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Starbelle
Date: Sun Sep 21, 2008 6:35 pm
Tatiana


Curled up deeply like a little girl under the covers, Tatiana
let out a soft sigh, something almost akin to a dove's coo in
the sound as she stirred slightly in the early morning light
and then rolled over from her position from facing the wall in
her bed to facing Adian's bed not quite ready yet to fully
awaken from her warm cocoon of pleasant sleep.

Her eyes still closed, she reached up and with the back of one
wrist scratched at her nose and then with her fingers pushed
at a stubborn lock of her curling auburn hair away from the
tip where it had been while she slept on the pillow during the
night.

Letting out a small, hopefully quiet sleepy sneeze as she'd
not totally gotten away from the sensation of her hair rubbing
against her nose then went willingly back into sleep's lulling
embrace for a bit longer.
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