Fic: Maraon. 3

[fox_confessor]

Disclaimer: A work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.

Authors: rynalwyn and Danielle
Pairing: bb/dm
Rating: R
Summary: Dominic and William reach the Scottish village.
Notes: AU set in Ancient Scotland of the first and second centuries. Very little historical accuracy here. We pasted together all the pretty bits of history and made a bunch of stuff up. Atmosphere is what we were going for. Thanks, as always, to our most lovely and thorough beta, Kia, for wading through this thing. Thanks to those of you who like the story for waiting so patiently. Thanks most of all to my co-author, rynalwyn.
Parts: one two



Huddled under the blanket that had been given to him, Dominic watched as William encouraged his small fire to life. Although William kept a slow pace, Dominic's leg still ached. He was frustrated that it kept him from being more useful on the long journey. Holding back a wince, Dominic forced himself to his knees, crawled over to where William crouched and took the cooking pot from his hands. “Let me tonight.”

William hesitated for a moment, looking at Dominic critically. He worried about the return of the fever, knowing that treatment would be more difficult out in the open as they were. William raised his hand and rested it against Dominic's forehead. "Your leg hurts much?"

“No.”

Although William suspected the lie, he let it pass. He had tried to keep his strides slow and had avoided the roughest terrain, but he knew that Dominic’s wound, while healing, must still be painful. “I’ll get water. Watch the fire.”

Dominic watched William disappear into the trees before reaching into their food pack and pulling out a bundle of dried mutton. Cutting off thin slices with William’s knife, Dominic recalled the things he had been taught about the barbarians -- that they were like animals, with no culture of their own. Yet William’s understanding of the environment and knowledge of plants astounded him. Often on the trail he watched, fascinated, as William stopped to dig up a root or strip bark from a tree, explaining to Dominic in his halting mixture of Latin and Gaelic what each could be used for. It made Dominic wonder about William’s people, and more curious about the Scotsman himself..

When he had left for his outpost, he had been but a lad; now he was a man. His twenty-third birthday had passed uneventfully and without mention, but he remained free and alive, so he decided that it had passed well. As they often did, his thoughts turned towards his family. He wondered if they had received a message telling them of his perceived treachery or, if the gods were merciful, that he had been killed.

A bird flew suddenly from its nest, disturbed by William’s return. He crossed the small clearing chosen as their resting place, carefully handed Dominic the bag full of water, then sat on the other side of the fire.

Dominic heated a small amount of the water, which William used to brew tea, before preparing a stew for their meal. They ate in silence as the sun set behind the mountains, taking the meager light and warmth with it.

Afterwards, Dominic, wrapped the warm plaid around his shoulders. He watched as William stuffed his clay pipe with a dried herb and lit it with an ember from the fire. During the time they had been together, the smell had become soothing, and Dominic wearily lay down, pillowing his head on one of the packs.

“Tomorrow, Dominic, you will sleep in warmth and comfort.”

“We’re close, then?” Fear gnawed at the back of Dominic’s mind, but he calmed it with the thought that William would not allow anything to happen to him. He also decided that if William’s people were like William, then he would be quite safe. “Your family…your wife and children will be quite happy to see you again.”

William sat quietly for a few moments before speaking. “I have not taken a wife and have no children of my own, though I care for many in the village.”

Dominic was surprised by the answer and by the resignation that he seemed to hear in William’s voice. He had assumed that there would be a woman and children waiting for William’s return. “Is it custom for the healers of your people not to have families?”

Chuckling, William answered quietly, “It is not the custom, but rather my choice. I have a family, quite a large one. I…care for many people in the village.” They sat in silence again, before William continued, “*Your* family?”

Dominic sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees, remembering to speak slowly so that William could understand him. “I only have my father and mother. My older brother was killed in a war with the Carthaginians.”

“I am sorry. You must not have seen them in many years.”

Dominic shook his head slowly. “I joined the Roman legion when I turned sixteen, as is the custom with my people. I have spent the entirety of my service here and was to leave for home soon, when my time was served at twenty-three.”

William leaned forward, straining to hear Dominic’s words. He took more notice of the way Dominic stared into the fire, not meeting his gaze, seeming to fold in on himself. ‘Was to leave for home soon,’ he had said, which meant that that time had come and gone with Dominic still in the Scots’ land. William decided to chance a question about how Dominic had come to be in his company. “Why were you chased?”

“I was accused of a crime I didn’t commit. A murder. I was sentenced to death as punishment but escaped. They found me.”

“The scars on your back, were those a part of your punishment? Some seemed quite old.”

“I--” The image of Laeneus came to Dominic’s mind unbidden and his answer to William’s question fled his mind. Finally, realizing his hand had drifted to his shoulder, he dropped it back to his knees. “I had looked forward to going home and away from this land for a long time. I miss my father, miss our garden and the hills surrounding our villa. It’s so green there, even at this time of year but I fear that I shall never see it again.”

“After winter has ended, I can set you on the road home. Surely you are not so despised as you believe that someone wouldn’t help you return to your parents.”

“I can never return. It would bring shame upon my father’s house.” The effect of William’s pipe and the wood smoke combined in a way that was both comforting and painful. Dominic’s father would often smoke in the evening, telling him and his brother stories of those who came before. “My father was very proud that both his sons were soldiers. In his last letter, when he told me of my brother’s death, he wrote that he was glad that Dadelus had died for the glory of Rome and hoped that I would serve as well. He included this…” Dominic pulled the necklace out from under his tunic and held the pendant in his palm. “…it was my brother’s.”

“You will see him again.”

“No.” Dominic replaced the necklace and pulled the blanket closer, guarding himself against the chill of the night. “I have brought shame to my family, though I never harmed anyone. I fought against the barbarians bravely and served my post as I should and yet--"

“Bravely?”

Dominic nodded, not recognizing the anger in William's expression.

“So you are sentenced to death for killing one of your own but are praised for killing many of my people. How many of my kin have you slaughtered? Or have you lost count?”

Realizing what he had said, Dominic was pulled from his memories. William’s countenance was filled with anger and Dominic regretted his words, knowing he wouldn’t be alive now if not for William. “I’ve never murdered anyone, of your people or mine. I was trained as a soldier but only killed those who fought against me, men -- not women and children.”

“You don’t believe it was murder to kill those who tried to protect their homes and families? How noble of you.”

“I couldn’t just stand and let myself be killed.” Dominic felt his cheeks burn but still tried to defend himself. William glared at him, his pipe gripped in his fist. “I never harmed anyone who wasn’t a threat to me.”

“Haven’t you?” William spat, indicating where Dominic had gashed his arm.

“I’m sorry, William. I meant--" Dominic stopped and watched as William stubbed out his pipe with his thumb and then gathered his plaid around his shoulders before laying down, turning his back on Dominic. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Dominic sat very still, watching William’s back. He was ashamed and began to worry that William would change his mind, that he would be left alone in the wilderness. Then another thought came to his mind, one even more frightening. “Do you wish me to leave you?”

William knew he was being unfair to bring up the night that Dominic stabbed him; he knew that Dominic had thought he was a threat. But it angered him to hear his people called barbarians, especially by Dominic who had so obviously been mistreated by the Romans, and to remember all of his kin who had been killed by the Romans. Still, he felt his responsibility towards Dominic weigh heavily and sighed resignedly. “I do not wish for you to leave. It is late and I am tired. Go to sleep, Dominic.”

Now that those thoughts were in his mind, however, Dominic could not let them go. He sat wretchedly watching the small fire burn itself low, contemplating all the stories he had been told of the Scots people and all that he knew of William. “William? Your people. Will they hate me as well?”

William did not answer for a long time and when he did, his voice was tight. “I do not hate you.”

“Will they accept me in your village? A Roman soldier. Or will they kill me.”

“My people have not the brutality of the Romans, Dominic, and it saddens me that you think so. As long as I wish it, you will remain in my village unharmed.”

Dominic kept silent after that, considering the meaning of William’s words. Laeneus had often said similar things and sometimes Dominic had wished for death rather than suffer his cruelty. He lay down next to the fire, unable to sleep, feeling trapped and alone

***

As the sun slipped toward the horizon after a tense day on the trail, Dominic’s worries grew. William had promised that they would reach his village before dark and now, instead of slowing and searching for a campsite, their pace only increased. The surrounding landscape grew more uneven with each step, but William was obviously familiar with it. Often, he would stop and search hidden crevices and clumps of vegetation, each pocket yielding some small plant that emphasized to Dominic, if William’s lighter step and lifting spirits failed, how near they were to William’s home.

As William’s spirits lifted, however, Dominic's sank. Staying with William had seemed the right thing to do back by the cave, when his only other option was a solitary journey through the wilderness to an uncertain fate in Rome. Dominic knew it was the only choice he could have made; he would not have survived alone. Still, as he began clambering up a steep hillside doggedly determined to keep up, ignoring the growing ache in his injured leg and his desire to rest, he couldn’t help second guessing that decision.

Halfway up the incline, Dominic glanced ahead to see that William had paused at the crest of the hill, apparently waiting for him. As he scrambled up the last few feet, he decided to lay aside his pride and ask for a brief rest. "William," he panted, "it's getting dark. We won't be able to--"

William smiled at the look of surprise on Dominic's face. The slope of the hill before them was much gentler than the one behind and at the bottom lay a small village.

Used to the ordered patterns of Roman cities, to Dominic the village looked more like great white stones tumbled carelessly across a field by a giant than a proper village. Scattered amongst the houses were small plowed fields, lying fallow until spring. Beyond the cluster of buildings was a great lake that glittered in the fading sunlight.

"Home," said William.

Dominic couldn't help but return his smile.

***

Before they'd gotten halfway down the path leading to the village, a woman's voice broke the calm of the evening. Squinting through the gathering darkness, Dominic saw the owner of the voice, dark blonde hair streaming out behind her as she raced up the path, calling William's name.

William stopped in his tracks. "Moira," he said, then turned to Dominic. "My sister." He handed his pack to Dominic and raced forward to catch her up in an enthusiastic embrace. There were tears on her cheeks but she was smiling and talking rapidly. Dominic couldn't understand a word she said but her meaning was clear enough. His smile grew a little wider.

Moira's cries had roused the village, and as Dominic watched, people began swarming from the houses. Most of them gathered in the village center, waiting for William to arrive, but others rushed up the path and joined William's sister in her enthusiastic greeting.

Dominic lagged a bit behind; he could feel the curious glances but ignored them, keeping his eyes focused instead on William. No one seemed to realize who or what he was, and he was in no hurry to let them know otherwise.

When the group had finally made their way into the village center, William at last turned to Dominic, leaning in close to be heard above the excited laughter and cries. "They thought dead," he said. "When I didn't return on time, they were sure I'd been taken by Romans, or perished in the blizzard."

Before Dominic could answer, a tall, stern-faced man flanked by another younger man who looked as though he could be the first man’s son, came through the gathered crowd.

William disentangled himself from his sister and turned to watch the men approach. "My father, our chieftain, and my brother Ceallach," he said quietly.

Dominic let William draw him forward, relieved that he wouldn't be expected to face this man alone. He let the pack drop to their feet and drew himself up proudly, steeling himself for the encounter.

"Eideard," William said formally.

Eideard grasped William’s shoulders in greeting. "My son," he said. "It is good to see you safely home."

"Thank you, father."

"And...your journey was successful?"

William almost smiled. His father never made a secret of his disapproval of William's choice to learn the ways of the tree and the root, rather than that of the sword and the bow, believing that healing was a woman’s responsibility. And yet, he obviously had a strange sense of pride in his son, and these attempts to show an interest in William's life were almost endearing. Almost. "Yes, father. Though the areas I know best may be over-harvested. I may need to explore a bit come the spring."

"Ah, yes. Well." His father's gaze shifted from William to Dominic, and he reached out to grasp Dominic's arm. "And who is this? Bringing strangers here isn't part of your 'craft', is it?"

"No, father." William took a deep breath and hesitated only a moment before continuing. "This is Dominic. I found him along the path, being pursued by four Roman soldiers who had been hunting him for days. I killed them and helped him recover from his wounds. He had nowhere else to go.”

“Is that so?” Eideard looked more closely at Dominic before addressing him directly. "What village do you call home, young man? Who is your father?"

Knowing Dominic had no idea what was being said, William cut in. "He's not from a village, father, and he can understand very little of our language. He--he's a Roman himself. A soldier."

The gathered people gave a surprised murmur, stepping away from Dominic and pushing their children behind their backs.

Eideard snatched his hand away from Dominic's arm as though he'd been burned. "What? A Roman soldier? You brought a Roman soldier into our village?"

“He will not harm anyone here, father, and I could not leave him to die.”

“I understand you believed you were acting compassionately, William, but I cannot allow this.”

“Please father. If we turn him away, he will die.”

“I do not mean to allow him to leave,” Ceallach snarled, stepping forward and drawing his knife.

Dominic, who had not understood the exchange but understood well enough that his worst fears were being realized, reached for his knife as well.

William was quicker, however, tightly taking hold of Dominic’s wrist. “Do not make it worse, Dominic.” He turned to his brother. “I will not allow you to kill him, Ceallach.”

“Stand aside, brother, or I will go through you as well.”

“Enough!” Eideard stepped between his two sons. “Explain what you meant to do with him, William.”

“Keep him safe through the winter. Show him the path home in the spring. He does not know the land well enough to remember the way.” He turned and looked at Dominic, willing him to keep his mouth shut. “He has done me no harm though he has been in my company, armed, for these past weeks. I do not fear him.”

“Perhaps he was taking advantage of your naivety, William, to bring the wrath of the Romans upon our village.” Ceallach’s pronouncement elicited another round of gasps from the crowd which still surrounded them. He looked around at the people before continuing. “Perhaps they have followed you and now wait to attack us while we lie in our beds.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I certainly would have noticed a Roman attachment tromping through the countryside behind me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of your skill.”

“I said enough. We will not fight amongst ourselves. I do not question your motives, William, only your judgment. This,” he said, gesturing towards Dominic, “cannot stay in our village.”

“We cannot kill him. It would make us no better than the Romans.”

“It is no better than he deserves,” said Ceallach.

“Stop! I do not mean to kill him, William, but only because you do not wish it. He may stay the winter."

“Thank you, father--"

“As a prisoner, locked and guarded. He shall have no contact with our people. In the spring, you may take him back to where he belongs.” With that, Eideard motioned for several men to come forth and seize Dominic.

“Father!” William pleaded, as Dominic panicked and began to fight. “Let me talk to him first. He does not understand.” He pulled at the hands grasping Dominic, trying to calm him at the same time. “It will be all right, Dominic. Please do not fight.”

“Are they going to kill me? Did you lie to me, William?”

“Lock him in the small hut at the far end of the village. One of us will guard him at all times. Make sure that he carries no weapons.” Eideard put his hands back on William’s shoulders, keeping him from being of further aid to Dominic.

“You will be safe, Dominic. I promise, you will be safe.”

“Come along, son. Do not worry about him any longer. You have done what you thought was right and do not bear any more responsibility for him.” Eideard guided William back to his own stone house, even as William struggled to watch Dominic being dragged along. “Come. You must be tired and hungry and we have missed you greatly.”

***

Dominic had been locked in the small building alone for several hours, William’s words ringing in his head. He would be safe. Held captive in a small, cold outbuilding with none of his possession save the clothes on his back and William’s plaid to keep him warm. The thick, stone walls blocked the frozen wind but without a fire, he was sure he would freeze.

Safe.

He had come to trust William, which he now understood was his mistake. There was no one who could help him. No one left in the world who cared about his fate. He wondered if perhaps it would have been a mercy to die beneath Laeneus.

He heard the door open and turned his face away from it, assuming it to be William and not wanting to show his relief. He was surprised when the plaid that was wrapped around his body was pulled away roughly.

“On your feet, Roman.”

Dominic recognized the voice as the one William called Ceallach but did not understand the words. He raised his face to look up and received a slap across his cheek before he was yanked to his feet.

“This is not to be worn by any other than Scots. You are not worthy to touch the hem.”

William’s plaid was held in front of his face and he reached for it, still not understanding what was being said to him. He realized too late that his action angered Ceallach, who threw the plaid behind him and then grabbed Dominic around the throat, lifting him off his feet.

Dominic grabbed Ceallach’s arm, gasping for breath, desperately trying to fight back. He was thrown back onto the hard-packed dirt floor and made a futile attempt to roll out of reach from Ceallach’s feet. Dominic was kicked several times before the attack ended as suddenly as it had begun.

“You should be thankful, Roman, that you are under the protection of Eideard, or I would slit your throat now and fertilize our fields with your blood.”

Blinking the blood from his eyes, Dominic tried to focus on the words being said to him. His head rolled about on his shoulders and there was a sharp pain in his side. He closed his eyes as understanding dawned. They would not kill him, though Ceallach meant to make him wish for death.

Ceallach grabbed Dominic by his tunic, lifting him halfway off the floor and glaring at him. “Understood that, didn’t you? William’s not the only one to learn the enemy’s language. Mark my words, Roman, you will never leave this village alive.” With that, Ceallach dropped him back onto the floor and left him alone, taking the plaid with him.

***

The morning sun glittered on the lake, making William shield his eyes as he scanned the shore. It was something of a morning ritual for Eideard to watch the sun rise every morning over the lake, and William knew that would be the best time to find him and speak to him alone.

He approached slowly, trying to gauge Eideard's mood. As usual, however, his father's face was impassive, revealing nothing. William stopped beside him and watched the distant curraghs carry the fishermen out to the deepest part of the lake. For long moments, neither man spoke.

"Good morning, son," Eideard said at last. "I trust you enjoyed the comfort of your bed on your first night back?"

"Actually, father, I hardly slept at all."

Eideard chuckled. "Ah, yes. I remember the days of my youth, when the cold and uneven ground of the wild was more restful than the warmth and comfort of my bed."

"That had nothing to do with it, father. As you well know." William was impatient with his stepfather's evasions, and turned to face him. "I've come to speak with you about Dominic."

Eideard sighed and continued to stare out over the water. "Do you remember , William, when you were just a boy? We'd come out here every morning to greet the dawn...you, your mother and sister, and me."

William suppressed a sigh and turned back to the lake. "Yes, father. I remember. You would swing Moira and I around and pretend you were going to let go and toss us into the water."

"Ah, but you never fell for it. You just laughed and demanded to be swung higher and faster. Even before I married your mother, when you were very young and had no reason to trust me. Ceallach never liked that game. He never trusted like you did. Like you do, even now."

William smiled a bit at the memory. "Mother was there," he said simply. "We knew we were safe."

Eideard nodded. "Eithne was a remarkable woman. Perhaps she would have been able to explain to me why you have done this thing."

"Mother would have understood. She was a compassionate woman."

"William, you do not understand the danger you have brought here!"

William stepped in front of Eideard, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Dominic is not a threat to anyone here! He wants only to live in peace, as we all do."

"You cannot know that."

"But I do! He had countless opportunities to kill me, but he did not."

Eideard shook his head. "It is as you said. The boy is lost and does not have the skill to survive while finding his way back. It would be a folly greater than I would suspect a Roman soldier of, to kill you."

"Father, please. You must release him. He cannot live in that building all winter! Even if he survives the cold, it would be unspeakably cruel. I gave him my word that he would be safe, and that we weren't the barbarians the Romans believe us to be."

Eideard placed his hands on William's shoulders. "He will be fine, I promise you. I have placed him in Ceallach's charge, and --"

"What? Ceallach!" William pushed his stepfather's hands away and stared at him in shock. "You might as well take him out and kill him now. Do you honestly think that Ceallach won't find a reason to kill him before the season is even half gone?"

"Of course not. Ceallach may be hotheaded and I often wish he had your good sense, but he is my son, and he is obedient. He will care for the boy."

"Ceallach's hatred of me is only a little less than his hatred of the Romans. Mark my words, father, he will find a reason to kill Dominic."

Eideard frowned and turned away. "Ceallach is a hard man. He never had the benefit of Eithne's gentling influence, as you did. He had only my harsh example. But he does not hate his only brother, William." Eideard turned his back to William and began walking towards the village.

William followed him, refusing to let the conversation end just yet. "You're wrong, father. Ceallach hates that the people come to me, that they trust and depend on me rather than him. He hates that you value my thoughts over his, even though he is your true son and I am not. And he hates that I brought a Roman to this village and not only kept him alive, but was not punished for it. But that's not important...he's always hated me and I am accustomed to it. But father…” William grasped Eideard's arm, forcing him to stop. “…this time I am not the only one who will suffer for Ceallach's hatred. Please."

Eideard shook his head. "Put him out of your mind, William. He's no longer any concern of yours. This discussion is finished."

"Father--"

"William! You try my patience. I said that this discussion was finished."


***

William ate from the bowl of stew his sister had offered him while he stared out the small window. From his seat in his sister's house, he could not see the little storage building that Dominic had been taken to when they arrived back in the village four days earlier. His repeated attempts to persuade his father to release Dominic had fallen on deaf ears, but at least William had been able to keep him alive. That Dominic hadn't been killed immediately was proof of his influence, but the situation had shown no signs of improving.

Sighing heavily, William turned away from the window and watched his sister mend a torn shawl. Since his return, he'd wanted nothing more than to settle peacefully back into his life, but it had proven more difficult than he'd anticipated. For many of the villagers, their trust in him was broken. Many had lost loved ones to the brutality of the Romans, his sister among them. Their hushed whispers and furtive glances had plagued him since his return, but they were bearable. The strange distance that had grown between himself and his sister, however, was not.

"Moira," he said softly.

She glanced up from her sewing and waited for him to continue.

"Sit and speak with me."

She stared at him for a moment before answering. "I am sitting. If you wish to speak, then speak."

"Please, don't be angry. I cannot bear this, not from you. I wished only to help the boy--he seemed so young and helpless when I found him. I never expected to bring him here, and when he followed me I didn't think of the pain it would cause you."

"Oh, William," she said. She abandoned her sewing and frowned at him. "You are truly the most foolish man I have ever known. All my life I have so adored and admired you. I'm not surprised that you helped him. I would expect no less of you. But this.…" she looked away, picking at a loose stitch. "I didn’t know you could be cruel. I never expected to be ashamed of you."

Her words filled him with shame. "Moira, I am sorry."

"You've done me no wrong, William. I am not the one you brought into the midst of my enemy and then abandoned. I am not the one who is trapped in a cold, bare room, wondering if the one person I thought I could trust even remembers I am alive."

"I've tried. I’ve tried to make father--"

"Yes, you've talked to father, for all the good it has done. I don't like that you brought him here, but you did. He's put his life in your hands, William, and what have you done? Left him to the mercy of men far less kind than you. Four days, and have you even checked to see that he's warm enough, that he's eating at all? Who here will care what happens to him if you do not?"

She was right. Dominic was his responsibility, and he'd neglected him. He wondered suddenly who *had* been feeding him, and if Dominic had even seen the sun since his imprisonment. His prison had no windows, no fire pit, no place to sleep. It was never meant to shelter a man. "You're right," he said. "Oh, Moira. Grandfather would be so ashamed of me."

Moira shook her head. "Talking to father isn't enough. You know that."

William gathered up what was left of the meal into a bundle, and walked to his sister’s side. “How did you become so wise?”

“It runs in the family. Sometimes.”

“You are right. He is my responsibility.” William smiled at her before leaning down to kiss her forehead. He walked to the door and opened it, shivering a bit as the cold wind swirled around his body. “I will bring him food and make sure he is comfortable for the night and then try to convince father to move him to someplace more habitable. I will return shortly.” With a wave, he was gone.

***

As William approached the small shed where Dominic was being held, he couldn't help feeling another stab of guilt. He could hardly bear to think of Dominic sitting alone in such a cramped, dark space for so long, believing himself totally alone.

He reached the shed and glanced around, frowning. There should have been a guard, as the shed wasn't secure enough to leave unattended. William put his bundle down and pushed open the door. A single glance confirmed his fears -- it was empty.

William stepped back and looked around, trying to ignore the sudden dread that washed over him. He considered the possibilities. It was unthinkable that Eideard had changed his mind without William knowing. Ceallach would have wanted everyone in the village to witness such a triumph over William. Equally unthinkable was the notion that Dominic might have tried to escape. Surely he wouldn't attempt such a thing…

A nearby shout interrupted his thoughts, and he turned, seeking the source of the disturbance. Peering through the darkness, he could make out a lone figure scrambling up the path leading away from the village. It could only be Dominic. At the foot of the hill, clearly about to give chase, was Ceallach.

The knowledge struck him like a blow; this was a trap. Ceallach would have been eager to find a reason to kill Dominic and now he had one. Drawing his only weapon -- a short dagger -- William began to run.

***

Dominic heard the shout and tried to increase his pace. He was weaker than he'd thought; four days of forced inactivity, little rest, and sporadic meals had taken their toll on a body already vulnerable from previous illness. There was no doubt in Dominic's mind that what he was doing was suicide. The Scots were looking for a reason to kill him, and he was certainly providing one. Still, he refused to stay there, locked away and left to die. In the darkness, he veered off the path and stumbled on the uneven ground, scraping his hands on the rocky terrain as arrows clattered against the rocks around him. Realizing dimly that he was being fired upon, he sent silent thanks to the gods for the poor visibility and stumbled on, keeping as low to the ground as he could.

The voices of his pursuers were clear now, calling to him in their language. Dominic ignored them, concentrating on making his way up the hill, until one familiar voice rang out above the others.

"Dominic, stop!"

William. Anger surged through him, lending him strength, and he briefly picked up his speed. Even so, he knew it was hopeless. The arrows had stopped flying but he knew that he'd be caught eventually. This was their territory, and they knew it down to the last blade of grass. He stumbled again and cursed aloud, angry with himself for trusting William, and with William for abandoning him.

The voices grew closer, and Dominic chanced a look back. Two figures followed close behind him. Ceallach was nearly close enough to reach out and grab him; a short distance behind him was William. Some distance away, others clambered up after them.

Dominic knew if he stumbled once more, Ceallach would be upon him. Abruptly he stopped running and launched himself at his pursuer, determined to take at least one Scot with him if he must die.

Surprised, Ceallach was unprepared for the impact and both men tumbled to the ground and rolled further away from the path.

Metal clanged against rock, and Dominic scrambled for Ceallach's dropped dagger. He'd barely touched it when he was wrenched back, and he swung wildly, wincing as his elbow connected with what he hoped was Ceallach's teeth. He reached for the dagger during the brief reprieve but it was gone, and before he had a chance to feel around for it, he was grabbed and flung onto his back. With only the briefest glint of moonlight on metal as a warning, he flung one arm up and blocked Ceallach's knife arm as it descended towards his throat. The fighters seemed to freeze as Dominic struggled to keep the blade from his throat. Ceallach’s mouth was twisted in a bizarre grimace and Dominic felt his strength begin to fail. He closed his eyes, thankful that he had at least put up a fight.

"No!"

Ceallach suddenly rolled away from Dominic, and the knife skidded across his jaw, leaving a searing pain in its wake. He sat up, one hand covering the cut, trying to see what was going on.

William stood in front of Dominic, Ceallach's dagger in one hand and his own in the other. Beyond him, Ceallach crouched, bleeding from his own wounds and glaring at both of them. William was speaking angrily, far too quickly for Dominic to understand. Thrumming with the thrill of the fight and angered beyond reason at the wound on his jaw, Dominic jumped to his feet and ran at Ceallach again.

William caught the movement and threw himself into Dominic's path, knocking them both off balance. Dominic fell forward, arms beneath him, and William landed on top of him, squirming around to face Ceallach. He could feel Dominic struggling, wanting to be free to attack again, and he pressed harder against him. "Dominic, are you mad? Do you *want* to die? Be *still!*" William lay sprawled, his back pressing against Dominic's and both daggers raised defensively.

William lurched to his feet, trying to keep one eye on Ceallach and one on Dominic. Hoping Dominic would keep his wits about him and stay put, he tried to brace himself for Ceallach's attack. William was not a strong fighter, despite his encounter with the Romans. Compared to Ceallach, he was considered a weak swordsman, and only slightly better with his bow. Ceallach, on the other hand, was a gifted warrior, and even unarmed against William's two daggers, he was dangerous.

Before Ceallach could make his move, there was a flurry of movement along the path, and Eideard arrived, flanked by some of his strongest warriors. He glared from William and Ceallach to Dominic then back to his sons. "Have you both gone mad?" he roared. "An enemy lies at your feet and you face each other?"

"Dominic is not my enemy, father."

Eideard nodded two of his warriors forward. Seizing Dominic by the arms, they hauled him to his feet and bound his hands tightly. They gripped him tightly by the arms, unwilling to allow their slippery prisoner a chance to escape again.

William glanced back at Dominic, hoping he could read the warning in his gaze. Judging from the set of his jaw and the defiant glare, William doubted very much that he had.

"He escaped!” Ceallach announced loudly. “I was trying to keep him from taking information about us to the Romans, but William seems to be intent on defending him."

"Don't be a fool, Ceallach, he--"

"Are they going to kill me now, William?"

William turned, astonished at Dominic's question. "Be quiet, Dominic."

"No! I'm tired of being quiet. Tell me...are they going to kill me? Who gets the honor of slicing my throat...you? You caught me, after all. Or maybe that's what this was about… you let me escape and then whoever catches me..."

"Quiet!" William hissed. Dominic settled down, and William turned back to his father. "He's not escaping. Where would he go? He's days from the nearest Roman outpost. He's unarmed, hungry, unprepared for the journey even if he knew the way, and doesn't know how to survive in the north. How can I convince you, father, that Dominic is not a threat?"

"Father," said Ceallach before Eidread could answer, "this is madness. The Roman should have been killed immediately. Your own laws say this! And now he has escaped and William has tried to help him! There are women and children depending on us for their very lives...let me deal with *both* of these threats, as we should have done the day they arrived!"

"Why don't you just let them do it, William?" Dominic’s voice was a mixture of weariness and anger. "I never imagined that filthy barbarians would *talk* so much.” Feeling the grip on his arms grow tighter, he saw Ceallach smile triumphantly.

His temper at the breaking point, William grabbed a fistful of Dominic's tunic. "There is much you do not understand about my people, Dominic. But understand this: If you do not wish to be the reason that *both* of us die before the sun rises, you will be *silent!*" The defiant glare didn’t subside, but William watched as Dominic dropped his gaze and nodded curtly, seemingly taking Williams words to heart.

Eideard did not give them the chance to resume their bickering. "William," he said, "do you think of me as a cruel man?"

"Of course not."

"Then why can you not understand, I'm only trying to see to the safety of my village? The Romans are dangerous."

"This one is not!"

Eideard sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, William. We cannot allow him to live. What if he decides next time not to flee, but to take out his anger on one of us? I cannot take that chance." He shifted his attention to the men holding Dominic's arms. "Bring him back down."

Ceallach smiled in triumph. Dominic twisted his body to see William as he was led away. "William? What is this?"

The fear in Dominic's voice shook William out of his shock. "No, wait. Father! Wait! This is wrong, you know it is!" he cried, grasping Eideard's arm.

Eideard's temper finally snapped. "Enough!” Eideard shook off William’s hand from his arm. “William. Son--" The two men stood glaring at one another, until at last Eideard's expression softened. "Is his life worth so much to you?" he asked quietly.

Turning, William looked back at Dominic, who was doing his best to follow the conversation, fear and anger and desperation making his stare unusually intense. Unbidden, a memory of the time in the cave rushed back to him, of Dominic, exhausted and weak in the aftermath of his fever, turning to William, clinging to him as he slept. He looked back at Eideard, unable to find an answer.

"Very well, then. You want him? You have him. He is yours to do with as you please. Consider your fate bound to his, your life bound to his. But remember this…one misstep, William, and his life is forfeit.” Leaning close to William, Eideard’s eyes were almost sad as he added, “And so is yours."

"Agreed," said William immediately. "I am right about this, father. You'll see."

"I certainly hope so, William," Eideard said wearily, before turning to the men holding Dominic. "Release him."

Ceallach was stunned. "Father, this can't be! We should--"

"Silence, Ceallach. I have made my decision. Release him."

Reluctantly, the warriors stepped away then followed Eideard and an angry Ceallach back down the path. Wordlessly, William untied Dominic's hands and, ignoring Dominic's questions, led him back down the path to the village.

***

It felt glorious to be warm again, Dominic thought, as he sat before the fire in William’s home. It was small but cozy, barely large enough for more than a bed and a fire pit in the corner, with a comfortable chair that Dominic sat in. In the back was an entrance to a storage room where William stored his different plants and potions.

Despite his fears and growing anger at William's avoidance of his questions, Dominic was willing to set it all aside to revel in the simple pleasure of a hot meal in front of a crackling fire. As he ate, William moved about the room, setting up a pallet for him on the floor, fussing with the blankets in an obvious ploy to avoid conversation.

Soon, however, William knelt down in front of Dominic with a bowl of water and a cloth. He took the empty bowl from Dominic’s hands and set it on the floor. Dipping the cloth into the water, he said, "Let me tend to that cut on your face, Dominic."

Carefully, William began wiping away the dried blood and dirt, trying not to pull at the torn skin. He gently turned Dominic’s chin and inspected the wound closely. Dominic held still, finding a strange sort of pleasure in being the object of William's tender scrutiny again.

The damp cloth suddenly was taken away, and William turned Dominic's face a little more, running a finger along a fading bruise on his cheek. "Dominic," he said, eyes narrowed, "what happened to your face?"

"I--" Dominic’s hand drifted to the faded bruise on his face, and his anger returned all at once. He jerked his head out of William's reach. "The day we arrived, your brother decided to make sure I knew my place."

"Ceallach," said William quietly. "I'm so sorry, Dominic."

"You told me that I'd be safe. You told me that your people weren't brutal and that I'd be accepted here if that's what you wanted."

"I know. I'm--"

Dominic stood and walked away from William. Pushing back the heavy wool covering from the tiny window, he could barely make out the other stone houses of the village. He shivered from the cold night air that rushed in. "I'm in just as much danger here as I was before you found me. Why did you bring me here?"

"You're not in such danger anymore, though it was a near thing tonight. How could you do something so foolish?"

"Foolish? What would you have had me do? Sit there and wait to die of the cold or of starvation? I refuse to lay down and die, William. If I must die then I will do so struggling to survive, not sitting in a dark, cold room, forgotten and alone."

"If you're looking to die, Dominic, you will not have to look far." William stood and began clearing away the bowls, his anger evident in every movement. "Ceallach is looking for a reason to be rid of you. If you want to survive the winter, I suggest you do your best not to give him one."

"Tell me what happened beside the path," Dominic demanded as he left the window and cornered William between the fire pit and the wall.

"I saved your hide again, that's what happened," said William angrily.

"Tell me."

William sighed. "I convinced my father to put you under my protection. You are...bound to me...there was no other way."

"Bound to you? What does that mean?"

"It means that your fate is mine. Your transgressions are mine. Your life is mine."

Dominic backed away, but William didn't move. "What do you mean? Are you telling me I belong to you now?"

"Of course not. But I am responsible for you. So please...for both our sakes. Stay away from Ceallach. Don't go far from my sight. It could be an invitation for those who wish you harm, to find you alone. I can protect you but only if you do as I ask."

Dominic didn't answer. William's words were eerily like those Laeneus had once spoken, and a chill settled over him despite the nearness of the fire. Just as William started to push past him, quick as lightning, Dominic grabbed his wrists and pushed William into the wall.

The bowls in William's hands shattered as they hit the hearth, his hands numb from Dominic’s grip, and he looked up in shock.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"As I recall, you asked to come. Let go of me."

"Why did you agree? Why did you save my life that day in the valley, and in the cave, and tonight, on the path? Why?" When he didn’t get an answer, Dominic pressed his body against William's. "Is this why? Is it all starting again?"

“Is what starting again?” William's breath was harsh and quick. "I brought you here because I wanted...wanted to help you, Dominic." There was a heat in William's eyes that Dominic knew all too well -- it was the only warmth he'd ever found in Laeneus' gaze. But instead of dread and fear, he reacted with a flush of warmth that so shocked him that he jumped back from William as if he'd been stung. They stared at one another, all anger drained away.

Slowly, William lowered his arms from where they'd been pinned against the wall, stooped to retrieve the shards of the fallen bowls, and slipped past Dominic. He paused in the doorway to the other room. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and slightly wavering. "I've made you a bed of sorts. We'll put together a proper one tomorrow, but that one will do for tonight. Goodnight Dominic." He disappeared into the storage room.

Dominic stood for a moment in the middle of the room, shaking his head in confusion. Nothing made sense. He was starting to think nothing would ever be simple again. Wearily, he threw himself down on his makeshift bed and tried to sleep. But it wasn't until later, when he finally heard William emerge and retire to his own bed on the other side of the room, that Dominic was finally able to sleep.

Tbc…