Maraon. 4. bb/dm

[fox_confessor]

Reposted with permission from the original author.

Title: Maraon. 4
Author: rynalwyn
Pairing: bb/dm
Rating: R
Summary: a Roman soldier fights for his life in the Scottish wilderness
Notes: This AU is very loosely set during the Roman invasion of Great Britain in the 1st and 2nd centuries. Please do not go looking for a lot of historical accuracy.
Warning: mild non-con sexual contact, mild violence, implied past sexual, emotional and physical abuse.
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.



Dominic leaned on the tusker, sinking the blade into the ground with a satisfying thunk. Ignoring the ache in his shoulders, he twisted and pulled, depositing the block of peat on the ground. William had worked ahead of him, marking off and preparing the area to be cut; after working for most of the morning, only a few blocks remained. Pausing, Dominic pretended to stretch his back as he stole a glance at William. After finishing his part of the work, William had settled himself on the slope nearby and was hunched over some bit of work, though Dominic was too far away to see what it was. With a sigh, he picked up the tusker and once again set to work. Push-twist-pull. The ache that had started in his shoulders was now radiating down his back. Dominic welcomed it, would have welcomed almost anything that he could concentrate on besides William. But even that couldn't keep his thoughts from returning to that night.

There had been nothing since then; no unnecessary touches, no knowing glances. None of the things that had become so familiar with Laeneus. Still, he knew the look he'd seen in William's eyes. He'd seen it far too often to try to pretend it was anything else. Memories of his time with Laeneus came unbidden to his mind and he felt the familiar fear in the pit of his stomach. William, it seemed, was incapable of Laeneus' kind of cruelty and for that Dominic was very grateful. Even the task that he was engaged in now had been by his own request and reluctantly given as William was still concerned that his healed thigh might bother him.

Dominic set forth on his task again, losing himself in the repetitive movements. He felt his freedom keenly in moments such as this, and enjoyed the labor. Well aware that his presence could cause problems for William—especially after what had happened with Ceallach—he was desperate to prove his worth. The last thing he wanted was for William to decide Dominic was more trouble than he was worth. He knew that at any time William might decide to send him away—or worse, let Ceallach deal with him. Either path led to almost certain death. So he worked, determined to please William, determined to make himself indispensable in whatever way he could. And if he couldn't do it through labor, at least he knew now the desire that lurked beneath William's calm and distant exterior. If Laeneus had taught him anything, it was how to use that to his advantage. William at least would be kind and gentle. He wouldn't take pleasure in causing him pain, as Laeneus had. Perhaps it would be bearable. Pushing those thoughts from his mind, Dominic tried to concentrate on his work. It was cold, but the early snow had not lingered. The sun shone down pleasantly on his back and he pried a few more blocks loose from the bog before stacking them to dry with the rest. Hearing a strange voice, he turned his head and saw the woman who had greeted William on his return, Moira. Dominic shielded his eyes and watched as she bent to kiss William’s cheek before joining him. Both turned to look at him, and he dropped his eyes. She did not want him here he knew, sensed, and he feared that her influence would be more closely noted than Ceallach’s had been. Frowning, he turned back to his work. The sooner he finished the sooner he could join William once again.

* * *

William tried to focus on the half-finished pipe in his hands and not on the sight of Dominic working some distance away in the peat fields. It was harder than he liked to admit, and concentration on his carving was elusive. Once again, William's gaze was drawn to Dominic. It was a rare cloudless day, and the fading afternoon sun bathed him in golden light. With a sigh, William gave up the fight and simply watched. Dominic had awakened in him feelings that he'd believed lost to him, things he hadn't felt since his last days with Branan, nearly two years ago. In hindsight, it was obvious. When Dominic had, for one brief moment, pressed his body to his own, it had felt much like those first halting kisses with Branan so long ago. Then Branan had married. William had buried those feelings deep and, he had thought, forever.

Then Dominic had come along.

All the reason's he'd given Eideard for bringing Dominic back and keeping him there had been true, but William could no longer escape the knowledge that he wanted Dominic there for his own selfish desires.

The night of Dominic's release haunted him. In his dreams, Dominic didn't pull away so quickly. In his dreams, Dominic pressed even closer, kissing him breathless. More than once since that night William had been roused from sleep by such dreams. In the dark and quiet he would listen to Dominic's breathing and bring himself to a silent and desperate release.

"William?"

Startled, William jumped and the knife slipped, skidding across the smooth surface of the wood and grazing his hand. A thin streak of blood welled up across his palm. He looked from it up to Moira as she bent to kiss his cheek before briefly turning her gaze towards Dominic. He’d been so preoccupied with watching Dominic, he hadn’t seen or heard her approach.

"You'd best keep your wits about you, William," she scolded gently. She bound the wound with a strip of clean white cloth from his pouch and then settled down beside him on the hillside. William thanked her with a smile and returned to his work, resisting the urge to ask her why she'd come to sit with him. There could only be one real reason: Dominic. Besides, he knew from long experience that Moira would speak when she was ready, and not a moment before. She hadn't always been so silent. William remembered times long past, when he would sit crushing his leaves or mixing some foul potion and she would chatter at him, or sing him a song, or ask *him* to sing a song. But the last few years had seen her grow quiet and somber. He pushed the thoughts away before he could dwell on them. He didn't like to think of how close he had come to losing his sister.

Finally, she stirred, peering over his shoulder inquisitively. "What are you making?"

"A pipe for Aidan. I hope I'll be done by the time he returns."

Moira smiled, but a shadow passed over her face. William would have missed it had he not been looking at her.

"Moira?"

"He'll like that," she said, avoiding his gaze.

William could hear the worry in her voice. "It's not like him to leave in the winter, is it? And especially with Niall." When she didn't answer, he continued. "How long will he be away?"

"I don't know. He promised to be home before Samhain. He was looking for you."

"For me?"

Moira turned to William, her smile fading. "Everyone thought you were dead, William. I was the only one who really held out any hope. Even Aidan didn't really think you'd have survived that blizzard if you were caught unaware. He only went for my sake." She turned away again, and when she spoke again her voice was almost too quiet for William to hear. "Samhain's only a few days away," she said.

"He'll make it, Moira. Aidan's the most skilled woodsman in the village."

She nodded, obviously not wanting to continue the conversation. For a few moments they both simply watched Dominic stacking the peat blocks. William chuckled under his breath. "What do you suppose Aidan will make of Dominic?"

"I think he won't let Niall wander the village alone so long as he is here. And he'll also think you are a soft hearted fool."

Her voice was still soft, but it held an edge of anger that William couldn't mistake. "Is that what you think as well?"

"Ceallach is telling everyone that you've bound yourself to him."

"I did. It's true."

Moira’s calm façade broke and she turned to glare at him, plainly furious. “William, how could you do something so foolish? Isn’t it bad enough that he’s here, among us?”

Moira, you were the one who scolded me just days ago for not taking better care to see that he was warm and fed.”

"That was different. He was locked away. No one feels safe with him roaming the village. Including me.”

"He won't harm a soul."

"How can you be so sure? Why did you bring him here, William? You could have tended to him and sent him on his way. I would have expected no less of you. But this? Not just bringing him here, but to tie his life to yours? What are you thinking? What hold does this man have over you?"

William couldn't meet her eyes. He stared down at the pipe in his hands, wondering how to answer her. He could find nothing to say that she would understand.

He glanced back up at Dominic and felt the familiar flutter in the pit of his stomach. Why indeed, he thought wearily. "It was the only way to protect him. Besides, I don't think he could go back if he wanted to. He's been accused of a crime he says he didn't commit, but it's more than that. I think someone hurt him there, and had been for a long time."

"What do you mean?"

"He has scars. His back is covered with them."

Moira shook her head. "He said he'd been arrested. You know how barbaric the Romans are."

"No. Some of those scars were old. Faded almost completely. Others were just barely healed. That couldn't be the cause, unless he'd been held for a very long time. There's so much he's not telling me. He doesn't trust me, not yet. But I think hanging is not the only reason Dominic fears Rome."

"But what does that matter to us? To you?"

Before William could find an answer, Moira's expression changed, going from pleading to cold impassivity. He followed her gaze to find Dominic standing a little apart, clearly waiting for their hushed conversation to end. She stood abruptly and William caught her wrist before she could leave. "Wait, Moira."

Ignoring her glare, he turned to Dominic and smiled. "All finished up, Dominic?"

Dominic nodded. "I hope it's enough. I could do more if you think--"

"No, Dominic, don't be ridiculous. You've worked harder than you should today already." William stood, never letting go of Moira. "Come, you haven't met my sister yet. This is Moira," he said, drawing her closer. Switching to his own language, he looked back at Moira. "Moira, please."

Her expression didn't change, but she looked directly at Dominic and nodded a polite, if curt, greeting. Dominic bowed his head, keeping his eyes on the ground. "It is an honor to meet you."

Moira looked back at William. "Can I have my arm back now, dear brother?"

Before he let go, he kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear. "Don't be angry, Moira. I have to do this. I don't have the words to say why. I'm not sure I know myself."

Softening a bit, she pulled back and caressed his cheek. "I know, William. Just don't let your kind heart lead you astray." She smiled briefly, and made her way back to the village. William watched her for a moment and then turned back to Dominic.

"Are you sure I've done enough, William? I could--" Dominic stopped abruptly as his stomach growled, loudly.

Laughing, William put his arm around Dominic's shoulder. "There's been enough work for one day. Come, my friend. Let's go and have our dinner."

* * *

Dominic tried not to let on how much he ached. The last thing he wanted was for William to think he was too weak to do any useful work. When they reached the house, Dominic went straight to the fire, building it up and starting their meal. For a moment William looked as though he was going to stop him, but instead he disappeared into the storeroom, leaving Dominic to his task. He wondered what his father would think of him now, doing such menial work for a Scot.

By the time William reappeared, the meal was ready. They ate in comfortable silence, and Dominic was surprised at how much he enjoyed quietly relaxing after a long hard day of work. He'd never enjoyed such peace at the Roman camp. On the rare night that he wasn't occupied with some kind of duty, he was with Laeneus, a situation that never allowed for relaxation. He glanced over at William, who had finished his meal and was enjoying a pipe and watching Dominic thoughtfully. The scrutiny made Dominic nervous. He quickly finished his own meal.

"Are you finished?" he asked. When William nodded, he reached across the table, ready to gather up and clean the bowls, but a sudden spasm in his shoulder made him hiss in pain.

Before Dominic could recover William was behind him, kneading the muscle with strong hands. "I told you, enough work for one day, Dominic," he said softly. "I've no doubt you were a strong and capable soldier, but your body is not accustomed to the kind of labor you did today. I let you do too much."

After a moment, William stood. "You can leave those," he said, "I'll tend to them later. Take off your shirt and lie down, I have a salve that will soothe those sore muscles." Without waiting for a reply, he disappeared into his storeroom.

Slowly, trying to keep from aggravating the ache, Dominic complied, lying face down on his bed. He didn't look up when he heard William return, and managed not to flinch away when he felt him sit down on the bed beside him. He expected the salve to be cold, but William had warmed it before touching him. William began rubbing the salve into his skin, working it in and kneading the muscles firmly. Dominic's skin felt warm and almost uncomfortably tingly at first, but soon the ache began to ease and he couldn't suppress a small groan of relief. Lulled by the warmth of the fire and the soothing feel of William's hands on his skin, Dominic began to drift off. He only barely noted when William's touch turned from a firm massage to a softer caress.

He was almost asleep when the touch stopped, then returned, gentle and hesitant, a whisper of fingertips across the scars he'd almost been able to forget. The tension immediately returned and he was fully awake in seconds. Sensing the change, William hesitated, then began rubbing his back again. "Dominic," he began, voice as smooth as his touch, "these scars. You never told me where they came from."

Dominic hesitated. He could never tell William the truth, but he didn't want to lie either. "I...my commander. He took me on as a personal...student, I suppose. I disappointed him often, and he was a harsh taskmaster. He took my failures very seriously."

"My grandfather was a hard man to please as well. A student needs a firm hand to guide him. But Dominic...I can't imagine anything you could do that would warrant this kind of cruelty. Your commander must be a poor mentor indeed if this is the only way he could find to correct you."

Dominic twisted around to look at William. "No," he said immediately, "I disappointed him. I only got what I deserved."

William frowned. "You think treatment like this is something you deserved?"

Dominic shook his head. "You don't understand." He started to sit up, but William stopped him.

"I'm sorry, Dominic. You're right. I don't understand. Lie back down." Slowly, Dominic eased back down and William began stroking his back again, trying to soothe him. "Roman ways are strange to me. I didn't mean to insult this man you admired."

Dominic didn't answer. He let William's hands lull him back into a light sleep.

"Rest now, Dominic," William whispered. "Go to sleep."

* * *



The trees were impossibly thick, and the branches seemed to reach out and claw at him, tearing at his clothes and his skin. Tree roots rose out of the ground, and Dominic desperately fought to keep his feet. Laeneus was nearby; his mocking voice seemed to echo from every direction. One stumble, one wrong turn, and he would be back in Laeneus's grasp, and Dominic knew Laeneus would never let him get away again.

There was a break in the trees ahead. He'd seen it before he descended into the trees and he knew if he could reach it before Laeneus caught him, he'd be free. The forest itself had turned against him, tripping him and grasping at him, slowing him down. With every step Laeneus's voice grew nearer. Finally, Dominic was only a few paces from the tre line. With one last desperate burst of strength, he pushed through to the last of the trees; but before he could take that last step, he stumbled and felt the brush of a hand against his arm.

Dominic sat upright in his bed, sweat-drenched despite the chill in the air, and trembling. He didn't even remember waking. One moment he was falling, a familiar hand grasping his arm. The next he was in his bed, shaking in the darkness. Through the dim light of the banked fire, he could see William's body huddled under the blankets across the room. Slowly, his heart stopped hammering and his breathing calmed. He fell back onto his bed, exhausted. He drew his necklace out from under his shirt and clutched the pendant tightly, remembering how when he was a child his mother would come in and sing him back to sleep when he had nightmares.

A dim memory of the cave, the relentless heat of fever, and a clear voice singing a song in a strange language came rushing back. Dominic had a sudden urge to hear that voice again, but William slept on. Sighing, Dominic closed his eyes and listened to the quiet rhythm of William's breathing until he fell at last into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Moira opened William's door and slipped inside as quietly as she could. Regardless of William's reassuring words that afternoon, the last thing she wanted was to wake Dominic. He slept on a low bed near the door, oblivious to the cold air that drifted in when she entered. Stepping quietly past him, she knelt beside William's bed and shook him gently.

"William," she whispered, "wake up."

Grunting softly, William squinted through the darkness. "Moira? What is it?"

"It's Edana's boy, Fionlach. She came to me a few minutes ago. He's feverish and Edana says he's not breathing well."

William stood and began gathering his things. "Why didn't she come to me? She knew you'd only come wake me."

Moira sighed and glanced back at Dominic, still sleeping soundly. "She's afraid, William. Many of them are."

"He has more to fear from them than they have to fear from him." William wrapped a warm cloak around his shoulders and retrieved his bag from the storeroom. "I'll be back soon. I need you to stay here with Dominic."

"What? Why?"

"Moira. If Dominic wakes up in the middle of the night and I'm not here, he'll worry and wander around looking for me. It's dangerous for him. You know that. I won't be gone long."

Reluctantly she agreed. William smiled in thanks and kissed her on the cheek as he left. Casting a nervous glance towards Dominic, Moira built the fire up a little and sat on William's bed, wrapping his blanket around her shoulders. With nothing to do but wait for William's return, she found herself watching Dominic sleep. He seemed restless, and he turned suddenly, muttering a word she didn't understand, then turned again, twisting the blanket around his body and tangling his legs. Cautiously, Moira stood and walked towards the bed, hoping she could soothe him a bit before he woke up and she was faced with him alone. She knelt beside him and brushed the hair from his forehead. "Hush now, Dominic," she whispered as softly as she could. "It's just a dream."

Rather than calming, Dominic grew more agitated. His brow furrowed and he let out what Moira could only describe as a whimper. She was finding it difficult to maintain her cool detachment. It was no wonder William had felt compelled to help him. In the half-light of the fire, he really did look impossibly young and fragile. He whimpered again, louder this time, and Moira could stand it no longer. As she had done with William, she grasped his arm and shook him gently, trying to rouse him from his nightmare. "Dominic," she said, no longer whispering, "wake up, now. You're dreaming."

With a sudden shout Dominic lurched upright, flinging both arms towards her so violently that he nearly pitched himself off of the bed on top of her. Moira scrambled to her feet and across the room, not quite managing to swallow the scream that rose in her throat. Dominic was still but for the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He was twisted around towards her, gripping the edge of the bed so tightly that his knuckles were white. He looked up at her, recognition finally flickering in his eyes, and she realized with relief that he was not angry, but frightened. Her own anger and fear began to crumble at the stark terror on his face. He said something to her, though she couldn't understand it, and sat up, scrubbing his hands over his face. His hands shook visibly, even in the dim light of the fire. Feeling she had to do something, she found a cup, filled it with cold water and held it out to him. He accepted it and she retreated to William's bed once again.

Dominic took a sip of the water and glanced around the room before looking at her again. "William?"

"He's gone to see to someone who has fallen ill. He'll be back soon."

Dominic listened intently to her, brow furrowed in concentration. She suddenly wondered how much of her language he knew. The few times she'd heard William speak to him, it had been in Dominic's language. "Do you understand me?"

"William...is sick?"

"No!" She stood and knelt down beside Dominic's bed. "No, not William. A boy."

Dominic nodded slowly. "William helps."

Moira smiled, amused despite herself at Dominic's struggle with her language. He was obviously used to William and his strange blend of their two languages. "Yes," she said, nodding. He smiled hesitantly, but said no more. She watched him, trying to imagine how this skittish young man could be one of the monsters of her nightmares, the ones who had nearly destroyed her, taking her husband and daughters from her so many years ago.

"How old are you, Dominic?"

He glanced around at her, seemingly surprised that she had spoken. "What?"

"How old," she began, and then paused. She wasn't sure if he'd understood her, and tried to rearrange the question, hoping that he might understand. "How many years...do you have?"

He stared at her a moment, puzzled, and suddenly his face cleared as her meaning came clear. "Ah! Twenty-three."

She nodded. "You'd have been just a boy, then, when..." her voice trailed off and she looked away.

"When...?"

Moira looked back at him, and when she spoke, her voice was cold. "When your countrymen came and slaughtered my children."

Dominic gaped at her, taken aback. "I..."

"Do they make a habit of it, then? Killing unarmed or sleeping men and innocent women and children?"

Moira was furious now. She glared at Dominic, who was staring at her in horror. He opened his mouth, looking as if he might protest, but she didn't give him the chance.

She stood and advanced on him, and for a wild moment Dominic looked like he thought she was actually going to strike him. He leaned away, the wall against his back, and stared up at her in shock and dismay.

"What right have you?" she said, voice shaking with fury. "They were only children!"

"Moira!"

Moira stepped back, startled, and turned to see William standing in the doorway, looking from one to the other. "What is this?"

Without a word in response, Moira snatched up her shawl and pushed past William, out the door. When he tried to catch her arm, she twisted savagely away and disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

Two days had passed since the encounter with Moira, and Dominic was growing worried. William had not spoken of the incident and Dominic, while curious about what exactly had happened to Moira and her family, was loath to bring it up himself. It seemed to him that the less William thought about the injuries that Romans had inflicted upon his sister, the more secure his position was. Still, it seemed important. He didn't want Moira to hate him. He was tired of being feared.

He climbed the slope from the lake, lost in thought. William sat in front of his house, speaking soothingly to a little girl as he bandaged her arm. Dominic slowed, not wanting to frighten the child. As he drew near, he could hear their conversation.

"...was just trying to frighten you, Peigi."

"He said the spirits would be angry," she continued, her chin jutting out stubbornly. "He said that they wouldn't like that there was a Roman here, and they'd spoil what we've harvested and--oh!" She'd spotted Dominic, and clapped her free hand over her mouth.

Dominic smiled despite the sick feeling that washed over him at her words. He stood leaning against the wall behind them and tried to pretend he hadn't heard her.

"He was trying to frighten you," William repeated firmly. "Dominic isn't any kind of monster, and those on the other side of the Veil will not be angry." He adjusted the bandage on her arm one final time. "Now, run along home and get ready for the feast, and be careful of those rocks this time."

With one last, curious look at Dominic Peigi did as she was told. Dominic came to sit on the low stool she'd abandoned.

William picked up the work he'd apparently abandoned when Peigi came, not looking at Dominic. "The children get strange ideas on Samhain, Dominic. Don't let it disturb you."

Dominic looked around at the village. Everyone was buzzing with activity and excitement. In the center of the village he could see a tall pile of kindling being constructed, and the air was filled with the aromas of roasting meat and bread. Everywhere he looked, people were running about, carving turnips, making garlands, or adding kindling for the bonfire.

"I don't understand these holy days of yours, William."

William laughed. "Samhain is the beginning of winter. When night falls, the Veil between our world and the Otherworld will be at it's thinnest and most transparent. Spirits walk, and men often....behave strangely." He glanced up at Dominic and grinned. It's a time of new beginnings."

"There's something I can use."

William laughed again, and Dominic was struck by how happy he seemed. Smiling a little, he put aside his plan to ask about Moira. He couldn't bear to ruin William's mood. "Why the bonfire?"

"When dark comes, we'll all extinguish our hearth fires and take a brand from the bonfire to relight them. It binds us together. And then," he said, holding up the stone in his hand, "we cast stones carved with our symbols into the fire. In the morning we find them among the ashes. If they are in good condition, it means that our fortune will be fair in the coming year. If they aren't--"

"If they aren't, then you'd better make peaceful offerings to your gods as soon as you can," said a deep voice from behind them.

William leapt to his feet, turning toward the voice. "Aidan?"

Dominic stood, more slowly than William. Aidan was leaning against a corner of William's house, grinning. He was tall and bearded, with light red hair and an easy smile. William rushed to embrace him, laughing. "Where did you come from? Where's Niall?"

"Niall insisted on going directly to Moira. And what do you mean, where did I come from? Me? I've been scouring the land for you, boy!"

"Ah, yes, well. I was delayed." William turned at last to Dominic, and pulled him forward. "Aidan, this is Dominic. He met a bit of trouble from a Roman detachment, and I happened along at a perfect time to aid him."

"Dominic, eh? Strange name for a Scot. Where are you from?"

Dominic shifted uneasily, glancing at William. "From Rome," he said.

Aidan's welcoming smile faded. "Rome? You're Roman?" He looked at William, who nodded.

"He is. Please believe me, Aidan, I wouldn't have brought him here if I hadn't been sure that he means none of us any harm."

Aidan studied William's face, then Dominic's. Slowly, he nodded. "If you say so, William, that's all I need." He turned to Dominic. "Welcome, then, Dominic, friend of my friend." And he pulled Dominic into a brief but sincere embrace.

News of Aidan's return spread quickly. Moira appeared in moments, clutching a spindly ten-year-old boy who was nearly as tall as she was in her arms as she ran to Aidan. After their initial embrace, she stood back as he exchanged happy greetings with others. Beside her, Dominic stood apart, feeling a bit lost and out of place. As the crowd dispersed, Aidan and Moira drifted off together, Niall's hand clutched tightly in Moira's.

* * *

Aidan had kept his promise to Moira. It was Samhain, and they sat together in front of William's house, Dominic and William, Aidan and Moira, and traded stories of their travels. Aidan was an excellent storyteller, and before long a small group of villagers had settled in a semicircle around them, despite their obvious wariness of Dominic. For his part, Dominic mostly listened. He was painfully aware that most of the tales he had to tell involved making war on the "barbarians," and that wasn't something that anyone there was likely to appreciate hearing. He was surprised, then, when Aidan turned to him and clapped him genially on the back.

"But we are being impolite!" he said. "Our new friend has not had the chance to speak. Tell us, Dominic, how you came to be with us."

The small crowd that had gathered fell silent, and all eyes were fixed on Dominic. He looked around at their curious, wary faces, and met William's gaze to find that he too, could not hide his curiosity. William smiled briefly, reassuringly. Dominic took a deep breath, and began.

"Well," he said, a trifle uneasily, "I was nearing my twenty-third birthday..."

As he spoke, Dominic became aware that the small crowd was growing. Word spread quickly, it seemed, that the Roman was telling his story, and soon most everyone, including Ceallach and Eideard, had come to listen. Gradually, he warmed up to his tale, though more than once he found himself turning to William for the right words. He'd never spoken for so long in their strange language, and the occasional ripple of laughter through the crowd told him that he hadn't mastered it just yet. Still, he wanted to tell them his story. He spoke of the set up, the trial, and his sentence and confinement. At this, a little girl who Dominic recognized as Peigi, spoke up.

"Oh! Those awful monsters. How did you get away?"

Dominic smiled, remembering that only hours ago, William had been assuring her that he wasn't a monster. "My accuser came to me. He wanted to taunt me, make my last night as horrible as it could be. But I surprised him! I managed to take his knife from him when he took off his belt, and---"

"Why did he do that?" asked Niall. "Why did he take off his belt?"

Laeneus' words echoed in his mind. Perhaps a proper punishment will help to remind you of your place. "He was...going to punish me."

"For what? Weren't you already being punished?"

"For..." Dominic paused, looking at the boy's open, curious face. He certainly wasn't going to tell him what Laeneus had wanted from him. "For calling him a flea-bitten mongrel," he said.

Peigi spoke up again. "You took his knife, and then?"

"And I told him to release me. He laughed and came at me, so I did the only thing I could. I plunged his knife into his chest. And then...I ran as fast as I could into the forest, with nothing but the clothes on my back. I didn't know the land, I had no weapons to hunt with, and nothing to carry water in. I had no warm clothes for the cold nights. Before dawn, I knew I was being hunted."

He paused, glancing around at his audience. Niall and Peigi were wide eyed, and many of the others were almost as taken in as they were. William too, seemed fascinated, and a little troubled. He'd never known in such detail what happened to Dominic before he met him in the woods. Dominic smiled. What this story needs, he thought,is a hero.

"For three days, I stumbled through the woods, lost, half frozen, barely able to rest for fear of my pursuers finding me. I was ill, and my strength was almost gone. And then, when all seemed lost, I heard the sound of an arrow, and the hunter nearest me fell."

"It was William!" cried Peigi, jumping to her feet in excitement.

"It was," Dominic said, nodding. Then, with a smile in William's direction, Dominic launched into a detailed and harrowing account of William's battle with the Romans and his subsequent convalescence in the cave, most of which bore no resemblance to what had really happened. From the corner of his eye Dominic could see William watching him, looking more and more amused with every word. Dominic paid him no mind. He had his audience in the palm of his hand, and wasn't about to relinquish them for the sake of accuracy.

Dominic paused to take a drink. Peigi, who had begun casting admiring glances at William, took the chance to speak. "Were you scared to come here, Dominic?"

He nodded. "I was. My people tell as many stories about yours as your people do about mine. I didn't know what to expect."

"But William promised that you'd be safe, and here you are!" said Niall proudly.

"He wasn't, Niall!" said Peigi anxiously. "You weren't here when they came, you didn't see. Ceallach would have killed him right away." She turned accusing eyes on Ceallach, who had been standing with the others, listening to Dominic's story with a frown. "You made William break his promise."

A ripple of unease swept through the crowd, and Ceallach's frown deepened into a scowl. One or two of the villagers glared disapprovingly at him. Dominic was alarmed. He had meant to make a hero of William, not a villain of Ceallach. "No, Peigi," he said quickly. "You should not say such things. Ceallach was only doing what he thought he must to protect you all."

"I do not need you to make apologies for me to my own people, Roman." Ceallach growled. "I wait for the day when I am allowed to correct my brother's blunder once and for all."

Dominic stood slowly and turned to face Ceallach. He heard a rustle behind him, and knew William too, had stood.

"And I, Ceallach, will wait for the day that you see I am not your enemy."

Eideard stepped forward, placing his hand on Ceallach's shoulder and ending the brief stand-off. "It is growing dark," he said. "Time to light the bonfire. Come, Ceallach, and stop this shameful behavior."

Ceallach glared at Eideard, but followed him. The crowd began to disperse, and Dominic could feel their stares. Unlike before, not all of those stares were hostile. More than once, Dominic caught someone giving him a curious, thoughtful look. He ignored them all, weary of being on display. He turned to William, who held a torch in one hand and two small stones in the other.

"I will never understand your people, William."

William only smiled. "Neither will I, my friend." He handed one of the stones to Dominic, who looked it over curiously, tracing the strange marks carved into it with a fingertip. "When we go to light our torch, cast the stone into the fire."

"I didn't know how to make your name with Roman symbols," William continued, sounding somewhat apologetic. They began walking towards the bonfire with the rest of the village. "So I made it with ours. We don't use symbols the same way your people do. Only for the most sacred of times."

William fell silent as they took their places at the edge of the crowd, near Aidan, Moira and Niall. The bonfire was lit, and within moments the flames were high. Dominic could feel the heat of them even from the fringe of the crowd. Aidan nodded with satisfaction.

"The fire burns quickly, and hot. It is a good sign," he said to no one in particular. Several others nearby heard, and nodded their agreement. Over the crackle of the flames a voice rose in a mournful song. Dominic could not quite make out the words, stretched and distorted as they were, and he could not see the singer. He suspected he or she was purposely hidden in shadow.

"What is that song?" he asked William quietly.

"It is a lament. And a song of joy. Mourning the end of one year, and rejoicing the beginning of another. And it is a song of welcome to the spirits who are so near tonight, but also a plea for them to stay on their side of the Veil."

Gradually, small groups began to walk towards the fire. Some went alone, or in pairs, but most were in small family groups, going with linked hands to light their torches. Some tossed small stones, much like the one Dominic held, into the fire.

"Come," murmured William, and he took Dominic's hand. To Dominic's immense surprise, Moira took his hand in one of hers, and Niall's in the other. Niall in turn was holding on to Aidan. They moved forward, through the crowd and into the firelight. The meaning of what was happening struck Dominic so forcefully that he nearly stopped walking in shock. They were claiming him as their family, there before the entire village. Not just William, but Moira and, by extension, Aidan and Niall as well. As William and Aidan leaned forward to light their torches, Dominic chanced a glance at Moira. Her face was unreadable. Though they were close enough that the light of the fire made his eyes water, she stared resolutely forward into the flames.

William released Dominic just long enough to cast his stone into the fire, and Dominic followed suit. Slowly, silently, they made their way back through the crowd, towards their houses. When they finally had to break apart, William handed the torch to Dominic and turned to Moira. He regarded her silently for a moment before pulling her into a tight embrace. He whispered something to her that Dominic could not hear, and she smiled a little, then turned and walked away with Aidan and Niall. William watched her go,his face a mixture of gratitude and love, then took the torch back from Dominic. With a hand on his shoulder, he led them back to William's home to light their first fire of the new year.

* * *

William wasn't sure how long he'd slept before a ragged cry shattered the peace of the night. He lay still, blinking in the darkness, and tried to determine what had made the sound. After a disoriented moment, he realized it could only have been Dominic. Moira had told him that Dominic suffered from nightmares. The sound of Dominic's harsh breathing was clear now, and William made his way to Dominic's bed. He reached out a hand and laid it on Dominic's shoulder, frowning at the sudden violent flinch his touch provoked.

"Easy, Dominic. It's only me." He was behaving far too like the ill and frightened boy William had once believed him to be for comfort, rather than like the man he had proven himself to be. "I think you're having bad dreams again, yes?"

He could just make out Dominic's nod. William lit some candles and rebuilt the fire, then settled down beside Dominic. "Moira told me you'd been having them."

Dominic nodded again, and managed a weak smile. "I don't suppose any of your vile potions will cure dreams."

"They could, I suppose. But dreams are important, Dominic. They can tell you many things."

Dominic just shook his head and looked away. With only a moment's hesitation, William grasped his shoulders and pulled Dominic to him, and smiled when he relaxed into the embrace. William began stroking his hair, humming soothingly until Dominic's shaking stopped.

"Will you tell me about these dreams?"

"I--no. It's nothing. I'm not a child. They're only dreams."

William was quiet for awhile, unsure of how to proceed. He didn't understand the Romans, and didn't want to offend Dominic. "My father," he began, "my real father, died when I was very young. The only real memory I have of him is from the times when I had nightmares. He'd pick me up and sing to me until I stopped crying. Then he'd have me tell him what I dreamed. He said that our dreams were how the gods spoke to us, and that the frightening ones told us our fears. Those, he told me, were the most important because they wanted to be sure that we remembered."

"What have you ever been afraid of?"

William laughed softly, surprised by the question. "I am afraid of a great many things."

Dominic didn't answer, choosing instead to lie still and enjoy the feeling of William's fingers in his hair, and the steady heartbeat he could feel, reassuring and strong, under his ear. His own people had different views on dreams. The gods didn't speak to anyone but the oracles. He found that he liked the Scots' belief. Even more surprising, he found himself wanting to share his dreams with William.

"My dreams," he said softly. "They change. For a long time, it was just...trees." He paused, waiting for William's laugh or dismissive words, but they didn't come. "I was lost, and there were trees all around. There was a clearing, and I knew if I could but reach it, I'd be safe."

"Safe from what?"

Dominic paused, unsure of how much to reveal. "From the one chasing me. My commander."

That got a reaction from William. His fingers momentarily stilled and he asked in a strange voice, "The one who gave you those scars?"

Dominic nodded. "I would get right to the edge and he would catch me." He glanced up at William, who was staring absently into the fire. His fingers resumed their motion in Dominic's hair.

"They changed?"

"Now they are different. I reached the clearing, I suppose. But it was here...this village. It's surrounded by trees, and I know that he'll be there waiting for me if I go past the tree line. I try to hide but someone is chasing me, driving me back into the trees."

"Who chases you?"

"I don't know," It wasn't true. In his dreams, it was William who chased him away.

"I won't let anyone chase you away, Dominic. You needn't fear that."

Dominic remained silent.

"I think that after tonight, more people will be willing to accept you. You were very impressive."

"I was?" He looked up, surprised.

William smiled. "You were. Ceallach is a well-respected man, but everyone knows how he treated you. You honored him, by what you said." William shook his head. "Ceallach's pride will be his ruin, someday."

"He hates you almost as much as he hates me."

William chuckled. "Yes." He grinned at Dominic. "I was very proud of how you handled it. You showed everyone that you are a man of honor. No one will forget."

Dominic couldn't keep the silly, pleased smile from his face, and he flushed warm from the praise. William laughed to see his happiness, and the hand in Dominic's hair slid down to tilt his face up. Before Dominic could register what was happening, William leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on his mouth.

When Dominic felt the gentle lingering pressure of William's mouth, he was taken utterly by surprise. He jerked away and stared at William. Wasn't this what he had risked his life to escape? But the look on William's face broke his panic. Surprise and shock, and a flash of hurt that Dominic could not ignore. He pushed Dominic away and got up hastily.

"I'm sorry, Dominic," he said in an unsteady voice. "I...I'm sorry."

William began blowing out the candles and banking the fire. Dominic watched him silently, and tried to sort out the thoughts that were clamoring in his head. Beyond his immediate and instinctive reaction, he realized something very surprising: he didn't want William to stop. He wanted to erase that flash of hurt and bring out that rare happy smile. He wanted to please William in whatever way he could. And this, at least, was one way he knew he could do it.

He watched William, who seemed determined not to meet his gaze, move around the room and finally sit on his own bed and reluctantly look up at him. "Goodnight."

Before he could lose his resolve, Dominic threw back his blanket and got up, crossing the room and kneeling beside William's bed. He took William's hands and smiled up at him.

"Don't apologize, William. It's all right. You just surprised me, that's all."

William shook his head. "No, I shouldn't have done that."

"Why not?"

William didn't answer, instead he tried to pull his hands away, but Dominic wouldn't let them go.

"It's alright if you want to do it again." Dominic said, pleased for once to be certain and sure of his actions.

"We shouldn't."

Dominic let go of William's hands, and began lifting William's shirt. "What was it you said, that Samhain was a night that strange things could happen? That men did things they might not have done on another night?"

William nodded and Dominic smiled. "Then stop fighting me." He slid the shirt off of William's shoulders and pulled him down for another kiss. William's mouth was sweet and soft, tasting of the honeyed mead he had drunk at the celebration. Nothing like Laeneus's harsh kisses, he Dominic reminded himself. Nothing at all.

Dominic broke the kiss, rose to his feet and pushed William back on his bed. William looked as if he might protest, but he remained silent and watchful. As Dominic trailed kisses down his chest, he felt William's shaking hands land gently on his shoulders, pushing at the fabric of Dominic's shirt. He straightened up and pulled it off, then immediately turned his attention back to William. His hands lingered for a moment at William's waist, plucking hesitantly at the hem of William's thin trousers. William lifted his hips just enough to enable Dominic to pull them down and off. Without giving himself a chance to think about what he was doing, he lowered his head and took William into his mouth.

At first, William made very little noise aside from his initial gasp of surprise. But Dominic was efficient and it wasn't long before William was writhing beneath him, making soft sounds with every breath. Those sounds, and the feel of William's hands in his hair, prompted a strange feeling in the pit of Dominic's stomach, but he quashed it ruthlessly before he could tell whether it was desire or fear. Experience had taught him that either reaction would only bring more mockery and humiliation. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on his task, using all his skill to bring William to release as quickly as he could. With a hoarse cry, William came.

For a moment, the only sound was William's ragged breathing. Dominic sat up but stayed where he was, waiting for William to either demand more or send him off to his own bed. This was new ground for him, leaving him uncertain and timid. He was glad for the soft light; he didn't think he could bear to imagine Laeneus' smirk on William's kind face.

"Dominic," William whispered at last, reaching to pull Dominic forward, "come here."

He did as he was told, doing his best to avoid William's gaze. He returned William's kisses; they were simple enough. But when William's hands drifted from his face to his chest, and then lower, he broke the kiss abruptly, unconsciously bracing himself for the laughter and scorn that always accompanied this moment. William's strong hand closed around Dominic's soft cock and he stilled abruptly.

"Dominic?"

"I'm sorry," he began hastily, "I--"

"No." William released him and sat up, and Dominic followed suit, staring with determination down at his hands rather than at William. He was prepared for mockery, but not the care he felt in William's touch, a gentle pressure under his chin that urged him to look up, nor was he prepared for the concern he heard in William's voice.

"What is the meaning of this? Why would you come to my bed if you didn't desire it—me—as I desired you?"

Dominic looked away again, startled by the question. "Because you wanted me to. And I want to give you what you want."

William pulled back, surprised. "Even when it isn't what you want?"

"I want...to give you what you want," Dominic repeated quietly.

"So you did this only for me? Do you..." William's voice trailed off, and it was a moment before he continued. "I don't know what was expected of you in Rome, but you don't have to do this to please me. You are no longer with the Romans. Here you may find a woman to love you, if that is what you wish."

Dominic hesitated, startled by the choice that Laeneus had never given him. He suddenly remembered the face of a girl he had known in the weeks before he marched north, a lovely girl with dark eyes and a face framed by curls who had made his heartbeat quicken. He also remembered his first sight of Laeneus, and the heat that had surged through him when his gaze had settled on Dominic. He shook his head slightly. "It's not unknown, in Rome, for a man to give pleasure to another man."

"I'm not talking about Roman custom, Dominic. I'm talking about you."

"I don't know what you want me to say." Dominic's voice shook, and he cursed himself for showing such weakness. "I thought it was what you wanted. I didn't want you to be angry or unhappy."

"What I want you to say? I want you to tell me the truth. And it was what I wanted, but only if you wanted it as well."

"I did! I w-wanted to please you. I thought I knew how. Laeneus always told me that I did." Dominic stopped abruptly, shocked at what he'd just revealed.

"Your commander? You loved him?"

"I wanted to please him," Dominic said quietly.

William sat back, shocked. "Like you wanted to please me."

Dominic nodded.

"And these marks on your back were your reward for failing to do so."

Again, Dominic nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"You thought that I would do such a thing to you?"

"No! You are gentle, a healer. You'd never do something like that. I know that. But..."

William leaned forward again, and turned Dominic's face to him. "But?"

Dominic couldn't help but look at William now, and William's troubled gaze undid him. To his horror and shame, he felt tears prickling his eyes. He jerked away from William's grasp, trying to regain control of himself. "But I cannot go back to Rome. Please...don't send me away. I'll do anything you ask."

"Oh, Dominic." William's voice sounded weary and sad. "It shames me that you thought you needed to do anything." He stood and began dressing slowly.

Dominic could only stare at him, struggling to make sense of what was happening. "I don't understand. I thought you wanted me." He suddenly felt very small and lost.

William turned and knelt in front of Dominic. "I did. I do. But not like this. Not if you're doing it because you think you must."

"But..."

"I want you to come to me because you want me, not just because I want you."

Dominic was silent, and William sighed. "Try to get some more sleep, Dominic," he said. "I have things to tend to." He wrapped his cloak around himself and stepped outside, leaving Dominic alone on his bed.

* * *

The snow had finally come. The world outside William's door was blanketed in white, and the kind of silence that only comes with freshly fallen snow. William stood and gazed around, smiling a little at the sight despite everything that had happened. He trudged up the hill, dragging his feet through the wet snow to where the bonfire had burned the night before. Completely burned away, there was little but snow-splattered ashes left. William knelt and began poking around, searching for two stones among the detritus of the fire. He uncovered one, recognizing the marks as his, and inspected it carefully. The stone was blackened by the fire, and through his name was a jagged crack. Try as he might, he could not find Dominic's stone.

With a sigh, William dropped the rock back into the ashes, dusted off his hands, and walked away.