Jenn Ross: <jenross@Win32SupportBBS.vnet.net>

DISCLAIMER: Guess what? None of the characters 
belong to me. As much as I wish, they aren't mine.
I/m only borrowing them.
Please don't sue me.

His Daughter

  	The sun was just peeping up from its bed on 
the horizon, that morning. Like most other wealthy 
daughters of the villa, Aerin was walking with her
elder brother to the center of town, where they were 
being meticulously taught the Roman ways, and 
perfecting the Latin they had all been taught from 
babyhood. Their father strode ahead, his cape flapping 
in the light wind that was characteristic to southern 
Britannia at this point in the year. Like proper, they 
were all as silent as priests in the churches, and Aerin 
didn't want to break the solemn, peacefully sound of it 
with her heavy decorative sandals, so she walked 
carefully, and in the process, slowly. So, they were 
rather late in reaching the building. They stopped, and 
stood in front of their father, to receive his command 
to go into the Roman school. 
  	Before he could utter a single word, a centurion 
drove by in a cart, two men in it. They were from a 
foreign land, as anyone could tell from their clothing.
They cursed in some equally foreign tongue, and from 
what Aerin could understand, they spoke of 'Bridget'. 
Her brother laughed, and whispered to her, "Look, its 
some bloody savages from Eire. May we conquer them 
in the name of the Emperor.". She laughed, a wicked 
grin across her face at his jest. Her father looked sharply 
at her, and she quickly erased the grin, but couldn't help 
but think how remarkably horrible the people of that
country were. 
  	Then, their father nodded to her brother. 
"Patricus, go on," he told him, then turned to Aerin. 
"but Aerin, stay here, I have something to tell you." 
Patricus grinned at her, and she bowed her head meekly, 
thinking that her father would reprimand her for laughing 
when she was under silence. She watched with her head 
down, as Patricus walked over to the school and 
disappeared through the door. Her father put a hand on 
her head, and she turned her chin upward, to look at him.
	"My child, I regret to tell you this. I know of 
your hatred towards the people of Eire, but you must 
be told this. You are not my daughter, but the daughter 
of another man." Aerin furrowed her brows, and wanted 
to shrug. It was no big deal, that her mother had loved 
another man long ago.
	He continued, "And now, you must return to 
your father. I have arranged for you to join your father, 
King Conor, as soon as we can get you to Eire. We will 
send you off tomorrow."
	Aerin widened her eyes. "I'm from Eire?" 
	It just couldn't be. The people of Eire were 
savages, they didn't obey the emperor, they were ugly, 
they were rude....everything she tried not to do and be. 
There was no way possible that she could be from...
that....place. Her father, no, now he was just Patricus, 
nodded, turning his head awkwardly away. The man 
had never done this, and he loved Aerin as a real 
daughter- one he never could have sired. Yet she bore no
resemblance to her foster father or anyone else in their 
family...she had the curliest, most wild blond hair, 
and what he guessed was her mother's blue green eyes, 
though what Conor had told him of her mother 
suggested otherwise.  His family had dark hair and 
eyes, with a dark complexion. Again, she was
as different as day and night, with a milky white 
complexion, she didn't even tan in the sunniest of 
summers. 
	Unwilling to say much, or admit that he 
would actually miss her, he only muttered, "And you 
will be a good girl for him, won't you?" 
	His quick, cultured Latin reminded her that in 
Eire, they spoke a  different language, one that she 
didn't know. Meekly, she nodded, dismayed.
How would she ever last in that country? She knew 
pieces of the native British that the tribesmen spoke, 
but that was not the language that they spoke. Not 
only would she be leaving for a country that spoke a
different language, but there, they knew different 
customs, she'd leave her friends... why? Because her 
father had been ashamed of her, and sent her away. The
mistakes of another, foreign man were making her have 
to change the person she was, and intended on being. 
	"Shall I go to school?" she asked, trying to 
break the silence.  Silence brought thoughts. Bad, 
uncomfortable thoughts. 
	"No, you will have to pack so that we can 
send you on the boat tomorrow." he told her, though it 
sounded as if he was far away. The thought of going 
on a boat feared her to her bones- a boat! She had lived all
her life by the sea, but never had she been on a boat, 
except that one time...that bad memory...when she was 
in the storm, and she was pitched out of the boat...
	"Am I going alone?" she inquired, pleading with 
her eyes that she wouldn't have to. 
	He answered slowly, obviously coming back 
from a train of thought.
"No, you will have your nurse, that woman Katherine, 
to go with you."That thought comforted her, that she 
would have Katherine with her. Katherine had been her 
nurse since she was born, she guessed. Only when she had
shown the signs of her womanhood had the woman 
stopped tending to her on her every waking moment. 
Now, in her thirteenth summer, she welcomed the 
woman who treated her so much like a little babe. 
	The rest of the day was not very easy. Her 
mother, who was never very close to her in the first 
place, didn't make herself be shown, so the slaves had to 
be directed on her own. She didn't even know how to talk
to the natives, so she would just point. Katherine tried 
her hand in directing  them, but she as well didn't know 
the language. But, what had to be packed away eventually 
was. When the evening meal came around, she was too 
grief stricken to go and eat with them. 
	The morning rolled around slowly, and the day 
promised to be bright and sunny, unlike her mood was 
showing to be. Her father had already left, saying that 
pressing business called him to the town, to settle
some dispute in the tribes. It was just as well. Her mother 
claimed that going down on the docks made her feel ill, 
and that was not good, for she was now, as she had 
announced before going early to bed, with child again. 
Probably they were sending her off because there would 
be another child to tend for, and she would just be in the 
way. There were three other boys, and one other girl- she 
wasn't needed. All her brothers and sisters were at the
school, so only Katherine went to the docks with her. 
	They were silent on the way there. They 
boarded, the slave carrying her luggage handed it over, 
and left. Aerin stared down at the ocean,  watching the 
way all the waves rolled to the shore. She twisted her ring
around her finger. That was the only thing left of Rome, 
and of Britannia, that she had left. As the boat cast off, 
she moved her gaze to the shore, watching it until it 
turned to a tiny dot on the horizon. Gone. All of it. 
Her life. Her family. Her identity. She sighed, and 
although it was still early, she retired to her cabin, to 
sleep. 
	Surprisingly, she did sleep. But, it was a 
troubled, painful sleep full of bad nightmares. None 
of them she could remember when she woke, but 
she woke up in a sweat, the acidic taste of fear still in 
her mouth.

Katherine was there, and she rushed to her side. She 
smoothed back Aerin's hair and whispered, "Its 
alright, m'dear. Poppet, calm down. It was only a 
nightmare. Are you that afraid?" 
	The girl nodded, "Katie, what if they hate 
me. I can't even speak their language. What if I offend 
them and they kill me..." Katherine laughed.
"What's so funny? You want them to kill me?" she 
became more frightened, and hid under the covers, 
sobbing. "You hate me!" she shouted.
	Katherine pulled the quilts back, and shook 
her head, again mechanically stroked Aerin's hair out 
of her face. "No, poppet, its just that I know the people 
there, and you will be nearly worshipped, for your
father is King Conor. He is not a bad king, and he is a 
wonderful man. I knew him, once, long ago. He and your 
mother were a wonderful couple, and they were even more 
wonderful for the country. I can teach you the language, if
you want. It isn't that easy to learn, and I think your father 
knows some  Latin, if only a little. But, m'dear, I think you 
will learn the language, for you have always been good with 
words." 
	"Thank you, Katie." she smiled up at the woman, 
wiping away tears with a hand. Maybe things would be 
better, after all. Maybe....

	Conor looked up at Fergus, grinning broadly. 
"And you say that the lass is coming? Is that what that 
letter was all about?" he asked him, and Fergus grinned 
back.
	"Aye, Conor, your daughter is coming in on 
the next ship. Caitlan would be proud..." at that, Conor's 
eyes looked away. His grin faded, and he turned around, 
trying to hide the raw sorrow in his eyes. Caitlan. 
	"Fergus, please, don't mention Caitlan again..." he 
closed his eyes, wishing away the tears that he knew would 
come. Caitlan. God, and it was his fault she had died, his 
fault. He could still remember her.
	'He was so excited, that day. Caitlan was in labor, 
and she would birth their child soon. Their first child. Yet, 
as he heard her cries of pain, he tried hard to resist the urge 
to run to her side. But, men were not allowed to be with 
their women during childbirth. It was a bad omen, they had
said. 
	They came when the child was born. It was a girl, 
and Caitlan had already named it Aerin. Slightly angered 
that she would just go ahead with it, and jubilant that he 
now had a child of his own, he rushed to her side. 
They handed him the child right when he came through the 
door. He stared down at the tiny thing, and smiled. Forgetting 
everything but this little perfect girl, he glanced up at Caitlan, 
so she could share the moment. But, she had her eyes focused 
on the chair across from the bed, a pained look in her
eyes. She was so weak, so pale...he quickly strode to her 
side.
	"Caitlan, are you alright?" he remembered asking. 
She just barely shook her head, ever so faintly. 
	"I love you, Conor." she whispered, and closed 
her eyes. Then, she died. He remembered that most. The 
pain was still fresh on his mind. This was his child. He 
forced it on her. He was the cause of this death....'
	"Conor!" Fergus called to him, his hand on his 
shoulder. Conor turned around. "That was the fifth time 
I called your name. What's wrong?"
	"It was my fault, Fergus." he whispered, wiping 
away a stray tear.

	Aerin carefully folded the crisp parchment, trying 
not to smear the ink. Katherine had been teaching her Irish 
Gaelic, that day. Now, the sun dipped into the ocean, trying 
to hide like a babe from her. Time had flown by very quickly, 
lately, and to Aerin's immense surprise, she hadn't once
gotten sea sick, or gotten pitched off the boat. Katherine 
closed the book, smiling back at the memories the leather 
bound, fading book held. This book had taught her how to 
read- the one thing that people were not often taught, only 
privileged people got to. Aerin really didn't know how
lucky she was, to be able to read and write in two different 
languages, now...
	She had been progressing fairly nicely. She had 
many of the verbs down pat, and she could speak in clear 
sentences anything that she dreamed of, nearly. The fact 
that she sounded like a two year old pulling strings of 
words together and she had absolutely no accent to speak 
with had no real value, just that the lass was learning. She 
would be able to converse freely, and that was really all 
that mattered. 
	Yawning, the girl pulled a night shift over her 
head, rubbing her eyes with child like fists. Aerin was 
still a little girl at heart, she really didn't have any business 
learning all these new facts about herself. She wasn't
ready for this sort of knowledge. Right now, Aerin should 
have been in bed, sleeping with her little sister, and 
dreaming childish dreams. The unfortunate thing was that 
Katherine knew that the poor girl would have to 
marry soon. She would have to really grow up. 
	"Katie, will we get to Eire soon?" she asked, and 
Katherine smiled. The girl was using Gaelic. Earlier that day, 
Katherine remembered, the sailors had shouted out, in Gaelic, 
that Eire had been spotted. Aerin had wondered what they 
meant, only able to discipher half of the quick spoken
phrases.
	"Aye, lass. We will be there tomorrow."

	Conor wrapped the cloak tighter around his 
shivering body, waiting on the docks for his daughter. What 
would she be like? What would she look like? Probably, he 
guessed, she would look like her mother. She would  be 
beautiful, he knew that, for nothing that Caitlan had ever done 
or had wasn't beautiful. So, he mused, it was alright to be 
biased with his own daughter. The wind blew colder, and 
he gripped his hand on the sword at his waist. As an 
instinct, he bit his tongue to keep from shuddering and
looking like a total idiot for his daughter. He had never 
left Eire, and he was used to the weather, and he shouldn't 
have to use a cloak at all. She couldn't see her father 
shivering like a babe when all of the people around
him were joyous, jumping, and not the slightest bit 
affected by the cold. Many people had relatives, loves, or 
friends arriving back from Eire. 
	The passengers came down, and he saw Fergus 
run up to a woman whom Conor once knew as Katherine. 
Beside her was a wondrous little woman, with golden hair 
and a fairly womanly body. Beautiful, he thought, and 
wondered if this could possibly be his daughter. He would 
soon find out.
	"Fergus! Have you brought me my daughter?" he 
called to the man, who came smiling to him, escorting the 
two women. 
	"Aye, I have." he said, and Conor was speechless. 
This was his daughter! At long last, this was his daughter!


	Aerin scanned the crowd. There were many of 
those savages... she corrected herself, *people* there. They 
mostly looked normal, except for the warrior types. 
They wore their weapons, and armor, and what have you, 
but one man stood out like a sore thumb to her. He was 
relatively tall, though not as tall as the bald man leading she
and Katherine. His hair was blond, slightly curly wisps a
round his ears, like a crown. A torque made of a strange 
bronze-copper was around his neck. He wore only one 
chain mail sleeve, the other probably having been lost long 
ago. His old, worn vest came a tiny bit above his waist line, 
and ever so tight, nearly falling apart leather pants. She 
grinned. He fit the mental picture that Katherine had given
her as her father. But, when Katherine had known him, he 
was the Prince, and was young, about twenty. Now, the 
lines in his face were turning slowly to wrinkles, and he didn't 
have as much sparkle in his eyes. Also, he had no goofy grin 
that Katherine said was characteristic to when he was around 
her mother. 
	She walked slowly beside Katherine, and watched, 
rather reserved, as Katherine hugged the King. "Hello, Conor." 
she said, grinning at him. He grinned back, though it was a 
rather lop-sided grin, rather than a foolish, goofy one. 
	"Hello, Katie." he turned to her, and put a hand on 
Aerin's shoulder. "And you are my little daughter." He smiled 
a softer,  admiring smile.
	Katherine nodded. "Aye. Tis your little one." 
	"You're beautiful, and everything that I had hoped 
you'd be." he told her, and she blushed. "Modest, too, I see." 
His hand touched lightly the curls on the back of her head, 
and the ones around her ears. "And like your Da? I thought 
you'd be like your mother. But  instead, there's another me!" 
he tried joking around, but it couldn't hide the astonishment 
in his eyes. Fergus, in seeing this, saw the lad that he had 
been before Caitlan's death. Perhaps he would be himself 
again. Then again, Conor hadn't been the same since after 
Claire's death. Perhaps he never would be again. 
	"Conor, what happened? You're King, now, I 
understand." Katherine tried to move the subject to 
something that would have Conor talking about something 
that he was used to talking about.
	"Aw, Katie, can't that story wait until a camp fire, 
or something?" he asked, grinning at her, again. There it 
was- the foolish grin. Perhaps there was hope, yet. And 
possibly, there was hope in that Aerin would get used to 
her home, and become one of them. One thing was for
sure- the Sanctuary would never again be the same. 

The END