Dawn arrived shrouded in tension.
Sleep had barely found me. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind conjured another terrible possibility, leaving me staring into the darkness until the first pale light crept through the tent.
Marcus rose before sunrise.
To distract me from my racing mind, in silence, I helped him dress for war.
I fastened the buckles of his cuirass, smoothed the folds of his crimson cloak and adjusted the straps at his shoulders. My fingers lingered against the cold metal longer than necessary, silently praying to every god I had ever known, and even those I did not, that they would return him to my arms.
Marcus studied me the entire time.
When I finished, he slipped an arm around my waist and drew me gently against him, resting his forehead against mine.
"I would be lying," he murmured, "if I told you this would be the last morning you feel this way."
I looked up at him.
"As the wife of an Imperator," he continued softly, "there will be other campaigns. Other battles. Other mornings when you will watch me ride away, wondering whether I will return."
The thought only made my chest tighten.
But I simply lifted my hands to cradle his face, before leaning in to kiss him.
"Survive this one first, husband," I whispered against his lips, a faint smile touching mine. "Then we shall worry about the rest."
It was time for him to leave.
But God help me, I didn't want to let him go.
Marcus brushed away the tears that had escaped despite my best efforts. Then he drew me into his arms and kissed me, slow and deep, as though trying to memorize me before the battle ahead. His hand settling around my waist, holding me close while my tears dampened our skin.
When we finally parted, the muffled sound of approaching footsteps echoed beyond the tent. They are coming for him.
Marcus rested his forehead against mine once more, reluctant to let the moment end.
I searched his face, committing every line of it to memory.
"Promise me you'll come back to me, Marcus," I whispered, my voice breaking. "No matter what."
His expression softened as he lifted my hands, pressing a lingering kiss against my knuckles.
"I will, Elena," he murmured. "I swear it to you."
His thumb brushed gently across my wedding ring.
"I will return to my wife."
The flap of the tent rustled open behind me.
Quintus stepped inside, already dressed for battle. He stopped just inside the entrance, lowering his head respectfully.
"Imperator."
Marcus closed his eyes for the briefest moment before giving a single nod.
It was time.
I shut my eyes as Marcus left, refusing to watch him leave me, to have that be my last memory of him before he marched into battle.
And he will come back.
He has to.
He promised.
I didn't even hear the tent flap open behind me once more until Livia's voice filled the place. "Domina."
I hastily brushed the tears from my cheeks before turning to face her, forcing myself to stand a little straighter.
"Yes?" I bit out, the tremor in my voice betraying me.
Livia's expression was grave.
"The young woman from yesterday, the one who snuck into our encampment," she said. "The one carrying Lord Gwrgenau's child."
My stomach dropped. "What is it? What happened?"
"She is bleeding."
For a heartbeat, I stood there frozen like a fool.
"The pains have worsened," Livia continued. "I think the child is coming."
"Impossible," I breathed, though the words felt hollow the moment they left my mouth.
I knew it wasn't impossible. I had seen premature labour before, handled it enough times during my rounds in the emergency ward to know. But here...
We had no incubators. No blood transfusions. No proper operating theaters.
Not to mention, the men were about to march into battle.
"She is far too early," I said.
Livia gave a solemn nod.
"These things can happen," she said, releasing a breath. "And now that the Imperator has ordered all women, children and the injured escorted to safety before the army marches, there is little time"
She met my eyes. "If we were to save either mother or child..."
"We must go now."[1]
We hurried through the encampment, our pace quickening into a run as soldiers stepped aside to let us pass.
Around us, the camp had transformed. Legionaries tightening the straps of their armor, mounted their horses and formed ranks while horns echoed through the cool morning air. Orders were shouted in Latin from every direction, the entire camp surging with purpose.
Then a raw, agonized scream cut through it all.
It came from one of the detention tents near the edge of the encampment.
My heart lurched.
"God..."
I broke into a sprint.
By the time we reached the tent, I could already hear her cries from outside, each one more desperate than the last. They were punctuated by ragged sobs and frantic pleas I couldn't quite make out.
Two legionaries stood guard at the entrance. They stepped aside without question, the moment they saw us.
I threw back the tent flap, the air inside was stifling.
The young woman lay curled upon a straw pallet, her wrists still bound behind her with coarse rope. Sweat plastered strands of her chestnut hair, and the front of her blue dress was soaked with blood. Every muscle in her body tensed as another contraction tore through her.
"Go," I said sharply to one of the legionaries standing guard at the entrance. "Find the Imperator. Tell him Lord Gwrgenau's wife is about to have her child."
The soldier straightened at once.
"Yes, domina."
He disappeared from the tent at a run, as another replaced his post.
Then another cry ripped through the air.
Livia was already at the woman's side, loosening the ropes around her wrists as I hurried over to help.
The young woman's eyes found mine immediately.
"Help me!" she screamed. "Please!"
They were wide with pain and terror.
"We will try," Livia said, her voice steady despite the tension in it.
She quickly moved between the woman's legs while I supported her through another contraction, telling her to breathe whilst keeping one trembling leg braced against my shoulder.
Then Livia stopped, her eyes shifting to me.
I knew that look.
That was the same one I had exchanged countless of times with colleagues back home. The silent understanding that something had gone terribly wrong.
"What is it?" the woman asked, her breathing uneven. She searched our faces desperately, before letting out another agonizing cry. "Tell me what is wrong!"
Neither of us answered.
My eyes dropped to the blood pooling beneath her, it was getting far too much. She was growing paler with every passing minute, as my mind raced through everything we didn't have.
Blood transfusions would be out of the question. No anesthetic. No incubators. Nothing but our hands, a handful of herbs and hope.
Outside, a war horn sounded.
Then another answered from farther away.
The legion was marching.
"Normally, I would leave this choice to the father," Livia said to her. "But since he is not here, and if the child is to have any chance of surviving, we will have to cut it out of you."
The young woman's eyes widened, she barely looked beyond her mid-twenties.
For a heartbeat, she simply stared at Livia, then shook her head violently.
"No."
Another contraction ripped through her, stealing the rest of her breath. She cried out before clutching my arm so tightly her nails dug into my skin.
"No," she repeated, tears streaming freely down her face. "I do not want this child."
The words stunned me, turning toward me instead.
"You..." she gasped. "Gen said you are a healer."
My lips parted, unsure of what to say.
"Save me, please," she continued anyway.
Her voice breaking into desperate sobs.
"Please."
Another wave of pain seized her.
"I wish to live."
My throat tightened.
She searched my face as though I alone could change the outcome.
"He..." She struggled to catch her breath. "He barely cared about me despite taking me as his wife."
My heart stopped.
"He only wanted an heir." Her voice cracked. "That was all."
Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
"I was desperate enough to agree."
She squeezed my arm with what little strength she had left.
"If you can save only one of us..." she began, her eyes locked onto mine, "choose me."
Outside, the war horns sounded again.
Inside the tent, all I could hear was the frantic beat of my own heart.
[1] Had to add a trigger warning here: for those sensitive to mentions of blood, violence, childbirth...feel free to stop here. If not, simply continue.