The first light of dawn painted the hills of Britannia in muted shades of gold, and I found myself committing every detail to memory. From the rolling green hills, to these ancient forests that held stories. The morning mist, drifting lazily above the valleys.
Centuries from now, these same lands would become the home I had always known. The place where I was born, where I grew up, where I built a life without ever imagining that history had once unfolded beneath my feet. I had rarely left England, never crossed oceans, never truly imagined a life anywhere else.
And now, as we prepared to leave for Rome, I couldn't help wondering whether I would ever set foot on these shores again.
For the first time in weeks, the encampment was quiet.
There were no cries of wounded men, no clashes of steel. Only the distant nickering of horses and muted voices of soldiers loading wagons for the long journey south.
Lucan slept peacefully in my arms, his tiny stomach full after being fed by his wet nurse. Completely unaware that, by sunset, I would already be gone from his life.
I brushed a finger gently across his cheek.
"You'll never remember me," I whispered. "Perhaps that's for the best."
Some distance away, Marcus stood beside Quintus, issuing orders in fluent Latin. Even from here, his voice carried effortlessly through the crisp morning air, calm and commanding. Gone was the man who had held me in bed only hours earlier.
"Domina," Livia called gently.
I looked up, seeing that she was already standing before me, her usual composure softened by an unmistakable sadness.
Instinctively, I tightened my hold on Lucan.
The movement stirred him. He gave a sleepy little sigh before settling once more against my shoulder, blissfully unaware of the farewell unfolding around him.
Tears blurred my vision as Livia slowly held out her arms.
"It is time."
The words landed like a stone in my chest.
For a moment, I couldn't move, couldn't even breathe.
Behind me, measured footsteps approached.
I felt him before I saw him.
Marcus slipped his arm around my waist, the morning breeze catching the crimson folds of his cloak, sending them billowing behind him. Clad once more in polished Roman armor, he looked every inch the Imperator his men followed without question.
Yet when he looked at me, there was only my husband.
His hand came to rest gently over mine where it clutched Lucan.
"He will be loved," Marcus said quietly. "He will be protected."
His thumb brushed lightly across my fingers.
"You have my word, Elena."
I closed my eyes as more tears spilled down my cheeks.
I sniffled, feeling Marcus gently rub my back, pressing a kiss to my temple before carefully taking Lucan from my arms.
He placed Lucan into Livia's waiting arms, causing my own to suddenly feel empty, hollow.
"I will tell him about you, do not worry. The woman who named him, saved his life and loved him as her own, even if only for a few days," Livia said softly, her sad eyes fixed on mine as Marcus gathered me into his arms, holding me against him in case my legs gave out.
"Do not worry, domina. Perhaps one day, he will come find you. You will meet again."
I nodded, though I could scarcely see through the tears.
Leaning forward one last time, I pressed a lingering kiss to Lucan's forehead, breathing in his newborn scent that still clung to him.
"Be happy," I whispered to him. "Grow up knowing your father loved you."
My voice broke.
"And be kinder than he ever learned to be."
Livia drew the child gently against her shoulder.
"I swear it."
Marcus slipped his fingers through mine, gently pulling me away.
When I looked back one last time, Lucan had already settled once more in Livia's arms, blissfully unaware that the woman who had held him through his first days of life was walking away forever.
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"Thank you," I whispered to Livia. "For everything."
She inclined her head. "And to you, domina."
Marcus helped me into the saddle before mounting his own horse beside me. Without another word, our small escort turned south, leaving the encampment and Lucan, behind.
I didn't look back, I couldn't.
If I did, I wasn't certain I would ever find the strength to leave.
We had ridden for nearly an hour when Marcus suddenly raised a hand.
His soldiers came to an immediate halt, as he turned to Quintus, exchanging a quiet word before turning toward me.
"Wait here," Quintus called to the men.
Marcus nudged his horse forward.
"Come, Elena."
Confused, I followed him anyway.
Together, we left the road, riding across open fields where the gras had begun reclaiming the scars of battle.
Only when we reached the crest of a gentle hill did he finally stop.
I looked around, my brows scrunched as I took in the vast, but familiar scenery. From the broken earth, the scattered stones, the old oak standing alone against the horizon.
It was then that I realized, I was standing where Marcus had fallen. Where Gen had defeated him in the first place, sending him to my time.
Marcus dismounted first, before helping me down.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
This was where everything began.
He reached into one of his saddlebags and withdrew a familiar bundle wrapped carefully in oilcloth.
My breath caught.
"My letter," I said, when he placed it gently in my hands.
"I found it among your things when I was going through our tent one final time," he said quietly. "I thought...perhaps there was still one thing we could try."
He knelt, drawing his dagger to dig through the earth beneath the old oak.
"You once told me," he continued, digging steadily, "that centuries from now, there would be a church here, and people like Pippa and Alan would come to investigate the past."
I nodded slowly.
"They will."
"Then bury it here."
I frowned. "But what if no ever finds it?"
Marcus looked up at me.
"Perhaps no one will," he bit out, then smiled faintly.
"But if anyone does..." His gaze drifted toward the horizon. "...it will be someone meant to."
I looked down at the folded letter addressed to Pippa, my best friend. Words written by a woman who had never imagined she might never return home. She must worry.
Slowly, I knelt beside him and together, we placed the letter into the earth.
I covered it carefully with soil, pressing my palm flat against the ground when we had finished.
"Please," I whispered.
Whether I was speaking to fate, to history or to whatever force that had brought me here, I no longer knew.
"Let her find it."