Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters.

Tragedy unfolding:

He watched from the battlements as Lancelot chased after their commander. All the while Lancelot was begging Arthur to reconsider, to turn away from the foolish mission he was about to undertake. The Woad girl followed the two men, probably to see how things would evolve and know how she would have to act around both of them. They moved swiftly down the stairs and through the courtyard and soon it was impossible to hear their conversation.

Bors sighed and got up to find Vanora, his jug of ale still clutched tightly in his hand. He would probably be busy tonight with packing and organising all his little bastards for the trip. With the Saxons at their doorstep, Bors knew it would be safer for Vanora and the children to leave the fortress.

Galahad started leaving as well and turned back with a puzzled glance when he noticed Gawain wasn't following. The blonde knight shared a look with Tristan, the only other knight still on the battlements. The scout nodded slightly, turning his gaze back towards the courtyard where a tragedy was unfolding before his very eyes. Satisfied, Gawain followed Galahad towards their rooms, they both still had a lot of packing to do.

Tristan started descending the steps as well, his eyes never leaving the two men arguing a bit further away. He could almost see the anguish written on Lancelot's face by just looking at the way the other knight was standing. Guinevere was still hovering near the two men almost like a ghost haunting them, and in a way she was. She had slipped into their lives silently, without anyone noticing and just by her appearance she had turned their entire world upside down. In only a few days time she had managed to ensnare their commander with her words and now she might be responsible for the destruction of the friendship between the two men. Tristan couldn't understand how she could manage to destroy a friendship of nearly fifteen years in only a few days' time. Though, maybe, destroying Arthur and Lancelot's friendship was a bit far-fetched. Still, their friendship was suffering greatly from the past days' events and the scout couldn't help but think she had only aggravated things further.

He silently slipped through the crowds, looking at the arguing men with growing apprehension. It wasn't the first time Lancelot and Arthur argued in public but this time, the result of their argument would have an impact on all present. Either Arthur would agree with Lancelot and turn away from the fight, in which case the people could do nothing more but leave, or he would stay and fight, in which case the people should organise their defences. Everything was quiet in the courtyard apart from the two men, even the children were quiet. As Tristan neared the two men he could see Lancelot had already lost. The determined set of Arthur's shoulders, the clenched jaw, everything indicated the Roman had already made his choice. It seemed Lancelot had realised it too by the way he kept pleading with his best friend, calling on their friendship to try and make Arthur turn away from a fool's errand. Tristan was shocked to see unshed tears in Lancelot's eyes. It was very rare for Lancelot to show such raw emotion, indeed he was very good at hiding his true feelings, almost as good as Tristan. However, where Tristan didn't show anything Lancelot had crafted a careful mask through the years to give the illusion he was happy and self-assured. Tristan had never seen the other man look so vulnerable and it worried him. Arthur gave no sign he had noticed the distress his friend was in as he once again rebuffed him. The Roman placed a hand around the Sarmatian's neck before moving away, making it very clear he had made his decision. Lancelot didn't follow this time.

Slowly, the people of the fort began to get back to their business while Lancelot still stood in the middle of the courtyard, lost and alone looking to where he had last seen Arthur.

Tristan watched his brother-in-arms move in the direction of the barracks. Lancelot seemed to have aged several years as he walked with small, careful steps and stooped shoulders as if he carried the weight of the world. For a moment the scout didn't know what to do. Whether he should follow Lancelot or try to talk to Arthur. Then he saw Guinevere. She stood across from him, as still as a statue and looked him square in the eye. He was suddenly struck by the similarity between them, both silent witnesses of what had just occurred both realising something had been broken when Arthur walked away. However, whereas Tristan despaired for what had been lost, she rejoiced for it meant hope for her people. And no matter how much he tried, Tristan couldn't hate her for it. Out of all the knights he was the one who understood the people of this land best, having spent most of his time in their woods. He understood how much they had fought for their country, how much they needed hope. He saw how they resembled his own people, the Sarmatians. They all tried to survive against the Roman invasion, and had their freedom taken from them. The Sarmatians by the pact, the Woads by the Wall. However, the Woads had never sopped fighting whereas his own people had given up a long time ago. Now that the Romans were leaving the island, the Woads had a chance to regain what they had lost, therefore Tristan understood why Guinevere had done what she had done. He only regretted it had to come at such a price.

He crossed the courtyard to where she was standing and melted back into the shadows with her. She didn't say anything and waited for him to make the first move. He looked around the courtyard at the people busily preparing for the next day and tried to find the right words. After a while, he started to speak.

"You've done a good job. Your people will be proud." She looked startled, visibly she hadn't been expecting this.

"Thank you." She hesitated "It'll do them good to have hope again."

"Arthur's a good leader."

"I know."

It was silent for a while both of them pondering on the absurdity of their conversation. They had been enemies for fifteen years and now that Guinevere had caused a major argument between Tristan's commander and one of his brothers-in-arms he shouldn't be talking so civilly to her. On the contrary, he should've been ready to slit her throat.

"Will Lancelot be alright?" she asked and Tristan was surprised at the genuine worry he heard in her voice. His first impulse was to say that Lancelot would get over it, as he usually did. However, he knew that wasn't true. He had never seen Lancelot so defeated before and he seriously doubted Lancelot would ever get back to his old self again if he and Arthur didn't set things right again.

"I don't know." He ended up saying and it was true, he really didn't know. Guinevere nodded absently. She started opening her mouth but changed her mind and gave a sigh instead. Tristan understood.

"Go to him." He told her. Startled, she looked up, he motioned towards Arthur's quarters and gave a nod. Turning his back to her he made his way to the knights' barracks. His conversation with Arthur could wait, he decided.

Entering the barracks he made his way to his room where he took off his weapons. He looked around the small area, it was neat as always, his weapons carefully placed on a rack near his bed, the few spare clothes he had were neatly folded in the chest at the foot of his bed and the perch for his hawk was placed near the window. It wouldn't take too long to pack all his things and he decided to leave it for later. He needed to check on Lancelot.

Tristan walked down the hallway to Lancelot's room next to Gawain's. The blonde knight noticed Tristan and motioned for him to enter. When Tristan entered the room he saw Gawain had been busy packing his things. The bed and floor were strewn with clothes, weapons and other objects that the knight had collected over the years.

"He's staying isn't he?" Gawain asked. Tristan nodded, there was no need to know who they were talking about, it was something they had all feared from the moment they were journeying back to the Wall. The scout was intrigued, he knew Gawain well, he was one of the knights he had always liked and knew there was another reason why Gawain invited him in his room.

"I'm worried about Lancelot" Gawain began " I saw him enter his room earlier. I've never seen him like this Tristan, it's as if all life left him. I haven't heard anything since then. No yelling, no throwing random objects against the walls not even any sign that he's packing for tomorrow." Tristan understood Gawain's worry, it was highly unusual not to hear anything from Lancelot's room after a fight with Arthur. He was usually trying to tear down the building single-handedly when something went wrong. This silence was unsettling to say the least. Tristan assured his fellow knight that he would see what was wrong and left the room.

It had always been like this, when there was something wrong with Lancelot the one they usually turned to for help was Arthur, except when the two had had an argument. Then it had always been Tristan who would calm the other man down, or Dagonet. Dagonet would probably have been better in this case, Tristan mused. He had always been better at dealing with other people's emotions. As he stood in front of Lancelot's door he couldn't help feeling nervous. The silence was truly disturbing. Suddenly fear settled in the pit of his stomach, Lancelot had always been rash who knew what he might've done.

Opening the door he quietly stepped into the room. The room was in pure Lancelot style, messy. Several clothes and other objects were strewn about the floor creating small piles. The only semblance of order in the room was the corner where Lancelot kept his armour and weapons. Once again Tristan found himself wondering how the other man could live in such a place. Even Galahad's room was cleaner although that had probably something to do with Gawain's influence on the younger knight.

It was so quiet in the room that it took a while for Tristan to find his fellow knight. When he did though he felt his heart stop and his breath catching in his throat. The figure lay quietly on the bed, not moving, it didn't even look like he was breathing. With a heavy heart Tristan approached the bed, dreading what he would find. He could already imagine the slit wrists and how he would have to tell Arthur. As he got nearer he saw something near the bed, something that looked suspiciously like blood.

"Oh no." he breathed. Tristan hurried over to his friend's side and it was with relief that he noticed the puddle had come from the fallen jug of wine on the bedside table. He carefully approached the other man so as not to startle him and knelt down next to him.

Lancelot was staring off into space, apparently he hadn't even noticed Tristan. Tears were silently coursing down his cheeks and he was clutching his sister's amulet so tightly his knuckles had turned white. The scout gently laid a hand on his friend's shoulder making Lancelot start. For a moment the other man's eyes lighted up with hope but became dull again the moment he realised it wasn't the man he had been expecting. Lancelot didn't even try to brush his tears away, something that upset Tristan further. Lancelot had always hated appearing weak in front of others and for him to allow Tristan to see his tears meant it was very serious. Only now did Tristan notice the dagger in Lancelot's hand, it was the dagger Arthur had given the other man for his twentieth birthday. The scout gently pried Lancelot's fingers away from the hilt and took the dagger. When Lancelot felt the dagger being taken away he seemed to snap out of his daze and tried to take it back.

"Don't worry Lancelot. I'm just going to put it here on the table." Tristan soothed in a voice he usually only used with his hawk. Slowly he laid the dagger on the table, making sure Lancelot followed his movements and saw that he wasn't lying. The scout felt as if he was taking care of a cornered animal instead of a human being, the way Lancelot's eyes darted around the room as if he was looking for an escape and the way he had curled in protectively around himself.

"I wasn't going to use it." Lancelot murmured quietly, so quietly in fact Tristan wasn't even sure he had heard correctly. "I wasn't going to kill myself." Lancelot spoke again a bit louder this time. "It's too cowardly." He paused, all the while he had kept his eyes down, refusing to look Tristan in the eye. "and Arthur says it's a sin." Lancelot finished swallowing heavily.

Of course Lancelot would include Arthur and his ideas at a time like this. It had always been very important for him to know what Arthur thought of him. Suddenly the enormity of what had happened dawned on Tristan. He hadn't seen it, none of them had but now it was visible to all of them. Lancelot had become completely dependent on Arthur, it was as if Lancelot was in a cage and Arthur was the one keeping him there. And no matter what he tried Lancelot would never be able to escape, he was bound to Arthur forever. It was like a potent drug he couldn't let go. For Arthur to push Lancelot away like he had done earlier had had the same effect as if he had ordered the other man's death. For Lancelot this was probably a fate worse than death and most likely Arthur didn't even know the effect he had on his friend.

Suddenly Tristan became furious with his commander. Arthur, with his talk of equality and justice didn't even see the misery he had placed his best friend in. He was too busy worrying about other people to see what was happening right in front of him. Just as quickly as it had come up his fury disappeared again, after all it wasn't Arthur's fault that he hadn't seen what was going on, none of them had. Tristan had always known Lancelot was a good actor only now did he realise exactly how good. Tristan had always prided himself in his ability to read other people but now he realised that for years he hadn't managed to read his brother properly. Lancelot had become so used to hiding things from the others, to pretend everything was fine that it had become a second nature to him.

"He still loves you Lancelot." Tristan said "he always will."

"He will die." It was said with such simplicity and such finality that Tristan was speechless for a moment. Of course he knew there was a big chance Arthur would die in the morning. As capable a fighter as he was, the odds were too great and he wouldn't have his knights with him. Instead there would be the Woads who were not used to fighting in the open. How did one answer to a statement like that? He couldn't lie to Lancelot, give him false hope. That was the last thing he needed. So he settled for the truth.

"Probably."

Lancelot gave a bitter laugh, clinging even tighter to his amulet as if it was his lifeline. In a way, Tristan mused, it probably was.

"And we won't be there for him. He'll die alone." Lancelot's voice cracked at the end of that sentence and Tristan realised that thought unsettled him nearly as much as it did Lancelot.

Tristan wrapped his arms awkwardly around his friend to try and comfort him. With a sob Lancelot clung to Tristan's shirt as if it was the most important thing in the world and started crying again. Heavy sobs wracked his body and the scout panicked slightly. He suddenly hoped Arthur would walk in the room and comfort his friend like he usually did. Tristan had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to act around someone who was crying his heart out. He vaguely considered the idea to call Gawain for help, surely the blonde knight would be able to handle this better what with all of Galahad's tantrums when he was younger.

He awkwardly rubbed circles on Lancelot's back as he had seen Vanora do with one of her daughters. Surprisingly it did seem to soothe him as the sobs calmed down a little. Not enough for Tristan to feel he could let go of the other man but at least Lancelot didn't sound like he was choking anymore which the scout saw as a great improvement. He would never admit it but he had panicked a little when he heard Lancelot sobbing so hard he couldn't even breathe properly anymore. Surely that wasn't normal?

After a while Lancelot fell asleep against his chest. Stiffening slightly Tristan wondered about what he should do. He could hardly stay up all night like this? It wasn't very comfortable, not for him and not for Lancelot. He quietly extricated himself out of the tangle of limbs and lay Lancelot straight on the bed, pulling the covers over him.

Looking around at the mess that was Lancelot's room he decided to start the other man's packing as Lancelot would never have enough time to do it in the morning. Quietly he padded around the room, collecting Lancelot's things and placing them in the packs he found in a chest. He neatly folded the other man's clothes and placed them on neat little stacks next to the packs. Lancelot would have to decide which ones he would like to take as Tristan doubted they would all manage to fit in the packs.

Having done that, he turned around one last time to check on Lancelot. Seeing the other man was fast asleep, he decided it was safe for him to go to his own room. Before leaving he took the dagger from the bedside table and placed it on one of the packs, near a scroll of the Iliad which Arthur had also given him. That had been before Arthur found out none of the knights could read. Still, Lancelot had treasured the gift and the parchment was used and cracked at the edges, proof that it had been fingered often. Tristan could imagine Lancelot sitting on the bed, following the words with his fingers trying to see what they meant and what Arthur found so magical about them. With a sigh Tristan straightened up and left the room, promising himself he would come and check on Lancelot in the morning. As he entered his room he groaned at the thought of having to pack all his things before going to bed. He was just thankful it wouldn't take too long. Lancelot really owned him.

The next morning the fort was bustling with activity. Most people were leaving the fort and hurriedly loading their possessions onto carts. The knights were all in the stables, the mood was extremely subdued when they should have been rejoicing to be able to go home. Even Galahad, the one who had been most excited about going back to Sarmatia was silent. Tristan placed the last of his packs onto the cart that would carry the knights' belongings, while his hawk looked on curiously. Lancelot and Tristan hadn't said a word about what happened the previous night and a part of Tristan was grateful for it. Another part though wanted to know how Lancelot was doing. It still bothered him that Lancelot had been able to hide so much from him over the years and he wanted to stop that from happening again. However, he knew Lancelot and knew the other man would never talk of it willingly.

As Tristan was ready he looked around the stables at the other knights. Bors was with Vanora and his bastards, helping them getting everything into a separate cart and helping the younger children onto a wagon. Lucan had become the newest addition to the family and he was already running around the place with Gilly and Three. Gawain and Galahad sat quietly together, both a little unsure of how to react. Tristan noticed Gawain sneaking glances in Lancelot's direction. He knew Gawain felt worried for their friend but also knew he wouldn't ask any questions. He knew Tristan had gone to Lancelot last night and if there had been a big problem he knew that Tristan would've told him. Lancelot sat morosely on a hay stack staring off into space. Even Bors and Galahad had felt something was wrong and knew better than approach the dark haired knight. They hadn't seen Arthur yet and Tristan wouldn't be surprised if that had also contributed to Lancelot's bad mood.

Making his decision he left the stables and quickly made his way to Arthur's rooms. He knew it would be futile to change the man's mind but the least he could do was try to mend things between Arthur and Lancelot. He firmly knocked on the door and waited until he was called in.

Arthur was putting on his breastplate as he entered and briefly looked up to see who it was. When he saw it was Tristan he turned back to his armour, however, Tristan had noticed the brief flash of disappointment in his former commander's eyes. No doubt he had expected Lancelot to come.

"Is something wrong Tristan?" Arthur asked while strapping his sword to his waist.

"We're nearly ready." Tristan answered, hoping the other man would get the hint.

"Good." He didn't. Or maybe he did but he refused to do as Tristan silently asked, Arthur was a proud man after all. Mentally groaning Tristan understood he would have to do everything himself.

"Aren't you coming to say goodbye?" he hoped it would make Arthur feel guilty. It was a low blow and he knew it but he felt prepared to do anything to make Lancelot and Arthur speak to each other again. Even if it was only to say goodbye. He knew Lancelot would feel horrible for the rest of his life if he didn't make it up to Arthur and his friend were to die.

"I'll try but I have still much to do Tristan. You shouldn't wait for me. The further you are from the fort once the battle starts, the better for all of you. You know that."

Tristan sighed, he had really hoped Arthur would make this easy from him but the man could be as stubborn as Lancelot sometimes.

"You're not even going to say goodbye to Lancelot?" Arthur stiffened at that and turned around slowly to face Tristan. The scout decided to continue "I think he'd like that."

Arthur sighed and let his hand travel across the hilt of his sword. It seemed he was fighting an internal battle.

"I'll see. Now excuse me Tristan, I still need to do several things."

Tristan knew a dismissal when he heard one so he turned to the door. Before he left, however, he turned back to Arthur.

"It was an honour serving you, Arthur. I hope you will make it through the battle." Arthur looked a bit taken aback by what the scout had said but nodded his thanks anyway, gratefulness shining in his eyes.

"Something else" Tristan continued "if I were you, I'd go and find Lancelot. Not for you but for him. He needs you Arthur but you know he's much too stubborn to admit it." Without waiting for an answer, Tristan left the room and closed the door behind him.

He made his way back to the stables, keeping out of the way of all the people hurriedly packing their things. As he entered the building his eyes fell on a solitary figure sitting on a haystack and his heart sank. Lancelot hadn't moved from his position and it didn't look like he was going to move anytime soon. Cursing silently, Tristan really hoped Arthur would come. He didn't know how else they would be able to get Lancelot out of his stupor.

A few minutes later they were ready to leave. The remaining knights looked at each other for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. None of them liked the fact they were leaving Arthur behind. It was made even worse now that it became clear to them that Arthur wouldn't even say goodbye. Lancelot had been fixing the entrance of the stables ever since Tristan came back. As if that alone would make Arthur appear.

It was Lancelot who took the initiative, with a sigh he got up from his seat and walked to his horse.

"We should go." He said without looking at them. He mounted his horse swiftly and turned the animal towards the stable entrance. Tristan sighed and followed his lead, sharing looks with the others. Once all of them were mounted, they moved out into the courtyard at a slow pace where they stopped near the wagon that held Vanora and the children.

Tristan let his gaze slide over the courtyard, taking one last look at what had been his home for fifteen years. Suddenly he froze. There, on the porch of the Fortress' Hall stood Arthur, dressed in complete armour, his helmet in his hand. The Roman watched them go but did not seem to make any move towards them.

"Lancelot!" Tristan said. The other man turned towards him and he motioned in the direction of Arthur. For a moment everyone froze, waiting how the two men would react. After a few seconds Arthur approached the knights though his eyes remained on Lancelot. As if in a daze Lancelot dismounted and approached his former commander while the other knights looked on in silence.

"I wanted to come and see you off." Arthur started, Lancelot nodded, never taking his eyes off his friend. The two remained like this for a while before Arthur stepped forward and took a hold of Lancelot's neck like he had done the previous night, leaning their foreheads together.

"I wish you a safe and speedy journey." As he said this his voice broke a little. Lancelot seemed to spring to life once more and grabbed his friend's sleeve.

"I'm not going to try to convince you again, I know a lost cause when I see one but please Arthur, look after yourself. Please be careful." Arthur nodded.

"I wish I'll see you again someday my friend, but if I don't…" the Roman had to stop for breath "know that I love you." With that he quickly released the other man as if he was being burned and turned to the other knights.

"Knights. " They all nodded at him "I wish you a speedy return to your homeland. It was an honour to fight beside you and I hope you will never forget the times we spent together. May God go with you." Arthur gave them a small bow, then turned on his heel and walked back towards the Fortress'Hall.

"Well, that was… abrupt." Galahad said. The others could do nothing more than nod. They all looked at Lancelot, who sighed and got back on his horse.

"Let's go." He said and they made their way out of the fort, towards their future. Tristan was glad that at least Lancelot and Arthur didn't leave each other without saying goodbye. Of course, it wasn't the talk he had hoped for but it was better than nothing. He still wasn't sure that Lancelot would ever get back to how he used to be but at least he wasn't staring into space anymore.

His thoughts turned towards Arthur who was waiting for the battle to begin, the battle he would most likely perish in while they fled back to Sarmatia. Then again, what was Sarmatia except a childhood dream of safety? Most of them didn't remember what it was like, it wasn't even sure they would still have family there. Besides, their real family was here, in Britain. Their family was Arthur and the other knights that died in this country. They were each others family. Once back in Sarmatia they would all go their own way and the last of their family would crumble. The more he thought about it, the less he wanted to leave. Therefore when their horses started fidgeting when the noise of the Saxon drums reached them and he looked up to his brothers-in-arms, he knew what he would do. Looking at the other knights he saw they had all realised the same thing, smiling he released his hawk before preparing for battle.

They joined Arthur at the top of the hill dressed in full battle armour. This was right, this was where they belonged; and as he looked towards Arthur and Lancelot, he saw they were once again close as brothers. Lancelot had found his old spark again and Arthur that glint in his eyes that was always there when he looked at his knights before a battle. And Tristan realised that even if they made it out of this battle alive, none of the knights would ever leave this island. It was as it should be. Arthur and his knights.

The End.

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