Disclaimer: I own none of the characters quoted here. None whatsoever. They are the exclusive property of Antoine Fuqua and David Franzoni, as well as Chretien de Troyes, that other guy who wrote Le Mort d'Arthur, and all other medieval authors and poets who told stories of the Knights of Camelot. All of the embellishments are mine, but the script dialogue is (as far as I can tell) Mr. Franzoni's. I make no money writing this—it is purely art for art's sake. Thank you, and enjoy.
Outtake #1:
First Title Card: Historians agree that the classical 15th century tale of King Arthur and his Knights rose from a real hero who lived a thousand years earlier in a period often called the Dark Ages. Recently discovered archeological evidence sheds light on his true identity… Except, of course, that tombstone they found in that castle in Cornwall—the Artognou inscription—don't trust it—that thing's faker than Chuck Norris's acting ability.
Outtake #2:
Lancelot: (voiceover; prologue) By 300 AD, the Roman Empire extended from Arabia to Britain. But they wanted more. More land. More taxes. More peoples loyal and subservient to Rome. More slaves to dominate however they wished—and yes, I do mean however they wished. But no people were so important as the powerful Sarmatians to the east. Thousands died on that field. It was a horrible, sadistic and unnecessarily bloody three-day-long massacre. And when the smoke cleared on the fourth day, the only Sarmatian soldiers left alive were members of the decimated but legendary cavalry. The Romans, impressed by their bravery and horsemanship, spared their lives. In exchange, these warriors were incorporated into the Roman military. Better they had died that day.
Young Lancelot: Father. They are here.
Lancelot: (voiceover) For the second part of the bargain they struck indebted not only themselves...
Lancelot's Father: The day has come.
Lancelot: (voiceover, continued) ...but also their sons, and their sons, and so on, to serve the empire as knights. I was such a son.
Lancelot's Father: (to young Lancelot) Remember, son—do absolutely everything that your new masters will tell you to and follow every order given to you, even if it frightens you or seems unnatural. Trust me—you would do well not to anger these men. You will not like them when they're angry.
Outtake #3:
Lancelot: Do not do this. Only certain death awaits you here. Arthur, I beg you. For our friendship's sake, I beg you.
Arthur: Oh, "friendship," eh? Is that what they call it these days?
Lancelot: Arthur, honestly, don't start this again…
Arthur: Fine. Be my friend now and do not dissuade me. Seize the freedom you have earned and live it for the both of us.
Lancelot: Friends don't let friends fight Saxons alone! It's sheer lunacy! Come with us. Please. You cannot and should not be expected to do this—
Arthur: —I cannot follow you, Lancelot. I now know that all the blood I have shed, all the lives I have taken, have led me to this moment.
Lancelot: They've led you to certain death at the hands of the Saxons? Great. Slaughter your empire's enemies, and then get yourself killed as a penance. Get off that cross, Arthur—somebody needs the wood!
Outtake #4:
(Guinevere and Lancelot are eyeing a whole gang of Saxons coming right for them.)
Lancelot: You look frightened. There's a large number of lonely men out there.
Guinevere: Don't worry—I won't let them rape you.
Lancelot: (raising an eyebrow) Who said I was worried?
(Guinevere rolls her eyes.)
Outtake #5:
Arthur: Knights... Brothers in arms... Your courage has been tested beyond all limits.
Bors: Yes. Yes, it has.
Arthur: But I must ask you now for one further trial.
Galahad: Oh, here we go…
Bors: Drink.
(Bors is given a flagon of ale.)
Arthur: We must leave on a final mission for Rome before our freedom can be granted. Above the wall, far north, there is a Roman family in need of rescue. They are trapped by Saxons. Our orders are to secure their safety.
(Pause.)
Galahad: Fuck that!
(Gawain elbows Galahad in the side, but Arthur has already heard it.)
Arthur: Excuse me?
Bors: You heard the boy damn well, Arthur. Let the Romans take care of their own.
Gawain: Above the wall is Woad territory.
Galahad: Our duty to Rome, if it ever was a duty, is done. Our pact with Rome is done. Fuck this shit—I'm done.
Bors: (to Arthur) Every knight here has laid his life on the line for you. For you—not the pope, not this Christ person, not God the Father—you. And, instead of freedom, you want more blood? Our blood? You think more of Roman blood than you do of ours?
Arthur: Bors! These are our orders. We leave at first light, and when we return your freedom will be waiting for you. A freedom we can embrace with honor.
Bors: I'm a free man! I will choose my own fate!
Tristan: Yeah, yeah, we're all going to die someday.
Galahad: Oh, it's about time you piped up, you pallid freeloader—what exactly does a rogue like you have to contribute to the conversation?
Tristan: If it's a death from a Saxon's hand that frightens you, stay home.
Galahad: Listen, if you're so eager to die, you can die right now!
Tristan: Bring it, virgin.
(Bors and Dagonet "Oooh…" Galahad gets up in Tristan's face.)
Galahad: Oh, no you didn't.
Tristan: You heard me. Bring it.
Galahad: Oh, I brought it, motherfucker. I hunted it, killed it, skinned it, cooked it, brought it, put it on the table and opened it—!
(Lancelot gets in between them and forcibly separates them.)
Lancelot: Enough! Enough! Cease this childishness and, if not for the bloody Romans, at least do it for Arthur.
(Pause, as most of the knights mull this over, briefly.)
Dagonet: The Romans have broken their word. We have the word of Arthur. That is good enough. I'll prepare. Bors, you're coming?
Bors: Of course I'm coming! Can't let you go on your own! You'll all get killed! I'm just saying what you're all thinking!
Dagonet: (taking Bors' flagon away) Calm down, Bors. I think you've had enough for one afternoon.
Arthur: And you, Gawain?
Gawain: I'm with you. Galahad as well.
Galahad: (under his breath) Says you.
Gawain: What was that, boy?
Galahad: I said, "Says you."
(Gawain slaps Galahad upside his head.)
Gawain: No, you didn't. You said, "Yes, sir." Because you're a knight, and the knights follow Arthur, and if Arthur says the knights must go on one more mission, then by all the gods of our fathers and their fathers before them, you're coming, too. Got it?
Galahad: (grumbling) Fine.
(Tristan whistles to get Galahad's attention and mouths the word, "virgin." Galahad flips him off.)
Outtake #6:
(Guinevere and Arthur are having an argument.)
Guinevere: Arthur and his knights. A leader both Briton and Roman… And yet you chose your allegiance to Rome, to those who take what does not belong to them—that same Rome that took your men from their homeland.
Arthur: Listen, lady, you don't know anything about my men, you don't know anything about my country, and you don't know anything about me—so don't pretend that you do, because it just makes you look even more pretentious and arrogant than I originally made you out to be.
Guinevere: How many Britons have you killed?
Arthur: That is none of your damn business.
Guinevere: They're my people, Arthur. You owe me an answer—how many have you killed?
Arthur: As many as have tried to kill me.
Guinevere: Why?
Arthur: What do you think?
Guinevere: I know what I think—I'm asking you. Why have you killed your mother's people?
Arthur: Because they were trying to kill me, you loony! I was defending myself, because it's the natural state of any man to want to live.
Guinevere: Animals live! It's the natural state of any man to want to live free... in their own country.
Arthur: That doesn't even make any sense.
Guinevere: I belong to this land. Where do you belong, Arthur?
Arthur: Clearly not here with you loonies… (muttering to himself) Silly Woads. Painting yourselves blue and running around naked in the freezing winter—what the hell, honestly?
Outtake #7:
Galahad: I don't like him—the Roman. If he's here to dispatch us, then why doesn't he just give us our papers?
Gawain: Is this your happy face?
Galahad: No, actually, it's my very concerned and suspicious face.
Gawain: Galahad, do you still not know the Romans? They can't scratch their asses without holding a ceremony.
Galahad: How long should this ceremony drag out?
Gawain: Who the fuck knows? Can't be too long, I'm sure. Till sunset, probably—half the night, tops.
Galahad: Damn, and here I was hoping to leave quickly and find myself a girl or three.
Gawain: (amused) Ah, boy, you and I both know that's never going to happen.
Outtake #8:
(Arthur has re-set Guinevere's broken fingers.)
Arthur: How's your hand?
Guinevere: I'll live, I promise you.
Arthur: You don't have to be melodramatic about it—it was just a resetting of fingers.
Guinevere: Excuse me, but it hurt like hell, so I'm perfectly entitled to a bit of melodrama, thank you very much.
Outtake #9:
Cerdic: You come to beg a truce—you should be on your knees. Like all the other Romans I've dispatched…
(Saxons behind him chuckle ominously.)
Arthur: I came to see your face so that I alone may find you on the battlefield.
Cerdic: Ooh, "alone" on the battlefield—right—somebody apparently wants me to dispatch him out in the open.
(Saxons behind him chuckle unnervingly.)
Arthur: Mark my face, Saxon—for the next time you see it, it will be the last thing you see on this earth!
Cerdic: Ahhh, will that be before or after you suck me off?
Outtake #10:
(As Marius and his men are preparing to attack Dagonet, an arrow flies out of nowhere and kills Marius. The knights look and see Guinevere pointing her loaded bow at them.)
Lancelot: Your hands seem better.
Guinevere: Score one for Captain Obvious.
Outtake #11a:
(Lancelot finds Arthur praying in the stable.)
Lancelot: Why do you always talk to God and not to me?
Arthur: With all due respect, you don't pay close enough attention.
Lancelot: Oh yeah? Well, pay attention to this: I don't care much for this religiosity of yours. It makes little, if any, sense to me. But if you're going to pray, then pray to whomever you pray that we don't cross the Saxons. Because I guarantee that it would be extremely unpleasant for all parties involved.
Arthur: My faith is what protects me, Lancelot. Why do you challenge this?
Lancelot: I don't like anything that puts a man on his knees.
(Pause, as Arthur eyes Lancelot and snorts slightly.)
Arthur: (sarcastic) Right. You just keep telling yourself that.
Outtake #11b:
(Lancelot has found Arthur praying in the stable.)
Lancelot: Pray to whomever you pray that we don't cross the Saxons.
Arthur: My faith is what protects me, Lancelot. Why do you challenge this?
Lancelot: I don't like anything that puts a man on his knees.
Arthur: Funny. You never said anything about that last night.
Lancelot: (irritated) Well, I wasn't exactly in a position to say anything, now was I?
Arthur: (chuckling) No, you were not. In fact, I don't think anyone would have been physically able to say anything in that position.
Lancelot: Exactly.
(Pause, as Lancelot glares at Arthur.)
Arthur: Not like you're bitter or anything.
Lancelot: Not like it even matters at all to you…
Outtake #11c:
(Lancelot has found Arthur praying in the stable.)
Lancelot: I don't like anything that puts a man on his knees.
Arthur: No man fears to kneel before the God he trusts. Without faith, without belief in something, what are we?
Lancelot: Self-sufficient?
Arthur: Very funny, wise-ass.
Lancelot: I do my best.
Outtake #12:
(Lancelot and Arthur are having an argument.)
Lancelot: To try and get past the Woads in the north is insanity.
Arthur: Them, we've fought before.
Lancelot: Not north of the Wall! How many Saxons? Hmm? How many? Tell me.
Arthur: Are we talking about Saxons or Woads? Because the Woads are pathetic no matter their numbers, and the Saxons… who the fuck knows? Because, personally, I'd like to know, myself—but I don't. All I have is my faith, and that is enough.
Lancelot: Do you believe in this mission?
Arthur: These people need our help. It is our duty to bring—
Lancelot: (interrupting) —I don't care about your charge.
Arthur: Jealous of Alecto, are you? Because, if not, you should be—younger Romans always do it skillfully.
Lancelot: And I don't give a damn about Romans, Britain, or this island.
Arthur: With all due respect, Lancelot, you don't seem to give a damn about a lot of things.
Lancelot: Don't you dare take that tone with me, after everything we've done together. Romans may have ties to this island, but I'm a Sarmatian—I'm not even supposed to be here! If you desire to spend eternity in this place, Arthur, then so be it. But suicide cannot be chosen for another!
Arthur: And yet you choose death for this family!
Lancelot: No, I choose life! And freedom—for myself and the men!
Arthur: Exactly my point. Either you're for the mission, or you're against this family. Pick a side!
Lancelot: Stop twisting my words, damn you!
(Pause, as they stare into each others' eyes.)
Arthur: You are so hot when you argue.
Lancelot: Shut it.
Outtake #13:
Arthur: How many times in battle have we snatched victory from the jaws of defeat? Outnumbered, outflanked, but still we triumphed? Walked with conviction into the maws of death and came out undigested and victorious? With you at my side, we can do so again. Lancelot, we are knights. What other purpose do we serve if not for such a cause?
Lancelot: Using our swords as plowshares, drinking ourselves stupid, and then going at it like rabbits?
(Arthur rolls his eyes and walks away.)
Lancelot: (calling after him) Just thinking out loud!
Outtake #14:
(Cerdic stops a Saxon soldier raping a captive Scottish woman.)
Saxon Soldier: By our laws, no man may deny me the spoils of our conquest!
Cynric: He speaks the truth, Father.
(Cerdic slaps Cynric across the face, draws his sword and cuts the raping soldier almost in half.)
Cerdic: Fucking dickhead.
(He spits on the Saxon's corpse.)
Scottish Woman: Oh, my lord! God's blessings, my lord!
Cerdic: (to the other Saxons) Kill her.
(The Scottish woman screams as the other Saxons drag her away.)
Cerdic: (under his breath, starting to walk away) Fucking bitch.
Cynric: Father, she was actually good war-bride material—damn it, she could have made a decent sex-slave, or someth—
(Cerdic approaches Cynric and slaps him again.)
Cerdic: Are you challenging me, boy?
Cynric: No.
Cerdic: Good. Because if you're challenging me, you'd damn well better have a sword in your hand. While my heart beats, I rule and you hold your tongue... or so help me, Odin, I'll cut it out.
(Cerdic sheathes his sword and walks away.)
Cynric: (under his breath) Fuck you, old man.
Cerdic: (O.S.) I heard that, boy!
Outtake #15:
Guinevere: My father told me great tales of you.
Arthur: Really? And what did you hear?
Guinevere: Fairy tales. The kind you hear about people so brave, so selfless, that they can't be real.
(Awkward pause.)
Arthur: Could you possibly be more specific?
Outtake #16:
(The Saxons stop in front of Hadrian's Wall; the gate swings open, inviting them in.)
Cerdic: He's got a plan, this Roman. (motions to Cynric.) Send in the rest of your infantry, boy.
Cynric: (whispering) You want to kill my men?
Cerdic: (shouting) They're MY men, bitch!
Cynric: You don't have to shout. They're my infantry.
Cerdic: Only because I let them serve under you, idiot. I'm the leader and they're still my men—now sent them in before I box your fucking ears!
Cynric: Fine! I will!
Outtake #17:
(After the battle, Bors finds Horton cowering under the carriage, praying fervently.)
Bors: Does this really work?
(He puts his hands together, closes his eyes, mutters gibberish and then waits for a moment.)
Bors: (derisively) Hmm…nothing. Maybe I'm not doing it right.
Horton: (sneering) Heathens like you never do it right.
Bors: Don't ever talk back to the men who saved your pathetic arse—!
Arthur: (interrupting) —That'll do, Bors. That'll do.
Outtake #18:
Guinevere: What tomorrow brings, we cannot know. And most of us don't usually care, either.
Outtake #19:
Arthur: What is this madness?
Lancelot: I believe it's called a "gang-bang."
Outtake #20:
(Guinevere and Lancelot are sitting out in nature.)
Guinevere: This is heaven for me.
Lancelot: I don't believe in Heaven—I've been living in this Hell. But if you're what Heaven looks like, then take me there.
(Suddenly it starts raining and snowing—at the same time.)
Lancelot: Rain and snow at once... a bad omen.
Guinevere: (snippy) Yes. I suppose it's the gods' way of giving you a cold shower.
(She gets up and walks away.)
Outtake #21:
Tristan: We knights are blessed in that we do not run from it. We seek it, grasp it by the throat and demand honor in our passing.
Gawain: Wait, seek and throttle what-now? You lost me.
(Tristan rolls his eyes and walks away.)
Outtake #22:
Arthur: There is no worse death than that of hope.
Lancelot: I don't know. The death of one's body is pretty bad, too. I could do without hope so long as I was back home, safe and sound, and able to have as many women as I want.
Arthur: See? This is why I don't talk to you. You never support me.
Outtake #23:
Bors: Well, now that we're free men, I'm gonna drink 'till I can't piss straight.
Gawain: You do that every night.
Bors: I never could piss straight. Too much of myself to handle down there...
(He looks at the Knights, some of whom roll their eyes.)
Bors: Well, it's a problem!
Galahad: (scoffing) Ha.
Bors: No really, it is. It's a problem. It's like...
Bors, Gawain, Lancelot, Tristan, Galahad, Dagonet: (together) ... a baby's arm holding an apple.
Tristan: Which is a gross underestimation, in my opinion.
Lancelot: An underestimation?
Tristan: Yeah. I once picked up the severed arm of a dead baby, with its fingers clawed into a mushy apple—and altogether it wasn't nearly as big as Bors's…
(All the Knights are looking at him funny.)
Tristan: What? It wasn't.
Outtake #24:
Guinevere: (in pain) They tortured me... with machines.
Tristan: (to himself) Hmm, kinky.
Walled-Up Priest: (overhearing) Heh heh… You bet your arse, it is.
Arthur: Shut it, both of you!
Outtake #25:
(Bors is talking to his only named son, Gilly.)
Bors: Have you been fighting?
Gilly: Yes.
Bors: You been winning?
Gilly: Yes.
Bors: You been keeping away from those nasty girls?
Gilly: Yes.
Bors: (proudly) That's my boy.
Lancelot: Yes, your boy would clearly rather avoid girls and, as a result, take out his sexual frustrations on other boys in the form of punching them in the face. Quite a father figure, you are.
Bors: Shut it. Don't ruin this for me.
Outtake #26:
(After Tristan lands his dagger in the butt of Galahad's dagger.)
Gawain: Tristan, how do you do that?
Tristan: I aim for the middle.
(Awkward pause.)
Gawain: No, seriously. How do you do that? I want to know.
(Tristan rolls his eyes and walks away.)
Outtake #27:
Bors: I like the little bastards. They mean something to me. Especially Number Three! He's a good fighter!
Lancelot: That's because he's mine.
Bors: (laughing) That's funny—you're funny. You may be pretty, but there's no way Vanora would ever fuck you.
Lancelot: No, no, Bors. You misunderstand me. The boy's mine. As in, I call dibs.
(Pause, as Bors and the others look at him suspiciously.)
Bors: Like I said, there's no way Vanora would ever fuck you.
Lancelot: Why doesn't anybody ever get my jokes?
Bors: Because they're not funny. Now go bother somebody else, you creepy Sarmatian bastard…
Outtake #28:
Gawain: I can't wait to leave this island. If it's not raining, it's snowing, and if it's not snowing, it's foggy.
Lancelot: And that's summer.
Galahad: Summer? What summer?
Lancelot: Exactly.
Outtake #29:
Lancelot: When are you going to leave Bors and come home with me?
Vanora: My lover is watching you.
(Bors is looking at his baby, then looks at Lancelot, who has a smirk on his face.)
Bors: (to Lancelot) You look nothing like him!
Lancelot: Of course I don't—that one's Tristan's.
Outtake #30:
Galahad: I don't kill for pleasure.
Tristan: You should try it some day. You might get a taste for it.
(Galahad shoots him a dirty look.)
Bors: Tristan's got a point. It's in your blood, boy.
Galahad: Oh no. No. After tomorrow, this was all just a bad memory.
Tristan: Sure…whatever you need to tell yourself in order to sleep at night.
Galahad: You're a morbid, creepy bastard—you know that, don't you?
Tristan: What can I say? Killing one of the three things I do best.
Bors: Really? What are the other two?
Tristan: Feasting and fucking.
Galahad: (scoffing) Right…Tristan: Jealous.
Outtake #31:
Arthur: Deeds themselves are useless unless they are for some higher purpose.
Lancelot: Not necessarily.
Arthur: What?
Lancelot: You can perform a deed for money. Or food. Or drink. Or sex. Or fame. Whatever one could possibly need, really. There are many motivations for the carrying out of great deeds.
Arthur: This is why I don't talk to you, Lancelot—you always refute what I have to say.
Lancelot: Not necessarily.
(Pause.)
Arthur: I am a hair's-breadth away from smacking you.
Lancelot: (grinning) It wouldn't be the first time.
Outtake #32:
(Guinevere and Arthur are talking about Arthur's father.)
Guinevere: He died in battle?
Arthur: It's a family tradition.
Guinevere: You expect to be carrying on that tradition?
Arthur: Not if I can help it.
Outtake #33:
Cerdic: Arthur… wherever I go on this wretched island, I hear your name. Always half whispered, as if you were... a crazed pariah, or perhaps a god of some sort. I guess—I mean I can barely understand those blue bastards. Some of them talk as if you're a god. Ha. I scoff at your supposed "godhead." All I see is flesh, blood. No more god than the creature you're sitting on.
Arthur: Tough talk, coming from barbarians from the wastelands of the north who worship hideous one-eyed giants.
(Pause, as Cerdic glares at Arthur.)
Cerdic: You had better not be talking smack about Odin, boy, or I've got half a mind to take this war-hammer and bury it in your ass.
Outtake #34:
(Tristan has been scouting the Saxons.)
Bors: How many did you kill?
Tristan: Four.
Bors: Not a bad start to the day.
Tristan: No, it's horrible.
Bors: Why's that?
Tristan: I can't get it up until I kill fifteen.
(Pause, as Bors looks at him funny.)
Bors: Galahad was right—you are a creepy bastard.
Tristan: Always happy to oblige.
Outtake #35:
(Lancelot is sharing his plans for the future.)
Lancelot: Well, if this woman of Gawain's is as beautiful as he claims, I expect to be spending a lot of time at Gawain's house. His wife will welcome the company.
Gawain: I see. And what will I be doing?
Lancelot: Wondering at your good fortune that all your children look like me.
Gawain: Is that before or after I hit you with my axe?
Lancelot: Do you mean literally or metaphorically?
Gawain: What's the difference?
Lancelot: One means your axe is actually your penis and you have sex with me, and the other means your axe is just your axe and you hit me with it.
(Pause, as Gawain thinks about which meaning belongs to which word…)
Gawain: (confused) Metaphorically?
Lancelot: (grinning) After.
Gawain: Wait—I don't understand…
Lancelot: Don't think about it too hard, Gawain. I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself.
Outtake #36:
Guinevere: (to Arthur, seductively) Is there nothing about my land that appeals to your heart? Your own father married a Briton. Even he must have found something to his liking.
Arthur: (under his breath) Must have been the easiness.
Guinevere: What was that?
Arthur: I said, "I feel a bit of queasiness." Could you sit down, please?
Outtake #37:
Horton: God help us. What are they?
Bors: Blue demons that eat Christians alive. You're not a Christian, are you?
(Horton squeals in fear and crosses himself repeatedly.)
Arthur: Leave off him, Bors.
Bors: (chuckling, to the others) Hey, did you all hear this man squeal like a piglet?
Arthur: Bors!
Bors: Fine. I was just pulling your leg, sir—they don't eat Christians alive.
(Horton sighs in relief.)
Bors: They roast them over an open fire, first.
Arthur: BORS!
Outtake #38:
Gawain: The gifts the gods gave me I use in battle or in bed.
Tristan: Killing people?
Gawain: Shut it, you sick little toad.
Outtake #39:
Bors: Dagonet, she wants to get married and give the children names.
Tristan: Women! The children already have names, don't they?
Bors: Just Gilly. It's too much trouble so we gave the rest of them numbers.
Lancelot: That's interesting. I thought you couldn't count.
Bors: Very funny, wise-arse.
Lancelot: I do my best.
Outtake #40:
Arthur: (praying) Oh, merciful God, I have such need of Your mercy now. Not for myself, mind you—but for my knights, for this is truly their hour of need. Deliver them from their trials ahead and I will pay You a thousandfold with any sacrifice You ask of me. Any sacrifice at all—my horse, several goats, the Woad girl, or maybe that annoying little Woad boy… Any sacrifice, Lord—no questions asked. And if, in Your wisdom, You should determine that the sacrifice must be my life for theirs—so that my knights can once again taste the freedom that has so long been denied to them—I will gladly make that covenant. Provided, of course, that my death will be quick and painless, have a purpose, and result in my circumventing purgatory and just going straight to Heaven. I ask no more than that, sweet merciful Lord. Amen.
Outtake #41:
Galahad: Imagine what a lovely, quiet place the world would be if everyone had their throats slit.
Tristan: (raising an eyebrow) Who's being a morbid, creepy bastard now, eh?
Outtake #42:
Arthur: Knights! The gift of freedom is yours by right. But the home we seek resides not in some distant land—it's in us, and in our actions on this day! If this be our destiny, then so be it. But let history remember that, as free men, we chose to make it so!
(Lancelot raises his hand.)
Lancelot: What if some of us choose not to make it so? Can those of us leave this island for our real homes in that distant land you mentioned briefly?
Arthur: (sternly) No.
Lancelot: Damn it…
Outtake #43:
Lancelot: Hey, Bors. You intend to take Vanora and all your little bastards back home?
Bors: Oh I'm trying to avoid that decision... by getting killed.
Lancelot: You're a better man than I, clearly. I would have just said, "No."
Bors: Fuck off.
Outtake #44:
Lancelot: (voiceover) For two hundred years, knights had fought and died for a land not their own. But on that day on Badon Hill, all who fought put their lives in service of a greater cause: the gratification of Arthur's ego. And let me assure you—that was by no means an easy task…
Outtake #45:
(After Cynric's defeat by Arthur's knights.)
Cerdic: We've lost the respect of the enemy.
Cynric: Father, I know I've fucked this up pretty badly, and I understand the consequences... I offer my life as payment for my disgrace.
(He offers his knife; Cerdic takes it, and holds Cynric's head tightly, as if to cut his son's head off.)
Cerdic: No… I've got a better idea.
(He makes a deep cut down Cynric's face, but does not kill him, and throws the knife away.)
Cynric: (hissing in pain) Ow, ow, ow…
Cerdic: Raewald.
Raewald: Yes, sir?
Cerdic: You're second-in-charge now.
Cynric: WHAT?
(Raewald glows.)
Cerdic: Yeah, you're like a son to me, aren't you?
Raewald: Omigawd—omigawd—omigawd—this is so awesome, I don't even know what to say…
Cynric: That's it. I'm done. Fuck this shit! Fuck you, old man! And fuck you, asshole, get out of my way!
(Cynric stabs his knife into a nearby soldier, who falls down dead. Cynric stalks away.)
Cerdic: (laughing) What a pathetic little bitch…
Outtake #46:
Lancelot: I will die in battle—that I am certain of. But I hope to die in a battle of my choosing. But if it is to be this one, do not bury me in our sad little cemetery. Burn me and cast my ashes to a strong eastern wind.
Arthur: I hope the winds will carry your soul back to your homeland.
Lancelot: I strongly doubt it—but thanks anyway.
Arthur: Again, with the wise-assery…
Lancelot: (raising an eyebrow) What're you going to do? Smack me?
Outtake #47:
Arthur: (kneeling over Lancelot's body, looking up to the sky) It was my life to be taken! Not this! Never this! (He slowly turns to his surviving knights) My brave knights, I have failed you. I neither took you off this island, nor shared your fate. (He takes a breath and exhales) Now, help me build a funeral pyre so we can burn this wise-ass.
Outtake #48:
(During Arthur's marriage to Guinevere.)
Bors: (speaking to his baby) Now I'm really gonna have to marry your mother.
Vanora: Who said I'd have you?
Bors: Well, it's not like you'd ever have Lancelot—that bastard's dead.
(Vanora waves to Tristan, who winks at her.)
Bors: (to himself) Fuck me…
Vanora: Not now, darling. People will stare.
Outtake #49:
Lancelot: (voiceover; epilogue) And as for the knights who gave their lives, their deaths were cause for neither mourning nor sadness. Hell, Arthur would practically forget all about them as if they never existed… But I, for one, do not hold it against him. No, I do not. For every knight will live forever, their names and deeds handed down from father to son, mother to daughter, in the legends of King Arthur and his knights. At least that's what I tell myself when the regret and melancholy wrack my memories. As if Arthur would ever care, anyway, the ungrateful, selfish bastard…
THE END