Spared

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own the characters, except for Salome, and possibly any new ones i introduce. The first two chapters, aren't entirely mine, as the place and event is based on the film.

Okay, hello, first fic in here! Alright, just a little backround, the first two chapters are based on the movie. The first chapter, is the first attack that the woads performed on the romans and the bishop, you know, when the knights came in. And the second chapter, will be the battle on badon's hill, only, Tristan will not die. Alrighty, here you are.

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Sparing someone, is a funny thing isn't? Because, really, who is the favor for? Is it to make the one with the upper hand feel better, feel all merciful? Or is it for the one on their knees, begging for a life, that would better be ended at that precise moment, even if the beggar doesn't seem to think so? How can one tell who deserves to be spared? And what exactly, gives a person that right?

It would of never occurred to Salome to look twice at the one that just fell to the ground. Throughout the years of fighting, she has learned not to look at the expressions the slain made when their life was just sliced out of them, because if she did, she would also think twice about killing the next. Her enemy's would call her ruthless and cold, by judging from the 'ease' with which she took life, but then again, they were the enemy, they blocked out any thought that related with her having any good in her. But to her people, they found her just one of the many heroes and heroines. All of them, looked up to each other, praising the fact that one another were strong enough, to accept their way of life, their fight for freedom.

She killed, one by one, two by two, any quantity she could to help the Britons rid the enemy. It was just a small attack upon the incoming romans, but still they took their chance to kill even a marcel of their entire empire. It only became a little challenging, when Salome not only had to watch ahead of her, but also her back, as she heard attackers ride in. She cleverly cleared herself a path in front of her, by slicing the roman to the ground, and once there was no more in front of her, she turned, and faced the new threat.

They weren't faces she haven't seen before. She even made up a game, of which one she would kill at their next meeting, for it kept her from getting bored. This time, it was a solitary man, who, like her, never had an expression on his face. She expected him to never have much of a smile, as he just seemed the type. But she didn't let herself get to curious or interested, and she just began to formulate a plan, of how she would get herself to him, across the field. She got it, she would kill by twos, and she pulled out the still bloody sword from it's holder, and she began to skillfully make her way across the field.

Without much a struggle, except from the chubby one who she barely escaped as he had became sidetracked, she found herself across from him, and tried her hardest not to become intimidated. When she made her intentions known by raising her swords, she inwardly felt like a little girl being teased as the man tilted his head, as if he were saying in his head ' Does this stupid girl really think she could beat me?'. But she stubbornly stood her ground, with her head high, and her eyes transfixed on his, returning the glare. She thought she had him figured, and she thought he had a weakness, but to her, in her eyes, he did something very unlikely. He smirked. The bastard smirked...the bloody git smirked...and somehow, this was more intimidating than those black glossy eyes that he so intently stared at her with. Salome found herself a bit spooked, and she felt like crawling into a corner and huddling up for a brief second, but then, she remembered her goal, her life's 'purpose', and she egged him on, by blowing a little sweet kiss to him, which he raised his eyebrow to, but yet, took it as an invitation.

Tristan was the first to advance, and as an instinct, Salome backed up, readying herself to finally end this tricky game. It wasn't until the metal of their swords clanked, that the game got it's thrill back . Next thing she knew, she was hopping along the battlefield, dodging and swinging swiftly, as if Tristan was the threat to run from. But he wasn't...He didn't chase after her, but he rather calmly, approached the one on one battle, and posed it as no challenge. What? A scrawny little girl could kill him? What did she know about fighting? But she provoked him, and made his patience draw out, and soon, he couldn't wait to be glad of the riddance. Instead of just blocking, he began to swing at her, and swing after swing, they became more clever and spiteful. And at one point, he even scratched her face with the tip of his sword that was meaning to aim for the neck.

It wasn't long until he managed to knock her to the floor, and as she scrambled for her sword, He had his mind set on just swiping his blade across her back and calling it a day. However, she had other plans. Seeing that Tristan was closer than she thought, she decided to distance him by giving him a swift kick into the stomach, just for him to fall back a little. It worked half way successfully, as it did allow her to grab her sword...but it gave others the false sense that they had to intervene. Arto jumped not as her aide, but as her shield, and when Tristan pushed his sword forward, he realized it was a different opponent, but still continued the motion that didn't stop until he felt it plunge into the man that got in the way.

Salome froze stiff, and it wasn't from the shock of the blade also being two inches deep into her own flesh, but the fact that it was Arto, who unceremoniously began to sink to the ground as the blade withdrew. When Salome felt the cold ice metal exit her flesh, she immeadietly put her hand to her stomach, but before she could feel her own blood, she felt another. Arto, fell into her arms, knocking her back as his weight dropped onto her. She allowed fro her head to smack against the ground, but she quickly rose back up, whimpering in pain as her wound stretched and then squeezed closed as she hunched her back so she could be over his body. She wasn't crying because of the stinging pain in her abdomen, but she found tears because of the pain of her heart tearing into two. She tried to open her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She couldn't find the right ones to say, and before anything else but studders could escape her bloody lips, she ran out of the time, as his ears died out along with his breath.

When everything went silent in her ears and everything around her seemed to become still, she looked up ,defenseless, expectently, and acceptantly. She was pratically giving herself up for slaughter.

Tristan, raised his eyebrows when she didn't fight back, and they scrunched in question as it looked as if she were looking up at him, pleading with her tear filled eyes. He raised his sword to see, if that was what she was afraid of, but she didn't flinch. She just looked up, and watched the sword as he swang it threatingly, trying to make her at least blink. But no, all she did was stare up at him, with big brown tear filled dyes, hair blowing across her face, and her palms, raised up to the sky, with blood pouring from them as she allowed the blood that she cupped to finally go.

He kept his questionable expression at her, as if she would tell him what she wanted him to do. He knew he had the chance, to swipe his blade across her neck, it wasn't like she shielded herself from it now, but was it intentional? Did she let her guard down for a reason? It had became clear what she wanted, when she first made the motion proving that she was in fact, still alive. She blinked...and then lowered her gaze from the sky to landing Tristan squarely in the eye, and she just said it in her head.

'do it. Just do it. Run you sword across me, and just let me hit the ground'

Tristan stood there, the hidden stupified feeling slowly exiting. He now knew what she wanted...and she was pratically offering herself to his sword, so why refuse? It was an easy kill, and easy riddance...she just sat there like a good little girl. But...he found himself lowering his sword...and slowly backing away, and for no rational reason in his head , he turned, and dimissed her execution.

'You heartless bastard' she thought in her head, as he abandoned her and her yearning. 'Why didn't you do it...'