Standard Disclaimer: Nothing that you recognize is mine, how I wish this were so, but unfortunately you can't own people, damn. I'd make them dance for me wink wink anyways, the idea is mine and the unrecognizable characters are mine.

Summary: The Romans conquered Sarmatia, leaving only the brave and noble Sarmatian Knights; their duty to Rome is to provide sons to the Roman cause. One tribe has borne no sons, but their daughters are their pride. Woe unto thee who suffers the wrath of this Warrior Class.

To Say Good-Bye

The Roman soldiers led their quarry to the main tent of the tribe. It was time, time once again for this Sarmatian tribe to fulfill its duty to the Roman Empire. The leader of the tribe limped up to the commanding officer to exchange brief words.

"Our sons are not yet of age, can you not come back?" He asked pleas in his eyes. The eldest son was just two years old, his son.

"Nay, your duty to Rome must be fulfilled this hour, this time. If not, your people will be slain and your village burnt. You know the rule." The officer answered harshly. The tribe did know the rule, and it was dishonorable to disregard the oath sworn by their ancestors; but too few sons were borne. The leader of the tribe continued to argue with the soldier in vain. Irritated the soldier kicked the man in the face and drew his sword threatening to slice the leader in two.

"STOP!" A little voice yelled followed by a rain of rocks. On the small slope above the tribe and soldiers, there stood five little girls barely into their teens on horses. The one that spoke sat on her horse in the middle, her dark hair blew in the wind, her bright amber eyes shone like gold against her tanned skin, tattoos like the tribe's leader decorated her arms from her shoulders to the back of her hands. "We will fight for our tribe!" The young amber-eyed child called down to the soldier.

"Marcella, No!" The leader objected. "She is my daughter and foolish. The Romans do not need women fighters." He tried to pull the girl from her horse.

"Either them or your sons. Makes no difference, you must fulfill your duty." The soldier replied indifferently.

"Papa, please give me your blessing. I must do this, to save our people, to save my brother." Marcella leaned down and hugged her father, the other four girls followed suit as their fathers reluctantly gave their blessings and hugs.

"You must train hard, become the pride of our people, my blessed Marcella," her father whispered in her ear. She looked at her father with unshed tears in her eyes. Then she looked at the four girls who would accompany her and fulfill the Sarmatian duty to Rome. Annalisse, Sarai, Miram, and Ilena; they were the oldest children and her closest friends. Annalisse's bright red-hair and dark green eyes matched her mother's but her nature was much like her father, a dreamer yet strong willed. Twin sisters Sarai and Miram both had curly dirty blond locks and bright eyes, but tanned skin, Sarai kept her hair short while Miram liked hers long and up. Ilena and her family were not originally from this tribe, their dark skin and hair of a nomadic tribe outcast them from everywhere except here, the girl was Marcella's best friend and would follow wherever Marcella would lead. With one last look to her father, Marcella and the other girls screamed their war-cry, "RUUUUUUUSSSSSSS!" Just as their tribe was about to cry back, a dark shadow hovered over them and slaughtered them in one blow.

"NO!" Marcella awoke with a start. Only darkness greeted her, she had that dream, the same dream for the past week and a half of the slaughter of her people. But it wasn't a dream, no; her father's sword propped against the far wall was proof of that. A messenger arrived a week and a half ago bearing news of her tribe, they were slaughtered by some unknown force and she could not leave her post to give proper burial to them; none of the girls could. It had been twelve years, twelve long years of training, fighting, killing; a horrible cycle that would continue for three more years. Now at 25, Marcella's body grew into that of a fair young woman, her amber eyes and pouty pink lips were full of mischief, running a slender calloused hand through her long dark hair, chunks of it were streaked light from training in the sun; twirling a lock with her fingers she decided it needed to be cut again.

Her eyes fell upon her father's sword shining brightly in the moonlight from her window. She hadn't been able to touch the blade since she received it a week and a half past when the messenger gave it to her. The sword was long and thin of strong folded steel, a double-edged blade, the make of the far easterners; a gift from the family of Ilena for taking them in. The pommel at the end of the hilt held a rough cut amethyst jewel smoothed by years of use. The sword was to be passed to her brother when he came of age, but the day would never come.

Realizing that sleep would be denied her, Marcella quickly dressed and took her weapon from the corner; a halberd, five feet of lead filled wood with an eighteen inch fold steel blade on one end. The early morning mist cooled her hot face as she headed over to the training yard of the Roman fort, Haridan's Wall in the Roman territory of Britannia. Right now, Marcella needed desperately to clear her head, not only was the dream there but the last battle with the Woads was still fresh as were the deaths of three of their own. Ginvive, a girl from a different tribe and her lover Gareth, he died protecting her limp body not consenting that his love already lay dead, as well as Marcella's near-lover Jonni, who died from nine arrows.

The sad little cemetery that housed their empty shells and many more seemed to laugh at her. 'I've claimed more! They are mine!' the plot of land mocked her. Marcella thrust and sliced her weapon at the practice dummy, the battle dances she trained with since her time in Britannia took over her body. She barely noticed that she hacked the dummy to pieces until someone's gentle voice came up.

"You're up early Marcella. Don't you have guard duty much later?"

"Going to bed Tristan? Then good night and leave me alone."

"Y'know, we won't have anymore training dummies if you keep that up." He replied coolly as he caught a bit of flying wood between his fingers.

"Shut up!" She yelled as she spun the weapon to his neck, he effortlessly blocked it with his sword; a blade much like the one her father had. In the dim moonlight, Tristan saw her eyes were red from the unshed tears and lack of proper sleep. He knocked the weapon from her strained grasp, she watched it fall to the side her lip quivered and exhaustion and grief overcame her body forcing her to the ground. Marcella hugged herself tightly, desperate to feel something, anything. Her shoulders shook from silent sobs and Tristan moved to the woman. Arthur had given her command of the female corps just the year before. The loss of any of the girls was exceptionally hard on Marcella, and with the new command she felt like it was her fault; she always felt it was her fault. Tristan knelt down to his best friend, they were extremely close, she'd first befriended him as they grew up and seeing her in such a state was downright heart wrenching. He hugged her shoulders as she cried; saying anything to try and comfort her was always fruitless, but just being near was all he could do.

"I should have trained her better. It's my fault… Ginvive was never the fighter. She shoulda never been near a battlefield," She repeated to herself, rocking in Tristan's embrace.

"You've done all you could. You both did your best…"

"Then why isn't she still alive? I promised her I would keep her alive!" She cried into his chest. "Why does she not breathe? By the Goddess, Gin should have ne'er touched a sword!" They sat on the dusty ground until she could cry no more, and then Tristan helped her back to her room.

Later that afternoon, they stood at the cemetery to bury their fallen with the other knights who survived the last bout with the Woads. The tears that Marcella thought she was rid of fell down her cheeks as her closest friends held her tightly. Barely had a year passed since the fall of Annalisse and now Sarai was struggling for life in the infirmary for her very life. Marcella held up Miram, who was weeping openly against her captain for all that had fallen. The Romans had collected fifteen girls into service; five became healers while the other ten became fighters. Now after twelve years only seven total had remained: Marcella, Ilena, Miram, Sarai, Reia, Augustine and Aruru.

After all the words could be said, Marcella knelt down by Jonni's fresh grave, kissed her fingertips and placed a hand on his grave. "Good-bye my love, I will be with you soon." Arthur helped her rise and the group walked back to Hadrian's Wall. Despite having just lost her near-lover, Marcella could not help but lean into Arthur's embrace. For as long as she could feel for the opposite sex, she's had a growing crush on her knight commander, yet he only saw her as a great fighter and a loyal friend/sister… nothing more.

Vanora and the other tavern maids greeted the knights warmly as they sat around their usual table. Together, they shared stories and memories of the fallen as was their tradition they poured a little for their dead. In the corner sat Ilena and Tristan, friends and secret lovers, who watched and protected their sisters and brother-in-arms. Marcella let out a small smile as she watched Tristan slyly hand-feed her best friend a slice of his apple. To her it seemed as though a lot of the knights had paired off with someone.

Once she had been one of those happy couples, she would sit with Jonni and tease the other single knights for their whoring ways. It had taken a while, but Jonni had worn her down before she gave into him as well. But that was before the Woad attack and again Marcella felt the bitter pain of loss and loneliness.

Getting up from the table she left the tavern for the cold company of the battlements. Leaning on the stones, she tried to push away sweet memories of stolen kisses and fond touches in the dark. It was too painful, but necessary.

"Marcella, what are you doing here?" Arthur approached his lady knight; he'd seen her hunched figure on the wall and went to see if she were well. She had always acted strong, it was not in her to show weakness, but he had to see if she were still well.

"Arthur," her heart skipped a beat, "oh, I'm fine, really." 'Lie, lie, lie!' She scolded herself inwardly.

"I know you well enough, now tell me the truth."

"Are you going to command it of me?"

"You know I would not, not as your commander, but as your friend. Please." Arthur moved next to her and pulled her in his arms while she finally let the sobs that caught in her throat out. Kissing her head, Arthur waited until she stopped shaking.

"I miss them so much, Arthur. It's my fault; I should have trained her better…" Marcella started, only to be shushed and hugged tighter. Her amorous feelings for Arthur came back tenfold, no matter how she willed them away, she leaned into his touch.

"Nay, it is not your fault. If any is to blame, it is with me. Every death that happened is because of my command. You all follow my orders…" Arthur started reveling in having her close; he had started having feelings for his second since she felled him on his rear all those years ago.

"And you two will continue to blame yourselves to death." Ilena's voice broke through their moment. "Come, it is cold and you will be good to no one if you fall ill." Reluctantly they pulled apart and Ilena wrapped her friend in a cloak and slung her arm around Arthur's shoulders leading them both back to the warmth of the fort.

But before they fully entered the inside of the building, Marcella cast one last wistful glance toward the wall, beyond it was the force that took Jonni away. Her heart would heal if she let it, but if she would only allow for someone to help her.

Arthur watched her from the corner of his eye, even in the dim light of the distant torches she was beautiful, it was then he had realized how much she loved Jonni. There was no way he could compete for her love with a ghost.

There! Chapter 1 of my new story is finished. Woo Hoo! Please review and let me know if I should continue. I'm doing a story for each of my favorite knights, depending on how the each story is received will I continue. I hope you thought it was decent.