"Separate we come, and separate we go, And this be it known, is all that we know."-Conrad Aiken

The darkness was slowly fading into the light of the morning, and Arthur and his knights were beginning to wake.

The camp was quiet, as every man knew that he would face battle that day. Every man could sense something in the air, and he knew that it would be fruitless to ignore the knowing in his heart.

So, side by side, the knights shrugged into silver armor, stroking bows and sharpening swords. Horses were made ready, saddles strapped and girths tightened.

Lancelot was the first one done. He had gotten up earliest, before the stars had begun to fade.

He leaned against a tree, watching Tristan and Gawain prepare. Tristan was silent as usual, examining his bow critically. Gawain, however, seemed cheerful, humming a Sarmatian folk tune under his breath, and polishing his armor contentedly.

"You seem happy." Stated Bors, lumbering over and handing Lancelot his helmet. Lancelot took it, still watching Gawain.

"I see no reason not to be." Answered Gawain, strapping his sword to his belt, tightening it, and looking at Bors.

"You aren't scared, then?" Bors smirked.

Gawain returned the grin. "I'm not afraid of battle, no. It's more of what comes after that frightens me."

Bors chuckled at that, but Lancelot frowned. He felt the same way.

Walking away from his friends, Lancelot sighed as he neared the edge of the woods. He stood there for awhile, flipping one of his swords thoughtlessly.

"So how is it that you're Arthur's best friend?"

Lancelot started, missing his sword as it clattered soundlessly to the grassy ground. He swore as he retrieved it, matching the sour voice to a name.

Gabrieal.

"What do you want?" Lancelot snapped bitterly.

Gabrieal laughed humorlessly, stepping out of the trees. "Who said I wanted anything?"

But Lancelot shook his head. "I'm serious, Gabrieal."

"Indeed." The other Sarmatian rolled his eyes.

Lancelot angrily turned away from him, walking back towards camp.

He was both relieved and annoyed that Gabrieal did not follow him. Lancelot didn't understand him, nor did he care to. Gabrieal was just some angry oddball who wanted revenge on something Lancelot knew nothing about.

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Arthur found him that morning.

He knew that he would have to get used to it, his knights' deaths.

But he couldn't.

Not yet.

Because he had cared about Galaghway, and the others he had lost. He hadn't wanted them dead! He felt guilty, too, about it all. Like it was his fault, even though he knew that it wasn't.

To make matters worse, they would face battle in a few hours time, and God only knew how many more knights would meet their end.

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It only took them forty minutes to find battle.

And it would have taken them even less if they had knew that the enemy was following them, and had been for some time now.

Both armies charged, shouts piercing the once quiet air, and frightening flocks of birds from the trees.

Lancelot cleared his mind of anything but what to do in the next ten seconds. It was a strategy he had developed that had saved his life countless times before.

He did not think about the lives he was ending with his swords.

But Gabrieal did.

It bothered the others, he knew. But Gabrieal also knew that if they didn't win, they would loose, and loosing would not happen!

So he fought hard.

His sword became his anger and the Saxons became the pain in his life. He had to hurt it to make everything better. He had to!

The fighting seemed to last an eternity, swords clashing together like some kind of out of tune music, the shouts of those cut down disturbing and distracting to the knights of both sides.

But it ended, as everything does.

And Gawain swallowed heavily, panting as he lowered his axe and closed his eyes. Now he was afraid.

Lancelot replaced his swords behind his head again, turning and blowing out his breath like one long sigh.

Slowly the survivors walked, and congregated together in the middle. But the fallen did not rise. They did not smile in relief as their friend was spotted. They did not put away their weapon and feel grateful for their victory.

And they never would again.

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That night was solemn and sad.

Lancelot could not take the grief lingering in the air, and instead sought solitude by a rippling, winding river, illuminated in the moonlight.

But he was not alone long.

He heard Gabrieal this time, fists clenching, preparing himself for some kind of mouth off from the other knight.

"Why don't you go away?" Lancelot demanded.

"Why don't you?" Gabrieal countered, anger evident in his voice. "As a hero you would not find it difficult to have company."

Lancelot turned to him, and that was when he noticed: Gabrieal was wearing his pack.

"Where are you going?" Lancelot asked, confused.

"Anywhere but here."

"What? You can't just leave!" Lancelot protested.

"I can't stay either!"

Gabrieal's voice suddenly had a slight desperate note to the irate tone, and he spoke louder. "I know I am not wanted! I was not in Sarmatia, either! You all fight for the freedom you'll have in thirteen more years. But I won't have that freedom! Where will I go? Back to my tribe? They banished me years ago. Do I stay here in Rome? No. I don't belong anywhere! I am fighting for a place, a cause, that I hate! I risk my life each battle for something I would rather not happen! You, Lancelot, fight for peace and freedom. But I will never have either! I know not where my life will go, but I do know that for sure!"

Lancelot was speechless.

There was an uneasy silence between the two, neither knight speaking, each too immersed in his thoughts to communicate at all

And then Gabrieal shook his head, and began to walk away. But by now, Lancelot had found his voice.

"Where are you going?" He shouted after him, repeating the question, sure that Gabrieal did indeed know the answer.

Gabrieal paused for a moment, then slowly turned towards Lancelot. "To find the Saxons."

And Lancelot watched him disappear. Unable to grasp the fact that they had all been betrayed by the one they all had hated.

He ran to tell Arthur.

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Evenstar-mor2004: Ok, I told you, hehe. Still think he's crazy? Thanks for reviewing:)

Camlann- It is sad that Gabrieal has only bitterness to laugh about. And you're right about him still having some trouble to cause... Thanks for reviewing:)

Irishfire- Yay! A new reviewer! I'm very glad that you're enjoying this! Maybe Gabrieal should listen to you. :)

MissBubbles- Yes, poor Gabrieal. Thank you, and glad you're enjoying this:)

Camreyn- Interesting opinion about Gabrieal, hehe. He is a bit scary, isn't he? Thanks for reviewing:)

tHe vOiCe WiThiN- I'm going to have to read more about that story...Any resemblance between Gabrieal and Mordred is completely coincidental, but that is interesting how similar they seem to be. Gabrieal is very intent on always making his feelings heard. Thanks for your lovely reviews:)