Disclaimer: I nothing in the movie, only the original stuff.

Britain- 467 AD

The land was a vash plane of rich green grass and rolling hills. For someone looking for a new land, an open land, it was the place to go. Seven knights found themselves riding across the familiar expanse of the land. As their commander came to a stop so did the rest of the men, lining up to stare down at the valley bellow them.

In the valley, some distance away, a caravan rode down the path. Two horses drew one carriage. The other was little more than a cart being steered by a soldier whilst another man rode next to him silently. Surrounding them was Roman calvary, each one dressed in full armor and carrying a sword. From time to time the soldiers would glance around as if to make sure that they were in fact alone on the road.

"Ah, as promised, the bishop's carriage," the longhaired knight, Gawain, said. He was the second youngest of the knights.

Galahad, the youngest, smiled. "Our freedom Bors."

"Mm. I can almost taste it." The gruff knight closed his eyes as though he had just been taken to a state of euphoria. Freedom. Something he had waited years for was about to become his, as the others chuckled.

Bors's best friend Dagonet turned to their commander. "And your passage to Rome, Arthur."

Down in the valley the caravan continued moving at its regular pace, unaware that at that very moment, hidden in the woods were warriors. The native fighters that controlled the north of Hadrian's Wall have made their way there to the woods. The one warrior, Vitel, turned to his commander. "Are you sure this is wise, Merlin?"

Merlin, the old leader of the Woads, looked at his warrior for a moment as if trying to figure out his meaning. "I am positive."

"What of your niece? Do you not worry for her safety?"

Merlin turned his attention once more to the caravan moving along the path. The old man was wise, and called by many an evil man. He led those who were thought to be barbarians, so why wouldn't people call him evil. "She is a strong girl," he answered.

"Yes, Merlin, she is, but couldn't this-"

"Vitel, your worry is most appreciated if not ill advised. For the last ten years I have been my niece's guardian. She trusts me with her life. I would not do anything to endanger her." He glanced at Vitel pointedly. "Let us consider the matter closed."

Vitel bit his lip. It was unwise to argue with Merlin. He was a wise man, but sometimes he seemed a little too careless with the lives of others. Still, if he spoke up and voiced his concerns he was sure Merlin would get annoyed with him, and he did not want to be on his leader's bad side, so he merely let the matter drop, and returned his full attention to the caravan from Rome.

Vitel examined his surroundings. Archers were hidden expertly in the trees; warriors with knives, axes and swords filled the ditches of the land. They seemed to be everywhere, and Vitel knew if he was not on their side there would be great reason to be afraid.

An arrow flew threw the trees, in front of Vitel's line of vision. It hit one of the Roman officers square in the chest, knocking him off of his horse. So it begins, Vitel thought bitterly. Another bloody battle that will bring us no closer to once again having our land. A waste.

War cries rang through the air as his people, warriors, rushed forth from the trees. The Roman officer's drew their swords. Vitel made a move to join them in their soon to be bloody fray, but Merlin's hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Stay with me and watch."

From up on the hill one of the knights observed the happenings of those around them. He turned to look at his commander as the natives filled the land. "Woads!"

Arthur didn't need to hear anything else. He drew his sword and charged down the valley to the bishop's caravan, his knights close behind him.

The battle would be a hard one. Vitel knew this. Once he saw the knights making their way down the hill he knew that there was no chance they would succeed. The knights always saw to that. The very thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Kranoc."

Vitel turned to watch his brother come forward. Why did Merlin call him forth? he wondered.

Merlin turned to look at the young Woad. He was just considered old enough to be a good warrior, young still by most standards. "Join them."

Kranoc smiled. This was what he had been waiting for. A chance to fight.

"He is not old enough," Vitel said.

Kranoc glared at his older brother. "I am old enough. You were younger than me when you fought in your first battle."

"I was not as headstrong as you are," Vitel admonished. "You are too young."

"I believe he can fight," Merlin insisted, and then with a nod of his head, he sent Kranoc off into battle.

Vitel glared unbelievingly at his leader. "He will surely be killed."

Merlin gave a graceful shrug. "Perhaps he will. If that is his destiny, better he face it now than run from it."

Kranoc charged out into battle as the knights arrived on the scene. Several of his kinsman and several of the Romans had already fallen. Blood spilled across the land, staining the green grass a rather brown shade of red.

Sword drawn Kranoc lashed out at the nearest Roman officer. The officer easily blocked his attack, but as Kranoc swung again, the weight of the blow knocked the Roman off balance. The Roman fell to the ground with a dull thud, cursing silently to himself in a language Kranoc could not understand. Sensing his chance Kranoc raised his sword and slammed the blade down into the soldier's gut. The man let out a scream, then coughed violently as blood gushed forward from the wound and down his chin.

Pulling his sword out of the dead soldier Kranoc examined the field. Close to him, close enough to fight stood, a warrior. He slashed out at one of Kranoc's kinsmen with one of his two swords. The blade connected with the man's chest, slashing it upon in a rain of blood. The knight didn't even blink as his face was splattered.

Kranoc raised his sword and brought it down, but the knight blocked it. He surveyed the knight, and the knight watched him right back, twirled his swords once and attacked.

Vitel watched as his brother fought the knight. He'll be killed, was all Vitel could think. His brother had chosen a battle he could not win, but then something miraculous happened. He knocked the soldier down.

Lancelot coughed loudly after being kicked hard in the stomach. He rolled over onto his stomach and tried to sit up but his eyes kept tearing up and moving was a hassle.

Across the field Tristan turned to glance at his fellow knights. He watched as a Woad lifted up their sword, bent upon driving it into Lancelot's back. He raised his bow intent on killing the Woad before he got the chance, and strung three arrows.

A sharp pain ripped through his arm as an arrow pierced it and momentarily his arm dropped. He however quickly regained composure.

Vitel watched in horror as the man he had just shot released his arrows and all three made contact with his brother's back. Kranoc twitched in pain, dropping his sword. Lancelot took the opportunity to stand up with his swords. He watched the Woad struggle to breathe for a moment, then took his sword and slashed the Woad's neck. It wasn't long before Kranoc lay on the ground dead.

The Woads began to retreat to the woods, finding the battle and impossible one to win.

Bors made his way over to the carriage that held the bishop. As he pulled back the curtains his stomach dropped. There was an arrow sticking out of the man's head.

Gawain followed closely behind and upon seeing the fallen man his anger bubbled up. There last mission, the one that was to free them, was to protect this man, and there he sat dead. He slammed his dagger into the ground, kneeling. His anger would not let him stand any longer.

A frightened voice floated out from under the carriage. "Gratia plena, Dominus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus et Dominus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus. Benidictus fructus ventris tui, lesus. Benedicta tu in mulieribus..."

Gawain let out a frustrated sigh and glanced at the man from under his hair. "Save your prayers, boy. Your god doesn't live here."

Not far a Roman officer plunged his sword into a Woad's chest.

Arthur supplied the finishing blow to one Woad, as another came up behind him. Arthur turned and placed the tip of his sword to the Woad's neck.

Mor dropped his axe almost instantly, feeling the cold metal of the knight's sword pressed against his flesh, and kneeled before him. He looked up at the knight with what could be described as nothing less than pure hatred.

"Why did Merlin send you south of the wall?" Arthur even then seemed calm.

Lancelot made his way over to his friend. Who was to say that other Woads would not emerge from the woods and attack just then?

Mor glared up at Arthur and answered him in his native tongue, hoping Arthur would understand him, but not entirely sure. "Spill my blood with Excalibur and make this ground holy," he said, leaning his head back to give Arthur better access.

Arthur did not however take that chance. He merely gazed down the Woad. "Pick it up."

Mor gazed at Arthur somewhat confused and swallowed hard, but made no move to retrieve his fallen axe.

Arthur supplied a slight amount of pressure to his blade. "Pick it up," he said once more.

Mor lowered his head. Why? he wondered. Why would has ask me to retrieve my weapon? What is he planning?

He would not however finds answers to these questions and trying the knight's patience would do him no good, so slowly he reached down and grasped his axe in his hand, before looking into back at the knight.

The knight however looked over the top of Mor's head and into the woods where Vitel and Merlin stood. Merlin gazed out at the knight and knew he was right. He would spare Mor, or so he assumed. If Arthur had planned on killing him, he would have done so already. Merlin smiled slightly. "He is a great warrior."

Vitel scowled. "He is our enemy."

"Be that as it may, he is a good warrior."

Vitel merely spat.

"Vitel have some faith. It is not he who is our enemy."

"He may not be yours," Vitel said bitterly. "He is however mine."

"As you wish."

Arthur's gaze returned to the Woad kneeling in front of him. He stopped to think about it for a moment, looking at the man intently, and then lowered his blade and walked away, letting him live.

Mor stayed kneeling there for a while. He let me live, he thought. He could have killed me. He should have killed me, and yet he let me live. Why? He shook his head. No matter. I will kill this knight. I will help to kill them all.

Lancelot watched his friend walk away from the Woad with a look of disappointment on his face. He should have killed him. He was a knight of Rome and the Woad's were Rome's enemies, so didn't it stand to reason that he would kill them? All of them? So why had he let this one live?

Arthur made his way across the field and to the carriage, glancing momentarily at the Roman soldiers who gathered. "Bors."

"What a bloody mess." Bors was pointing to the inside of the carriage.

Arthur looked in, examining the damage. He gazed upon the dead man, and then turned away. "That's not the bishop." He looked at his knights, and then made his way over towards the Roman officers.

Gawain and Bors had somehow coaxed the man who had been praying under the carriage out. He took their words that the immediate danger was over. "God help us," he mumbled. "What are they?"

Bors glanced at him, trying not to smirk. "Blue demons that eat Christians alive." He suddenly pointed at the man. "You're not a Christian are you?"

The man pressed himself against the carriage, and pressed his hands together in prayer.

Bors examined the man's hands. "Does this really work?" he asked, pressing his hands together and closing his eyes. He began to mumble under his breath, imitating the man before him and then glanced around. "Nothing. Maybe I'm not doin' it right."

From his spot on his horse Tristan hid a smile.

As Arthur approached the band of Roman soldiers both Bors and Gawain raised their weapons, ready to protect themselves and their captain if need be. Most of the Romans pulled their weapons as well.

The Roman general gazed down at Arthur. "Stand down," he said listlessly. Reluctantly Bors put away his weapons followed by the others.

"Arthur!" Arthur was making his way to where the Roman general sat upon his horse. He looked up at the general, no expression readable on his face. "Arthur Castus. Your father's image. I haven't seen you since childhood."

From their perches on their horses Galahad and Tristan examined the scene in front of them. To Galahad, the idea that Arthur knew the general was incomprehensible. It could not be possible. The man had just come from Rome, and to his knowledge, Arthur had never even been to Rome, he merely spoke about it with high regard. To Tristan however, it did not matter. Who Arthur knew was of no consequence. As long as they gained there long awaited freedom Arthur could socialize with whom ever he wanted to.

"Bishop Germanius," Arthur said, his expression never changing. "Welcome to Britain. I see your military skills are still of use to you." He glanced back at the carriage, where Roman officers were removing the dead man. "Your device worked."

Germanius made a sound as if to say the subject was one he cared nothing about. "Ancient tricks of an ancient dog." He laughed slightly and examined the knights sitting upon their horses behind where Arthur stood. "And these are the great Sarmatian knights we have heard so much of in Rome." He climbed off of his horse, brushed himself off and fell in line walking alongside Arthur towards his carriage. "I thought the Woads control the north of Hadrian's Wall."

"They do," Arthur told him. "But they occasionally venture south. Rome's anticipated withdrawal from Britian has only increased their daring."

"Woads?" one of the soldiers asked.

"British rebels who hate Rome," Gawain said, as Tristan, bored already with this conversation, sucked on a wound he had on his hand.

"Men who want their country back," Galahad added.

"Who leads them?" Germanius wanted to know.

"He's called Merlin. A dark magician, some say." To Lancelot telling Germanius this was amusing.

Arthur seemed to disagree with this, and cast Lancelot a scathing glance before turning to the silent scout. "Tristan, ride ahead and make sure the road is clear."

Tristan sucked on his bottom lip while examining his commander and then without further prompting he headed off down the road. He was use to this, being sent ahead when the others stayed behind. He was the scout, the hunter. He was like the wild, free to roam. He, of course, had to return, but he was the one who road ahead, who scouted out the land to ensure everyone's safety. It was both his blessing and his curse. He was gifted with space, but cursed with the job of being the one always alone.

Arthur turned to look at Germanius as the bishop made his way to the carriage. "Please do not worry, Bishop. We will protect you."

Germanius grabbed on to the handle of the carriage door, and turned to look at Arthur. "Oh. I've no doubt, Commander. No doubt." His smile was less than comforting.

As the bishop made his way into the carriage Arthur cast one final glance towards the woods before mounting his horse.

"Dozens don't worry me nearly so much as thousands," the bishop's servant mumbled, following the bishop, only to have the curtains of the carriage close in his face.

Lancelot smirked from upon his horse. "Thousands?"

Vitel watched as the nights and the Romans headed towards Hadrian's Wall. They will hide there, feeling safe, he thought bitterly. But they will never be safe. I will hunt them down and make them pay fro my brother's death, he vowed. I will kill them all. Every last one of them, and I will enjoy it.

(I decided to name that Woad that Arthur spares because you will be seeing him again)

A/N: Reviews love