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

Britain- 467 AD

Hadrian's wall was a 73-mile long, over 30-feet high stone wonder. It was the one thing that divided the land.

On the southern half of the island lived the Romans, the Sarmatian knights and anyone else who was willing to live among, and be subservient to the Romans. Often times this meant converting to Christianity, for "Pagans" as they were called we considered lowly as opposed to Christians. To be frank the only Pagans who were truly accepted were the knights and that was mostly because they were skilled warriors and not to be messed with. Other Pagans were often treated as little more than servants.

The Woads controlled the northern half of the island. They were the original inhabitants of the island, and still wanted their land back. Considered barbarians by the Romans they were frequently killed for crossing the wall. They did however cross the wall, for one supreme purpose: they wanted to get their land back. The land that had been so unfairly taken from them, their desire to have freedom, was what drove them.

Someone seeing Hadrian's Wall for the first time may find it a wonder, but for the knights it simply meant returning to what was their home while they were in service to Rome.

The seven knights approached the top of the valley. There below them stood the field that led to Hadrian's Wall. Gazing down at it they stopped. This had been their home for years. Now it would be different. Now they would be free. "Well, now that we're free men, I'm gonna drink 'til I can't piss straight."

Gawain turned to look at Bors as he spoke. "You do that every night," he told him.

"I never could piss straight," Bors responded. "Too much of myself to handle. Down there." Gawain merely rolled his eyes. Bors glanced at the other knights. "Well it's a problem." Galahad was trying to contain his laughter. ""No really, it is. It's a problem. It's like-"

"A baby'sarm holding an apple," Gawain, Lancelot and Galahad finished for him.

Tristan gazed on at them with a look of sheer bordom plastered on his normally unreadable face. He had heard this all before, many, many times.

Bors glanced around at the other knights, silent for a moment, before they all began to laugh. Only Tristan remained silent as their laughter filled the way down to the valley.

Walking along the wall as they had so many times before felt different this time. They were soon to be freed. That alone was enough to make even the air seem crisper and clearer. There was something in that sheer fact that made the rest of the world just seem better, no matter what they had faced. They were the lucky ones. Many knights had come to Britain to serve Rome, and these were the ones who remained, the ones who survived, and the ones who would taste freedom.

From the top of the wall a Roman waved a red flag, signaling the bishop's caravan welcome.

"I don't like him, that Roman," Galahad said bitterly. "If he's here to discharge us, why doesn't he just give us our papers?"

"Is this your happy face?" Gawain asked. Bors chuckled loudly, as he so often did, and even Galahad could not hide the smile that appeared on his face, nor the chuckle that escaped his lips. Gawain had a way about him where he could take even the most serious situations, serious comments, and somehow make them funny. "Galahad, do you still not know the Romans?" Gawain inquired of the young knight. "They won't scratch their asses without holding a ceremony." Unfortunately this was only a slight exaggeration.

Bors turned to look at Galahad from his place between the two. "Why don't you just kill him, and then discharge yourself after?" Bors smirked around the drying blood on his face.

Galahad hesitated, as if trying to think of a smart answer. "I don't kill for pleasure," he said bitterly, and then turned pointedly to look at Tristan. "Unlike some."

Tristan glanced at the younger knight, a small smile tugging at his lips, but he resisted. Him smiling was a rare occurrence, and despite the fact that Galahad was trying to appear witty in front of his friends, Tristan knew he had meant what he said. Galahad respected all of the other knights, as they respected him, but if he had to choose ones not to cross they would definitely be Arthur and Tristan. Arthur because he was their commander, and Tristan because he was just what he had accused: a killer. A trained killer, trained by the army, but still a killer, and Galahad couldn't help but believe that the rather quiet knight got some kind of sick pleasure from delivering death to others. "Well, you should try it someday," Tristan responded casually. "You might get a taste for it."

He smiled briefly as Bors and Gawain laughed. They had thought this was merely witty banter, but to Tristan it was a way of life. He did enjoy the kill, not because the act of taking one's life was pleasurable, it was the power it gave him, the control. When you hold someone's life in your hands you control him or her and considering how little control Tristan had over his own life, a little control over someone else's life was the one thing that comforted him. I do take pleasure in the kill, he thought casually as he trotted ahead of the other three knights. I suppose I always have.

"It's a part of you," Bors told Galahad. "It's in your blood."

Galahad however merely shook his head. "No, no, no. No." He laughed slightly. "As of tomorrow this was all just a bad memory."

"Ohh." Bors obviously didn't believe a single word the young knight had just said.

Galahad soon followed Tristan's lead and moved further up in the procession so he was in front of Tristan, but behind Arthur.

Do you truly believe that, Galahad? Tristan wondered. Could you really be so young and naive as to think that all of this, all of the lives you've taken and blood you spilled did not change you? Do you truly believe freedom will wash it all away? No. Killing someone takes a part of them with you and you cannot leave what you have taken from someone behind so easily.

"I've often thought about what going home would mean after all this. What will I do?" Gawain turned to look at Bors as he spoke. There was such sadness in his voice, and slight longing. "It's different for Galahad. I've been in this life longer than the other. So much for home. It's not so clear in my memory."

Home doesn't exist in my mind, Tristan thought. I've long since forgotten it. I can hardly remember my family's faces or anything of my childhood. Perhaps I've killed too many, taken too much of them into me to remember. Could this be a trade? Could this killing cost me my memories in return? Or perhaps, I forgot home because I believe I would never see it again?

"Well, you speak for yourself," Bors said. You could almost taste the bitterness in his voice. "It's cold back there and everyone I know is dead and buried. Besides, I have, I think, a dozen children."

"Eleven," Gawain corrected.

How ironic is it that Gawain knows the amount of children Bors has when Bors himself does not, Tristan thought halfheartedly. Perhaps it is because he wishes for children of his own. A family to call his own.

Bors merely glanced at him, as if he too found it off that Gawain should know how many children he had when he himself wasn't sure. "You listen. When the Romans leave here, we'll have the run of all this place." Gawain glanced at the fields around them as Bors continued to speak. "I'll be governor in my own village and Dagonet will be my personal guard and royal ass-kisser. Won't you, Dag?" Bors glanced behind him at his friend.

Dagonet merely looked back at Bors with a bored expression on his face.

"First thing I will do when I get home is find a beautiful Sarmatian woman to wed," Gawain said.

Ah, I was right, thought Tristan, triumphantly. He wants his own family.

"A beautiful Sarmatian woman?" Bors asked. "Why do you think we left in the first place?" Gawain chuckled as Bors mooed like a cow.

It was then that Tristan decided to ignore the rest of their conversation. He instead focused on the clear sky above him and the land around him, glancing occasionally at the graves of fellow knights just up the hill.

Lancelot rode up to fall in line next to Bors. Bors turned to him as the three men chuckled. "What about you, Lancelot? What are your plans for home?"

Lancelot glanced at his two companions. "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," he answered, only half joking. "His wife will welcome the company."

"I see. And what will I be doing?" Gawain narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Wondering at your good fortune that all your children look like me," Lancelot answered, then smiling he rode ahead to fall in live next to Arthur.

Gawain ignored Bors's laughter and watched Lancelot ride. "Is that before or after I hit you with my ax?" he asked.

Tristan glanced back up at the sky upon hearing a screech. There, circling overhead was his hawk. He held out his arm, the one that had not been pierced by the Woad arrow, and whistled for the bird to come. It flew down, circling over him and landing firmly on his arm. Tristan pulled his arm back to him and glanced at the beautiful bird. "Where you been, now?" he asked, stroking the bird's chest. "Where you been?"

To the other knights it was amazing that someone so distant as Tristan could be so gentle to that bird. He took care of it better than he took care of himself if truth be told. That bird was his seemingly only friend. He watched after her and trusted her as he did no one else. This was something that depended on him, trusted him. She did not care how many men he had killed, or if he enjoyed it. All she cared about was that he cared for her. It was all the hawk knew, and all she needed to know.

"And what will you do, Arthur, when you return to your beloved Rome?" Lancelot asked his best friend.

"Give thanks to God that I survived to see it," Arthur answered, glancing back at his friend.

"You and your God! You disturb me," Lancelot teased, but he was only, however, half joking. He truly did not understand Arthur's obsession with 'God'.

"I want peace, Lancelot. I've had enough," Arthur responded. "You should visit me." Lancelot merely made a sound of dismissal. "It's a magnificent place, Rome," Arthur continued. "Ordered, civilized, advanced."

"A breeding ground of arrogant fools," Lancelot pointed out.

"The greatest minds in all the lands have come together in one sacred place to help make mankind free," Arthur argued.

Lancelot said nothing at first and then leaned towards his friend. "And the women?"

Arthur merely laughed in response as they made their way through the gates and into the village. "Open the gates!" on of the guards yelled, and the smaller gates to the men's living quarters was opened. The knights all rode in, Tristan with his hawk still perched on his arm, the bishop's carriage following behind them.

The bishop climbed slowly out of the carriage.

"Welcome back, Arthur." Standing next to Arthur's horse was the knight's servant. He smiled at the knights, happy to see them home.

"Jols."

Jols smiled once more. "Lancelot."

Lancelot nodded in the man's direction.

The soldiers dismounted their horses. From the gates a woman watched the knights.

Arthur motioned towards the main building. "Bishop, please, my quarters have been made available to you."

Germanius made a face as though he were really tired. "Oh, yes. I must rest." However the truth was that he wanted some time away from the knights and wanted to change out of his bloody armor. He made his way into the building, followed closely by two Roman soldiers.

Bors turned quickly to his left and spotted a red-haired woman standing there. He chuckled lewdly at her, approaching her slowly. The woman reached out and slapped him. "Where have you been?" Vanora asked sourly.

"Oh..."

"I've been waiting for you," Vanora continued.

Bors gazed at her lovingly. "Oh, my little flower. Such...passion!" He kissed the woman, and though she fanned resistance she was soon kissing him back. He pulled away from her and glanced around. "Where's my Gilly? Gilly?" He leaned down and scooped up a little boy with dark brown hair. "You been fighting?" he asked the boy.

"Yes."

"You been winning?"

"Yes."

He touched the boy's nose affectionately. "That's my boy. Come on, all my other bastards!"

Bors wrapped his arm around Vanora's shoulders and they made there way threw the city, there children cheering and following behind them.

"Vanora!"

The red-haired woman spun around to see who had called her name and smiled warmly at the dark haired girl in front of her. "Ana. You startled me."

"Sorry. I just wanted to know what the commotion was up at the fort?"

"The bishop arrived from Rome today."

The girl felt her smile begin to slip. "The bishop? To free the knights?"

"Yes," Vanora said, smiling. "As of tomorrow they will all be free. They will all be heading home."

"Oh. That's...that's great."

Vanora shook her head at the girl. "You don't sound as though you are happy for them."

"I am, Vanora, I really am. It is just...I will be sad to see them go. It will be so quiet around here without them." She smiled sadly. "And you and the children. I assume you will be leaving with them."

"Well, yes, I plan to."

"I will miss you greatly, Vanora. You are one of the few people here who I consider a friend. I hope I'm not wrong."

"No, you aren't wrong."

Ana nodded, as if satisfied with the answer. "Good. I have had very few friends in my life. I shall truly miss you. And the children. They are a joy to have around, so full of life and wonder. Without them around life will seem so much quieter. I shall miss their laughter." She hoisted the basket under her arm up higher. "So the bishop's arrival went well?"

"There was a slight problem."

"Oh? What?"

"Bors told me that they were attacked."

The young girl's eyes widened as she gazed at her older friend. "Attacked? Attacked by who?"

"The Woads."

Ana frowned, staring at the ground. "Oh." The news made her heart drop. Every time the natives attacked someone relations only grew worse. "Was anyone hurt?"

"Mostly scratches, bumps and bruises," Vanora told her. "Tristan however got an arrow through his arm."

"Was it serious?"

"No. Bors said it he didn't even let it slow him down, but that is hardly surprising. Tristan, you have seen him, the rather quiet dark haired one with the tattoos on his face, well, he's the natural hunter. Or that's what Bors tells me. He said that only death would slow Tristan down."

"Perhaps, but they shall never know. Tomorrow they will be free and soon after they will travel home." Ana shook her head sadly. "Soon everyone will be leaving this place. They will go to Sarmatia or to Rome. This whole village will be deserted and I will be left alone. Won't you miss this place?"

Vanora thought about it for a moment. "Yes, I will miss this place. I have been here for such a long time. I have many memories here."

"Not all good ones," Ana pointed out.

"No, not all good ones," Vanora conceited. "Still, even the bad memories, I will treasure them. It was here that I met Bors, here that I had my children. So much has happened here. If I cannot remember both the good and the bad times, then why remember anything at all?"

"You are right, Vanora, as always," Ana said. "Well, I must be going. You are surely going to be late for work if you do not leave soon."

Vanora nodded. "I suppose so."

"See you soon."

As Ana made her way back towards her home she heard her friend call her name. "Rihana!"

The girl spun around to look back at her friend. "Yes?"

"You know you would be able to come with us. To Sarmatia that is."

Rihana smiled, almost sadly. "I'm afraid not, Vanora, but thank you for thinking of that." With one last glance she started off for her home again.

A/N: Reviews are love so please leave them.