Prologue
I do not remember my mother or father. I do not remember what they looked like, what their voices sounded like, or what their touch felt like. They were supposed to be the most important people in my life, and they were supposed to love me like only they could, but never would.
I do not yearn for them.
For how can I miss what I never had in the first place?
I remember Romulus Saelna. It would be applying unnecessary emotional attachment to say he was the father I never had, because he wasn't. He merely gave me what I needed to survive. The only effort-given thing he had done for me was to teach me how to fight and ride, and even then it was to save himself effort should I get into a fight. He didn't even name me. Needless to say, I did not cry when he died.
I remember Vanora. She and her family had moved to Hadrian's Wall when I was six and she eight. We became the closest of friends, and it had been her who had given me my name: Luna. She said that my fondness for watching the moon made the name 'Luna' an obvious choice, and to this day I carry that name. She was the sister I never had.
I remember the Sarmatian knights who came to the fort when I was twelve, and they themselves mere thirteen- or fourteen-year-olds. They discovered my prowess in fighting when one of them came upon me training in the courtyard. In time, they all became like brothers to me. I hold a special place in my heart for one of them though: Tristan. He was the one who saw me training and sparred with me. Proud I am to say that I kicked his arse!
The warrior spirit long instilled in me by a hard life eventually came out by the time the knights got their first mission. I insisted on coming, and when their commander; Arthur Castus had refused I followed them from a distance anyway, on the stallion I 'rescued' from the Roman soldiers. It was pointless to forbid me from coming, so every mission they had, I was right there as well.
When Vanora and Bors became a couple, I was beside myself with happiness for them. It certainly provided entertainment everyday, due to Lancelot's ribbing about how Vanora was secretly sleeping with him behind Bors' back.
Those years with Vanora and the knights were the best times of my life. But the time of the knights' service would eventually come to a close, and they would all leave. The knights would go to Sarmatia and Arthur would go to Rome. Vanora would definitely go with Bors, and I would be here by myself once again.
I was proven wrong, though. Fifteen years later I was not left behind at Hadrian's Wall. Instead, a new nation was born and something happened to me that caused even more happiness within me then when I met the knights and Vanora. But I'm getting ahead of myself here. Like all good stories, I must start at the beginning…
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Lame prologue, I know. Other chapters will be better and longer, I promise you.