Pushed back and forth in the throng of a battle Diomed found his sword burying itself in the gut of a barbarian, their blood streaming down the flat side of his blade, as their hand which had been holding a dagger above his head fell back to their side. Placing the heel of his foot against their chest he pulled his sword from its fleshy home and felt a spray of warm blood across his face. The barbarian fell to the ground on top of their comrades with their intestines frothing out of their wound like a soup. 

Looking at the ground he realized that it was littered with the body parts of the Celts, the mud turning red from blood. He clenched his eyes shut for a moment, pushing away troubling thoughts. 

No, this isn't right. Is it? Diomed looked down at what he was wearing and felt his mind begin to fracture and fight against itself. I'm not a solider anymore, Diomed tried to tell himself, I'm not- am I?

"Aaargh!" 

The guttural rough cry of a man tore Diomed from his thoughts and he looked behind him to see a young man with dirt covering his face running at him with his sword held over the top of his head. Diomed's mind and body seemed to disconnect from each other. Diomed could have sworn he was screaming "NO!" even as he raised his blade and ran the boy through, catching his wrist that held the sword with his other hand. 

What is happening? Diomed cried as he gently led the boy down withdrawing his blade. Crouching down Diomed pressed his bloodied hands against his bald head and let out a cry as battles that weren't this one began to tear through his mind, images where he was marching behind other Romans, battles where they pillaged and burnt towns.  

Diomed shakily opened his eyes and saw the uniform he was wearing. His tired, fractured mind took this as confirmation of what he was. How could he not be a Roman solider if he was in their uniform, his mind rationalised. Diomed could feel some small part of him at the back of his mind trying to fight back at something, trying to tell him something, but it was washed away with the memories and certainty of being a Roman soldier. 

Standing back up, Diomed wiped his hand and the grip of his sword dry in his cotton tunic and then pushed back into the putrid mess that was war, firm in the belief that he was a Roman soldier. 

* * * 

No, Eoghan cursed as he found himself on his back, the cold liquid mud seeping beneath his collar, No it can't end like this. Not with him on the ground and a Roman above him. 

Puffing from exertion Eoghan glanced at how close the tip of the Roman's blade was to his chest, sp close that it was scraping his clothes, and he stamped his foot against the ground in anger. Come on!  

Eoghan cried out as he could feel his arms reaching their limit but he knew if he let go then he was dead. The Roman knew it too as they pushed harder down, their sandals sliding in the mud beside him. Pushing with all his might Eoghan watched the sword tip begin to go upwards, the gap between him and the blade increasing, when, all of a sudden, it was gone and his arms collapsed to the ground next to him in relief. 

Looking to his side he saw someone had tackled the soldier off of him but he couldn't see who as they grappled in the mud. Sitting himself up Eoghan searched for his blade and found it a few feet away. Grabbing it Eoghan felt instantly better until he looked up and saw the carnage that was laid before him.

Using his sword to help him stand up, Eoghan rested against it as he caught his breath back and looked out at the mass of red which was seeming to cut them down like weeds. Swallowing around a lump in his throat Eoghan felt himself grow weak. He had been so confident that they would win but now they were all split off into little pockets of fighting.

Looking back at the soldier who had been pushed off him, Eoghan saw that the person who had tackled him off of Eoghan was about to get their throat slit. Lunging over Eoghan raised his boot and kicked the soldier in the side, pushing him off the kid. Before the soldier could offer a rebuttal Eoghan drove his sword into the side of his exposed neck, blood squirting out and spraying him in the face. 

The kid scrambled out from beneath the soldier and stared at the gasping man in horror as blood bubbled from his lips.

"Kid," Eoghan motioned him over before he grabbed him by the shoulder, "Go and tell the others to get ready. We are moving to our contingency plan." 

The kid, barely older than fifteen, looked at the others still in the field before staring back at Eoghan, "But- But what about-"

"-Go!" Eoghan growled, pushing him towards the tree line and away from the battle. Eoghan looked back out at all the others still fighting, "When everything is in place, I'll sound the retreat." Either way this garrison had to be felled in order for the resistance to win. They couldn't let supplies from here reach the main army, that was the duty he had been given and he was going to achieve it. 

* * * 

Somehow Frieda found her way out faster than she had found it on the way in, although jumping out of a first floor window might have had something to do with that. 

Landing in the courtyard with a flourish, Frieda looked around her and saw that it was empty apart from archers along the garrison wall but they were focused on the battle out the front rather than who was within their walls which was understandable. 

Looking back up behind her at the stone building, Frieda hoped that she had done the right thing. This was the safest place for them and sadly Alena was right, the Romans were her home now. She was younger than Frieda when they parted. Frieda had to fight to survive but Alena had to assimilate to survive, which she imagined was just as difficult. 
Frieda had set out to find her sister, and she had done that but now she had to face that they were no longer children. Alena had her own children and her own family now. She didn't need Frieda to protect her like she had assumed she would have done. 
Frieda looked away solemnly thinking that she most probably would never see her again. But she could do one last thing to help protect them which was to stop the battle from reaching inside the garrison walls. 

Speaking of garrison walls, Frieda thought, Diomed was on the opposite side. Walking up to the gate Frieda looked out at the mass battle and was overcome with a feeling of defeat; how was she supposed to find Diomed in all of that!?

Looking around her Frieda tried to think of something. Krista would know what to do. She couldn't help but think. As she was still trying to rack her brain for a thought Frieda's eyes wandered to the back of the courtyard where she swear she had just seen two people hide behind a barrel. Taking a step forward she stopped when indeed two people popped their heads back up, looked around them before scurrying out from behind the barrel and ran off further into the garrison. Frieda frowned, they definitely weren't roman but why would Eoghan have sent people into the garrison? 

Before Frieda could think of an answer the unmistakable sound of a horn bellowed from across the far end of the field. 

Eoghan is retreating! Frieda hurried towards the gate to look out. Why would he retreat? But then a more pressing matter entered her mind. If he's retreating then the Romans' will be returning to the garrison. 

"Shit," Frieda muttered under her breath as she realised she was stood in the lion's den. She looked back at where she had seen the two people disappear off to but she didn't know where they went or if they were even Eoghan's men. She couldn't risk moving deeper into the roman territory. 

Her hesitation cost her. When she turned around a few of the closest soldiers had begun to meander back into the garrison. 

"Aah, this isn't what you think," Frieda shielded her sword behind her back leg so that it was partially covered whilst she raised her other hand whilst the soldiers started to slowly prowl towards her, fanning out in a circle until they would eventually encompass her. She could see their lips widening into a sickening smile as their eyes lingered up and down her body.  

"Oh well," Frieda chuckled, the corner of her lip tilting up, she was hoping she would get some action today. Bringing her sword back out from behind her leg she twirled it in her hand and lavished in the way their sultry expressions dropped from their faces.  

Their bodies hardened and their swords came up as they approached her faster. Frieda laughed as she walked towards them, twirling her blade ready to attack. 

Her sword had just clashed with one of theirs when a resounding "STOP!" bellowed out across the courtyard and the soldiers retreated from her, although they kept the circle formation around her. 

Looking for who had been the one to shout she found him walking through the front gates. It was the same man with jet black hair that had found them inside the garrison and ordered Diomed out to fight. 

Frieda couldn't believe it but it was- it was her brother in law. 

"If I'm not mistaken," The commander called out as he stepped between the soldiers and approached her, "but you are Frieda the Briton." 

Frieda frowned, had her sister-?

"Do not look confused," He continued in latin, "Your face is well known the roman leaders, it has been painted onto posters and sent to all posts including that of Krista, Artorius. . ." 

Frieda looked around her, biting her lower lip. 

"There are some in Rome who would pay a hefty price for your head," He informed her. 

Frieda felt a strange sensation and looked behind her up at the window. Alena was stood watching with her two children. Frieda looked away - she had to protect Alena and it was best they didn't know they were related. 

"So what?" Frieda replied in latin, surprising a few faces around her, "You're going to take me prisoner . . . again?"She sighed as if bored of the idea though her heart was racing as with every second more and more romans filtered in from the battlefield, clogging up all of her exit routes. 

"No," The commander chuckled, "I understand from previous incidents that nothing good would come from that." 

Frieda arched an eyebrow at that, almost as if it was a compliment. 

"No, I think I will do something different. I'll just kill you here and now." 

"What about your pretty price?" Frieda swallowed, gripped her sword tighter as she looked for a gap but all the soldiers were standing shoulder to shoulder. She was going to have to think of something creative to get out of this. 

"That was for your head," He reminded her, "Just your head." He smirked as he walked the circumference of the circle. 

Frieda laughed, "If you know of me then you know what I am capable of," She decided to try and bluff her way out. 

"Oh rightfully so, none of my soldiers would be able to beat you," He honestly admitted, "Well, all but one maybe." 

Frieda squinted her eyes at him, what did he mean?

The commander looked away and called out, "Diomed?" 

Frieda couldn't help but laugh out loud before she stifled it. Diomed would be the one soldier not to trust. 

But as the crowd behind the commander parted and a figure she recognised as Diomed started to walk forward Frieda had to stop herself from running to him.

He's safe, Freida sighed internally. She kept quiet as Diomed approached. His head and face were stained with blood, thankfully not his, and he was still in the guise of a Roman. He was keeping his facade up well, Frieda thought as he refused to look at her and came to a halt next to the commander. 

Frieda began to grow uncertain when Diomed continued to not look at her. something wasn't right, Frieda could feel it.

"Diomed?" Frieda called. 

"Oh, Diomed has realised where he belongs after all," the commander smiled at her. 

"What?" Frieda took a step forward but as she did so Diomed looked directly at her and she felt like she had died inside. His eyes were cold and he was looking at her like a starving dog would stare at meat. He didn't recognize her . . .  but he knew all of her tactics. 

Frieda took a small step back, the fear blatantly seeping into her face because the commander let out an evil chuckle and nodded for Diomed to commence his attack.