Story: The Rose
Beta: none yet, need one :)
Sources: Several historical ones, includes the Bible
Rating: T at the moment because of concepts
Warnings: If the Bible, religion, or the like is not your cup of tea, don't read this.
Summary: This has been on my heart for sometime. It has been written, and rewritten, tweaked and drastically changed. I strive for historical accuracy but it doesn't always happen. I follow the belief that God does happen to love everyone, despite everything. God never made us "unlovable".

"Claudia's in one of her moods again..." Old Qadr said as she stirred the pot. "Rush along child, chop those greens..." The woman smiled, toothlessly. She was literally all bark and no bite.

Keira did so, but carefully. She certainly didn't want to chop off a finger on her first day.

"My, my." tutted another of the servants. "She's a prissy one in' t she. Where y' from?"

"Brittainia," she replied, with a lilting accent, a bit different from the rough, coarse language that the other slaves seemed to be speaking. A one word answer, like those she'd been giving all day.

She didn't like to be pried for information, she wanted to do the work assigned, and be left alone with her lonely thoughts - bitter thoughts at the parents who had sold her to pay their taxes.

"So far, how did y' come love?" Old Ber seemed like the nice one, but she was clearly the matriarch. Cross her and you'd get definatly burned for it. Or hung on a cross and left to rot, take your pick. There was one where she - used to belong.

"By boat." Two words this time. The greens were in the pot, now for the meager vegetables. The governor clearly didn't like those, there weren't many of them for as large as this feast was supposed to be. No need to tell the old gossip that she'd heard enough horror stories to know how to behave and avoid getting flogged.

"She's pretty in't she - surely you don't belong here, precious." Someone else this time, she didn't turn to see the source of the voice. She was afraid of that sentiment, but she wasn't worth to the governor "tainted" - now that she was property that really didn't matter much.

They went back to their usual gossip, every so often asking her a question which she fortunately could answer in less than three words without messing up her work.

Then something about The Great One, the god of this strange country that she didn't belong in. Something about that He had no proper name - or one that couldn't be pronounced - clicked a memory. Fortunately a happy one.

She stopped her probing of the young pig that was roasting. "What was that about He-Who-Has-No-Name?"

"Finally the mute talks!" said Qadr, the clear ruler of the conversation. "The Jews don't have a name for their god, says it's not able to be pronounced or something like that. Why do you ask? What do you know about it?" Foreigner.

She knew they were thinking it, though the word that described how she felt was not said aloud. She turned back to stirring the thick stew for the soldier's quarters. "Because I've heard of Him, it's a legend among the family," the reply was quiet and had to be repeated among the deaf ones.

"How do you know about the Jewish God?" The reply was one of the younger ones, somewhat scornful, challenging.

"I didn't know He was the God of this land, particularly. A long time ago, before I was even born, one of my ancestors was a courier for the Kingdom of Persia." She fought a couple of interruptions before continuing the brief tale. "He claimed that he carried a message from the king - said something about the Unnamed God being the God of the gods - this particular God had saved one of the king's men - that he didn't want to throw to the beasts but apparently had to. Something about Persian law can't be changed."*

She heard mutters thanking the gods that at least the Romans didn't do such things. "Family's had a shrine to this Unnamed God ever since." She turned back to her cooking, letting them gossip and forget about her, as they had said on the slave ship that they would. The old gossips had things to add, and her story would be probably changed around to such extent that

She didn't belong here more than she belonged at "home" at this moment. She probably didn't belong anywhere as much as she wanted to. She didn't even belong to this "god" of theirs. In fact maybe she didn't believe a god of any kind existed. After all, when all those wonderful stories ended, her peasant parents still had to pay their taxes. They'd gone to town on what she thought was simply a trip to buy food. They went home; she never would. They hadn't even said goodbye they'd just given her to the guard and he'd paid them a small bag of money.

At least they wouldn't starve this winter. Small thing to be grateful for.

A/N: In my chronology of which Keira is either unaware, or deems the detail irrelevant, the family moved from wherever they may have been within the Persian Empire, to Brittainia (which could be another story altogether, which has nothing to do with where I am trying to go.) Mostly I am trying to give you a peek into "the world" you are looking at before I throw you headlong into it. I very badly need a beta, so if you think you're up to the task, PM PLEASE?

Historical Notes: "From Brittania" means anything from what's considered modern Great Britain, to Scotland or perhaps Ireland. Take your pick. I am also sorry that you are probably wondering what the first chapter really has to do with anything. It's a long story, most is a jumbled mess in my head - deciding which character history goes where. Stick with me.

* Daniel 6:26 & 27