Disclaimer: I own nothing of King Arthur, but I own the character Bellatrix.

Author Note:

Enjoy.

This is a fun romantic story about a man trying to get his woman and a girl finding her place in life and in the heart of her man.

Prologue: Lost and Found

I can't remember my family. I can't really remember my village or my brothers, though I knew I had them. Two in fact. I had two older brother. One named Morgan and the other was Julian. I was the youngest in my family when the Saxons attacked.

I remember the day I came to Hadrian's Wall. Ten years ago I arrived here with Arthur and his Sarmatian knights after they had found me in my murdered village. They raised me like a sister since that day. Vanora and I lived together in the village and she looked after me because she was a few years older than I. It was Arthur that I should be thanking most because Tristan wanted to leave me.

I don't know why but he didn't know how I would survive at Hadrian's Wall without a family. Bors and Dagonet were quick to burn his theory by saying many of the girls would gladly look after me. I was ever grateful, though my story did not start out so easily. I was more hesitant then…

My eyes burned as I opened my eyes. I had kept them closed for so long, out of fear and exhaustion, that when I did open them I could see only shadows in blue.

I looked at my surroundings and inwardly gasped. Everyone around me was dead. The smell of burning flesh and charcoal filled my nostrils and I cringed. I crawled out of the bushes I was hiding in and, on my hand and knees, crawled to some of the bodies.

"No," I gasped as I looked at the dead face of the blacksmith. I quickly crawled away from him and screamed when I hit something hard. My heart pounded in my chest and I spun around and looked at a wheel of a wagon. I put my hand to my chest and breathed in heavily, silently telling myself to calm down.

I couldn't stand the smell of the village. It was getting to my head and making me dizzy. I put my hand in front of my mouth and stumbled away from the main part of the village.

'Calm down,' I told myself. 'You have to be calm.'

I couldn't! I couldn't hold myself and be strong. My family was dead! My whole village was gone and burned. Where was I to go? What was I to do?

I heard horses coming toward the village and looked around wildly for who it was. I hoped the Saxons weren't returning. I ran into my hiding place again and looked through a small gap in the bushes.

"They are all dead," said one with long blond hair.

10 men, only a few years older than I, were walking around the village. They were barely men. Boys, that would better describe them. A Roman. I gasped and held my knees to my chest. I didn't want to be hurt by a Roman. I heard stories of some of the things Romans did to pagans.

"Did you hear that?" asked a boy with black hair.

I put my hand over my mouth and began to cry out of fear. I wished they would leave. I put my head on my knees and closed my eyes. 'Please go away,' I thought.

I heard the bushes moving aside and bit my lip.

"It's a child!" shouted the boy. "Are you alright?" he asked me softly.

I lifted my head slowly and looked at the boy. I wiped my eyes and stared at him. I knew he was going to hurt me. I didn't want him to see my fear but I couldn't help myself!

The boy lifted a hand as the others came around and stared at me.

"She's a child," whispered the roman one. "Barely as old as Galahad."

I looked at them fearfully and leaned away from them.

The boy with dark hair looked at me sadly. "What's your name?"

'He wants to know my name?' I shook my head and bit my tongue. I wasn't going to answer them! They were going to kill me.

The boys looked at one another and the Roman one asked me, "What happened here?"

I frowned, not understanding why they would want to know. "Who are you?" I asked finally. It was better to know I reasoned with myself.

"I am Arthur," said the Roman. "These men are my Knights. Lancelot, Galahad, Gawain, Percival, Dagonet, Bors, Tristan and Bediever."

I looked at them all suspiciously and nodded once.

"What happened here?" Arthur asked me.

"Saxons attacked," I said softly, not taking my eyes off Arthur.

"She's not Britain," Tristan muttered under his breath.

I looked at him for a moment but didn't give him any reason to think his words were true. Dagonet moved slightly and I staggered backward, thinking he was going to hurt me. He looked saddened because I was afraid of him. He was odd, I thought.

Tristan kept his eyes on me as Arthur crouched down and moved the bushed so he could see me better. "Are you hurt?" Arthur asked me kindly.

I hesitated for a moment and shook my head. My mother hid me as the Saxons were attacking. It was my luck that no one saw me while the attack was happening.

"How old are you?" Arthur asked, feeling that I was getting used to them.

"11," I said softly.

"What's your name?" he asked, smiling as I began to talk and relax.

"Bellatrix," I said distantly, not knowing why I thought it alright to speak to this boy.

That was ten years ago. Ten years of living at Hadrian's Wall with Romans and Britains. I'm 21 summers now. 21 unmarried, without a lover and working as a herbalist.

The Knights were on a mission and due to return any day now. Dagonet taught me to fight. He was always lovely to me. I cannot remember how many times the Knights, especially Tristan, even when it was silently, had to fend off the men. Men were forever trying to get me into their beds and claim me as theirs. I don't understand why.

Tristan and I have never got along. We've never spoken very much in these past then years but I feel as if he has something to say that he won't. He always holds back around me and it makes me feel as if I am less than worthy to speak to him.

"Bella!"

I sit up and look around the beach for who is calling me. Vanora. "Are they here?" I call as I run along the beach toward the breathless woman.

"Yes," she ushers and helps me dust the loose sand from my dress. "They were sad that you were not there to meet them."

I laughed and flicked my long dark hair over my shoulder. "They will not die Vanora," I told her as be begin to walk to the grass.

"What are you doing all the way out here?" she asked me as we mounted our horses.

"Thinking," I said dully.

Vanora smirked. "Be grateful that you have the time to think."

It was true. She had her hands full with 8 children. I was shocked when she had her fifth with her only being 26 summers. She and Bors were breeding machines, or so Gawain thought. They were beautiful children with humerus nicknames that Bors had bestowed upon them when they became too many for him to remember their names.

When we reached Hadrian's Wall the Knights, except Tristan, greeted me happily. Tristan nodded in greeting, as usual, and sat down in his usual spot in the Tavern.

Alana, one of the barmaids, immediately began rubbing Gawains shoulders and getting his attention as soon as I sat down.

Vanora clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes when she noticed the girl's predatory actions.

Arthur divulged into an explanation of the mission to which they had to visit villages which had been affected by Woad attacks as Bors and Dagonet conversed about their thoughts on the effects on Gambling and drinking, Galahad brooded at the end of the table, Tristan cleaned his nails with his 'special knife' and Lancelot sat snogging one of the barmaids, which I found revolting in the extreme.

"You must come with us to the sea side village," Arthur said when he finished his explanation. "They could use your healing abilities."

"Couldn't Dagonet help?" I asked. "He thought me a lot of what I know."

Arthur smiled. "Think about it, alright?"

"I have no problem," I answered. "I'll go if you ask me to."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The next morning I walked into my shop, which was beside the dress makers, a mug of herbal tea in my left hand and a stack of lavender in the other, to meet a customer already waiting.

"Hello Damian," I greeted to the grouchy village elder. "How is the paste working?"

He suffered from memory loss and a bad allergy to milk. He accidentally drank a mug of it, due to his forgetfulness, and a red rash appeared on his legs.

Tristan entered the shop casually as the man answered.

"I've tried it Lady Bella," Damian said, "but it has not helped. I've been using it for three days and it had done nothing."

"Damian you came in yesterday," I said as I put down the lavender. I took his hand and looked at the rash I had applied the past on when he saw me. "It's done down," I said as I looked at it. "Have you applied it how I told you to?"

"Of course," he said, thinking that I was just another stupid woman. "Nothing works!"

I closed my eyes out of frustration and smiled. We'd had this conversation before. "It goes on where the rash is Damian," I said trying not to laugh.

The door to the shop opened again and Damian's daughter, Alanis, walked in and smiled at me sheepishly. "Papa, I told you I would fix this," she said pulling him from the counter. "Sorry Bella, he's forgotten again."

"No problem," I said as they went out the door. "Bye Damian!"

As the door closed I felt a cold sensation wash over me knowing I now had to talk to Tristan, trying my hardest not to blush. "Hi," I said, smiling shyly.

He nodded and raised the sleeve of his shirt and showed me his arm. I had stitched a wound he'd received to his arm a few days previously and asked him to return when it was time to remove the stitches. He never came to me unless Dagonet asked him to 'for his own benefit'.

"There," I said as I wrapped a cloth around it after removing the stitches. "Its as good as knew. Scared," I reasoned, "but good."

He arched an eyebrow at my attempt to use humour on him and muttered a thanks.

"No problem," I shrugged, feeling myself begin to blush under his stare.

He gave me an odd look before he nodded and walked out of the shop.

"I'm an idiot," I muttered to myself before knocking my head against the cold wood. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

A soft chuckle entered my ears as I hit my head for the last, painful time. "Yes, you are," Lancelot said as he smiled down at me.

"It's not funny," I pouted.

"Yes, it is," he insisted.