A/N: I would like too thank my first reviewers, MedievalWarriorPrincess and wild-vixen, thank you guys so much, it really helps me update faster if I know people like my story! Thanks again.

Chapter Two

Beleth sat staring discussed at Bishop Germanius inhale his food. She was appalled, she got dressed up for this? He was eating a tomato like an apple, with a bit of chicken hanging from his beard. While he was slurping up his soup he dribbled it down his intricate, no doubt expensive, robes. It was like watching a pig eat slop.

"Belethsiel!" She was snapped out of her horrified trance, and turned to see her brother standing at the door of the small dining hall looking at her, annoyed and clearly upset. The use of her Roman name, instead of her shorter British one, was her first sign. "I need to talk to the bishop." She looked at her brother, "Alone!" She stood up and left. Usually he had no qualms about doing business in front of her. Something was up.

She reached the door of the Roman quarters. Jols walked over the courtyard that lead into the Briton's quarters.

"My lady," She looked over at Jols.

"Oh come on Jols! I have told you time and time again, call me Beleth, I hate pomp and circumstance!" He smiled.

"You know I won't stop," Beleth shrugged and she started grabbing at the pins holding her hair in an ornamental up-do with a small lock hanging down her shoulder. "Didn't have a special dinner?" She smirked at him and he scoffed.

"That man is disgusting! I have seen better table manners on dogs!" Jols laughed.

"Are you going on one of your strolls my lady?" She looked at Jols, he shrugged.

"Yes," She sighed in the end.

"I will leave the gate unlocked then." He wandered off towards the stables. She took out the final pin and her long white blonde hair fell down her back.

It was funny to see such light hair in such a dark and dreary place but that wasn't her fault. Some said she had gotten her hair from witch craft by means of the devil. Others shrugged it off as a beautiful miracle. Beleth herself always figured it set her apart from the rest of the crowd, that people would remember her easily even if it was for something a superficial as her hair.

Of course the only person she actually wanted to notice her seemed to pretend she didn't exist. Not that she expected Galahad to announce his love for her for the entire world to hear, she knew the behavior of knights far to well for that sort of dream to consume her. Anyway she would much prefer a private love, something no one else could see but them. Either way it was folly.

She walked the streets. She smelt burning fires, stall ale, dogs, horses, hay, men. Most women would curl their noses at the smells, especially woman born into Beleth's status, but not Beleth. These smells always reminded her of home, some where she belonged, no matter how strange.

Beleth wasn't your average middle to upper class seventeen year old Roman girl; no she was far from it. Though to look at her, she would look the perfect lady, beauty (though she couldn't see it) a knowledge with appropriate thing for girls to know, such as sewing, embroidery, mostly things that involved thread, and by all accounts she enjoyed doing them. But there was a stronger side, a wilder one.

Arthur had also instructed her tutors to teach her to ride, shoot a bow and arrow, learn to read, Latin, Roman, Italian, and Sarmatian. She could use a sword, and throwing daggers. In her own time she taught her self medicine typically used on a battle field and some that were common sense. She had heard language that would make most girls blush from head to toe if not faint, and she shrugged it off, and often found her self having to bite back a rather inappropriate comment or too in front of her brother.

But how could she not be frustrated. Her brother had given her the tools so she could survive in a battle and most likely triumph but he didn't believe it. She wasn't aloud outside their settlement without an escort, let alone on one of the knight's campaigns. She often wondered if Galahad knew of her talents would he think differently of her, she couldn't say, usually when the knights were away was when she practiced riding, shooting, sword play. When they came home Arthur liked her to be in one of her expensive gowns from Rome, and she didn't mind so much, but Galahad probably only saw her as a pathetic little rich girl when she had so much more to offer.

She leaned against a thin mud wall off the main street. She looked down at the ornamental gown she was wearing. It was pale blue with intricate beading along the bodice and hem as well as the sleeves. She shivered. It was made for the warm muggy nights of an Italian city scape. Not the brisk nights of the British country sides. She thrust her head against the wall with frustration and heard what sounded like a moan. Not a human moan, but the sort you hear when breaking a plank of wood with ones feet.

A sickening cold feeling grabbed her as she realized what was about to happen but when it did it was far to later to stop it. The wall crumbled beneath and around her making her fall into the room on the other side.

She coughed and spluttered as the dust settled and she tried to get her skirts up to her knees as they had fallen what wasn't really considered low among most British women but it certainly made her feel exposed. Once she managed to stand up she looked around the room, and too her horror saw Galahad staring back at her. Her first reaction was annoyance, why hadn't he sprung forward to try and help her up, weren't knight supposed to be chivalrous? Then she took in where he was.

He was sitting on a bed with his chest bare and the blanket being held tightly around his waist. He was staring at her with his mouth open. When she realized she had been staring at his bare chest for far too long, and far too obviously she swallowed a few times, her voice refused to work.

"I…um…I am so sorry…I'll get…I'll get Jols over here right away to get this fixed…I am terribly sorry…never meant to…I am really sorry…um…well…good night." She ran from the room and up the street until she was a good few miles away. She swerved into a alleyway and stopped to collect herself.

This had to be the worst moment of her life. My goodness his chest was muscular! She spun around as if worried someone had read her very mind. Those weren't appropriate thought, not at all. But he was really quite gorgeous! No! Stop it, she had to control herself. But…no, no buts. She would just forget the whole incident, Galahad probably had. That depressed her more than make her feel better. What depressed her even more was when she realized those were the first real words she had spoken to Galahad since they were young, and it made her sound like a complete and utter fool. Why hadn't she played it off with class or charm or wit?

She told Jols that she was wandering the street when she noticed a collapsed wall and wondered if he would fix it. He looked skeptical but he went without argue. What he thought when he realized it was Galahad's room Beleth didn't know, whether Jols knew about her feelings towards Galahad or not she didn't know, she wasn't about to bring it up. Arthur liked to believe Jols was her keeper but he was more of her friend than anything else, there certainly weren't many women around the settlement she could converse with. There was Vanora, but she had eleven children to deal with, Beleth helped when she could but Vanora also had the Tavern to run and didn't have time to have a bored seventeen year old follow her around.

Beleth wandered into her brother's study to find him there sitting with his head in his hands.

"Arthur?" He looked at her. He took in her ruined dress but chose wisely not to comment on it. Beleth had no idea what she would have said if he had.

"Good Beleth, I have something to tell you." He waved his hand at an empty seat near by. She took it. His voice concerned her more than she could bear. "I am leaving…"