Chapter 1

" By 300 AD, the Roman Empire extended from Arabia to Britain. But they wanted more. More land. More peoples loyal and subservient to Rome. But no people so important as the powerful Sarmatians to the east. Thousands died on that field. And when the smoke cleared on the fourth day, the only Sarmatian soldiers left alive were members of the decimated but legendary cavalry. The Romans, impressed by their bravery and horsemanship, spared their lives. In exchange, these warriors were incorporated into the Roman military. Better they had died that day. For the second part of the bargain they struck indebted not only themselves, but also their sons, and their sons, and so on, to serve the empire as knights. I was such a son. Our post was Britain-or at least the southern half, for the land was divided by a 73-mile wall built three centuries before us to protect the empire from the native fighters of the north. So, as our forefathers had done, we made our way and reported to our Roman commander in Britain, ancestrally named for the first Artorius, or Arthur." - Lancelot

452 AD

She and Arthur had watched from afar as children ranging from as young as her, to as old as possibly seventeen, were brought on horseback by Roman soldiers. Several rode in pairs. She'd been helping her mother wash laundry when her brother had run up to their mother who'd been speaking to Pelagius to show the man the clay token her brother had made himself of the man he admired most. Arwen listened to them speaking of the boys who were being brought there as their ancestors had come before them. To fight and serve alongside Arthur under his command. That Arthur was to be a good leader to them, a great leader, to treat them with respect as they would him, and much more Pelagius had said to her brother that she had not quite heard as she returned to cleaning their laundry alongside her mother.

Weeks since that cold afternoon had gone by and Arwen had continuously been caught and returned to her mother by irritated Roman Soldiers when she'd go and try to watch the boys and her brother train. She was mesmerized by it.

One night, when Arthur had stayed with the boys, Arwen had climbed in through a high window, dressed in her nightgown, and she'd fallen once she got inside. Though, she had thankfully landed upon an empty bed below the window. She giggled when she bounced up a little on the thin mat that she was grateful had been there and caught her. Looking around for her brother with a blanket in her arms, she looked around at the boys who'd still been awake, staring at her with confusion and curiosity. She merely smiled at them and waved, many, if not all of them waved back at her, more than likely a bit confused about whether they should or not. Finding her brother on a cot, with no blanket covering him, Arwen huffed as she saw the battered body her brother had from the training he too had endured at the hands of the Romans. Bruises covered him, and the other boys were worse off in some cases. Picking up as much of the blanket as she could, she trotted over on her little legs and as carefully as her four-year-old self could, covered her brother. He must have been very exhausted because Arthur had not woken up. Turning to leave, she looked at the high window and then around the room to the other boys still watching her curiously. Many grinned at how adorable that had been or thought that what she had done had been the sweetest thing they'd seen in a while.

Remembering they had injuries that were clearly not attended to, Arwen looked at the door and made her way to it, her bare little feet tapping against the stone as she made her way towards the door, grabbed a stool, and climbed on top of it, then knocked on the door and stood there as silently as a little bird perched on a branch, just waiting casually until the door was unlocked and opened.

The Roman soldier who opened the door and found her then smiled with a light chuckle at her. She was such a lovely child. Her long, dark brown mess of curls and in a blue nightgown. Finding this amusing, the soldier knelt to her short level, even as she stood on the stool, "Arwen, what are you doing here? How did you get in here?" He asked looking around the room. But there was nothing, nowhere, for her to get in at. Other than the window too high off the ground for her to get to.

Shaking her head, Arwen rubbed her tired face then yawned and gave the man a list of things she wanted. "Please," her soft please was so soft and small, it was so precious.

"Arwen, it is late, you should be in bed," he told her calmly, looking around the room to the few boys still awake, he scowled at them, "As should the rest of you," he said coldly towards the boys.

With a huff, Arwen got off the slightly tall stool, walked out of the room the boys were housed in and the door shut behind her.

Scuffing, several of the boys rolled their eyes and tried to get comfortable in their makeshift beds.

"Figures they'd get all the good treatment," one boy grumbled. Shuffling back into his badly made straw bed.

They had all curled up where they could on straw beds or cots to rest, and most had been almost asleep. Until ten minutes later when a few of them woke to the door being opened, though not without a struggle, and a little voice huffing and puffing, a lot of grunts of struggle then the struggling sound of a child trying to not stumble and fall as she carefully, but quite literally stumbled back into the room they were being housed in with a big clay empty bowl full of other things for healing and wound mending.

Setting the bowl in the middle of the floor she turned as another Roman Soldier walked in and grumbled at her still there. It was very late.

"Arwen," he groaned. But she had turned on her little feet, looked at him with a tired and irritated look, and crossed her arms. Then, to all of their shock, stuck her tongue out at the man. "No, injuries are bad," she said and stomped her tiny and barefoot before turning towards the washstand and her shoulders sank at how tall it was compared to her. "I hate being little- oh, chair," she said with a big smile and a soft clap of her little four-year-old hands to not wake anyone asleep.

The Roman had rolled his eyes and closed the door with irritation. He'd leave the door unlocked until he knew she was done with her attempts.

Making her way to the chair and moving it, she froze with a look of worry as the wooden legs screamed across the floor and looked around the room to the few sleeping boys then breathed softly when none of them who were still asleep had woken up. Trying to move the chair again she winced when it groaned across the stone floor again. "This is going to be harder than I thought," she sighed softly. However, she was left a bit stunned when a boy that was awake moved the chair for her and helped her climb up onto it so she could wash her hands then return to getting clean water into the clay pot and wetting the clean rags before she went around getting what injuries she could see and what the boys awake would let her do. One of them, who she learned was named Tristan, helped her mix the herbs a few different ways for a few different things.

When she reached a boy about her age, who she had thought had been asleep but had found he was very much awake with red puffy eyes and tears streaming his face, Arwen took her time with him, trying to soothe his tears and fears. He was all around bruised and his lip busted. "What happened?" she asked the little boy. But he said nothing. Grabbing a clean rag, she cleaned his wounds that she could see, and anything the boy would show her as he sniffed back his silent tears. He'd even shown her a little wooden splinter he'd gotten in his finger. At this, she smiled at the boy and carefully removed it, "There, all one piece. How lucky?" she said with her own interest and returned to cleaning the boy's injuries. When she was finished and the boy was still not smiling, she gently tapped his nose with a big smile, "All better," she softly told him. "What's your name anyway?" she asked the little boy.

"Galahad," the child told her weakly. He was scared, he hurt, and he was confused. But the girl was making it better tonight, just a little at least. When she took a leather band from around her neck with a little white stone.

Smiling as she removed her lucky stone from around her neck, Arwen put it around Galahad's neck and she smiled with the hope that it would help. "A gift. Hopefully it'll make you not so scared. I would be too," she told him. "Just squeeze it when you're scared and it'll help. At least it has for me," she told him, then suddenly thought, "Maybe I should have let the moon clean it before I gave it to someone, uh-oh, here, let me try something for a moment, may I see the stone for a moment?" she asked holding her hand out for it. When he handed it back, she walked to a small bowl, poured what little left she had of the clean water then poured some salt into the bowl.

The boys were all surprised. Using the moonlight or saltwater was something their people did for cleansing objects.

Tapping the stone dry she handed it back to Galahad with a smile. "There, all better, just in case. I'm easily scared so it was probably full." She told the boy, smiling and softly giggling at herself and admitting she was always so scared and or would be scared if she were in their position. She trotted over to her brother's cot and cuddled up into him and fell asleep rather quickly. Unfortunately, she spent more weeks after that getting caught for watching them.

Six months after her first meeting a few of the boys, Arwen snuck into the training camp during a late training session for the boys after they had been 'unruly'. Their punishment was extended training. By the late hour she had snuck in to see them, it was dark enough that the soldiers wouldn't have been able to have seen her, and therefore, she had attempted once again, for a possible total of ten times that week to watch them. Until she'd slipped on her dress and slid down the roof. Arwen swallowed her scream as best she could as she hung onto the siding, her toes reaching out for the railing of the hallway under the roof she was currently hanging from But with no luck reaching it. She was doomed!

"Arwen?!" Arthur carefully called up for her, trying not to draw the attention of the Roman Soldiers. Huffing, Arthur moved to make his way under her and held his arms out, "Come on, let go." He said with small annoyance. He was exhausted. They all were.

Sniffing, Arwen glanced down, and she felt her stomach tighten with fear as her eyes and fear made the distance between her and the ground seem so much further away, "No, you'll drop me on purpose," she softly whimpered. She hated heights. The guards had dropped her over the side of the wall the eighth time she had gotten caught watching them all train just a few days ago. Now, she wouldn't say they hadn't warned her. They had said they'd do it, but she hadn't listened. Now she was terrified of letting go.

Sighing, Arthur almost groaned. "Come on Arwen." Arthur sighed. He was tired. He and the others wanted to sleep. To rest their tired limbs. "I will catch you. Have I ever let you go?" Arthur said up to her.

"No," she whimpered, answering him. He never had let her go. But- "There is always a first time for everything." She told him.

Now groaning, Arthur nearly growled. He wanted to whimper like a baby at her childishness. She had never doubted him before. And again, he and the others were tired.

Softly chuckling, Tristan sighed as he sheathed his sword, "I got her," he said, making his way up the stairs and onto the first landing, "Come here, little wildflower," Tristan said to her with a soft sigh of exhaustion and reached up to her over the railing of the hallway she hung just out of reach for her short little leg.

He was about fourteen, maybe fifteen, years old, his dark brown shaggy hair clung to his face and neck in sweat and grime from the days and many hours of tiresome training. His arms wrapped around her and eased her away from the roofing, however, he had to stop when she had not let go of the roofing. "If you don't let go, little one, you will fall and I will have to go with you," he told her calmly, but she knew he was annoyed. Tristan always seemed as if he were annoyed. Cold and distant even sometimes. But he smiled and could laugh, though it was about things normal people like her would not find funny.

She looked at him as he explained what would happen if she did not let go and let him help her, which he would go over with her. For a moment she doubted him, but the look in his brown eyes told her the complete opposite, Tristan never really spoke unless he truly meant what he was saying. "You won't drop me?" she asked him in a soft whisper of fear.

Softly chuckling at her stupid question, Tristan shook his head, "Never," he whispered. When her bottom lip trembled and she released one hand carefully, wrapping that arm around his neck, Tristan held her tighter in his arms before she released her second hand from the rooftop. He'd told her the truth, and she was relieved and thankful. He'd held onto her, not once had she slipped in his arms.

Then the screams started.

"Woads! Get everyone inside!" Soldiers screamed and the townspeople rushed into the front gates frantically.

Gasping, Arwen looked over her shoulder and to her brother, "Arthur! Mother!" she cried out to him. And her brother had taken off in a run. Her body slammed with fear as her brother vanished into the night and out of her sight. Shuffling out of Tristan's arms once he had her over the railings, Arwen rushed for the stairs with him close behind her. But she was met by a tall boy lifting her up after she had ran around and under the other boys trying to catch her. When they had caught her, stopping her from leaving the closing gates, the taller boy had lifted her up and taken her further into the Wall fortress as the villagers rushed in, almost knocking them over as the screams of the villagers and the horns sounded from outside the wall. The horns of the Woads. Her mother's people.

Arthur and Arwen's mother had belonged to these lands before their father had met her, and Arwen had lushed after all her mother's knowledge.

The villagers rested inside until morning, allowing the boys the opportunity to sleep off their exhaustion while Arwen paced the training camp where they and her brother were sleeping and training to be Knights.

He'd sighed upon waking from his sleep early that morning and found Arthur's sister still pacing the floors. He was sure there was a permanent path made by her pacing. Has she paced like that all night? He asked himself with thought. "Pacing will do no good, little Wildflower." Gawain told her, stretching his aching limbs. When the fortress gates finally opened, he smacked the boys beside him to wake them before rushing after her when she bolted from the fortress. To find her brother and mother. "Arwen!" he shouted after her in panic.

"Arwen, no! It's not safe!" Dagonet called, but she had ignored them calling after her. "Bors! Wake up!" Dagonet barked. He had a deep voice in his teenage years already. It made them all wonder what the teenage boy would sound like when he was fully grown. But for now, they needed to go after the girl. When the few of them ran after her towards her home, the dead bodies, the dead farm animals, and even a few horses were dead that they ran past.

She softly whimpered when she saw a dead, spotted Foal, calling it by name with a cry. It had been hers. Her friend and animal companion. However, when she saw her brother in the smoke, just standing there like he was a statue, Arwen feared for him. Was he okay? Was he hurt? "Arthur!" she cried for him through the smoke.

They had all stopped behind her as the smock slowly cleared, the boy standing at the burned-down house, sword in his hands as he stared blankly at the ruins of the home. Worried, they rushed to him.

When she reached him, her little hands touched her brother's arm. The hesitant touch had gotten his attention. When he looked at her, then at the others, Arthur wrapped his arms around her and buried his face into the top of her dark hair. He was so glad she had been alright. She was all he had left. The last of his family. But he also had his Knights, his Knights were his brothers. Had been from the moment they'd started their training together. Arthur had never wanted anything special. Nothing but equal treatment. And while the Romans had partially treated him the same as they had the other boys, they had not done everything to him that he had caught them doing to his Knights in training. He had to learn to not shake when standing his ground against the Roman Soldiers. The group of boys' treatment was unnecessary. Then there was his sister. He'd overheard a few of Roman's laughing about dropping her over the side of the wall one night, and he had gone into a rage of anger and charged them, won against them both as well. Mostly because he'd caught them off guard when he'd attacked. "Don't you ever lay hands on my sister ever again!"

But right now, she was here, in his arms. She was unharmed and safe. All because his Knights had protected her.

467 AD

She ran through their home with a big smile on her face, her long and brown curling hair flowing behind her as she ran.

"My Lady! Please, it is unlady-like to run like this!" Jols called after her with small amusement but also slightly worried as she burst out the doors, and watched with a wide smile of happiness as the carriage and horses pulled to a stop in front of the entrance to hers and Arthur's home.

When her brother dismounted and Jols greeted him, Arwen smiled at Arthur smiling his wide and happy smile at her, and his arms opened wide, an invitation for her as she jumped into Arthur's arms. "I am relieved you are home and unharmed. And the others, they are safe as well?" she asked, looking at him as she stepped back.

Smiling at her happiness, knowing she was always concerned and grateful for their safe return, Arthur kissed the top of her head. She always did give the warmest welcome upon their return home, other than Vanora's welcoming to her lover of course, which was always an interesting thing to watch when she tamed their wild friend. "Yes, we all return," Arthur told her. Taking her hand in his, he turned to the Bishop as the older man stepped out from his carriage and greeted the man. "Bishop, my quarters have been made available to you." He said with welcome and respect for the man.

Nodding tiredly, and slightly annoyed- truly at being treated so frailly, the Bishop sighed as he nodded his head to both of the siblings. "Oh, yes. I must rest." He said removing his helmet and handing it to Horton before Germanus looked at the lovely woman beside Arthur. She seemed to brighten a little, turning his smile to the lovely young woman before him and standing beside her brother, Germanus smiled and bowed his head politely in meeting her. He knew she looked familiar.

Seeing the Bishop's curiosity towards Arwen, likely forgetting he had a sister, Arthur felt like a bit of an idiot, as well as a little rude. "Forgive me, may I re-introduce you both, Arwen, this is Bishop Germanus, Bishop, my sister, Arwen," Arthur said, smiling proudly for his beautiful sister. She was lovely, a sight to surely see he was sure of it. Mostly because many men had spoken to him of marriage towards her, but he had refused every offer for her hand in marriage. Same for himself, he refused every marriage proposal he could. He wanted to marry for love, not politics. So, he thought it only fare the same for his sister.

Germanus's smile grew upon Arthur introducing them, last he saw her, she had been a mere child. How old she had been then he was not sure. "Why, my word, such a lovely Rose you have blossomed into, my dear. And your husband, where is the man? Children?" Germaus asked. Surely with her being as old as she must be she would have a husband and children by now. Yet, he saw no man standing with her, other than her brother, and no children behind her.

Smiling a little bashfully at his sudden compliment and then his question regarding a husband, Arwen seemed to falter a little as she looked to the dirt underneath her sandals feet and took a grounding breath before looking at the man again. "I have sadly not married, yet, my lord Bishop," she answered him. Her attention was drawn to a sudden slap behind the Bishop and glanced around the man to witness Bors and Vanora speaking, then kissing. It had her smiling. While they seemed a bit chaotic, they were perfect for each other. Vanora was fiery, her dear friend. The only woman friend she had. The only friend she honestly had in this place, other than the Knights, and they mostly treated her like a sister. Aside from Tristan and Gawain. Returning her attention to the Bishop, Arwen seemed to shrink at his raised brow of concern and slight disapproval.

Seeing the man's behavior change towards Arwen, Arthur wrapped an arm around his sister's shoulders, growing defensive on her behalf. "She will not marry for political gain, Bishop, I have seen to that. Every proposal I have been met with I have turned away on her behalf. I wish her to marry for love. Nothing less than that." Arthur said politely with a firm underlining to his words.

Walking around the table, Arwen poured wine into the Knight's golden goblets, watching them cheering, laughing, and telling one another what they planned on doing once they could leave. Lancelot, as always, was currently teasing Bors. "You really should stop that. One day he may just believe you, my friend," she whispered to Lancelot, then softly gasped and laughed when he pulled her into his lap and gave her that charming smile of his.

Grinning at the gorgeous woman now in his lap, Lancelot looked her in her eyes, his hands around her waist, "Well, is someone jealous? My, my, little wildflower, I never would have thought-"

"Never," she told the man with amusement, looking at him with her knowing look and her brow raised at him. "I have nothing to be envious of," she teased him and tapped the tip of his nose. Grabbed the empty golden jug of wine, stood from his lap, and walked away from the grinning man. She was a little taken back by Gawain resting his hand against her belly, stopping her in her walk to return the empty jug to one of the tables lining the fortress hall for a more full one. Glancing down at him curiously, to try to get an answer as to what was the matter, she found the man staring at Lancelot. Gawain looked as if he were irritated.

Concerned, Arwen looked between the men, one grinning and chuckling at Gawain who was keeping her from her task, and stared at Lancelot with a possible promise of death. "Gawain?" she softly asked for his attention. When he looked up at her from his chair, he sighed and finished his drink before holding the goblet up for her, "Please?" he asked her, his voice was his natural soft tone. His polite request shocked her really. He'd never asked her for anything politely. It had always been a demand. Smiling, she took the goblet and nodded, "Of course," and walked to the table that held the wine, her back to the men who were now chuckling or muttering then returned Gawain's goblet full of wine and took a spot against the wall, behind her brother's seat in the Hall, and listened to them returning to their joking. But she was not blind to Gawain's or Tristan's heavy eyes lingering on her. Their stares made her nervous, and she wished she knew why they stared. She'd liked them for some time, from the beginning if she were truthful about it all. But her mind and heart were split between the two of them. Mostly because she'd never made any advances toward them, and they hadn't made any toward her. Therefore, she hadn't really learned how she truly felt towards them aside from her heart always pounding and her insides turning to mush with butterflies fluttering around in her belly and chest while her mind fogged over.

Raising his goblet to the air for them, Arthur gave a speech for his Knights, "Let us not forget that we are the fortunate ones. Let us raise our wine to those gallant and extraordinary men we have lost, who will be remembered for eternity." Arthur said.

"To freedom!" Bors's called.

"Freedom!" They all cheered with glee and excitement.

They all turned to the door opening, and the Bishop's Retainer walked in, his arrogant smile failing as he announced the Bishop. The Knights had noticed and cared little for the disgust on his face as he looked around the room at them all.

Disturbed and disgusted by this sight, Horton did his announcement for the Bishop, "His Eminence, Bishop Naius Germanus." He saw his Eminence's expression as the man walked in, stopped, and stared at the ungodly sight himself. His Lordship's expression was what had him turning to Jols, to speak to the man in a whisper, to attempt to get some form of an answer. "A round table? What sort of evil is this?" Horton asked the man in a whisper, to keep the conversation private.

Grinning, Jols looked back to the table and gave the man an answer he knew no one from Roam would like. "Arthur says for men to be men they must first all be equal," Jols said calmly and proudly with just a little bit of amusement. Arthur was a great man, a great leader. Equal and fair.

Deciding not to say anything about this disrespectful sight of a table, Germanus looked towards Arthur and moved to a different topic upon seeing so few Knights. "I was given to understand there would be more of you."

Nodding, Arthur wanted to scold the man. He behaved as if they had been sitting on their asses rather than fighting, bleeding, and dying for Rome. "There were. We have been fighting here for 15 years, Bishop." Arthur said in a polite tone, wanting to remind the Bishop that they had lost many brothers in arms over the many years.

Slightly laughing, to make it appear as if he understood that, which, he did. However, he'd expected more to have survived than just this. "Oh, of course. Arthur and his knights have served with courage to maintain the honor of Rome's empire on this last outpost of our glory. Rome is most indebted to you noble knights. To your final days as servants to the empire."

Catching the Bishop's slip, Lancelot softly chuckled, a not-so-amused grin on his lips as he looked at the Bishop, "Day. Not days." Lancelot said with a slight glare in his brown eyes, a small grin on his lips to try to be 'respectful' if he must be to the foolish man. First, it had been Germanus's plain disrespect towards Arwen about not being married, he had seen that look the Bishop had given Arthur and Arwen. And it angered him. It had angered them all. Now, this? He could not imagine what else he has said or sneered at since arriving here just yesterday.

Forcing a smile, though it was not so courteous to the man as he moved to ignore his ignorance, Germanus moved to sit beside Arthur with the Box. Ignoring the men, though, his eyes and curiosity had continued to move toward Arwen still standing back at the wall behind her brother. This was no place for a Roman Lady. "The Pope's taken a personal interest in you. He inquires after each of you, and is curious to know if your knights have converted to the word of Our Savior or…" He questioned curiously, looking around the table for a moment and then back to Arthur. He would only truly look to Arthur, these men were nothing to him. Merely pawns to Rome. However, so was Arthur.

Knowing the Bishop would have inquired about that, however, he wished he'd said it with less hostility and asked the Knights, rather than him. "They retain the religion of their forefathers. I have never questioned that." But, never-the-less, Arthur gave him an answer. But the continuous glances Germanus continued to give his sister were bothersome. "Arwen, if you'll please, leave us for this meeting. I believe Vanora would appreciate some help out there with all of the celebrating," he said, trying to be polite to his sister and to try to give her a task without blunting telling her to leave them so the Bishop would stop looking at her.

Nodding, Arwen silently left the room, almost huffing with irritation as she went.

When she made her way to Vanora, she began helping the mother of eleven children with pouring drinks at the shop and liquor stand and ranting to the dear woman about what had happened from the start of the Bishop's arrival until her brother had politely dismissed her without calling the Bishop out.

Sadly, the disrespect the Bishop had continued to give had not ended there. When their Knights had come out, she was curious about where her brother was. Bors had told her they'd been dismissed because the high and mighty man could not get off his high horse and speak to them all.

However, Tristan had re-explained for her, to make it more clear as to what had occurred, that the Bishop refused to say a word about what he wanted to say to Arthur, there, they had been dismissed. Mostly by themselves and at Lancelot starting to leave Roman business with Rome.