Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and I am fairly sure you can figure out which ones they are.

This is my second story, and I realize it starts out a bit slow but give me a chance it will pick up rather fast after this. I love reviews, so feel free to do so if you get the urge (hint, hint).

Chapter 1: Getting to Know You

Cassia sat in the rafters of the barn for the third night in a row. This night, however, she could barely contain her gaiety. The knights had returned, just past sundown, with one fewer in their company. Now only nine men stood where just days ago stood ten and where years ago stood twenty. Now, Cassia was not so wretched a creature as to enjoy the suffering of other, but she was not so pious as to care if it did not benefit her. This death, however, benefited her more than she was willing to let on.

Six months she had studied the knights from her vantage in either the shadows or the rafters. She had become accustomed to each of their life styles and quirks. She took pride in the fact that she probably knew these men's habits better than they themselves did. Few knew the reason that Galahad could never hit the bull's-eye perfectly was because he dropped his shoulder too soon. Or that Percival was so superstitious before a mission that he would always take the same path to the barracks with the same number of steps and the same wench after the same number of drinks. Even fewer knew that Gawain had a soft spot for a certain village girl that he would follow home some nights just to ensure she was safe. Or how, Dagonet's eyes would give away his yearning to have a family of his own when he watched Bors with his bastards. And probably the most shocking revelation of all, Tristan knew how to smile. Quite often, in fact, he could be found (perhaps found wasn't the best way of describing it, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen) smiling at the antics of his fellow knights or the villagers.

Speaking of Tristan, he was the reason for this entire situation. Cassia had a job to do and Tristan was the only thing standing in her way. But that would be taken care of soon enough. In her studies Cassia had discovered two very important details about the aforementioned scout. First was that he kept his weapons in a locked chest within his very poorly, according to Cassia, decorated room and the key with which to open said chest was kept on his person at all times. Second, she had found out very early on that the only time Tristan would drink more than one mug of ale was after the death of another knight. She assumed that since he was a scout he probably needed his senses a bit more than the others, for they took part in drinking and whoring quite regularly.

These two details, to anyone else, would probably matter little but to Cassia they were invaluable. This was due to that fact that Cassia needed Tristan's sword to repay a debt, and it seemed the only way to get it was to drug his wine and steal his key and belongings once he fell asleep. This would be a near impossible feat for anyone, but Cassia had been indebted long enough.

'Freedom is freedom whether it is by his blade or for it. I shall be a free woman by the night's end,' Cassia thought as she slowly slunk through the shadows of the rafters and out a window. Indebted for four years since the death of her husband, Cassia only wished for one thing on this earth, freedom.

In her six months of study, Cassia hadn't once been seen or heard by any inhabitants of the fort. She lived in the next village as to not raise suspicion when she disappeared after her task was completed. She simply snuck in through one of the many secret entrances of the fort, did what was needed, and snuck back out.

'Silly Romans always so paranoid,' she thought as she squeezed through the narrow passage that led just beyond the walls of the fort. At the entrance lay her belongs. A simple worn leather bound sack contained all she held dear. Inside was a small herb kit for healing minor injuries, an old dagger for cutting herbs, a change of clothes, and a bracelet with a single emerald charm upon it. The last of these being the only possession worth anything to her.

Cassia slipped the sack over her shoulders and maneuvered the narrow way back into the fort. By this time, the body of the fallen comrade had been moved for preparations, and the knights had gathered in the tavern. Each knight sat around a table in the corner of the tavern nursing their own brew. Somehow Lancelot was already well into his third while the others were barely beginning their second. Each man held a pensive look which marred his otherwise handsome features. Even Galahad, who probably didn't know what the word pensive meant, looked lost in a sea of his own thoughts this night.

'Must have been quick and unexpected,' Cassia thought as she quickly surveyed to see which one of the group was missing and ultimately who was now free or dead depending on how one looked at it. Going through the list of names in her head it came to her. 'Lamorack!' her mind supplied, 'Poor Percival,' was the next thought that sprung into her head. They had been very tight friends, sharing almost everything. Looking over to where Percival sat, Cassia could see the streaks in the grime on his face where he had obviously cried uncaring of who knew. Though Cassia was not a noble soul in the least, well not since her husband's death anyway, she still felt compassion for the knights' situation. After all, thievery was not something she had willing chosen for her self as they had not chosen their fates.

Seeing that, though the knights were well into their ale, it was going to take a while before they would be incapacitated, Cassia left the tavern to do some remembering of her own. Slowly she reached the hut that housed the healer from the village. It was within sight of the tavern entrance so she could still keep an eye out for the knights. Silently, Cassia climbed the small tree just outside the hut and onto its finely thatched roof, one of the only well built huts in the village. She lay out on the thatching admiring the clear night, for they were so rare in Britain. Staring up at the crescent moon while fingering the one on the inside of her wrist, Cassia was overcome by memories of her past.

The Roman estate sat upon a lush hill top overlooking the great city. Surrounding it were gardens that encompassed one's senses to a state of euphoria. Cassia carried a large basket of fresh fruit up the hill to the estate. It was an unusually cool morning for Rome and Cassia's thin robes were doing nothing to ward off the chill.

"Cursed weather, make up your mind! Is it to be hot or cold, this indecision is driving me mad," she called to the heavens.

"You know what they say about talking to yourself," came a deep voice behind her.

On any other morning Cassia would have loved to see her betrothed's face, but on this morning all she wished for was to be back in bed. "Yes, I am very well aware that I am mad! Didn't you just hear me say that, or are you just as deaf as the weather?"

"Careful, my love, those words have barbs with which to fell the heavens themselves. Now, please tell me what has my flower so upset?" he chastised good naturedly.

Cassia looked to her soon-to-be husband's calm face and saw that he was not actually taunting her with his words, and sighed. "It is nothing, Marcus, just resentment that I should have to carry fruit while dearest Lucia lays on couches and eats grapes all day. She told me, I was not worth my wages today. How can she say that when she has yet to even pay me last months wages. I am not a fool, I know she considers me her slave, and I cannot stand for it!" Cassia soon found her basket forgotten and her self embraced in Marcus' loving arms.

"Hush, as soon as we are married, you shall never have to work again, I promise," he whispered into her chestnut locks.

True to his word, Marcus never let Cassia work another day once they were married. Cassia sat in her small home, mending some sheets, as Marcus returned home with his head of brown curls hung low.

Raising her head from her task Cassia asked, "what is the matter, Marcus. You were so happy this morning."

Marcus paced to her and took her in his arms causing her to drop her work. "I have done wrong by you. I never meant to. I…I," he couldn't finished his thoughts as she made eye contact with him.

Seeing the pain in his normally clear blue eyes she asked again, "what troubles you. What have you ever done to wrong me? I have never been so happy in my life." When she heard no answer she continued, "Is it a woman, for I can forgive that if it pains you so. A broken promise, perhaps? Well I was never one for promises so consider your self released from it. A lie, a mistake…"

"I have a debt I can never pay," he whispered as he pulled her closer to him.

"Is it money, for I can go back to Lucia. She would take me back."

"No. It's in blood."

"What does that mean?"

"Lives were lost because of me, and now I am responsible for the debts that they once owed. It's not just that either, those deaths caused them many losses which I am responsible for," he paused for a moment before continuing. "I have done wrong by you. I promised to protect and love you and now I have put you in danger. Please, I beg you to leave me to my own fate. I wish none of this upon you sweet shoulders," he finished in a broken whisper.

"You ask me to leave you?" Cassia stepped back from his embrace in shock. "You ask of me the only thing you know I will never agree to?" diverted eyes were her only reply. "Well I refuse! I made a vow and I plan to keep it, even if it is the death of me. I will not leave you for any price, luxury, or man. You will just have to deal with me," she finished almost smugly.

"Forgive me, you are too good to me even now," Marcus whispered as he once again embraced her placing soft kisses to her forehead and cheeks. "I could not imagine life without you."

Cassia was torn from her memories as she heard an exceptionally loud commotion coming from the tavern. Quickly slipping off the roof and back into the shadows, Cassia made her way back to the out door tavern. From where she stood, it seemed as though a fight had broken out between two Romans who had been gambling their meager salaries away all night. For once it seemed, the knights were not a part of the brawl but were none the less distracted by it as were all of the other patrons.

Cassia took her chance and slipped through the throngs of people to the wench assigned to the knights table. The girl was barely half Cassia's age, probably only sixteen summers, and seemed overwhelmed by the crowds around her. The two pitchers she was to bring to the knights' table sat unattended at the counter as she tried her hardest to get a view of the brawl, with little luck. The poor girl couldn't have been more than five foot one or two and was surrounded by men of six feet in many cases. Cassia saw her opening as the girl was distracted and quickly placed the herb powders she had retrieved from her bag into the two pitchers. She did not like having to drug all of the knights, basically leaving the fort defenseless, but there was really no way to single out Tristan's drink and not get caught.

As soon as she had drugged the ale, Cassia slipped back out of the crowd and into the shadows. As she went Cassia slipped a glance to the knights. From the looks of it, the herbs probably wouldn't be necessary because even Tristan, who drank the least, had at least four empty mugs in front of him. Smiling to her self, Cassia wandered back to where her things lay.