Hazy indigo eyes opened drowsily and grimaced as they inched their way up from beneath the many blankets and peeked around the room. Beatrix groaned and flopped back onto the bed, pulling the blankets back up over her head tightly and lying with her eyes closed. It was just past dawn and the rain had finally stopped, but Beatrix had hardly slept all night and any sleep she had managed to get had been plagued with nightmares that had left her shaken and anxious.
A tapping noise on the murky glass of the window made Beatrix groan again before she flung back the covers and carefully made her way over to the other side of the room. Opening the shutters cautiously as to make as little noise as possible, Beatrix's mouth dropped to find Tristan's hawk perched on the windowsill.
"What are you doing here?" She hissed, opening the window and watching as the bird hopped in and balanced itself on her arm.
She eyed it curiously until the hawk nipped at her outstretched finger affectionately and eyed her beadily. Smiling to herself, Beatrix shut the window and the shutters and crept across the room; grabbing a shawl on her way out and slinging it round her shoulders as she closed the chamber door behind her.
Tristan quirked an eyebrow at the prospect of having someone call on him this early, so he finished pulling on his shirt; leaving the straps on his breeches hanging down by his sides and went to open the door.
"I believe this is yours." Beatrix whispered, smiling as Tristan stepped back and let her pass; his face only a little shocked but his eyes speaking his true amazement. "She was kindly tapping on my window not mere moments ago."
Tristan closed the door and could only nod as Beatrix stroked his hawk fearlessly and lowered her arm so it could perch on the back of the chair that rested by the small wooden table in his room. A look of sudden understanding came across his face and he smirked slightly as he stoked the fire near the table.
"Well if we're out and decide to stop here then I usually stay in the chamber which you're occupying at the moment." He explained and Beatrix laughed at the prospect before smiling widely and nuzzling the bird's feathers.
"Clever bird." She whispered to it, raising her head to see Tristan watching in silent admiration. "What is it?"
Tristan shook his head and smiled at her. "It's just that usually I'm the only one to touch her. Anyone else she'll bite. Many of the others have scars where she's warned them off after they got too close." He chuckled at that, remembering a flailing Galahad as his hawk attempting to gouge his face with her sharp talons and his yells of: "I'll kill that bloody bird of yours Tristan!"
Beatrix contemplated his answer silently as the bird nuzzled her fingers again.
"She must trust you." Tristan mused aloud, stoking the fire with one of the long forks before setting it back in the stand and turning to face her.
She stood awkwardly for a moment, watching the bird preen itself before she turned her eyes up and saw his gaze trained on her face intently. He could easily see the tears that glistened over her midnight eyes and he frowned at her as she began to laugh nervously and wipe at her eyes hastily.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be disturbing you again this early in the morn. I should be going." Rambled Beatrix quickly, turning and going to make for the door.
Tristan sighed inwardly and doing something he would never normally do, he reached out a hand and rested it upon her arm; stilling her. She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him, the confusion evident on her face.
"What troubles you?" He prompted, his voice filled with hidden curiosity and disquiet.
Beatrix sighed, turning herself fully around to face him slowly; her eyes closed and a single tear trickling down her cheek.
"Look at me." He told her, his voice quiet and smooth as Beatrix took a shuddering breath; glancing up at him with mournful eyes behind the unshed tears.
She turned her head away just as quickly but he kept his hand on her arm and gently moved towards her; ducking his head a little with a frown as he tried to meet her eyes. Beatrix eventually gave up trying to avoid looking at him and sighed as she lifted her head.
"I…" She bit her lip in frustration and cleared her throat before continuing. "I don't want to marry this Sir Fielding. What if he doesn't like me? After all I look a mess with all these cuts and bruises…" She trailed off; starting to cry again and Tristan took hold of both of her arms so that he was stood directly in front of her. "I'm scared is all."
Tristan shushed her, gently encircling with his arms and pulling her close in an effort to soothe and comfort her. He held her for a minute or two while she sobbed into his shirt, not saying anything to her but simply letting her cry it all away. After a few minutes Beatrix stopped crying and just stayed there within Tristan's arms; both silent whilst Beatrix diminished into sniffling and listened to Tristan's strong heartbeat.
Turning her head and resting her hands on his shirt, Beatrix looked up at his calm face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be troubling you so…but, thank you." She whispered, trying to smile and failing miserably.
Standing there with silken darks curls still mused from sleep, her cheeks glistening with diamond tracks and her eyes full of sorrow, Tristan could have kissed her. She looked so vulnerable and stunning in that moment, safe within his arms, her secrets so many but so exposed to him right then. Beatrix made no indication that she was about to move; her hands still pressed against his shirt and her gaze trained attentively on his smouldering eyes. The atmosphere in the room between the two suddenly altered and her breaths began to quicken ever so slightly as he tightened his arms instinctively around her waist.
A loud knocking on the door broke the moment as Bors muffled shouting erupted from the other side of the wood. "Tristan! Where in blue blazers is me boots?"
Beatrix jumped away from Tristan and was about to say something; but knowing that Bors would hear her and suspect something, Tristan yanked her back again and shushed her by putting a calloused finger to her lips. She nodded in understanding and he took her hand and steered her quickly over to the wardrobe; opening the door and ushering her inside. Tristan glanced at her and she smiled nervously before taking the door from him and closing it gently.
Striding swiftly over to the door Tristan swung it open and Bors scratched his head and grumbled stepping in as Tristan moved gracefully out of the way.
"'Ave you seen me boots anywhere? Cos they ain't in me room." Bors complained, strutting around Tristan's room looking for his boots. He stopped by the chair with Tristan's hawk perched on and eyed the shawl bundled on the seat with a frown.
Beatrix's heart stopped in her chest as she realised the shawl must have dropped from her shoulders when she bent to let the hawk off her arm. She covered her mouth with her hand as she watched through the gap where the doors of the wardrobe didn't quite meet together. If Tristan was flustered at all he didn't show it, Beatrix thought as she watched him give Bors an aloof stare that distracted the larger man's attention from the shawl.
"They're in Dag's room." Tristan confirmed calmly, pointing down the hallway and nodding his head as Bors thanked him and trudged out of the room and down the hall barefoot; cursing under his breath.
Tristan shut the door and let out a sigh of relief, leaning back onto the door and hanging his head. Beatrix crawled out of the wardrobe; smiling slightly at the apologetic scout as he raised his head wearily to look at her. Beatrix shushed him and put up her hand to stop him as Tristan began to make an apology; her smile sincere and gentle.
"Please, it was my fault for staying in the first place."
Tristan's face softened and he inclined his head slightly as if to indicate his understanding.
"Thank you." Beatrix whispered, moving up to brush a light kiss on Tristan's cheek. He moved his head gently just as she was pulling away, catching her lips with his own in a tender kiss that soon intensified.
Beatrix's mind went into a spasm and any rational thought escaped her as she clung to Tristan and felt him press her back against the door. She gasped for breath as he lined her jaw and neck with raspy kisses before pulling back to look into her deep purple eyes.
"This can't happen." She said breathlessly, her head resting back against the door; her dark curls hanging messily over her shoulders and moving in time with the heavy movements of her chest.
Tristan eyed her silently; his eyes wild and dark with passion, before he moved backwards and watched Beatrix let out a large breath; of relief or loss he was not sure, before she turned and opened the door slightly. She paused; her dark curls a drape over her face as she moved her head to the side.
"I'm sorry."
And with that she was gone. Tristan watched the door close and turned back to the room; grunting and clucking to his hawk who held a corner of the shawl in it's beak as a reminder. She'd left something else.
Snuggling into something warm, Alice sighed contentedly and clasped the source of warmth tighter. The source of warmth tightened its own grip on her and she frowned; confused as to the nature of the warmth's source and warily opened her eyes very slowly, expecting to see the worst.
Her puzzled blue eyes were met with a mound of dark brown glossy curls that were just visible over the bundle of blankets that covered the pair in bed. Biting nervously on her lip, Alice pulled back some of the covers to find a well muscled and strong arm wrapped firmly around her waist and another slung over her hip. The source of warmth was definitely human and male, and Alice bit down hard on her lip as she racked her brains trying to remember what had happened.
There was a storm, yes a big storm; Alice thought to herself, pausing a moment in her explorations as she recalled the thunder and then suddenly the shadow in the door. She gasped, half-believing that this man was going to turn out to be some vile highwayman that had bedded her in the night. She grew bolder in her investigation then; fuelled by the outrage and indignation of the possible actions of this man.
Pushing back the covers a large expanse of a well-defined muscular chest was revealed and Alice shuddered as she was reminded of the shadowy figure walking towards her with a lantern and how she had huddled against the wall, blinded by fear.
"Right then." She whispered to herself, her voice growling and filled with fury as she steadied the covers for the final tug that would reveal the true identity of the person. Her hands gripped tightly onto the covers as she steadied herself on her knees and took a deep breath; ready to pull. "Let's see what son of a-…Lancelot?"
Alice dropped the blankets in bewilderment as she gazed down at the sleeping face of Lancelot; all of her anger vanished and her mouth hung open as she wrinkled her nose in confusion. The lantern, oh yes the lantern; Alice remembered now, it all made sense! It was Lancelot who had come in the night with the lantern, he'd come to comfort her, yes that was right. Alice smiled in relief and laughed at her stupidity; a hand to her chest as she let out the breath she had been holding in suspense.
Her smile softened as the laughter subsided and she looked down at the sight before her. All sense of wickedness and mischievous wit was gone, and an innocently serene boy was left in his place. His hair was ruffled messily, tumbling over his closed eyelids and giving the impression of a small child. The endearing scene was ruined though as Dagonet knocked on the door; making Lancelot start awake, and Alice to fall backwards in shock onto the pile of blankets she had created.
"Miss Alice, its morn." Dagonet called through the door and she thanked him from amongst the hefty blankets piled over her.
Lancelot ran a hand across his face before laughing at the struggling figure buried beneath the large mound of covers.
"Alice, are you in here?" He teased, tossing back the blankets that had fallen over her.
All Lancelot received was a muffled reply, so with a mischievous grin he yanked the rest of the covers away and found Alice lying rather breathlessly at the bottom of the pile. He smiled and gave her his hand before pulling her gently out and into a sitting position. Her cheeks were flushed ever so slightly and her golden hair was tousled as she began to smile and prise the rest of her limbs from the large mound.
"You deserved that for watching me sleep." He told her, an impish grin on his face as he ran a hand through his ruffled curls and Alice instantly ducked her head to avoid his eyes. "But I suppose I deserve something in return now for watching you sleep as well."
Alice gaped at him as he laughed and stood up off the bed and stretched; striding over to the dresser where there was a jug of fresh water and some cloths. Alice jumped off the bed and followed him, her indignation now diminishing into a plan as Lancelot reached for the jug of water; yawning. His hand failed to meet the jug and danced around for a moment in confusion as Lancelot searched with his eyes still closed.
"Alice…" He started to ask, turning around and beginning to open his eyes just as the icy water from the jug hit him full in the face and left him drenched.
He spluttered for a few seconds, dripping from head to foot in cold water as Alice stood laughing; the jug held in her hands.
"Alice." Growled Lancelot, his voice now fuming but playful and his dark eyes sparkling wickedly, causing Alice to shriek and run backwards across the room as the soaking Lancelot ran after her laughing.
He caught up with her easily and grabbed her from behind; the jug smashing on the floor as he picked her up and span her around.
"Lancelot! You're getting me all wet!" Laughed Alice, closing her eyes and forgetting about the jug as he covered her in water from his bare chest.
He laughed along until he hoisted her over his shoulder and set her back down on the bed. Her leg got caught awkwardly as he laid her down though, meaning that he fell forward too and ended up lying on her. She was reduced to a fit of giggles as he rolled off her again and they laid there; breathless and smiling.
"I haven't enjoyed myself this much in years!" She gasped, turning her head to face him, a wide smile painting her delicate face.
Lancelot agreed and played with a strand of her blonde hair that had fallen in the gap between them. They stayed like that for a few minutes until they heard Bors banging noisily on the door in the next room. "Lancelot! Lancelot, get up ya lazy sod!"
Beatrix sighed anxiously, biting her lip and fiddling with her bracelet as she sat in the rickety coach. On the other side of the coach, Alice sighed dreamily and smiled to herself as she remembered that morning's events. She glanced over to Beatrix and her smile slowly disappeared from her face.
"Beatrix?" She asked hesitantly, sliding along the cushion until she was opposite her friend.
Beatrix didn't acknowledge Alice's being there and continued to stare into space until Alice patted her hand gently and Beatrix focused in on her.
"Beatrix, you are not well?"
Beatrix stared vacantly at her friend's concerned face for a moment before jerking her mind into gear and waving her hand as she smiled hastily.
"No, no I'm well. Do not fret over me," She laughed nervously as Alice continued to look at her strangely. "I'm just dwelling on thoughts, that's all."
Alice pursed her lips and sat back against the seat but continued to look over Beatrix with a searching eye.
"What is it Alice?" Beatrix asked uncomfortably, fidgeting with the heavy embroidered fabric of her bodice and trying to avoid her friend's scrupulous gaze.
They stayed like that for a good while longer; Beatrice staring indifferently out of the window as the sky greyed with each larger town they passed and Alice scrutinising her carefully. After a while Beatrix had had enough and she turned to Alice suddenly.
"Will you stop it!" She cried, throwing her hands up for added effect and simmering angrily as Alice's face lit up and she edged forward in her seat.
It was definitely not the reaction Beatrix had been expecting as Alice had always been tender-hearted and known to takes things personally. Her friend's curious smile worried Beatrix and she frowned hard at her as Alice's fingers brushed just below her jaw.
"Who?" She urged excitedly, drawing back to look at Beatrix's bewildered frown.
"Alice, what ever are you talking about?"
Alice sighed and rolled her eyes before slowly and carefully explaining the slight mark on the underside of Beatrix's throat. Her smile faltered a little when she saw the horror-stricken look on Beatrix's face as the dark-haired girl's fingers traced the small rash on her smooth skin.
"Who was it Beatrix?" She asked slightly urgently now, wondering whether whoever it was had harmed her or forced her into doing something.
"Tristan." Replied Beatrix faintly, staring strangely at Alice's rage-stricken face before comprehension dawned and she shook her head fiercely and placed her hands over Alice's. "Not like that Alice dear. It…gosh, it was mutual."
Instead of the shocked, disgusted or pitying face that Beatrix expected from Alice then, her young friend simply smiled knowingly and squeezed Beatrix's hands.
"Forgive me I jumped to conclusions again. Well you weren't the only one… fraternizing shall we say." Confessed Alice in a mumble, a blush spreading fast up her cheeks and for a moment Beatrix forgot all about her own problems.
"What happened between you and Lancelot then?"
Alice gasped, her cheeks flaming behind her long blonde hair now. "How did you know?"
Beatrix shook her head shrewdly and eventually coaxed the whole story out of Alice. They both were shaking with laughter by the end of it and spent the rest of the wearisome rickety journey watching the sprawling countryside gradually turn into idyllic villages and then to bustling towns from the safety of their lavish coach. They made idle chatter to while away the hours and keep them both preoccupied so they couldn't dwell on more weighty thoughts.
Alice watched her friend with growing concern as she seemed to be toy with her bracelet in every free second; a sure sign that she was upset or worried. The blonde tried to make light conversation and tease her companion but it seemed the closer they got to London, the less responsive Beatrix became. Eventually Alice could only watch as Beatrix distanced herself from everything, the night drawing in gradually around the procession of people and leaving the two friends in a deafening silence only interrupted by the addition of cobblestones under the wheels and flickering lanterns that lined the streets as flashed by the carriage windows.
Beatrix could feel the fear and isolation building rapidly inside her as she sensed that they were growing ever closer to her final destination where she would no longer have the safety of these gracious horsemen by her side, and instead would be vulnerable to every of Sir Henry's whims. Tilting her head a little to see past her curtain of dark curls she forced the tears back as she watched the large, prominent buildings slowly drift past and the lanterns that warmed the streets and darkened the shadows.
Tristan glanced around him at the quiet streets of Westminster with vague disdain and contempt. He could not stand the feeling of being fenced in somewhere; especially with so many filthy people and such disease around. He spurred his horse forward a little as Arthur called him to the front; saving a glance at the coach as he trotted past it.
"We shall be arriving soon at the Fielding residence. I wish for you to warn the women and to know that we shall be staying the night as Sir Henry has kindly opened his home to us." Arthur told him amiably, a sense of pride installed within his voice as he gazed around at the prestigious buildings that he had loved so much as a child.
Tristan nodded, as was his custom, before turning his horse back and riding up alongside the carriage. He knocked briefly on the window, inhaling deeply as Alice fumbled to open the overly-stiff lock.
"Can I help you sir?" She asked kindly, smiling at the mysterious horseman who inclined his head to her in greeting before looking past her at the still figure of Beatrix.
"We are in Westminster. We arrive soon." He spoke curtly, watching Beatrix intently the whole time and looking for any sign of emotion from the girl.
She didn't move, let alone speak, until he had bade them goodbye and Alice had shut the window with a definite snap.
"Lord help me." Whimpered Beatrix, ignoring the tears that rolled freely down her cheeks as she stared out of the window and tried to hold onto any sense of hope she had.
Her worst fear was coming true and there was nothing she could do about it.
A/N: Ah! I'm so sorry it's taken me this long to update and that I haven't had chance to reply to all your lovely reviews! The past few days have just been a bit hectic, but you all have my deepest apologies! Well I had to get in a bit more romantic/fun with everyone; albeit using rather silly ways but -sigh- what can ya do? lol. The Beatrix/Tristan scene was a lot worse (Believe me!) until I started whining on at my good friend Hussy (ridiculous nickname only lol) and she gave me the cupboard scenario. And we will, oh yes, eventually meet Sir Henry Fielding in the next chapter! Hoorah! So let's see how that pans out, and how everyone will react to this joyous...-ahem- occasion...Happy New Year everyone! Thanks for reading and sending me amazing reviews that I haven't replied to! Naughty author -smacks wrist- lol xx