Hello all my lovely readers. I apologize so much for the long wait. I had writers block for a moment and had to deal with healing from back surgery. However, I now am back on track! I have almost the entire next chapter finished as well. I told you all that I would finish this story and I meant it. I always keep my promises. I love you all and can't wait to hear what you think.


Chapter Seven

The uncomfortable feeling that Tristan had been assaulted with for the past few months had only seemed to return with full force as he sat at a chair in the corner of the local pub. He had a half empty mug of ale in his right hand and the fire that burned in the hearth beside him warmed his skin. Outside, darkness had completely set in and the only light inside were from torches burning on the wall and small wax candles in the center of the tables. Galahad had left more than an hour ago to go in search of his woman and Bors now lay passed out beside him with his head resting on the table. The scout smirked; there was no doubt that Vanora was going to kill him especially since the feast tonight was being held in their honor. Tristan could have lectured Bors on discretion but he didn't feel like he cared enough to baby-sit.

Tristan could have left long ago to go find Azalea. However, he decided to take some time to himself. He needed to clear his mind and felt oddly at home in the shadow of the tavern. He spent a good hour just taking in his surroundings and observing people. In the same way that he used to do back at Hadrians Wall.

He wasn't sure why exactly he had been reminiscing so much lately. He really was content with his life. Things had been much harder in the years past. They had been years spent in servitude and war. However, Tristan had a purpose back then.

What is my purpose now?

He longed for adventure, for his life to have meaning again. He felt like he was just floating through life now. The only thing holding Tristan down was his devotion to his family. Opening up a hole in the wall that surrounded his heart and allowing a place for them was not something that he could ever regret. They were not a handicap, but a strength. There was just that small part of the wild abandon from his youth that buried itself within Tristan's character and was threatening to resurface once more.

He needed something strong to awaken his spirits. He considered asking Arthur for another assignment, just for old times' sake. Tristan new that Azalea wouldn't like the idea. However she could stay in Camelot surrounded by her friends and he wouldn't be gone for long. It would liven him up quite a bit and Tristan was soon firmly set on the idea.

It didn't take Gawain very long to find Tristan sitting in the back of the most dilapidated of the local taverns in the kingdom. It fit the scout perfectly. Fortunately Gawain had run in to a very inebriated Galahad who pointed the way before stumbling over a ditch in the dirt road and falling most ungracefully on to his face. Gawain sighed and shook his head as he looked down over the youngest Sarmatian. Even time had not healed the wounds on his mind that their time of slavery had inflicted, the memories that were equally as bad as the nightmares that woke them from their slumber. Each of the men had their ways of coping. Galahad chose to drown his in ale. Gawain lifted his brother up from the ground, made sure he was safely on his way, and then he turned around in search of Tristan once more.

"So you've found me," The scout said as his fellow knight approached. He barely looked up from where his gaze was fixed upon the candle and the flame that burned upon its wick. "Did Azalea send you?"

"Actually it is my lover who desires your presence. We must depart towards the shop where your woman is waiting as well. If you do not, I do believe Halaner will be in a foul mood this evening."

"And of what concern of it is mine?" Tristan said.

"None, but if you have any concern for my sanity you will do as I ask." Gawain knew that if he didn't return with the scout, he would never hear the end of it from the women.

"I do not have any concern for your sanity."

"Of course you don't," Gawain said with a smirk. "However, you will do it anyway."

"And of what reason am I being summoned?" The scout asked, still refusing to stand. He could be quite stubborn when he set his mind to it. Tristan knew that he was going to go; he just wished to string his brother along as payback for the inconvenience of it all.

Gawain hesitated for a moment. He knew that if he told Tristan the truth the scout would be even less likely to agree. However, he knew it'd be far worse to lie. "Apparently the women believe that you need to be more properly attired for the feast tonight."

Tristan scuffed loudly and took a swig of his ale. Then he sat it down on the table. "I desire no such frivolity." He waved his hand towards the door. "Leave me be."

"Come now Tristan, do not be complicated." It was obvious that Gawain's patience was running short.

"I said no."

Gawain ran a hand through his locks of blond hair. He leaned lazily against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. "Then what shall i tell them?"

"Whatever you wish." Tristan replied calmly, shrugging his shoulders.

"This is ridiculous! Azalea will be unhappy as well you know."

Tristan knew that he was right. He waited for another minute and then stood up. Tristan stretched out his back and looked Gawain in the eyes for the first time since the head of the guard had found him. "Fine."

It took the men no more than a minute to arrive at the tailors. Halaner's skill with a needle was frequently quite spoken of throughout the flourishing kingdom and she had grown in fame since Arthur had made the pilgrimage from Hadrians wall to Camelot. The new shop was much more grand and luxurious than her previous lodgings had been. It was two stories high made out of solid well-crafted wood. The two men entered and all about them were shelves of imported cloth and racks of thread in every color that Tristan could imagine. He looked straight ahead behind a bar where the blonde seamstress was measuring Azalea with a string.

Halaner looked up and smiled brightly. Azalea looked over and smiled as well. "So I see that you have found him."

"Finding him was not the problem. It was convincing him to follow that was the hard part."

"Yes of course," Azalea walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist and stared him in the eyes. "I'm sorry, it was not my idea."

Tristan didn't reply and just walked away from her and sat down on a stool in the corner of the room. His friends knew that this was his silent resignation. He would accept being Halaners puppet for the night. If Tristan were to be honest he would admit that if Azalea didn't look so radiant in her new gown, he probably wouldn't have agreed.

Azalea had been attired in a flowing gown of blue silk and taffeta. The neckline rested low off of her shoulders and was complimented by a large silver broach in the center where it plunged moderately low, exposing the top of her small but shapely breasts. The sleeves flared out from her tan arms and her dark hair was pulled up in an intricate array of flowers and braids.

Tristan took a deep breath and turned his gaze away to distract his mind from the growing arousal burning within him. He knew that nothing that he owned would do justice to compliment Azalea when he would enter the hall beside her. So he allowed Halaner to do what she willed with him.

In the end Tristan was arrayed in a deep blue tunic and brown breeches with a silver sash around his waist. Halaner had taken an already prepared tunic that she had stored for another customer who had been unable to make the payments. With a few quick alterations it was made to fit Tristan and flattered his dark features more than he would ever admit.

Gawain whistled when he saw the finished product. "You look like a new man, Tristan."

Tristan shook his head as he fingered the expensive fabric hanging from his body. "I look like a fool."

Halaner shook her head and put her arm around Tristans shoulders. "Nonsense."

Azalea walked up to him and looked at him apologetically. "Come. It is only one night. I solemnly promise to never put you through this again."

It was obvious that he was highly annoyed and yet he took her arm anyway. Gawain and Halaner led the way to the great hall. The two couples could hear the music clear down the street; the harp weaving lovely melodies together that floated through the air and expelled the silence. The group of friends walked up a cluster of large stone stairs at the base of massive brown doors that were open on the hinges.

Azalea looked about the large room in mild amazement when they entered. Glamorous people of all ages were adorned in their very best apparel and huddled together in conversation or dance. It did not matter how separated society was outside those stone walls, tonight they were all joined as one. They came to celebrate for a cause that some knew nothing of and yet they celebrated none the less.

Tristan could feel her arm tremble under his hand and he mistook it for nerves. He gently pulled her to the side and turned her to face him. "Are you well? We could still leave if you wish."

Azalea could read his concern easily and reached up to gently brush a strand of brown hair away from his dark eyes. The fingers trailed gently down his rough cheek. He raised an eyebrow curiously and she smiled "I am well my love. I was merely overwhelmed by the splendor of it all. I am not used to grand halls and fanciful balls such as this. I am a farmer's daughter."

Tristan grew irritated at the way that she always so easily lowered her self-worth. "You are a Persian princess by birth."

Azalea smiled sweetly, "and yet not by heart."

"You astound me woman."

Azalea wrapped her arm through his once more and looked out over the room. "Come now, since we are here let us make the most of it."

She pulled him forward and led the way to the table where many of her friends were sitting. They looked up at the new arrivals and greeted them warmly. Bors meant to scoot down to make room for the two and nearly knocked Vanora from her seat. The redhead up righted herself and began to beat him over the head with her fan.

Arthur smiled when Tristan took his seat to the kings left and Azalea sat down beside her lover. Inconveniently she was located directly across from the queen.

This is going to be a very long night.

The group of old friends talked and laughed long in to the evening. The meal was served to the high table first, the King before all others. His friends made fun of his royal title and Arthur humbly pushed aside their jests. However, Guinevere seemed to be enjoying them immensely. This annoyed Azalea a great deal. Yet, she managed to keep quiet almost the entire time until the queen decided to speak to her directly.

"So how is life out in the deep forests of Nottingham? I do not imagine that you must socialize much among such a society." Commented the queen. Her voice was like honey. However, Azalea felt the burn in her words like arsenic. It remains undetected and swiftly deals its blow before anyone knows what is upon them.

The Persian was determined to remain civil and to give the queen no further reason to question her motives. "I visit the village quite frequently." Guinevere laughed to herself as if that was supposed to impress a queen. This angered Azalea and broke all restraint that she had towards the haughty overconfident Pict who had been nothing more than beautiful enough to capture a future king. Azalea was clearly defiant when she spoke next. "However, unlike you I do not desire a thousand prying eyes attempting to concern themselves with my business and yet know nothing of what they see. We who are content with our own lives are not so much concerned with the lives of others."

The queen's eyes blazed with a deep fire. "I am content with my life, are you saying otherwise?"

"All I am saying is that you perhaps should worry more about your own life and focus a little less on mine." Everyone in the company grew tense and Tristan rested his hand gently on her thigh. Azalea relaxed almost instantly at his touch.

Guinevere smiled slowly and looked over at Gawain with a smug, knowing look in her eyes. The head of the guard tried to pretend as if he didn't notice. He then kicked Azalea hard from beneath the table.

"Ouch!" Azalea jumped and everyone looked at her in alarm. She glared daggers at Gawain and then laughed. "It is nothing; I hit my shin on the table."

Things grew to an uncomfortable silence after this and it would have lingered long if Galahad had not begun a boisterous drinking song in which Bors soon joined in. They continued on in such a manner for the next two hours. As they tarried on further in to the night, their joyous attitudes were contagious and it was hard even for Tristan and Azalea not to have a good time.

"Come dance with me my love," Azalea pulled on the scout's hand, motioning towards the floor. She had allowed herself for once, to enjoy a decent bit of ale and it was finally assaulting her senses.

Tristan brushed back the bangs from his eyes and smirked at her. However he did not remove himself from his seat. "I do not dance."

"You did not do many things until you met me, but alas it is time for change. Although we are not wed, I am duly taken and it would feel improper for me to stand up with any man but you." Azalea made a pouting expression and tugged one last time on his hand.

Tristan shook his head, "I will not. The ale is going to your head."

"Fine, suit yourself. I shall dance alone then."

"And make a spectacle of yourself?"

"Look around you my dear. See the prying eyes. You and I have always been a spectacle. What should it matter now?" Azalea and Tristan looked around and caught the curious glances from couples nearby. No doubt they were gossiping about the kingdoms most mysterious couple. The onlookers glanced away quickly when they were caught.

Tristan shrugged his shoulders. Azalea turned away, knowing that her lover would not give in to her request and walked across the floor to where she saw Eugena, a woman she had known long ago at Hadrians wall. Suddenly she was stopped by someone.

"You have to tell him!" Brene lectured her friend as she grabbed her arm.

Azalea pulled her arm free from the young apothecary. "I have to do nothing. I will tell him in my own time."

Brene leaned forward toward Azaleas face and then scrunched up her nose as she pulled back. "Are you drunk?"

"I have had drink, yes."

"It is unwise to drink while you are with child. Azalea, you know this."

"Aye, I do. It is one night, however; and i do not feel like being lectured like i am a child."

"You are so stubborn." Brene retorted. Her anger was growing ever more apparent. She was of small stature and yet had the fiery temper of five dragons when she was tested.

"Oh, and you are not? We all have faults my friend. Do not push your demands on me. I will do what I believe is best for me, my lover and my child."

Brene shook her head, her brown locks bouncing about on her forehead. "You obviously know nothing about what is good for you. I know, it is my job."

Azalea swallowed hard and tried to still her own temper. "You do not know everything."

"I never said such a thing."

"But you are acting as if you do." Azalea turned her back. "You are my friend, Brene and i do not wish to fight with you. I know that you are right and that you mean well. I am going outside for some fresh air and to calm my temper."

Azalea did not wait for the apothecary to respond before she walked across the crowded dance floor and through the doors that led out on to the balcony.

The night was warm and Azalea could smell the salt in the air that blew up from the shore. It used to bring her comfort and now all it brought was foreboding. Azalea walked over to the stone wall far away from the line of view of the townsfolk inside and hid in the shadows that overlooked the gardens. She felt awful for the way that she had responded to Brene. She knew that her friend was only concerned for her well-being.

Azalea took a deep breath. Her lungs swelled and her chest rose gently before she released it back in to the air. She clenched her fists and let them loose, allowing the tension to flow out from her body. Azalea hated arguments and confrontation, especially with her friends. Brene had overstepped her boundaries and yet Azalea knew that she was right. She needed to tell Tristan and yet she couldn't get the courage. Azalea knew that Tristan would be thrilled and perhaps that was what scared her the most. Once more she remembered back to the moment when she had lost their first child.

Azalea had never known such severe physical pain until that very moment. It felt as if a thousand knives were spearing her through the lower abdomen. Blood soaked through the thin cloth of her dress and stained the Tristan's breeches as he held her in his arms. She looked up in to his eyes and for the first time, she saw tears glistening upon his tan cheeks. He wiped them away before anyone had seen. Lucan stood behind his adopted father in a helpless state of shock. Finally Tristan cleared his throat and turned to his son. "Leave the room and allow me to take care of your mother."

"But you cannot possibly send me awa..."

"Do as I say boy!" Tristan scolded and Azalea squeezed his arm with what little strength she had.

Lucan tensed in surprise to see such emotion in the eyes of the Sarmatian scout. Tristan actually looked afraid for the first time since the boy had known the knights. Lucan obediently nodded his head and then left the room without another word of protest.

Azalea chocked back another sob and Tristan quickly looked back towards her. Her face was buried in his tunic and her forehead was wet with perspiration. He pushed her dark tendrils back and they stuck to the sides of her face. She began to shake her head from side to side and murmured something that he couldn't hear at first. Azaleas voice was barely above a whisper. He leaned forward and heard as she sobbed, "I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry..."

He shook her gently. His bloodshot eyes were serious. "Do not take this upon yourself,"

"Who else is at fault for this tragedy?" Azalea's eyes were wide and pleading with him to help take away the pain.

Tristan was helpless as he watched the woman that he loved be torn apart from the inside. They had faced death, war and servitude together. Tristan had always been able to save Azalea, to fix things and this time there was nothing that he could do to bring their child back to them. Something inside of Tristan broke as he watched her heart break in his arms. He steadied his voice and spoke as calmly as he knew how to at such a moment. "If you are to find fault in anyone for this tragedy, let it be with your God. If He controls all things, as you say."

"Tristan, I can't..."

"No," His eyes flashed dangerously once more. "I will not believe that you had any fault in killing our child. You are too pure, too filled with love to ever be the cause of such pain. If even involuntarily." Azaleas eyes welled up with fresh tears. She went to speak again and Tristan quieted her with a finger on her parched lips. "There is no swaying me further on this subject."

It was then that the door swung open and Brene quickly entered the room. Gawain entered as well with Halaner on his tail. When the blonde seamstress saw her closest friend lying crumpled up so helplessly upon the floor Halener gasped and her face went pale. She covered her mouth with her hand and just stood there silently in the doorway. Azalea didn't look up from Tristan's chest to see who it was. Gawain had never seen his brother so distressed. Tristan eyes were feral. He looked like a wild animal hovering protectively over his lover.

Brene stepped forward and slowly reached out towards Azalea. "We must take her to the infirmary."

Tristan growled out in protest and pulled Azalea tighter to his chest. Brene retracted her hand as if he'd harm her. Tristan's friends could see his hands trembling as he held his lover. Brene was desperately worried for Azalea and in no mood to delay her healing. "Tristan she will bleed out within an hour if I do not help her. So you will allow me to do my job or so help me God you will live to regret it."

The scout didn't say anything for a minute, and then his arms loosened only slightly. He lifted up Azalea as gently as he could and led the way to the infirmary without another word. Azalea was slowly losing consciousness and the last thing that she remembered was the feel of Tristan's teardrop fall upon her cheek and the look of despair in his eyes.

That was a look that Azalea swore that she would never allow to cross Tristan's face again. She could never put him through that kind of pain. If she told Tristan about this child and he allowed himself to hope again, that would open up the opportunity to hurt him just as she had done before.

What if I just am not capable of birthing a child? What if Tristan was right? What if it was God punishing me for some unknown crime?

All of these questions ran through Azalea's mind as she looked out over the hedges.

Either way, it wasn't worth the agony thinking about the past. It did not benefit her life in any way. Azalea knew that she had to focus now on the future and on the baby that was still alive within her. She hated her own weakness and the fact that she couldn't bare to bring herself to tell Tristan that she carried his child. Azalea couldn't take seeing the joy on his face and then to watch as it dies when her child does. However, she also knew that it was wrong to hide it from him. Tristan was the father and he deserved to know. Besides, Azalea desperately needed his love and support. Especially now when things were more confusing than they had ever been before. Tristan was who Azalea usually turned to for comfort. Without him she had never felt more alone.

Azalea was awakened from her flashback by the sound of movement behind her. She sunk back further in to the darkness to shield herself. Suddenly a cloaked figure passed by her unnoticed. At first it was too dark to see properly and it wasn't until a thin pale hand reached up and a bright emerald ring glittered in the moonlight, that Azalea realized who the figure was.

Guinevere...what is she doing out here? Azalea thought to herself.

However, she made no move to approach the queen. Instead she took a step back. The exposed skin of Azaleas back felt cool as it pressed against the stone wall of the castle. She watched curiously as the queen looked about her and when Guinevere was sure that no one saw her, she headed down the stone steps towards the gardens. Azalea tried to coax herself into turning around and heading back inside to join the others. However, curiosity got the better of her. She knew that something suspicious was going on and she was determined to find out. She waited patiently until Guinevere was out of site and then silently she followed.

When Azalea reached the bottom of the steps, she was disappointed to realize that there was no sign of the queen or in what direction she could have possibly gone. Suddenly she heard the cracking of a small twig behind her and she jumped. Yet she didn't move, hoping that if she stood still enough the moonlight wouldn't give her away.

"What are you doing here?" Azalea's heart froze for a moment. She took a deep breath and then turned around slowly.