Author's Note: Again, fluff warning. Every romance needs fluff, but I believe I am pushing my limits. Feel free to chastise me if you agree.

Two updates in one day! I'm setting a personal record.

Anyway, enjoy, I hope!

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VIII: Tenax Mens

Tristan had risen at dawn that same day after a very restless sleep, and as the other knights and Eracura had not yet awakened, he had gone for a half an hour ride in the rain, sending Ceday out to hunt. When he had returned, he had eaten breakfast with Arthur, Gawain and Galahad, and passed Dagonet and Bors on their way to the dining hall to go to the bathhouse.

He had stripped down, and submerged himself, the warmth a welcome relief from the chill of the rain. He leaned against the back rim of the bath facing the door, closed his eyes and tipped his head back onto the cold marble floor. His peace was short lived. He heard the door open, and looked up. Aurelia stood there, her dress around her ankles.

Against his will, Tristan's eyes took a quick sweep up her body, which was slender and well rounded, then stared stoically at her face. She was smiling in a rather maniacal way, he thought, like a wolf watching her prey. He assumed she meant it to be seductive, as she slipped into the water and moved closer to him. He moved away as she tried to press her body to him.

"Do you not find me attractive?" she pressed, running her fingernails over his chest. He simply stared at her, his mouth pressed into a firm line. She looked towards his chest, still smiling. "I certainly am more attractive than your witch."

Tristan bristled at this, and he grabbed her hands, forcing them away from him. His face was stormy, and for a moment she looked intimidated. He pushed her roughly away from him. "Never refer to her as that again, you filthy whore," he hissed.

"Oh," she said, her voice husky, "I like it rough."

He frowned at her. Was she serious? Could she not understand when to admit defeat?

"I don't want your attentions," he said, making it perfectly clear to her that he wasn't attracted to her. Aurelia stood close to him now, their thighs and chests touching.

"Perhaps this will change your mind," and she lifted herself onto her tiptoes and kissed him full on the mouth.

At that exact moment, as bad fortune would have it, Eracura opened the door and saw them.

She looked as horrified as Tristan felt, and she disappeared as soon as Tristan managed to free himself from Aurelia's hold on a rather vital body part.

"Eracura!" he yelled, but she was gone.

Aurelia looked triumphant when he cast his smoldering gaze down upon her after scrambling out of the bath. He didn't bother to dry himself, but uttered several indecipherable threats in Aurelia's direction as he hastily dressed. "It does not change my mind."

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Eracura was not sure how long she sat in the barn until she finally calmed down. She was leaning against Astolat's forelegs, beneath her belly, as the mare munched casually on her hay, when someone entered. More than one someone, in fact, and Eracura huddled closer to Astolat's legs.

The three male voices were loud and raucous, with the distinct Roman undertone of hauteur. The mare tensed as they passed, for Eracura's fingers dug into her legs, as if by holding on as tight as possible they wouldn't see her. They didn't see her, but Syhier saw them.

Yapping outrageously, he loped after them, and the man nearest to where Syhier sat growling with his hackles up, turned around and laughed amusedly at him. Syhier would one day grow to be intimidating, but this was not that day.

"Hello there, little one," said the man, his voice pleasantly deep and lilting.

Eracura peeked cautiously around the wall of the stall to see out, and the man, tall and blond and lean, had crouched down onto his haunches to pet Syhier, who growled slightly before leaning forward to sniff the man's thick fingers.

"Syhier," she hissed, "come here!"

The man looked up and saw the half of her face that was peeking around the stall, and smiled. He picked up Syhier in one large hand and stood, making his way over to where Eracura had stood.

He seemed surprised to see that she was just as tall as him, but he studied her openly and smiled.

"I believe," he said gently, looking her in the eye with light brown ones of his own, "that this belongs to you." He handed her Syhier and she returned his smile.

"Thank you," she said.

"What a lucky little fur ball he is," said the man, "to live by the side of one as lovely as you." She cleared her throat and flushed. She had never received as many compliments in all of her life as she had these past weeks since being reunited with Arthur.

This man was not handsome; his tan skin was deeply pockmarked, his proud nose was crooked and his jaw was dented, but he had an indescribable charm in his eyes, one that both endeared him to her in the slightest possible way, and made her wary of him.

"Thank you again," she said, and he inclined his head, and walked away to join his companions. She didn't watch him go. Instead, she slipped out of the stall and practically sprinted out of the barn.

She took a risk, and peeked into the door of the room she shared with Tristan, and breathed a sigh of relief when she discovered he was not there. He had probably gone back to Aurelia's room with her, she thought bitterly. Eracura threw open the door and stepped momentarily inside to gather a fresh dress that was not covered in hay and dirt and stained by her tears, and took an even greater risk by peeking into the bathhouse. It was, thankfully, deserted, which reinforced Eracura's suspicions of Tristan's new relations with Aurelia.

She gritted her teeth and removed her clothes. She resolutely decided to put it from her mind and relax and she immersed herself in the water. Eracura felt the tension drift from her muscles with the caress of the warm water, but it did not put her mind at ease. Especially when the door opened and in strode Tristan, looking flustered.

She immediately covered her upper body from view, knowing that unless he strained to look, he could see nothing below her waist. "What are you doing here!" she spluttered indignantly. Peering facetiously around him, her face clouding, she said, "Where's Aurelia?"

He glared, and closed the door behind him. "I'm sorry for bursting in on you like this," he began, "but I feel that I owe you an explanation."

She snorted, "You owe me nothing, Tristan."

He nodded, licking his lips. He always did that, she noticed, a subconscious habit, most likely. She liked the way he folded the full lips of his gently down turned mouth and stuck the tip of his tongue out to wet them, while his dark brown eyes studied his feet almost sheepishly.

Stop it! She told herself firmly, squeezing her eyes shut. When he continued speaking, she looked up at him almost defiantly, and she could almost see him balk at the fire in her eyes.

"I know I don't need to explain myself, but I feel that I should. After all, you did walk in on … that - " he spat it out as though he were sickened by it, and Eracura softened. It had never occurred to her that perhaps, it had been against his will. He had, she remembered now, refused Aurelia's lavish attentions of last night. " – and I believe you should know the truth."

"Alright," she said, "if you feel so strongly about it."

He sat down on the bench beside the tub, and looked at her, meeting her eye.

"I do. I was just bathing and she threw herself at me," he said bluntly. Eracura blinked, frowning slightly.

"You didn't ask for it?"

"No!" he replied adamantly. The vehemence of his response took Eracura aback, and she had to admit she was more than relieved; she was positively euphoric. She swallowed the bubbling laughter in her throat, and shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

"Okay," she said.

"You don't believe me?"

"No, I do," she replied. "I'm just not sure why you told me. It is none of my business, your interests in women."

He nodded, licking his lips again, and stood. "Well, okay then." She had never seen him look so awkward, and she felt guilty, somehow.

"Okay," she said. He looked into her eyes, then left.

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Tristan felt an odd sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He had told her the truth, only to discover she didn't care either way. He meandered to the dining hall, where the other knights were engrossed in conversation with the lords of the eastern forts, and slipped in unnoticed by all except Gawain, beside whom he assumed a seat.

He was no great contributor to their conversations, for his mind was preoccupied, and he was lucky that questions and topics were not directed solely or in any way at him. Perhaps they could sense his brooding mood, but he appreciated their lack of his inclusion in any event.

He had never not been able to concentrate in a meeting before, and he almost hated Eracura for doing this to him. Did she think he couldn't see her looking at him when she thought he didn't detect her gaze, the way she smiled at him with her eyes as well as her lips? Could she possibly imagine that he had not once sensed her emotions for him? Damn her and her damnable intractability. As soon as he thought it, he regretted it, for he realized then just how much of a hypocrite he was in that moment. If she was mulish, what did that make him?