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Warm. That was the first thing that Lucy's sluggish mind made sense of. Warm, comfortable and safe. Sighing, she nuzzled her cheek against the scratchy blanket beneath her and snuggled deeper into the bedclothes. She was tired, so tired, and whatever it was that she should probably be thinking about could wait until later, or at least until someone came to haul her out of her perfect little haven.
"Lucy?"
The voice did not so much come from beside her as under her, and Lucy reluctantly lifted her head.
"Hmm?" Opening her eyes, it took a moment to work out what she was looking at. Smooth pale skin with a dusting of dark hair, sharp collarbones, a graceful neck. Peeking upwards, she found herself looking into Tristan's eyes, and almost fell off the bed in her haste to scramble away.
"Steady." Grabbing hold of her forearm, the scout caught Lucy before she tumbled headfirst on to the stone floor, pulling her back onto the bed. She gave him a furtive sideways look and carefully tucked her hair behind her, the feigned poise unconvincing even to herself. Her cheeks were flushed, her heart fluttering like a trapped bird in her chest, and even as she tried to free herself, she could not help but think how right it had felt to wake up next to the man beside her. Attempting to free her legs several times from the hopeless tangle of blankets around them, she finally gave up any attempt at aloofness and tugged each limb free awkwardly, sliding around to perch uncomfortably on the side of the bed. Save for Llynya who seemed to be still unconscious, and the blond knight wrapped around her and fast asleep, the room was empty, Lucy realised, looking around for an excuse to leave.
"Are you alright?" The low voice was not unkind, but Lucy could not bring herself to look at the man behind her. I slept beside him, I slept with my head upon his chest.. She swallowed hard, dipping her head and letting her hair cover her face. Embarrassment, awkwardness and something hot, sweet and wholly unfamiliar battled within her, and she said the only thing that came to mind.
"I'm sorry."
He was silent for a moment, and Lucy fidgeted, not sure if she was waiting or dreading for him to answer her.
"For falling asleep, or for falling asleep beside me?" he asked quietly.
What? Lucy turned her head slightly so that she caught a glimpse of Tristan's face out the corner of her eye. "I er…" she hunted desperately for something to say that wouldn't sound insulting or idiotic. "I should not have caused you discomfort by taking up room on your bed," she said finally. "If you would excuse me…" She made to slide away, only to feel the fingers that still encircled her arm tighten.
"Are you really so afraid to look at me?" Tristan asked quietly.
Lucy shook her head, turning and meeting his eyes defiantly, a little annoyed at his implication. "I'm not scared of you - I've told you that before."
"I see." He didn't seem angry, didn't seem anything but his usual impassive self, but his fingers loosened a little on her arm, his thumb rubbing a small circle on her pulse point. "There is no shame in falling asleep Lucy."
"No." She bit her lip thoughtfully and let herself study Tristan's face. He looked pale and too thin, the already sharp cheekbones casting deep shadows against his hollow cheeks, the slanted watchful eyes weary. "Just as there is no harm in accepting comfort when it is offered."
He frowned a little at her words, but she spoke before he could ask her what she meant.
"Why are you so sad Tristan? Arthur is king, the Saxons are defeated, and you are free," she whispered. "Lancelot, Galahad, Gawain - all your brothers fought beside you, but they do not have the same shadows in their eyes. You lived when all thought you dead. You are a legend already. Is it really such a curse to be alive?"
She dropped her eyes, a little surprised at her daring, but when he released her arm and took her hand, she did not flinch. He studied her hand as though he had not seen anything like it before, long calloused fingers tracing the creases upon her palm. Unable to speak, Lucy watched him wide eyed as he continued his exploration.
"There is no blood upon your hands Lucy. These hands have healed, these hands have soothed." He brushed her knuckles with his lips, and she bit back a whimper. He looked at her intently, and she suddenly felt like one of the rabbits stunned by Danny's slingshot; aware of danger but unable to escape it. "I have no right to be alive child, there is nothing left for me here."
Lucy blinked back tears and tightened her fingers around his hand. "I'm glad that you are here," she said softly, "I'm glad that you are alive." She leant forward almost unaware of what she was doing, her lips brushing his high forehead, his breath warm and soft against the hollow of her throat. One of his hands settled gently against her back, and for a moment it was as though nothing else existed. The sudden noise at the window startled them both, and Lucy scrambled off the bed guiltily.
"Isolde."
"Isolde..?" Following Tristan's gaze, Lucy saw Tristan's hawk land gracefully upon the windowsill. Cocking her head, the bird shook her wings as though shaking the kinks from her muscles, and swooped towards her master at the scout's low whistle.
"Hey," Tristan asked softly. "Been hunting?" Unsurprisingly the hawk did not answer, instead stretching it's head forward so that he could ruffle the feathers beneath her neck, her tawny plumage glowing gold in the morning light.
"She's a beauty," Lucy said quietly, admiring the graceful bird. "Do you think that she's hungry? There's some stew over by the fire if you think that she'd like the meat from it."
Tristan gave her the closest thing to a smile that she had ever seen. " I'm sure that she'd appreciate it."
Slithering off the bed, Lucy padded over to the fireplace. The embers were barely glowing, but she supposed that hawks weren't too fussy over the temperature of their meals. Picking out the lumps of lamb from the half congealed pot of stew, she wiped her fingers on an old blanket and headed back to the bed. Gawain and Llynya had not stirred, although she narrowed her eyes at the pair as she passed, feeling a flicker of relief as she saw the steady rise an fall of the dark haired girl's chest. Best to let them both sleep, she thought to herself. The way things were going at the moment there might not be much time for resting in the future.
Tristan did not look at her as she approached, his attention seemingly fixed upon the hawk that perched upon the bedstead beside him. They seemed to be communicating in some strange silent private way, and Lucy hesitated for a moment before continuing forward. They were two wild things, and she had the feeling that were he able to, Tristan would have vanished with his hawk into the forest.
"Here," she said quietly, offering the bowl to him. The scout took it with a nod of thanks, but when Lucy meant to back away, he reached out with his other hand and caught her sleeve.
"Wait." Tugging her forward, he gave her a half smile, golden eyes amused beneath the tangle of braids that brushed his cheekbones. "Will you not greet your guest?"
Lucy looked at him uncertainly. "I er…" The hawk was beautiful, but it's beak looked awfully sharp, and given that her experience with birds had been limited to chickens and the bad tempered goose that her brother refused to cull, she wasn't quite sure what to do.
"Here." The scout took her hand gently and placed a chunk of meat upon her palm. "She won't hurt you."
Lucy nodded, in truth that was all that she could do. Ignoring the warmth of Tristan's fingers, the golden eyes intent upon her, she brought her hand up towards the hawk hesitantly. The bird cocked it's head and snapped its head down so swiftly that she did not have time to flinch. Isolde made short work of the morsel, eying the girl in front of her in the hopes of more. Lucy grinned, meeting Tristan's eyes as he gave her another piece of meat. "She's beautiful." This time she was braver when she offered Isolde the meat, even daring to fun a finger over the silky plumage of her breast. "So beautiful."
"Aye," he said quietly, watching her. "She is."
When the meat was gone and Isolde's hunger sated, Lucy wiped her hand upon her skirts and picked up the bowl that had held the remains of the stew.
"Thank-you," she said quietly, reaching out once again to touch the hawk's plumage. Glancing back at Tristan who had not spoken throughout the time she had fed his bird, she smiled gently. "She waits for you, she needs you. Vanora said that she followed you from the battlefield and killed the crows that perched upon the healing house roof. What is that if not devotion?"
"Killing crows is devotion?" he raised an eyebrow at the girl before him. "I pity your suitors."
"Hmm." She smiled a little at that. "Were there any to pity then I'm sure that you'd be right. I have to go - Vanora and Kyrie will probably be wondering where I am." Frowning as she tried to tidy her hair, she nodded to Tristan; a strange stiff formal movement that seemed a little silly given that she had all but kissed him earlier. "Goodbye."
She had taken three paces towards the door before his voice stopped her in her tracks.
"Will you be back later?" It was said gruffly, but turning, Lucy noted the tension in him as he half raised himself from the bed and nodded.
"Alright." Walking swiftly towards the door, she closed it behind her and stared blankly at the shadowy stairwell; confused, frightened and strangely exhilarated.
A/N A short interlude that seemed to work better as a separate chapter. Next chapter up in a couple of days. Thanks very much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - glad that you are enjoying this so far Goddess