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Sweet, so sweet. Tristan tangled his hand into Lucy's hair and pulled her closer, kissing her harder than perhaps he should have done. She trembled slightly beneath his hands, her mouth hesitant and inexperienced against his. Dove to the hawk, he thought blurrily. He could crush her throat, could tear the soft skin, could…. Pulling his head away, he rested his head against her collar bone, the beat of her pulse a fragile tattoo against his skin. He bit her swiftly, not enough to draw blood, but enough to make her cry out, enough to mark her, enough to brand her as his.
Lucy wrenched herself backwards, wide eyed and confused. Bringing one hand up to touch the bruised flesh, she swallowed hard and looked at the scout, half afraid and yet too lost in the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm her to move.
"I… " she stammered, only to abruptly quiet when he brought his mouth to her shoulder. Gentle this time, licking away the last vestiges of pain, making her whimper and slide her hands over his sinewy shoulders, press her body against him. Something within her was burning, something twisting and racing through her blood, and when he ran slender fingers under the hem of her dress and traced circles on the trembling muscle of her thigh, she gasped and dropped her head to his shoulder. Too much, and yet not enough.. What was she doing?
The knock on the door was sharp, and so startled Lucy her heart almost stopped. Scrambling off the bed and yanking her dress down, she shoved her hair back behind her ears and did not dare look at the man behind her.
"Who is it?" she called out, well aware that her voice was trembling, her cheeks were flushed and she probably looked for all the world like the wanton that only moments before she had been acting like. Vanora's voice answered, and after a moment the red-haired woman entered the room, deftly balancing a tray on one hand and carrying a bundle of clothing under her other arm. Raising an eyebrow at Lucy whose lopsided smile of welcome did not disguise the fact that she looked away guiltily when she tried to meet her eyes, Vanora placed her burdens on the table with a sigh of relief.
"Well, missy." She shook her head in mock rebuke as she unfurled the bundle of cloth. "I don't know what you said to Brennus, but you certainly got him riled up. He's down at the tavern lecturing poor Kyrie about immoral behaviour." she gave Lucy a knowing smile. "From the looks of things he's wasting his breath though - his efforts would be better spent up here.
"Oh." Lucy blushed and stumbled for an explanation. "You see, I er, I mean it wasn't what it looked like, and.."
Vanora carried on as though she had not heard, although she stifled a grin when she turned away. "Yup, from the way Llynya and Gawain are settled in, it doesn't look like there will be any budging them. Not that I can blame them, and not that I'd like to try arguing with them either."
"No." Lucy eyed Vanora suspiciously, more than certain that the older woman was laughing at her, but went along with the charade. "They looked happy enough when I saw them earlier, and it's probably good for Llynya to have Gawain and Taran close. They both missed her."
"Indeed." Ladling out two bowls of stew, Vanora glanced at Tristan. "And how are you feeling? You've certainly got some colour back in your cheeks - it seems that Lucy has done a decent job of looking after you."
"Tristan smiled non-commitedly and took the bowl of stew that the bar woman offered without comment. Swallowing a mouthful and licking his lips, he sat up straighter, forcing away the pain in his side and back with a force of will that he had certainly not demonstrated earlier.
"What news of the killings?"
Vanora shrugged. "Nothing much to tell at the moment. Arthur sent for Bors not long ago - I expect he'll be up to tell you if there's anything worth saying. No-one else has been killed, I can tell you that much."
Tristan grunted in acknowledgement, but Lucy caught the flash of irritation that briefly marred his features and understood his frustration. The man was used to being at the forefront of battle - Arthur's eyes and ears- the one who was entrusted with information first. To be sidelined must rankle, as must his inability to do much more than wait and listen to what his brothers were doing to protect the people and themselves. Briefly she wondered if he had only kissed her in an attempt to release some of his pent-up tension, but glancing up and meeting his eyes, she did not think so. She had seen glimpses of the soul beneath the scout's armour, understood the longing for acceptance buried beneath a lifetime's worth of scar tissue.
"Lucy?" Jerking her head around, Lucy found Vanora looking at her questioningly. "Gone deaf?"
"Sorry." Lucy took the folded bundle of cloth from her friend. "I was miles away."
Vanora "harrumphed" in disbelief. "If you say so. As I said before, there's a change of clothing there, and I've put a couple of extra blankets on the spare bed. If you want to go out then take a guard - not Elrich if you know what's good for you, he doesn't keep his hands to himself - and if you hear anything strange then get Gawain before you make another mad dash for it."
"Is that all?" Lucy hugged the clothing to her chest, a little amused by Vanora's orders. It was nice to know that she had someone looking out for her though, and as the red-haired woman passed she kissed her cheek. "You are a nice lady, Van."
Vanora rolled her eyes as she bustled towards the doorway. "Less of the lady please, and less of the nice while you're at it. I have a reputation to uphold as you well know." She looked back as she opened the door, opening her mouth as though she were going to say something, before thinking better of it and merely vanishing into the hallway. The thump of the door closing, seemed very loud in the sudden quiet, and Lucy turned back to Tristan.
"Was the stew good?" a silly inane comment, but given the man's ability to stay silent for hours, it was the only thing she could think of to say. He merely nodded and gestured to the other bowl that Vanora had left, obviously indicating that she should try it. Lucy picked it up and took a sip, sinking onto the spare bed and tucking her legs under her. From beneath lowered lashes she could see Tristan watching her, but didn't say anything further.
"I'm sorry." The bowl was long since empty and Lucy half dozing when Tristan spoke, and it took her a moment to understand what he had said.
"That's twice that you have apologised to me." She looked over to him and smiled despite herself. "At least the first time I knew what you were apologising for - since it is such a rare thing then I would rather know what occasion merits it this time." Stubborn man, she thought to herself as he glared at her. She'd already told him that she wasn't afraid of him, had let him kiss her, had let him bite her - and what all that had been about she still wasn't quite sure. If he had wanted to truly hurt her then he could have done, and the way he had kissed her… She could walk away right now - go and see Llynya, pretend that she felt nothing for him. Let him lock himself back up behind the walls he had so carefully constructed. The battle within herself did not last very long.
"Don't," he whispered as she slid off the bed and approached him. "Lucy I shouldn't have…"
"What?" She sat next to him and leaned over, her hair brushing his chest. "Done this?" She dipped her lips to his, a little tentative at first, but growing in confidence when he gasped sharply. Dropping her head, she nipped his collarbone. "Done this?"
"Lucy," his voice was almost a groan. "You don't know what you're doing."
She looked up, deliberately misinterpreting his words. "I know. Show me."
He sighed, tracing the curve of her lips, her cheekbones with one finger. "I have nothing to offer you."
Lucy quirked a smile. "Nor I you. Doesn't matter much though." Kissing him on the forehead, she settled down on top of the blankets that covered him. "'sides you're much warmer than the spare bed." Closing her eyes, she felt his arm snake beneath her and pull her closer, the warmth of his cheek against her head, and while neither of them moved, it was a long time before either of them slept.
Gawain slid out from next to Llynya and stretched his cramped muscles. He was loathe to leave the room - he was loath to leave the bed if the truth be known - but he had duties, and even Arthur's patience only stretched so far.
"Be careful." Llynya opened one tired eye and snuggled into the warm indentation that his body had left in the bed. "No heroics."
Gawain smiled and reached for his clothes. "Wouldn't dream of it love." Hastily dressing, he peered into the cot that Vanora had brought over for Talan and peered proudly at his sleeping son. Everything precious to him, everything fragile and so nearly lost, was within these four wall, and the thought was a little unnerving. Bucking his belt, he opened the door and closed it quietly behind him. The guards stationed at the entrance below would keep them safe while he could not, however as he crossed the courtyard he could not help but look back.
"Gawain!" Bors's voice was unmistakable, and loud enough to startle several horses tethered nearby. "Thought you'd gotten lost." Clapping his friend's shoulder, he ushered him towards Arthur's quarters. "Was just about to come and find you. Arthur wants a word."
Gawain shrugged and gave the older man a tight smile. "Arthur can talk as much as he wants, just so long as there's an order to go out and kill the bastard that attacked Llynya and the others included in the speech."
"Battle hungry are we?" Bors laughed. "Don't worry, I think there's news - you might get a chance to wave that little axe of yours around soon enough." At Gawain's none too gentle shove, he elaborated a little. "Gotta name at any rate."
"A name?" Gawain followed his friend past Arthur's guards, nodding distractedly at them. "Who is he?"
"Buggered if I know." Bors opened the door to the conference room and settled onto his chair at the famous round table. "'spect we're about to find out though."
"The man that we are looking for is called Wulfhere." Arthur braced himself against the table and looked at his few remaining knights seriously. Behind him Guinevere stood quietly, unwilling to sit at the table that symbolised so much to her husband and his men. The empty places held too many memories of fallen knights, and she was well aware that it was she who was the stranger here. Merlin had no such reticence. He sat beside Arthur, his already lined race seeming to have acquired even deeper trenches overnight. Watching him, Guinevere felt a prickle of fear. Her father was old, and despite his commanding presence not in the best of health; what would it do to him if they were forced to kill his nephew. Pushing the thought away, she directed her attention to the knights who listened intently to Arthur's words.
Lancelot looked a little pale, but had obviously lost none of his confidence in the aftermath of the battle, nor any of his devotion to his commander, she thought with relief. Galahad looked restless and fidgety - expressive eyes unable to hide the fact that he would rather be doing something, anything, but sit quietly, a sentiment that was echoed in both Bors and Gawains' faces. She couldn't blame them for their frustration: they were warriors not politicians, and they had spent too long cooped up while an unknown killer walked among them. With a shiver she wondered if they would actually bring Wulfhere back to be questioned rather than simply killing him.
"Llynya said that it was one man. The guards were shot in seconds, she was knocked out before she knew what was happening," Arthur said gravely. "Do not let your guard down, do not underestimate him. I want him brought back alive, but not at the expense of anyone elses life - am I understood?"
A mix of grunts and murmured agreement answered his question, and Arthur nodded. "Good. Be ready in an hour and make sure that you are well armed, I don't want any surprises out there. You follow Merlin's scouts and you defer to them."
"Good job Tristan's not here," Lancelot muttered. "Can't see him following a Woad."
Arthur glared at his friend, but inwardly agreed. It still remained to be seen how well his scout would take to fighting alongside his former enemies. With a sigh, he straightened up and nodded to Merlin. "We meet in the courtyard, Ganis is already readying the horses. Go and prepare."
The knights left the room swiftly, and watching them go, Arthur smiled. The world had changed but his men's loyalty remained true. Now all he had to do was make sure that their faith was not misplaced.
A/N: Thanks very much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter.