Disclaimer: nothing that you recognise belongs to me.
WARNING! This chapter contains "scenes of a sexual nature" as they say on the back of DVD boxes. I'm no-ones mother, but please be aware of this if you don't like reading smut or are one of the few innocent minds left out there. I can send you a pg-13 version of the chapter if you still want to know what happens with the story; just send me a PM.
For Mutpadarra - just because she's a sweetie.
Lucy tucked her hair back and slunk down the stairs towards Arthur's conference room. Llynya was right. Tristan had wanted her and she had wanted him - was that really so bad? The way things were going they might all be dead soon anyway. An image of the two decapitated guards flashed into her mind and she shoved it away hastily. Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, she ducked into the shadows when the murmured speech and scuff of heavy footsteps signalled the approach of two guards. She watched them pass with a shiver of unease - if it was so easy for her to hide, then what else dwelt in the shadows? Suddenly realising just how idiotic she was being; running around without a weapon or anyone to watch out for her, Lucy scuttled down the passageway. The room that held Arthur's legendary round table was empty, however one of the larger rooms down the hall seemed to be occupied. Saved from any doubt by the hearty echo of Bors's laughter, she crept up to the doorway.
For a moment she paused. What was she supposed to do? If Tristan was in there then she could hardly walk up to him and ask for a moments privacy - not without making them both the laughing stock of the fort anyway. On the other hand, she couldn't stand cowering in the dark corridor waiting for him to come out. A rustle sounded at the end of the passage and Lucy tensed, relaxing slightly as the lithe form of a large rat whisked out of view.
"Lucy?" The voice was amused, rough, and very close to her ear. With a yelp, she flung herself backwards, only to be grabbed by a large hand around her wrist. "A word of advice." Gawain's blue eyes glinted in the flickering light, but his voice was gentle. "If you are going to eavesdrop then don't do it in front of polished brass candleholders. We saw you long before you came anywhere near us."
Lucy blushed, extracting herself from Gawain's grasp apologetically. The rumble of laughter emanated from the open doorway, and Lucy was uncomfortably certain that it was directed at her. "I wasn't eavesdropping." Darting a glance at the big blond knight, she decided to tell the truth: Gawain had always been kind to her after all. "I was looking for Tristan."
Gawain smiled, reaching out to pat the young girl on the shoulder. "He's in the soldiers' quarters. Come on, I'll take you there."
"You don't have to." Lucy almost squirmed with embarrassment. "If you'd just…"
Gawain shook his head and strode down the corridor, pulling the young girl behind him. "It's not safe to wander around alone Lucy, you know that better than most. Besides, if anything happened to you Llynya would have my hide, and I'm more afraid of her than your ghosties."
Lucy wrinkled her nose and suppressed a smile. Despite her conflicting emotions and the danger that they were all in, it was still a little funny to imagine such a burly knight being intimidated by a woman whose head barely came up to his shoulders.
"Tris!" Gawain bellowed, kicking the door that was situated at the end of a long passageway. "You've got a visitor."
Cringing at such a noisy welcome, Lucy dropped her head when the worn door opened to reveal Arthur's scout. He was naked from the waist up, his hair falling over his face, and his eyes flashing irritably.
"Gawain?" he snarled. "Do you want me to cut your…" he fell silent when his eyes rested upon the girl who cowered beside his fellow knight.
"Talk to Lucy, and don't let her wander off alone." Gawain shoved the blonde girl into the scout's arms before either had time to protest, slamming the door behind them with a chuckle.
"Sorry." Lucy backed up against the door, her heart thundering.
"It's Gawain who should be sorry," Tristan growled. Unsure whether going to Lucy would be perceived as a gesture of comfort or a threat, he turned away, putting a little distance between them. "He's right though," he said quietly. "You said that you would stay with Llynya, you said that you would stay safe."
"Nowhere is safe." Lucy raised her chin in an attempt at defiance, but did not meet his eyes. "But I feel safe with you."
"You know what I am, Lucy." Moving closer to her almost unwillingly, he brushed her heavy blonde hair back over her shoulder, revelling in the silky slide of the strands between his fingers. "I'm dangerous, you shouldn't be here."
"But I am." Gathering her courage, Lucy raised herself on tiptoes and brushed her lips against his. "I'm right in front of you."
Tristan groaned, pulling her against him and capturing her mouth. She was inexperienced and a little clumsy, her fingers touching and tugging at him, trying to bring him closer. Her fingers slid over his back as though she was frightened that he might push her away. Despite the pleasure that they had shared earlier, she blushed when he tugged her dress and shift over her head, her hands fluttering birdlike to cover her breasts and mound. Dainty fingers that he knocked away and replaced with his own, revelling in her slick sweetness as he gently pushed her down onto the bed, shoving his breeches down and onto the floor as he did so.
"Please," Lucy begged, squirming against him, her body shaking with need.
Tristan gave a faint smile that was belied by the intensity of his eyes. "No." Licking away the sweat that gleamed upon her flushed cheeks, he bit her swollen lower lip gently. "In my own time."
"Is that time soon?" she moaned, as his lips found one of her nipples through the veil of her hair and plucked at it.
Tristan gave a low growl and continued his assault on her breasts, rubbing his rough cheek over the smooth skin, and filling his mouth with sweet smelling flesh. He nuzzled the pale indent of her belly, breathing her in as he rested his head for a moment. For all that his own flesh ached for release and desire flooded through his veins, he was unwilling to rush things. This might yet be a dream; he might yet wake alone as he had so many times, frustrated and heart-sick. Lucy raised a tentative hand to his head, fingers snagging in the tangle of his hair.
"Tristan?" Her voice was quiet and a little apprehensive. He met her eyes again, before lowering his mouth to her belly. For a moment he could imagine a child growing there, and wondered if it was a portent or just a wistful dream. Moving lower, he gently pressed Lucy's legs apart. "What are you…" Raising herself up on her elbows, she looked at him in consternation, but when his lips brushed her flesh, her body arched sharply off the bed, her mouth opening in a silent cry. Tristan buried long fingers into the swell of Lucy's hips, stilling her trembling as his tongue stroked her, touching some part of her that made the blood sing in her head. Grabbing his hair with a shaking hand, Lucy managed to tear his mouth from her body. She wasn't sure what she was feeling, what was happening, but she knew that she needed him close; knew that she needed to see him, to feel his breath, his heat against her.
Tristan rose above her, thrusting into her deeply and smothering her cry of pain with his lips.
"Hush ," he whispered, remaining completely still. The hot slickness of her pulsed around him, and clenching his teeth, he forced himself to be patient. After a moment she reached up hesitantly, pressing her breasts against his chest and gave an experimental nudge of her hips. Biting back a groan, Tristan lowered his mouth to hers once again, and this time it was Lucy who found the courage to be bold. Hooking her legs around him, she whimpered when he withdrew, leaving her empty, and pulled him back to her, meshing herself with him in one writhing streak of endless fire. The feel of him inside, the moment when his hips crushed against hers was enough to send her spiralling over the edge. Clawing at his powerful shoulders, she buried her head into his neck, a cry ripping from her throat. He found his release scant moments later, silent and shuddering, rolling sideways so that Lucy lay limply against him.
Exhausted, both were silent, concentrating on catching their breath. Lucy shivered slightly as the draughty air cooled the sweat upon her body, and gave a sleepy smile when Tristan tugged a blanket over them, wrapping his arms around her as though he was frightened that she would flee.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked quietly.
Lucy thought for a moment with the tiny portion of her brain that did not seem to have been obliterated with pleasure and exhaustion. "Only for a moment." She kissed his shoulder lazily. "It was worth it. A thousand times over it was worth it."
Tristan grunted with something that might have been satisfaction, burying his face into Lucy's pale hair and breathing her scent in.
Biting her lip, Lucy let him pull her close, her body shivering at the caress of his breath against her skin that this time had nothing to do with the cold. Now that she had a moment to gather her thoughts, she could feel the stinging ache between her legs, the stickiness on her inner thighs. She wondered vaguely if she would look different when she next looked into a mirror.
"Was I…" she hesitated, unsure of what to say. It was common knowledge that Tristan frequented the whores at the wall, as did most of his brothers. Those women were skilled in the art of pleasing a man, and far wiser in the ways of the world. Had she given him pleasure? Should she go now? Was that the right thing to do? Was he waiting for her to leave? or was that wrong? Was he the one who was supposed to leave? She felt as though her heart might break if he left her side, but he had promised her nothing - she had no right to make assumptions. Scrambling to a sitting position, she tugged the blanket over her chest with sudden shyness and looked around for her clothes.
"Where are you going?" Tristan's voice was sharper than he had meant it to be, his eyes flashing dangerously as he reached out for her forearm.
"I thought…" Lucy let her lank hair flop in front of her face and lowered her eyes miserably. This night, his touch, had been so heart breakingly-beautiful, and she had messed it up with her naivety , her ignorance. "I'm sorry." At a loss as to what she should do, she attempted to slide off the bed.
"Sorry?" Tristan's fingers tightened around her arm with a force that made her wince. There was bitterness in his eyes when he pulled her around to look at him. "Sorry that you bedded me? Sorry for what your association with me means to your reputation?"
Lucy looked at him wide eyed, completely lost for words. Tristan released her arm and she watched the red marks of his fingers bloom red before fading. There would be bruises there in the morning, she thought detachedly. Torn between a dozen confliction emotions, she blurted out the truth before she had time to censor her thoughts.
"I'm sorry that I love you. I'm sorry that I always say the wrong thing and keep finding trouble. I'm sorry that I'm a burden to you, but most of all I'm sorry that I ever thought you cared." With all the dignity afforded her by wounded pride, Lucy pushed herself off the bed, only to find herself yanked backwards and flipped onto her back, Tristan's hands pinning her wrists to the mattress, his eyes fierce as they studied her face.
"Not care?" He looked angry, and Lucy felt a flicker of nervousness at such intensity. "Lucy.." he said helplessly, releasing her. "Go if you want to - The gods know that I have no right to chain you to my side. You are young and beautiful; there are a thousand men out there more worthy of you than I. But know this; I've loved you since I've known you, and hate me if you must, I will not forget this night, I will not regret it." Reaching down, he picked up her shift and passed it back to her without meeting her eyes.
Lucy took the proffered clothing automatically, her fingers closing around the material and almost tearing it in her confusion. The one time that Tristan actually spoke to her of what he felt; something that she had always longed to hear, she herself became mute. He loved her. With a certainty that was bone deep inside and had nothing to do with her muddled brain, she dropped the shift and shuffled forwards, resting her head upon his shoulder and tentatively wrapping her arms around him. He didn't move away, but nor did he touch her. Brushing her fingers down the slightly furred plane of his chest, Lucy rested her palm over his heart.
"I love you," she whispered. "I don't want anyone else."
He didn't say anything, but both his hands came up to enclose hers, the thud of his heartbeat echoing the pulse of blood in her wrist that beat against his fingers. Resting her head against his shoulder, Lucy closed her eyes. There would be time for words later, there would be time for the rest of the world later. Right now she was exactly where she belonged.
A/N. oh the angst! (rolls eyes at self). Well finally Tris/Lucy are together. Apologies for not much plot progression in this - I tried to incorporate it with the developments of the next chapter, but it's just too distracting. So as a "Happy Thursday" present you get smut instead. Thanks very much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - I was a bit worried that everyone hated it!