On Marriage

This journey to Camelot was more eventful than the first, although in hindsight it was only one moment of unexpected upheaval in three days. It made the remainder of the journey very tense nonetheless. Tristan's scouts, who had been reconnoitring a wide area around the main group, had spotted some Saxon scouts.

Tristan left a guard with the two women and led a party to go after them. They were already on Camelot's territory, so this news both worried him and ticked him off. Despite the ring of guards around her and Tegwen, Eirian felt uncomfortably vulnerable being out in the open, with Saxons lurking nearby apparently.

Her horse sensed her anxiety and became restless. Tristan had left a scout named Griflet in charge, who now dismounted and took her horse's bridle, making calming sounds.

"Are you all right, my lady?" he asked.

"Are they supposed to be gone this long?" she countered.

Griflet shrugged. "Not been that long. Sir Tristan might want to catch one alive to question him. These are the king's lands after all."

"So we might be taking a Saxon with us?" she wanted to know, now thoroughly unsettled. As far as Eirian was concerned, they were all wild animals.

Griflet gave her a dubious look. "If they catch any, they probably won't survive the questioning, my lady."

"Right," said Eirian feebly. "Should have thought of that." She swallowed convulsively.

When Tristan finally returned, his hands were blood-spattered and he was in a foul mood. He ordered his scouts to keep patrolling as much ground as possible.

"Did you learn anything?" asked Eirian quietly, after they had resumed their journey.

"Not much," said Tristan curtly. "We found one. He might have been alone now, but Deira would not send just one man into enemy territory. There are more of them still around. Scouting."

"The Saxon kingdoms are all stirring."

"Aye, there will be war in the spring," said Tristan.

Eirian sighed. "Another one when the first one is barely over."

Tristan gave her a sardonic look. "That wasn't a war. That was just a skirmish."

"You're not being comforting at all."

Chilled to the bone, they arrived at Camelot late that same evening. The gate was already closed, the guards demanding that the group state their name and purpose. Tristan looked up, his face illuminated by the torches, to give them a glare that promised pain and suffering. The guards scurried to open the gate immediately.

Eirian watched the proceedings with amusement, contemplating a possible cheeky remark about Tristan's popularity, but was distracted when the group passed through the gate and cantered up the road to the castle. They were received by Gawain, who was waiting for them in the courtyard. He and Tristan greeted each other warmly, and almost immediately put their heads together for a discussion.

By the time Eirian had seen to Tegwen, leaving her settled and well in her guest room, Tristan had disappeared from his rooms, so Eirian went to bed alone.

The next morning, Eirian had an early visitor. Ragnell was already knocking on the door when Eirian was barely dressed. "I've just heard you arrived with Tristan," the commander's wife began enthusiastically, grabbing Eirian's hands in greeting. "Come, we must talk. Have you breakfasted yet?"

Eirian shook her head.

"Me neither. Let's see if we can find Gwenllian, so I can introduce you. She is Dagonet's betrothed, which has been such a long time in the making. But of course, trying to make Dagonet have a conversation, let alone a difficult one, is like... well, it's like trying to wring more than two words from Tristan, to be honest."

Ragnell raised a knowing eyebrow, making Eirian smile.

"Where is he, anyway?" asked Ragnell. "Slinking about without even properly greeting anyone, I'm sure."

"Scaring the guards, probably," suggested Eirian.

They grinned at each other. During Eirian's last visit to Camelot, while Tristan was away on patrol, she had spent much of her days in Ragnell's company. Eirian was genuinely glad to see the other woman again.

"So, tell me honestly," said Ragnell, linking her arm with Eirian, "how are you? Gawain told me about that ghastly attack on Caer Brannum."

"Oh, well, I'm fine now," said Eirian, slightly taken aback by the sudden change in subject. "We've had a few weeks to settle down again. The Saxons never managed to get near to the town, but there were many wounded. It was difficult."

Ragnell patted her arm kindly. "I'm sure it was."

"How do you cope with it?" asked Eirian. "Gawain must find himself in these situations all the time, him being royal commander."

"He does," sighed Ragnell. "And I suppose you could say I don't cope with it, not really. I mostly don't have to worry about our home, because we are too far west to be threatened by Saxons, but Gawain is still always in the thick of it. It never gets any better, being left behind. There is this pit in my stomach that seems to grow larger every time I watch him ride away. Every time I wonder if this is the last I'll see him. If this time I have to tell our sons that their father won't come home."

Ragnell's face clouded with the shadow of that fear. Eirian said quietly, "You love him very much, don't you?"

Ragnell smiled at her. "I do," she said softly. Taking a deep breath, she then added playfully, "So if I can grow to care for a stubborn Sarmatian savage, there is hope for you too."

Eirian snorted indelicately. "That's very optimistic of you. From what I've seen of Gawain, he is much more agreeable than Tristan."

The other woman shrugged. "That is certainly true. Still, I remain hopeful. And now that we've broached the subject, you can tell me how things are between you and Tristan."

"Now that you've deliberately steered the conversation that way, you mean," Eirian said deadpan.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," said Ragnell coyly.

Eirian laughed. "You are a dreadfully nosy woman, Ragnell. But it's going well. Unexpectedly so. Tristan and I have had to work together a lot to prepare for the attack, and it's made things easier between us."

"'Us', eh?" remarked Ragnell. "And that's all it is? Easier?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for instance," continued Ragnell, "might be we expecting a happy announcement soon?"

"Am... am I with child, you mean?" Eirian stammered. "No. No, I'm not." She tried, but couldn't control her expression.

"What is it?" asked Ragnell. "Oh, Eirian, I was only teasing you. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," she answered quickly. "Really, it's fine. It's just... I was married to my first husband for six years and I never... I'm not sure I can be. With child, I mean. "

Ragnell gave her a sympathetic look and locked her arm a little tighter with Eirian's. "Now, you must tell me if I'm being too nosy this time, but from what Gawain has let slip... Am I correct in assuming that you and your first husband were not particularly close?"

Eirian nodded, her throat closed up too much to speak. Part of her wondered how she had come to be here, in this corridor, discussing a fear that she had rigorously pushed into the darkest corner of her heart, never to be examined. Why on earth had she let it slip out like that?

"Would I then also be correct if I assumed that he did not spend all that much time in your bed?" continued Ragnell.

She gave a second nod.

Ragnell sighed. "Well, there you have it. Once is enough in some cases, but most of the time... let's just say that it requires effort. I conceived within weeks after my wedding, but Lovell was born over two years after Gingalin. And no child after him. And it's not for lack of trying," she added meaningfully, making Eirian smile.

"I wouldn't worry if I were you. Besides, it is far more pleasant trying to conceive a child than having to bring that child into the world. So you just enjoy it while you can," said Ragnell dryly.

Eirian felt her cheeks burn at that last comment. Ragnell raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Are you blushing?"

"No."

"You are. Why?"

"I am not – I don't blush." Eirian studied the ceiling to avoid Ragnell's curious gaze.

"Good heavens, you're lit up like a fire. What did I say? Oh... oh. I see," her friend suddenly purred with utter smugness. "Well, well, well... I should have known. It's always the quiet ones, isn't it?"

"Ragnell!"

The commander's wife cackled with laughter at Eirian's scandalized face. "Still waters and all that... But not so reticent in bed then?"

"Ragnell!"

"Oh, and working together has made things easier, you said? Hah! I'm sure that's not the only thing that's made things easier."

"Ragnell, honestly!" said Eirian, trying to shush her and now snorting with laughter herself. "Be quiet, everyone will hear!"

"And wouldn't that be enlightening for everyone to hear," grinned Ragnell cheekily. "But I will not breathe a word," she promised at seeing Eirian's horrified expression.

"You are terrible!" exclaimed Eirian.

"Yes, I know."

"And completely unrepentant too," laughed Eirian.

"That too," said Ragnell, obviously pleased with herself.

Chuckling softly, they strolled the rest of the way to Gwenllian's room. Dagonet's betrothed was still there, so Ragnell introduced her to Eirian. Gwenllian was a tall, young woman with beautiful copper-coloured hair that was twisted into a thick plait that dangled over one shoulder. Eirian got the impression that she was quite shy, but Ragnell still convinced her to come for breakfast with them.

Ragnell suggested they make a trip to the kitchens to collect some food and then retreat to her chambers, which were "an oasis of peace and calm, now that my sons do not inhabit them." Gingalin and Lovell were at home in the west of the kingdom, their time occupied by their nurse and tutors.

Making more elaborate introductions, the three women headed towards the east wing of the castle, where the kitchens were located. Upon entering they stopped one of the maids, requesting bread, cheese and fruit for the three of them. As the maid hurried off, they made their way to one of the large tables, which was currently occupied by a group of knights, breakfasting and talking quietly amongst themselves.

Dagonet – whom Eirian did not know that well, but who was very recognizable – got to his feet with remarkable speed for such a large man. He gave a very courteous nod, which was mainly meant for his betrothed, Eirian had no doubt. He barely seemed to notice the other two women.

"Gwenllian," he greeted her with a deep voice.

The redhead blushed a vivid pink and curtsied. "Dagonet."

They continued to stare at each other.

Ragnell gave a tiny sniff. Eirian, though not used to being ignored herself, was too busy watching the two to notice. Clearly this was not going to be an arranged marriage.

"Ladies," began Lancelot, rising from his seat as well, after a pitying look at his brother-in-arms. "How wonderful to see you."

Tristan rose silently and offered Eirian his place with a gesture. She walked over to him, taking his hand and stepping over the bench to sit at the table. "Good morning," she said, looking around the table. "Dinadan," she smiled, spotting the man to her left, "how wonderful to see you again."

"Lady Eirian," said the scout with a charming smile. Eirian remembered him from her wedding, where he'd been one of very few who'd been able to lighten her mood. He was second in command of the scout regiment of Camelot, after Tristan, and the two could not be more different. Dinadan had an open, kind face with a quick smile and an easy manner.

Dinadan shook his brown curls from his face and asked with a mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes whether she was ready to trade in her scout for another yet. "Because we have plenty," he added helpfully, smirking at Tristan, who was standing behind Eirian.

Tristan gave Dinadan a flat look and then tilted his head at a few of the younger men, who scrambled to make room. He sat down next to Eirian.

Lancelot snorted. "Unbelievabe. You've been gone for months and they're still terrified of you. "

Tristan smirked briefly at him and then busied himself with cheese and a knife, making the process of cutting look disturbingly like torture. Eirian stopped giving Dinadan a reproving look and stared at Tristan for a moment. "I don't think I've ever met someone who could make breakfast look disconcerting."

Tristan looked pleased and gave her a piece of cheese. She accepted it with a smirk of her own and bit into it.

As he made room for Ragnell, Lancelot commented dryly, "I don't think I've ever seen anyone make flirting look disconcerting."

"Well, I see you're all making yourself useful this morning," Ragnell greeted the men kindly, as she settled herself in Lancelot's spot. "Where's my husband?"

Tristan waved a vague hand in the direction of the door and seemed to think that was answer enough.

"Oh, yes, very clear," Ragnell sighed. "I don't know why I put up with you."

Lancelot laughed. "You? I would've sooner expected that comment from Eirian."

Ragnell gave Eirian a meaningful look, as if to say she knew exactly why she put up with him.

Eirian nearly choked on her cheese, making a tiny, strangled sound. Tristan looked up, quirking an eyebrow.

"She hasn't had time yet to become accustomed to and annoyed by him," Ragnell jumped in.

With an insolent grin in Eirian's direction, Lancelot replied, "I think she managed quite brilliantly to be annoyed by him without being accustomed to him, actually."

Eirian stopped coughing to glare at Lancelot.

"Lancelot, you're being an ass," said Ragnell sweetly.

"Nothing new there," said Dagonet dryly.

"He speaks!" exclaimed Lancelot.

The bantering continued for a while. When the kitchen maid returned with a breakfast for the three women, they left the knights to it and retreated to Ragnell's rooms, where they spent a quiet morning, soon after joined by Tegwen when she finally woke up.

Tristan's day would be decidedly less peaceful. He was going to lead a patrol into the king's lands to try and find the enemy scouts from Deira. Eirian learned this only when she wandered back to the rooms she shared with Tristan after her breakfast and found him packing saddlebags and inspecting weapons.

"Will you be gone long?" she asked him.

"A week or so," he answered. "Depends on what we find."

Silently, Eirian watched him stuff the last of his things in the bags and close it. "Be careful."

Tristan looked up, feigning surprise. "What's this? Concern for my welfare?"

"Oh, do shut up. I meant, try not to start a war earlier than necessary."

"Sound advice, coming from you," replied Tristan in a bone dry tone.

Not so gently reminded of her premarital behaviour, Eirian scowled at him. "I was going to come and say goodbye to you. As a proper wife should do," she said acidly. "I think I'll pass."

Tristan grinned. "Come here, then, proper wife. Say goodbye to me here. I prefer it that way anyway."

"I'm sure you do," she said primly, but when Tristan reached out and pulled her to him she did not resist. After a very thorough kiss, Tristan took his leave.

Eirian stayed behind, setting herself down on a chair near the table and rubbing her stinging lips with a finger, a pensive mood descending on her. Ragnell's comments were still in her mind. The way Tristan and Eirian shared a bed had probably made things easier between them, other than their successful cooperation in preparing for war – or, preparing for a skirmish, as Tristan would call it.

She was struck by the delicate balance of it all. The marriage could easily have gone in a very different direction. Her first marriage had, after all. To think she had been so happy to marry Ifan, so curious. That had all deteriorated into cold indifference and dislike within the first half year.

It was the other way around with Tristan. As much as she had loathed the idea of marrying him, and as much as she still struggled with the idea of him controlling her lands, she could not help but admit that her infamous and fearsome second husband treated her far better than her popular and easy-mannered first husband.

Credit should be given where credit was due. The state of their marriage was in no small part thanks to Tristan. He could have asserted his rights as her husband in a very different manner. He could have made their wedding night enormously unpleasant for her. But he hadn't.

She tapped her finger against her lips, pondering that thought. He hadn't. Why hadn't he?

Eirian was not foolish enough to entertain romantic notions or even to suppose he'd cared about her well-being. She simply had no idea what his motivations had been. Still, it had been a kindness on his part. A kindness she had not expected, and which Ifan had never shown her.

So now here they were, married for several months, having agreed on a truce that had turned into... well, what had it turned into? With a shock Eirian realised it had turned into a marriage. A real marriage. The kind she'd expected to have with Ifan. She was now finally in a marriage where it was no chore to have her husband share her bed, where there was growing a certain amount of trust and ease, and perhaps in time even a modicum of friendship, and where she maintained a not inconsiderable amount of influence over her people and her lands, even though they had lawfully passed into her husband's hands on the day of their wedding.

It was, in short, the best a highborn woman could hope for in a marriage. Eirian blanched at her conclusion, staring open-mouthed into the empty room. Suppressing a snort, she then shook her head. Tristan, it turned out, made a good match.

"Bloody Lancelot and his scheming," she muttered under her breath.