A/N: So, 2019 sucked completely. My mum was diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of cancer. It's been a parade of surgeries, radiation and chemo with all of the side effects you can imagine. My siblings and I have been caring for her at home. Fortunately, 2020 has started a little better. The cancer is stable for now and my mum is recovering from the damage of the treatments. Which means that I finally have some time, and space in my head, to write more of this story. Sorry to start with such a gloomy note. I hope there's still some of you wanting to read this story. It's been a great distraction for me diving back in, and I hope you will enjoy it!

Rated M for language, mentions of suicidal tendencies and scenes of a sexual nature.

Honesty

Tristan closed the door to his rooms with an inward sigh of relief, trying to set his frustration aside. He rubbed a hand over his dusty face and began to take off his outer clothing. Hearing him, Eirian walked out of the bedroom. She leaned in the door opening. "Feeling better?"

He quirked an inquiring eyebrow.

"Well, you did storm off earlier today and then left for a ride, or so I heard," she explained. "I hope it helped."

"It did," he replied. Or, it had helped until Áine had met him at the stables.

"Will you tell me what is going on with you?"

"No," he said tersely.

Eirian folded her arms, her expression stony. "Fine."

It was not fine. That much Tristan could deduce from the stubborn set of her chin. Gods, but he did not want to talk about Áine.

"I have something to tell you, though," said Eirian.

"What is it?"

"Rhodri has returned to Camelot. I spoke with him today."

That blindsided Tristan completely. He was not in the calmest state of mind as it was, and the mention of Rhodri did not help. "What?" he snapped at Eirian.

She was not perturbed. "I spoke with him today," she repeated, "and I wanted to tell you, because he is a sensitive subject between us."

"And what did you have to say to him?" he hissed ominously. In the back of his mind, Tristan realised he was not responding well. He tried to rein himself in, pushing back the immediate possessiveness and sense of threat that flooded him.

Judging from the icy look on Eirian's face, she was not responding well to him either. "We talked about his work with Gawain this past year and a half, his assignments, how I have been doing," she hissed back. "And I'm sure that you will be happy to know that it feels as if a friend has turned into an acquaintance. When I chose you, I lost him. And I never regretted it, but today I felt it keenly. So for me to come back here, wishing to tell you immediately so that there could not be anything between us, and have you react in this manner…"

Eirian stopped, exhaling audibly. "I'm going for a walk."

"Eirian…"

"Don't," she snapped. "I need some air. Leave me be."

The door slammed shut behind her and Tristan cursed. He was not having a good day.

Tristan spent most of the night awake, Eirian sleeping beside him with her back resolutely turned towards him. He supposed he should count his blessings that he was not banned from the bed as he had once been before.

That had been a fight with both of them in the wrong, but he was quite certain that this time it was on him. Funnily enough, both fights came down to secrets about their pasts. Clearly, Eirian had learned from their first fight, a voice in his head told him with brutal honesty. She had come to him straight away to tell him about Rhodri.

And he? Tristan clenched his jaw, turning from his side onto his back beneath the blankets. Obviously, he had not learned a thing. You're a fucking idiot, the voice told him.

There was only one solution to this. He knew that, as much as he tried to find another way out. It was just entirely counter-intuitive to him, revealing information that could possibly hurt him. He wore wariness and distrust as a defense strategy. By now that was as comfortable to wear as the metal he wore to protect his body. In all honesty, Tristan had come to Britannia already a cautious boy and his tendency towards aloofness had only been strengthened by his experiences under Roman rule. It had bettered in the years under Arthur's reign, but it had never left him. As much as he cared for his brothers, he'd never fully let his guard down, not even for them.

Tristan stared at the ceiling. He hadn't done it for Áine, either. Nor for Eirian, he admitted to himself. She knew more about him than most did, save for perhaps Gawain, but even with her he held back. It was unfair to her. He thought again about how she had told him immediately about Rhodri, and felt even worse about his response to her.

He could only fix this in one way. When it came down to it, he had to decide what he wanted to protect most now. Himself, or his wife and child. So after a short and sleepless night, he woke Eirian early, shaking her shoulder gently and ignoring her whiny "No."

"Come on," he insisted. "We're going out riding. I want to show you something."

Eirian opened her eyes. "What? Now? It's early."

"It's a long ride. Come on, get dressed."

With a disgruntled sigh, Eirian wrestled herself out from under the blankets. "This is not a good start to the day."

Tristan smirked. "I'll ask Cook to pack a good meal. Will that help?"

Eirian sized him up for a moment. "Maybe. Tell me why I should go out riding with you after yesterday?"

It was a fair question. "Because I'm asking you," he replied. "Please?"

"Very well," she acquiesced quietly.

"Thank you," he said. "I'll see to that food."

As he walked out of the bedroom, Eirian called after him, "There had better be apple cake in my saddle bags when I mount up."

Tristan grinned.

Tristan made sure that the demanded apple cake was tucked securely into Eirian's saddle bags before she was dressed. They mounted their horses in silence, Eirian keeping her glaring to a minimum. As Tristan was fully aware that Eirian did not do well on interrupted sleep, he knew she was making an effort.

They rode out of Camelot's gates just as the sun rose over the horizon. There was a cool silence between them. It was not in any way a comfortable quietness, which reinforced Tristan's notion that he had some work to do.

Eirian was obviously biting her tongue, waiting to see what he wanted after asking her to come with him.

They rode past several villages in the vicinity of Camelot, before coming across a wide swathe of flatlands that were mostly empty. They were winter pastures, and the sheep had not come down from the higher summer pastures yet.

"Come on," Tristan said to Eirian and spurred Fedir on. Fedir, his eyes already locked on the green expanse before him, shot away in a gallop. Behind him, Tristan heard Eirian call out a "Ha!" as she gave chase.

He looked over his shoulder to see her lying almost flat down on her horse's neck as she sprinted after Tristan and Fedir. They crossed the pastures at neck-breaking speed until they reached a birch wood for which they had to rein in the horses. Eirian looked at him as she pulled up next to him, hair and face wild, and laughed breathlessly.

She pushed past him into the wood. "Through here?" she asked.

"Aye."

"Is it any use asking you where we are going?"

"No," he answered, glad that she was striking up conversation. "It's something that's better seen than told about."

"Very well."

It was another hour's ride or so before they reached where Tristan wanted to go. The landscape had gone from rolling fields to green hills and woods. He dismounted and tied Fedir to a tree, indicating to Eirian to do the same. Unfastening the well-filled saddle bags, he hoisted them over one shoulder and told Eirian to follow him. "It's a short walk."

They made their way through a thick underbrush until they reached a cleverly hidden path. Slowly they descended down the side of a hill, hidden mostly from sight by an abundance of trees and their late summer foliage.

"I can hear water," Eirian commented.

"That's where we're going."

The path turned on itself and descended sharply before it reached its end at the bottom of the hill, leading into a small, hidden glade.

"Oh!" Eirian exhaled softly behind him.

From a sharp cut in the hill that could not be seen from the top, a stream cascaded down in a small but persistent waterfall into a pool. The water was clear and began reflecting the surrounding trees the further away from the waterfall it got. At its furthest end it was nearly as smooth as glass, surrounded by flat rocks and grass.

"This is beautiful," Eirian said with wonder. She slowly put her bag down and walked into the glade, slowly turning to take in the natural beauty around her.

Tristan dropped his bags too and followed her.

"How did you come upon this place?" Eiran asked him, craning her head up to watch the waterfall.

"I have scouted this landscape very often," he answered. "I found it years ago."

"Do you think anybody else knows about it?"

"I don't know," he said. "I've never seen anyone here. I come here when I want to be alone."

Eirian pinned him with her sharp gaze immediately. "So why did you bring me here?"

"Because I wanted to be alone with you," he answered. "And I wanted to show you this."

"Why?" she shot back. "Because you were a complete arse yesterday?"

Tristan paused. "Aye," he admitted then.

Eirian showed surprise at his ready reply. Tristan sighed, and moved so he could look her in the eye. "You're right," he said. "I was an arse. I apologize for my reaction."

She opened her mouth for a reply and then closed it again, her face baffled. "Thank you," she said softly.

"It's not exactly why I brought you here, though," he continued. "I have never told anyone about this place, nor brought anyone here. I do not share personal things easily. You might have noticed that," he added, ruefully.

"Yes, I have noticed," Eirian answered gently. "But I feel that you do tell me things when you are ready."

"I am trying," he said. "It does not come naturally to me."

"Tristan, I do hope you know that I will listen to anything you want to tell me," said Eirian, "but please do not feel as if you have to tell me what you do not want to."

It was kind of her to say. Tristan cupped her face between his hands and kissed her firmly. "I do have to tell you, though," he explained. "Because what I have not told you is affecting me and therefore us."

He saw insecurity flit across Eirian's face for a moment. "Us?" she asked softly.

"I should not have allowed that to happen," he hurried to explain. "I should have told you much earlier, but I did not. And as a result I snapped at you yesterday, when you were being honest and upfront with me. That is what I mean by affecting us."

She nodded, the worried wrinkle between her eyebrows relaxing.

Tristan floundered for a moment, wondering where to begin. "You might not like what I'm about to tell you."

Eirian sighed. "Well," she said, "let's unpack those bags and eat. Is there a blanket in there somewhere?"

"Aye, here."

As they installed themselves near the pool and in a patch of dappled sunlight, Tristan began, haltingly, to speak. "I tend to see most things as either safe or a threat. Most people too."

Eirian's hands, cutting thin slices of cheese, stilled for a moment. "Mhmm?" she replied, resuming her work and keeping her attention on her hands.

"I judge quickly," he added. "Once I deem something or someone a threat, it takes much for me to change my opinion."

"I assume that's what's kept you alive all these years," said Eirian frankly.

"True, but it can be a hindrance as well as a help."

Eirian looked up. "So you judge a situation quickly and you don't share personal things," she said. "I do know that, Tristan. I've lived with you for more than two years now."

"I'm trying to explain why I did not tell you," he said, frustrated.

"Why don't you tell me what you did not tell me and you can explain after," she smiled. "Because I am a little lost right now."

He exhaled noisily. "That makes two of us."

"Why not simply start at the beginning?"

"Badon Hill," he said, after a moment. "That's where it started."

"The battle?"

"Aye. I expected to die there. We were free of Rome and planning to go back to Sarmatia. Going home, Galahad said, but my family was already dead. I had no home, no purpose. The idea of freedom did not mean to me what it meant to Galahad, or Bors for that matter. Going back to Sarmatia or staying in Brittannia, I could not see a life for me either way.

In a way it was a relief when Arthur stayed to fight to Saxons, and therefore so did we. After fifteen years of fighting, I mainly existed to kill. I thought this battle was a good way to die. Help my brothers survive. I saw an opportunity to engage the Saxon leader, so I did. I wasn't sharp – we'd been beyond the Wall for more than a week and I had barely slept – and he was good. I don't remember how many times he wounded me before I realised that I did not want to die. But by then it was too late."

Tristan did remember looking up at the sky, his own breath wheezing loudly in his ears, and seeing the hawk that he had fostered circling above him. At least one of them was free, he'd thought and smiled. Before the Saxon had run him through.

"Oh, Tristan," Eirian sighed softly.

"I was unconscious for weeks," he continued. "Or so I was told. I have no memory of that time at all. Somehow the Saxon's blade missed vital organs, though the damage was extensive. I was bandaged and cared for, but no one expected me to survive. I would not have, had it not been for Áine's skills. She came to the Wall in the immediate aftermath of the battle, with her father Niall. He was one of the first to ally himself with Arthur, along with your father. She was known for her healing skills in her own lands and Arthur asked her to see what she could do for Lancelot, Dagonet and me.

The first thing I remember is waking up with her hovering above me. I thought I was dead and that Arthur had been right after all about his angels of golden light. Turned out it was candlelight and blond hair."

Eirian snorted at his dry tone. "A major disappointment, I'm sure."

"My main disappointment was that I was still alive and completely useless. I had felt a will to survive for a moment during the battle, but I could no longer feel it. Not in the state that my body was in. I was helpless. Could not even sit up. And a few days after waking up, a fever took what little strength I had left. After that abated and I was conscious again, I gave up. My body was wasted away, my leg was not healing, and I could not keep food down.

But Áine did not leave me alone. She fed me herbs and tinctures and broth until I stopped throwing it up. She worked on my leg, carved away the dead flesh and stitched it up again. This time the wound did close. But I could not use my leg. I was in such a black mood that she hid my weapons from me and forbade anyone from leaving a blade within my reach.

I called her things I am still ashamed of, but she was pitiless. And she was right to do it. I would have done away with myself if I'd had the chance. She did not give up on me, though. Said the danger had passed and that it was simply a matter of rebuilding my body's strength. Told me I was an idiot for thinking I could use a leg that had no muscles left. So I ate. To spite her and to prove her wrong."

"But she wasn't wrong," said Eirian.

"No, she wasn't. She pointed out every little improvement to me, most of which I did not see at the time. But exercise and food did their work, so after a few months I walked out of that sick room myself. I did apologize to Áine for my behaviour, but she told me that I was hardly the first moody warrior that she'd had to drag out of the bed by the hair and that I was not that special. So that put me in my place again."

Eirian bit her lip to hide her smile.

"Told me not to think that she was done with me. Now that I was up and walking, the real exercise would begin. She prescribed a regime of muscle strengthening, stretching and endurance training. I would be in pain every day, as it turned out. But it was working fast.

She was recalled to her father's side soon after and left me with a list of instructions. I did not see her again until the Southern Wars, though she often sent a request for an update with messages from her father to Arthur."

Tristan fell silent.

"She saved your life," said Eirian.

"In more than one way."

"So what happened between you during the Southern Wars?"

Surprised, Tristan looked at Eirian.

"I'm not an idiot, Tristan," she told him with a raised eyebrow. "I know where this story is going."

With a barely contained groan, he reminded himself to be honest.

"I was fully healed by the time the war broke out. Had set up a company of scouts. The court had been relocated to Camelot. We moved south with a large force and were joined by many of Arthur's allies. Niall had brought Áine with him to care for his wounded men.

She came to find me to see how I was doing. She was pleased with my progress. We sought each other out several times and something changed between us. The war lasted longer than anticipated. The Saxons were stronger than we'd thought. Between skirmishes, we kept looking for each other. Trying to find a quiet moment. When we found ourselves alone once…"

He trailed off and coughed.

"Ah," commented Eirian.

"After that, we tried to find as much time alone as we could. For the first time in years, I was making plans for after a war. If I survived, I would go to her father."

"You were in love with her," said Eirian softly.

"And I meant to marry her," he added, "but I did not make my intentions known, thinking I had to survive first. And as I was stuck in the field and Áine in the sick bay, the lords were already scheming.

Niall was the son of a Hibernian invader who had settled on the north west coast, and he was in most eyes still an outsider. Dumnonia was regularly under attack from raiders from Hibernia, so it was thought that a marriage between Niall's daughter and Marcus of Dumnonia would link Dumnonia closer to Hibernia and stop those attacks. And it would strengthen Niall's position with the other lords.

Áine came to me after her father told her he had arranged it. I urged her to say no, that I would go to Arthur and get it sorted. I would marry her. She told me not to, that it would cause strife between the lords and make them resent Arthur if he decided in favour of us. It was not the time, not when the war still hung in the balance. I said I was willing to risk it, but she refused."

Eirian stared at him in shock. "So neither of you…"

"Neither of us did anything to stop it," Tristan finished her sentence. "She accepted Marcus, and I stepped back. They were married on the spot and she moved with him to Dumnonia after we won the war. I have not seen her since, not until she came to Camelot for the anniversary."

He cleared his throat, and added, "To be fair, with Niall's daughter in Dumnonia, they have not suffered an attack from Hibernia in seven years."

"Small comfort," said Eirian quietly.

He shrugged. "It's been years."

"Do you regret it?" she asked him candidly. "Not going to Arthur to help you?"

"I did, for a while," he answered. "Resented myself for not trying – resented myself for making plans in the first place. Resented her for doing her father's bidding." He paused. "And I resented you when we met," he admitted. "For which I owe you another apology."

"I don't understand," Eirian frowned. "You resented me?"

"Aye, for being with Rhodri in spite of the consequences," he explained. "Or so I thought. I resented you for doing with Rhodri what I had not had done with Áine. Taking what you wanted."

"Only I did not do that with Rhodri either," Eirian amended.

"I know that now."

"It seems to me," Eirian pointed out, "that you and Rhodri are more alike than you think. Neither of you could marry the woman you loved. And both Áine and I chose duty over love."

"You chose," said Tristan. "You chose for yourself. Áine just did as she was told." There was a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"That's unfair to her," Eirian objected. "She did what was best for her people. So did I. I don't see the difference."

"Maybe there is no difference," Tristan admitted.

Eirian breathed out a shaky sigh and seemed to steel herself. "So what now?"

"What do you mean?"

"She is here now. You've seen her again," Eirian specified. "Do you still love her?"

Glancing at her, Tristan could see how much it cost her to ask that question. She was valiantly trying to keep her expression calm, but her chin quivered slightly and she was twisting her fingers together in her lap. It pained him to see it.

Tristan took her chin in his hand and turned her face, so he could look her straight in the eye. "That is not why I told you this," he said firmly.

"So why did you tell me?" she asked. "You said… you said it was affecting us."

He cursed. "Not like that it's not," he insisted. "I had put all of this away. It's done; it's in the past. My life is very different now, with you and Rhys. Eirian, I make plans with you now."

He let go of her chin and cupped her cheek, caressing her cheekbone. "I should have told you sooner, but as I said… I do not share easily. And Áine has already come to me in Camelot, which means that what I had put in the past is not staying in the past," he explained, frustration tinging his last words. "Her seeking me out is a threat to us and I must deal with it."

"How?"

"By telling you," he answered. "We work together, remember?"

She nodded and took a deep breath. "We work together," she repeated.

"Aye," he confirmed.

"So why did she seek you out?" Eirian asked.

"I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "I did not react well."

"Did she not say?"

"I may have interrupted her before she could finish speaking," he admitted.

"So she may have just wanted to ask after your health?" Eirian asked, flabbergasted.

"No, she deliberately sought me out when I was alone," said Tristan bluntly. "If she wanted to know about my health, she could have asked me anywhere. Besides, she steered the conversation to our past very quickly."

"But you still don't understand why she came to you?"

"It is not important that I understand what she meant," he replied. "It is important that we understand each other. And you need to understand that I have no interest in being alone with Áine, reminiscing about choices that lie seven years in the past. I have a future to think about, and that is with you and Rhys."

The last of the worry on Eirian's face finally fell away. "I'm very glad," she whispered, half choking on the words.

"Is it because I've used more words these past moments than in the last two years?" he quipped, while pulling her towards him with both hands. He felt both relieved that he had got everything out semi-coherently and awkward at having bared so much of himself in one go.

"No," she chortled, shifting onto her knees to get closer to him. She slid her arms around his neck.

"Good, because I'm done talking," he replied and kissed her hard.

She returned in kind and deepened their kiss before he could. He let her lead, and opened his mouth for her as she straddled his lap. She wove her fingers in his hair, pulling lightly, and pushed her tongue in his mouth, clearly feeling very bossy.

After a few glorious moments, she pulled back. "Where's my apple cake?"

"Fuck your apple cake," he growled. "Come here."

She clenched a fist in his hair, tugging his head back hard to keep him at bay. Tristan groaned with pleasure, fully hardening beneath her immediately. "You did bring it, didn't you?" Eirian persisted. "I have a feeling I will be very hungry later."

"I brought it. It's in one of your bags," he said quickly. "And aye, you will be very hungry."

"Good," she said, grinding down on him with a smirk that bordered on being cruel, keeping that fist locked tightly in his hair. He could break her grip, he reckoned, but it would probably cost him a few tufts of hair. And gods, he did enjoy her being dominant. He could always make her beg later.

Did he mind begging her first? Not at all, he thought, as she writhed against him. She was dressed very practically in a riding habit that had slits running up the sides of her legs, and a pair of breeches beneath. It made it very easy for him to slide his hands up her thighs and beneath the dress to grab her - regrettably fully clad - backside. His hand brushed against a leather sheath on his way up.

"Are you hiding a blade up there?" he asked.

She hummed in acquiescence. "You taught me well."

Tristan had only a moment to enjoy a sense of pride, before she said briskly, "Which reminds me…." She let go of his hair and shoved against his chest with both hands. With her weight already on top of him and his hands occupied with her curves, he was slammed against the ground without much difficulty.

Sitting on his stomach and keeping him down with one hand on his chest, Eirian drew her hidden dagger and pushed the tip beneath his chin. Even prouder, and surprised by her speed, he lay still. "I have something to say to you," she hissed.

"Fuck, Eirian," he breathed, arousal spiking up his spine. "You know what it does to me, seeing you use a blade like that. I'll come in my breeches if you keep this up."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You have a very inappropriate response to me simply bringing some items for my defense," she said primly.

"You are on the offense," he pointed out.

"Never mind that," she waved him off. "Pay attention, I was threatening you."

"Of course. Please continue."

"You once told me that you do not share," she said, enunciating very clearly. Her dark blue eyes bore into his own. "Let me tell you now, that I do not share either." Her beautiful mouth curled into a snarl. "If I catch you with another woman, I will use this knife to carve out your heart and eat it raw."

For the length of two heartbeats, Tristan stared at her without speaking, knowing he was lost completely. Then he tilted his chin up to bare his throat and said, "You can have it. It's yours anyway."