Dw- Yay n.n Glad you're still hanging on. Coming up with good Tristan/Vrena stuff deprives my brain of oxygen sometimes, but other then that, it's all good!
Siopao- xD you were so close! Maybe next chapter you'll make it in time, because its 6 AM right now and we have off school for some odd reason. And yes, I know you're smexy and that I'm awesome xD
Calliann- I told you, even I get confused with Vrena and Vejha sometimes :X…last chapter is proof. And your anticipation has paid off, the fluff is here!
RainySunshine- o.o…That's a good question, I don't understand that term either.
Sarah- Gotta keep the tension going. If there was no tension, I would suck xP
Babak- Some interesting ideas you have there, I might even use them if I remember to xD…that would indeed be a sight to see, him having to throw her over his shoulder to get her up to the altar :P
Op- yay! Dude:D
katemary77- Lotsa fluff in this chapter :P
Perberaidien- Yea. I try to make Vrena as un-Mary-sue-ish as possible. Its very hard for someone to write a fanfic with an OC character that doesn't turn out to be Mary-sue, it's a hard feat to accomplish.
Lenao- Thank you so much for re-translating the song! I plan to fix that chapter once I'm done with the story…that might be a while, but I'll get to it :D
Gondorian Archer- o.o ok ok.
Juju- Yay! Compliments in a different language! This makes me so cool :P
Liduina- Thanks :D
Chapter 18- Temptation
Vrena had wandered around most of the small town before deciding to rest. She didn't know how long it had been since she was in the bar, and at the time did not care. Had Bors not made that quote, she would still be in there, no doubt. After wandering for a while, the sky was getting darker, the sun slowly beginning to hide behind the earth.
She again went to visit Arvin, who swished his tail and stomped his hooves on the ground, demanding attention. She looked around to the other horses in the stable, and noticed that not many were akin to her own. Only a few cloud-white horses such as Arvin were visible. The long rows and pens consisted of many browns, grays, some furs leopard-like and some spotted only in a few areas. Not many were pure black, either.
While petting Arvin, her eyes wandered to a cloudy-colored horse in the pen just over, beautiful patterns of dark specks coating its body with exception of the head, the mane and tail a pure grey. Very beautiful, indeed.
When she neared it, it let out a grunt of awareness; but as she pet the creature's snout, it calmed itself and bent its head towards her, allowing her to continue stroke him.
The coat was soft as silk. Much softer then Arvin's, which was because her damned beast always took the chance to prance around and roll in the dirt or grass whenever he got the golden opportunity.
Gazing at all the gear still saddled down to the animal, she wondered if the owner had simply forgotten to remove it all. Leaving it on for so long could irritate a horse, or perhaps they had been rushed about to do business and had not the time to tend to it? Either way, she saw no harm in unlatching everything, including the weapons from the fastener on the saddle, hanging the reigns and such in their selected places on the wooden posts near-by.
She then examined the weaponry she had detached from the saddle. One was a long steel sword…finely designed, and she felt her spine shiver as she saw stains of blood visible on the metal as she unsheathed it. She quickly tucked it back into its scabbard and put it off to the side. The last weapon that wasn't hidden was a bow…a bow that seemed slightly familiar, she knew she had seen it somewhere before.
She gulped.
A Sarmatian bow.
Her head shot back up to the horse, to the sword, and back to the bow again.
Bloody hell, it was Tristan's horse!
She started to panic, and tried to calm herself from the sudden realization that she was taking care of the horse that belonged to the man she acted as if she hated! But then, act may be an extreme underestimate. She had vowed not to give anyone hint of her feelings, yet in situations such as their last, she could not control herself. She allowed herself to examine these things as his horse swished its head, wanting to be rubbed again. As she stoked the beautiful thing, she began to reflect more about its owner. Her emotions were always mixed around him, and she felt trapped…she had never once fallen for a man. To her, they seemed dumb and dull, thinking of nothing but war and women.
But Tristan was none of those things. He did not chase after everything and anything that had a pretty dress like Lancelot did; he did not make crude, mannish jokes like the other knights…he was exceedingly diverse from them all, now that she thought of it.
Everywhere she went, she was always thinking of him and no one else. His wild and braided hair, the war tattoos high on his cheek bones, eyes as black as his horse's…all of it she knew she could not push away from her mind, no matter how hard she would try.
She moved out of the pen containing his steed and moved back over to Arvin's. She smiled at her horse, realizing in how much of a compassionate mood she was in now. She stoked Arvin's long neck and added a few braids into his white mane.
Her mind had slipped into a daze and before she knew it, the stables were lit with nothing but moonlight and a large candle sitting on a table, the flame bouncing off the wooden walls around it.
Vrena continued to pet Arvin, deciding that she would leave soon to get some food. She was starving; a good meal was something she could use right about now. But before she could think any further, Tristan's horse twisted in its stall to face her, holding out its head from over the wooden gate that separated the two pens. Sighing, she ceased to pet them both. If she was going to sit here and make them happy, she might as well be comfortable.
The small wooden fence between the stalls went up almost to her chest, but she could easily climb to the top of it. Knowing that it would hurt her arse, she hoisted herself onto the wood anyways and sat down, hoping that the gate was not unstable.
It ended up being thick, indeed. It was not uncomfortable at all sitting on top of it, letting her feet dangle onto Arvin's side of the divider.
Arvin and Tristan's horse both turned and moved their heads towards her, and she began to pet them both again. They were clearly happy that someone was paying attention to them instead of riding them off to battle or on some crazy escapade.
"Hands full?" A manly voice came from behind her, almost making her loose her balance, but she rested her hand onto Arvin's head to keep herself seated. She stopped petting the two horses and twisted her head to see who her distracter was.
Seeing that her presence was graced by none other then Tristan's, Vrena felt like she was about to fall over again. She did not know whether he was angry or pleased that she was paying attention to his horse, thanks to his unemotional features being as incomprehensible as ever.
As he walked closer to her, eyeing his horse from over top the small wooden doors to the pen, he rested his elbows onto it and observed his items that were still on the ground.
"Who removed it all?" He asked, and her heart began to flutter inside of her.
"I did. Horses get irritable when you forget to take it off." She lectured him, trying not to sound nervous as she removed herself from the wall, her feet landing on the hay beneath. She began to stroke Arvin again to keep her face away from his, keep her mind off him, and maybe she would make it through this conversation.
But Tristan showed no signs of anger or disapproval as he swung open the gate to his horses' stall and quietly moved in, picked up the sword, and moved out. Grabbing a wet rag from a bucket, he sat down on the ground and began to wipe the blood off the metal. It was then that she realized she had never used a sword. He adjusted his head to return her stare she was giving him, and felt a hot blush rise to her cheeks.
"S-sorry. It's just, I-..." She stammered, trying to pretend his eyes were not focused on her.
"You've never used a sword before." He finished her sentence for her, and she'd be damned if she had just seen a ghost of a grin on his face before turning his head back to his sword, which was now shining and clean, no trace of dried blood left. She could have sworn she also heard a bit of a slur in his words, and she wondered if he had left that tavern with a drink after all.
"Precisely." She replied and exited Arvin's stall, remembering to lock the gate from the outside so he would not get out. It was then that she also noticed she was still wearing the scout's cloak, and it was the only thing keeping her warm in the chill air.
-
To be truthful, her taking care of his horse was the last thing Tristan had expected to see as he headed to the stables, remembering that his sword and gear were unattended to. As he was cleaning the blood off blade of his weapon, he felt her eyes on him, and dare he say he enjoyed it.
But then that could also be from the fact he had downed three mugs of alcohol before leaving the tavern. The most he had ever drunken in his lifetime. And he knew he would regret it soon, too, once the effects of it kicked in. He was already beginning to feel light-headed, not like him at all. He should have controlled himself and not let his emotions towards this woman bother him in such a dominant way.
Instantly after making the mistake of drinking, he knew what he should have done: waited until she left the bar, also taken leave, and gone into the forests to kill something. Unreasonable and hasty it may seem, but him being a knight…with that part in the play, you didn't need morals.
When he had turned around to indulge himself in her striking brown eyes, he didn't expect her to become nervous. But as her gaze floated towards the sword he was cleaning…he remembered that she had never once used one.
Apparently her only skills were the bow, singing, kicking, yelling, nearly getting killed, horse riding, being beautiful, making him feel pleased when she gazed at him…and being a mix of two civilizations whom hate each other and enjoy ripping the others limbs apart one by one- take that metaphorically or critically, either would make complete sense.
He tried to keep his mind to his weapon, but the sword was now as clean as it had been before he had fought those four Saxons near Marius' town. For a moment, he wondered if she hated him for killing off her sister. If he had not, he knew she would not be standing behind him this moment. But…humans had simple minds when it came to death. While he may not have cared, it may have shattered her entirely.
-
Vrena watched as Tristan remained his cool and collected self, seeming deep in thought. She barely knew anything about him. He was a knight of the round table, yes. But other then that, he was Tristan- mysterious scout with a slight blood lust.
Now, she was not only nervous as he stood up with his newly-cleansed sword, but also frightened. A few times around him she had felt this fear- those times when he seemed so inexplicable and powerful. His tall, muscular figure, uniqueness…those times when he looked like he could kill anything in his path.
He had without question killed her sister, when he knew that she would die had he not. She knew she should not let herself be angered by that action…she would be dead if he had not taken the responsibility into his hands.
As if he had read her mind, his voice was quiet, but at the same time seemed to penetrate the air, cutting off her breath.
"If you do not wish me near you, I will leave."
Vrena's voice caught in her throat at what would have been a 'no'. Did he really feel such a way? It was not his fault that Vejha was mad, that their parents were obviously not considering one another's culture when they were in bed! And she knew just the way to lodge this into his brain, while he was sitting and she was standing.
She took away the distance that separated them and let her boot make contact with his thigh, which was strong, hard, and muscular like the rest of him, god damn it. She wished he would disappear, leave her with her sanity. But another side of her knew and willed otherwise
"No, stay. I have no right to bid you leave." She said, and with every daring sentiment left in her being, she sat down beside him- instantly afterward feeling weak and timid in his presence. Indeed, she had just wasted all her bravery to sit down!
Her eyes caught the flashing light of the sword as he moved the hilt in his hand, though, and she was content to have a look at it herself. It was a beautiful sword…but then, everything he owned seemed to be beautiful.
She felt heat rise in her face and her gut become numb as he held out the handle of the large metal sword to her, and with curious hands, she grabbed it gently. She felt her stomach stir as her hand brushed against his, only for a few seconds, but enough to make her shiver. If he knew how edgy he made her, what would he do? Discard her and walk away? She dared not think of any other outcomes.
As his hold on the blade end of the sword lessened, she felt it get heavier. She let out a tiny gasp as she clenched the handle tight in her hands, only to have the blade fall onto the ground with a pang, and she could have sworn her hand vibrated with the landing.
When she tried to lift the entire thing up, it took almost all the muscle she had in her right arm…an arm which she only used for stringing and releasing arrows. So you can sort of imagine her trying to lift this heavy weapon that weighed as much as a large boulder to her.
"This could probably be two of me you're lifting, for god's sake! How on earth do you manage all those fancy tricks?" She said excitedly, standing up off the ground and still having trouble lifting the bloody thing.
"Twelve moons." He replied in a truthful tone, and she knew that he was not lying. In only a year he could lift, swing and par with this dead weight?
She watched curiously as he strode into one of the other stables, were Galahad's horse neighed at his presence, and he emerged with another sword; as big as his, but she could not tell if it weighed as much. He made it all seem so effortless.
He took back his sword from her hands and gave her Galahad's, which was about a hundred times lighter then his. This she could actually lift.
She became silent as Tristan raised his sword in mid-air, the tip pointing in her direction.
"Try it." He said, remaining completely still with the sword strait out, his eyes seemed to be piercing hers as she gripped Galahad's sword tight in her hand, and tried to remember anything and everything she had ever heard about swords in her life. Which she noticed was not much.
She had little time to react as he moved forward, and she quickly flung up the sword to defend herself. He was serious! But she had no clue how to use this thing! Both their swords clanked loud in the air, and the weight of his colliding with hers nearly sent her back a foot, and she knew that she would have to at least pretend to know what she was doing.
"That was good." He said, again wielding his sword, allowing her time to regain her composition.
"But I didn't do anything."
"You blocked." He corrected her, and for an instant she felt stupid; but his sword was coming down again, and again she blocked it with hers, trying to level out the weight. Another loud clang of metal to metal, and this time instead of loosing her poise, she flung the sword at him again, letting it slide under his. She could have sworn she saw a spark from the metallic scrape, but he was quick and blocked her second attack, and she yelped as her own sword decided come flying back at her.
Before it could whack her in the head though, something stopped it- and she opened her eyes to see that Tristan had put the body if his sword in front of hers, stopping it as it was only a few inches from her face
Speaking of faces and bodies, theirs were now close. Very close. Too close.
Vrena felt her heart quicken as she realized that the only thing separating their faces were the two swords in front of them.
It seemed that they remained that way for an eternity, lost in each other's eyes; exploring the other with a closeness that made her feel like melting into the ground beneath them, as if the moonlight itself had possessed them to do such a thing. Without thinking, she raised up her hand and moved away a few of the long strands of hair from his face, so close, she was sure he could feel her breath lingering in between them, and she his.
She was struck with a pain of longing…she wished that they could be closer, her heart ached and reached for him, but he was still so far away, though only inches separated them now. Their swords had moved out of the way, and they were even closer; each of them lingering the moment that she wished would never end. But all things had to end, she regretted sadly.
This thought being the one passing through her mind, she nearly jumped when his face moved forward, breaking and shattering all possible boundaries and barriers she had ever created in her mind to keep things such as this away.
All at once, she was hit with so many feelings that the only one she bothered to count was longing. She could taste his lips on hers, as wonderful as she had always imagined them. Involuntarily she began to reply to his request, giving in to him with every fiber of her being. She guessed he caught on to the fact that that she was absolutely inexperienced, and deepened the contact for her. She let him guide her through the moment, so much pain in her heart that she could stop right now and sob for eternity with tears of happiness. She felt like she would explode…but then came to her senses, realizing that she was running out of breath.
They both let the kiss fade away slowly, Tristan's lips lingering on hers until they both opened their eyes again and looked at each other…differently then they had before. This look he gave her was new…accomplishment, realization…possibly even regret for waiting so long to let her know how he felt.
It was a long time before either of them said a word, never taking their eyes from the other. She became faintly aware that she was crying, and this time it was him to raise his hand and remove something from view. As he let his thumb wipe away the salty water coming from her eyes, her hand rested on his; finally their eyes broke away, and she felt alone…the area around them darker then before, and she knew it was cold. But she was warm, warmer then she had ever been in all her years.
Just as quickly as they had come together, they jumped back as a voice was heard from outside the door to the stables.
"Vrena! Vrena, are you in there?" The voice belonged to Guinevere. She felt slightly annoyed that of all times, this was the time her and Tristan had to be disturbed out of the blue. She let out an annoyed sigh and turned her head to yell back.
"Yes, I'm here!" She shouted in a manner that was an obvious failed attempt to cover up extreme tones of frustration. She felt her stomach do flips again as Tristan laid a hand on her shoulder, and they remained close for one last time before both of them had to move from their contented position, and she knew that both of them were grieving over the departure.
She could feel the heat of his closeness leave her as they headed towards the door and flung it open, an anxious Guinevere awaiting them on the other side.
"Oh, good; both of you. Come quickly." She guided them out of the place, and they quietly followed her without question. They path they took led up to the battlement facing the Briton side, and Vrena did not feel any bit of surprise at what awaited them. Angered that it must happen so soon, yes; but all surprise had been leeched from her mind already, there was no more to put to use.
Looking down from the safety of the towering stone fortress, nearly a hundred burning fires came from a huge make-shift camp below. The Saxons had come as Guinevere had said, and Vrena had already promised to fight along side the Woad archers. But…Tristan? What will he think?
"Do we have your allegiance, lady Vrena?" Guinevere asked her seriously, and she could feel Tristan's eyes on her, studying her every movement. But no matter how much she wished she could stay with him until the end of time and never engage in things like these, she knew this was a role she must play.
"You do, Guinevere." She answered quietly, now very much aware of the scout's presence behind her. When she turned to him, she could not tell what he was thinking. He had resumed his pokerfaced expression, refusing to let any emotion leak from him. But she knew him better. He was concerned.
"I will come for you at dawn. Be ready." Guinevere advised her, and marched over towards Arthur and Lancelot, who were arguing with each other. Lancelot telling him that this was not his or Rome's fight, and Arthur telling him that this was something he must do.
"Well," Tristan spoke, breaking his silence. She turned to him and looked him in the eyes, longing again for the closeness they had experienced before. She felt like she was about to cry; realizing that by tomorrow, they would most likely not see each other until the following day...or if she was unlucky, never again. He cupped a hand to her cheek, and held her gaze.
"At least we have until dawn."
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W00t w00t:P
I went nuts with this chapter, sorry guys.
I had one of my college friends read this before submitting it, and when he reached the kissing scene, said something among the lines of "I nearly had an orgasm." xD…
Hope this paid off! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far, I love all you guys!
So was the fluffness good? Do you guys still want me dead? Should I keep going?
III Cari III
