A/N: Yay! I'm finally updating, you guys! Aren't you proud of me! Sorry this chapter is so late, and kinda short, but I really can't put EVERYTHING in it, so you'll have to use your imaginations. And keep in mind, this IS PG-13, or since they changed the ratings to some weird new system that's really confusing and pointless, it's rated T. (You'll see why) so, anyways…I hope you guys can handle it! I'm sure you can, b/c you guys are so cool! Lol, anyway, here the next chapter, and please review! My goal is to get at least 150 reviews by the time this story is over, and I'm almost finished.

As I've mentioned before, updates will be a little slow because I'm so busy with life and writing my other fanfic and fictional stories right now. Thanks for being patient with me! And thanks again for all the wonderful reviews. I'm happy to see new names reviewing…please continue.

-Modesty

Irishfire: Thanks for your comments. I'm sorry you didn't like the Lance/Guen stuff, but I felt like I should have put it in there.

ChildlikeEmpress: Ok, and once you get that time machine to work, drop me an email and I'll join you. Lol.

Chapter Sixteen: The Woad and the Knight

Adima felt her heart drop in her chest as Tristan turned to her. She could not read the feelings in his eyes, but she sensed that they were full of some kind of unhappiness. She felt it too. A black pair of jaws seemed to suddenly gain its appetite, ripping at her insides with a fierce hunger. She had felt this way the day she left Tristan. It was not all that long ago, she reminisced with a frown.

She suddenly realized her past would repeat itself. She would be forced to be separated from him again, she thought. "Tristan," she beckoned him to her. He had been watching after Arthur as he descended swiftly down the stairs, Lancelot trailing after him, and then Guinevere following. He was the only knight who had watched what his fellow knight had done with Guinevere, though the Woad did not know it. Tristan thought about commenting on it to Adima, but refrained, and remained silent, as he so often was. What would be the point, anyway?

He turned his gaze as Adima called his name, her eyes full of warmth, a forced and weak smile upon her lips. He went to her, but did not take her in arms. He leaned his body against the railing of the cold stone wall and looked out over the vast distance. His gaze soon fell upon the Saxons.

Adima frowned, stepping closer to him. She put a weary hand on his shoulder, and he finally turned to her. She was beautiful, he thought, as the wind tossed her rich brown hair about her face and twirled her pale dress so that it danced around her. She was elegant.

Adima's forced smile faded as she looked into the knight's deep brown eyes. "Tristan," she repeated, speaking softly. "I now know what is to be our fate." He looked down at her, wondering what it was that she meant. She could see that he was confused, she read it in his eyes, and smiled at him warmly. "You will go search for your homeland to the east and across the sea," she took a strand of hair that hung before his eyes and brushed it away, gently. "And I will stay here," she glanced down. "I will fight with my sister." All tranquility was gone from her voice now; she was stern, and her face grave.

It appeared as if he was about to protest, but Tristan did no such thing. "I will come back," he said gruffly.

"You will," Adima agreed, smiling slightly, and taking his hand in hers. "And for now…" she backed away, leading him toward the stairs. Her eyes sparkled and her face brightened as she spoke. "Come," she said. "The wind here is bitter."

"Do you grow cold?" Tristan asked, concerned, not at all noticing the flirtatiousness in her voice.

"I do," Adima inched closer to him, her lips almost touching his, curving into a smile. She felt him lean closer to her and they kissed for a moment, and all her fears melted away. "Do you know of a place we could go?" she asked, playfully.

Tristan finally seemed to be catching on, but his face was ever so serious, as if he did not quite understand. "We could…I could take you to my quarters," he offered.

"That should be very nice," said the Woad with a grin. And then he led her down the stone steps and past the courtyard, through an alley, and into the knights' quarters, where a room was kept for him and the other knights.

Tristan's room was only a small dark space with little furniture; a small bed and a table beside it, with no chair as a partner. There was a small window beside his bed, and a pale ray of gleaming moonlight spilled upon the stone floor. A large crimson rug decorated the floor with simple patterns, nothing as fancy as Arthur's room.

It was by the light of the night's moon that Adima and Tristan stood, talking by the doorway, and after a time moved to sit on the side of the bed. Tristan closed the door behind him when they entered, and the hall outside was silent. They spoke for nearly an hour, talking of family, and what Tristan remembered of his homeland and family. Adima told him of her parents, who she had little known, and explained to Tristan that Merlin had taken Guinevere and herself in and raised them as his own daughters, and that she thought of him as her father, and loved him so.

When all this was done, Adima could think of little else to speak of. Her breath seemed caught in her throat as she grew aware of the passing time. It would be daybreak in several hours, she feared, and for a moment, she hated it. She hated the day- wishing it would never come. If only time could stop; wait for her, and wait for Tristan, and stop forever so she could be with him.

Tristan watched in silence as she peered out the window, wordless. "You fear tomorrow," he acknowledged, and she turned to him, staring him right in the eye.

"I do," she breathed, her words trembling as they left her lips with slight hesitation. She shut her eyes tightly, feeling them grow wet with tears. "Do you…" she began, slowly, casting her eyes to the floor. "Do you promise…" she felt choked by tears. "Promise you'll return for me?" She looked into Tristan's eyes.

"I promise, Adima," he gave his word to her, and she instantly fell into his arms.

She remained, safe in his warm embrace for a time, and then slowly sat up again, all the while looking right at him. The sleeve of her gown had drooped past her shoulder, and could feel the cold air on her arm. She glanced down, Tristan following her gaze. The night was silent.

Tristan reached his hand out to the light fabric, pulling it up onto her shoulder again. Adima smiled. Reaching down to his hand, she pulled her sleeve down again. The knight's brow furrowed. "No," she whispered. Adima bit her lips with apprehension. Tristan drew back, not sure what to do. Adima slid closer to Tristan, feeling the warmth of his body against her own, and he finally understood.

Adima's heart was pounding in her chest. She was excited and frightened, proud, and loved, all at the same time, and she couldn't hold it all in. She knew there would be a battle when the sun rose, and she also knew that there was a chance, however small or large, that she would never see another night- this could be her last. She wanted to spend it with Tristan, and he with her.

The Woad had never felt so alive in her life, never so loved, nor wanted, nor so understood, and Tristan felt the same. But however wonderful life may have seemed, Adima could not bend time to her will, and within the next few hours, the sun rose.

A/N: It's short, I know, but bear with me. The next chapters will be longer- I promise. Please review!