Cardeia: Glad I could point you to the Mads website. One movie you absolutely HAVE to see him in is Open Hearts. I don't know how easy it is to find here in the states; but I rented mine through Netflix. Wonderful, wonderful movie. It actually got a 96 fresh rating on the tomatometer at rottontomatoes dot com. Unheard of. That's the only movie I've seen him in other than KA, but I have more on the way. Can't wait!
Nymbis of the Underworld: Cool name! I'm glad you like my Tristan. No, he's not a romantic guy, but I'm going to have him evolve a bit -I hope you still like him at the end of it. Thank you so much for reviewing. :)
KnightMaiden: They'll be together soon - I know I've dragged this out a bit but I hope you can be patient a little while longer.
LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Here's the next chapter, and I hope you like it as much as you did the last one. :)
dellis: Glad you thought it worked okay. I tried to make him unlikeable at that moment, but not irredeemable. It worked for some, maybe not so much for others.
autumn sprite: Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you liked it and here are a couple more chapters that I hope you'll also like.
BlackPaintedWhite: You're welcome for the Mads site! Always happy to point someone there; I think it's very well done. Yeah, I know what you mean - he's Danish so my first inclincation is to say he's fromDaneland.:) Like a big dummy. Check out his movie Open Hearts. It'sreally good, and as an added extra bonusthere's some mostly nekkid Mads in it. Great chest on that man. Lord Almighty.
Auriel Dresden: Okay, I've written more and here it is. Hope you like it! Thanks for reviewing. :)
Disclaimer: Usual stuff, not making any money, etc.
Rating: M - this chapter's pretty tame though.
Author's Note: Another chapter that was appallingly long, so I've divided it into chapters 15 & 16.The second half will be following along probably sometime this evening.
Damara ran out of the keep. She had never been as furious as she was at this moment. She needed to go find Vanora, get the baby and leave. Tristan was hateful and if she never saw him again it would be far too soon for her liking. Breathless, she ran to the tavern to see if her friend was working.
Vanora was there – the tavern would be filled to capacity tonight as it always was after a battle. She was having more barrels of wine brought in – it could get ugly when the drink ran out. She looked up when Damara ran into the tavern.
"What is it, love?" Vanora asked.
"Where's Bran? We're going home," Damara said, breathing heavily.
"What in the world has happened to put you in such a state? The redhead asked, bemused.
"Tristan – he's so horrible and cruel! How did I ever think to love such a man?"
Vanora looked at the girl – flushed and out of breath from more than just running, she thought. "What's he done to disturb you so?"
Damara's face burned bright with the memory. "He is vile and disgusting. He accused me of sleeping with Lancelot and then he…kissed me!" Even to her own ears she thought she sounded childish. But Damara didn't want to speak of the hateful things Tristan had said to her.
"Well, that hardly seems so bad," said Vanora. "A lot of men think you're cuckolding them, they'll give you a hard right to the face."
"Even if I had been sleepingwith Lancelot it would have been none of his business. He ended it with me, Vanora. He gave up the right to say what I do or don't do anymore," Damara explained.
"Whether he has the right nor not doesn't mean a man won't get upset," Vanora said mildly.
Damara didn't feel like arguing her point. There were details that Vanora wasn't privy to, but the healer did not want to drag out every one of them just to make Vanora understand. Anyway, she had the sneaking suspicion that anything she said might end up being told to Bors and that would not do. She might as well call a meeting of the Round Table and tell everyone about Tristan's crude behavior herself.
"Anyway, he makes me ill," Damara said crossly. "I have the worst stomach ache whenever I am in his hateful presence."
"That's odd," said Vanora. "Never heard of that before. Maybe you ate something that didn't agree with you?"
"No…it's not like that. It's this horrid, squirmy feeling. I can't breathe right, and I get too warm. I know it's because he's so angry with me and it makes me nervous…" she broke off at the sound of Vanora's laughter. "What's so funny?"
"Oh my dear…" Vanora giggled, "do you truly not know what that is?"
"As I said…nerves?" Damara said uncertainly.
"That's called desire, dear – you feel like that because you want him," Vanora said, body shaking with merriment.
Damara looked at her friend and curled her lip. "That's what he said, the arrogant ass. He's wrong and so are you. I can't stand to be in the same room with him."
"That doesn't mean anything – I can be mad enough at Bors to gut him, but when he looks at me a certain way…" Vanora trailed off, smiling. After a moment of reverie, she asked, "Have you truly never felt this way before?"
"Not at all. The only men I've ever… No, never. And I hope never to again. This is intolerable," Damara replied in disgust.
"So you've never known pleasure with a man?" Vanora was aghast.
Damara shook her head. "Pleasure? To tell the truth, I've wondered how any woman could enjoy such a duty."
Vanora looked at her sadly. "With a man of your choosing, be it Tristan or some other, it will be different. One day you'll see."
Damara wondered at that, but was doubtful. "While that might be true, one thing I can tell you is that if I do take a man, it will never be Tristan. He is the most horrible, cruel man I've ever met. He's…he's…" Damara sputtered, and then drew a deep breath. She was done talking about him. She just wanted to leave this place and go home, where she could find peace and tranquility.
"I need to be on my way - I'd like to go get Bran now," said the healer.
Vanora looked doubtful. "I wish you'd reconsider. It's going to be dark soon and there is no way of knowing if all the Saxons are gone. Why not wait until morning? You can start out fresh, first thing," she said.
Damara thought about what she said. It was a long way back to her hut and it was getting late. It would be well past dark by the time she got home. "All right, I'll stay. But just until morning."
Damara remembered the promise she made to Lancelot earlier. "Lancelot did want me to go out with all of them to the tavern to celebrate. I don't really want to, go but I did promise."
Vanora smiled. "Lancelot, eh? Didn't you say that Tristan thought you and he…" she looked thoughtful. "If he sees you with Lancelot it'll either turn out to be a bloodbath or just the thing Tristan needs to bring him around."
"Bring him around?" Damara shook her head. "You haven't been listening to me. I don't want anything to do with him anymore. Ever," she said for emphasis.
In return Vanora grinned at the young healer and said, "How's your stomach feeling?" She burst into peals of merriment at Damara's look of dismay.
Still laughing, Vanora took the healer's arm and said, "Come, let's go get your baby. I'm sure you need to feed him by now." As they walked away Vanora added, "And while we're at it, I have a nice dress that you can wear. The color's not right for me, but I have a feeling it would look gorgeous on you."
"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Damara asked.
Vanora looked her up and down skeptically. "Nothing, if you think blood stains are attractive."
Damara looked down at herself. She supposed she was a bit of a shambles. It might be nice to get cleaned up, look presentable. She wondered if Lancelot would be appreciative. "Vanora?" she asked suddenly.
"What, dear?" the redhead asked.
"You can't say anything to Bors. I mean, it – not one single word," Damara said.
Vanora was intrigued. "Not a word. About what?" she asked.
"What you said about being with a man of my choosing…"
"Yes?" prompted Vanora.
"Well…what do you think about Lancelot?" Damara said in a rush.
Vanora's face was thoughtful. "Oh dear, that depends on what you want him for. Do you just want a tumble, or are you looking for something more?"
Damara carefully considered before answering. "I don't know. I like him, and I'm not afraid of him. He'd stop if I wanted him to, wouldn't he?"
Vanora looked at the girl with something akin to pity. "I can't imagine he wouldn't."
Damara nodded and then continued. "As for something more, we're friends and I like it that way."
"Well, then you should leave it that way," the redhead said wisely. "You could stir up a hornets nest for no good reason. And if you happen to fall in love with him you could end up badly hurt." Vanora squeezed the healer's hand. "Any particular reason that you're thinking this way now?"
"I just thought I'd get it over with, see what all the fuss is about. As I said, I like him and he may as well be the one," Damara said. Vanora looked at her skeptically until Damara relented.
"All right, that's not all of it," Damara said. Her eyes flashed defiantly. "I told Tristan that I was going to sleep with Lancelot since he accuses me of it anyway."
Vanora summed up the situation. "So, if I understand you correctly, you're going to sleep with a man you don't really want to get back at a man you don't care anything about?"
Damara wished she hadn't put it that way. "No, that's not it at all," snapped Damara.
"Mm-hmm," said Vanora. "So tell me how it is, then?"
In response all Damara did was look at Vanora with irritation.
"I see," said Vanora. "Can I say something?"
"As long as it is not in his defense," replied Damara.
"I can't defend what I don't know, and I suspect there is more to the matter than what you have told me," said the redhead. "But Tristan is a hard man, always has been. He'sdistant and cold. I have known him for a very long time, but it wasn't until you came along that I suspected he had a heart somewhere in there."
Damara shook her head. "You're wrong, Vanora. I've known men who enjoy being cruel, but not like that. Tristan claimed to care for me, yet he went right for the throat, and his aim was true."
"Even the most gentle dog will bite when injured," said Vanora. "Would you expect a wolf not to go for the throat? He bites because he is wounded, Damara. Nobody but someone he loves could cause him such pain."
"It's possible that you aren't the woman for him," she continued. "It's possible he can be gentled, but if not then he must be endured as he is. If you cannot do that, then be glad that you found out now rather than later."
They had reached the hut where Vanora and Bors lived, and stopped by the door to finish their conversation.
Vanora sighed. "If you don't want anything serious, then Lancelot is your man. I've heard talk and from all accounts he is an excellent lover. You may not be able to expect him to be a faithful lover, but you can expect him to be a very skilled one."
"But…?" Damara asked. "I suspect you have more to say on the subject."
Vanora chose her words carefully. "You're playing with fire here. Not just with your own heart, but with Tristan and Lancelot's friendship." Vanora looked her in the eyes. "Those two are sometimes at odds, but they have been brothers for fifteen years. I don't know if a woman could come between them, but I would hate to see that tested."
The redhead gave Damara a quick squeeze at seeing her downcast face. "But let's not think of any of that right now. Let's go in and get you cleaned up."
ooooo
When Damara walked into the tavern, all eyes were on her. She wore a dark red dress that clung to her in all the right places. Her hair was loose, falling to her waist in long dark waves. Lancelot stood up to greet her and his gaze was appreciative, his eyes sliding up and down her form as he uttered a low whistle.
Damara smacked him on the shoulder. "Stop that – I swear you have no shame!" she said.
Lancelot grinned. "There is no shame in appreciating beauty," he said.
Pleased with the compliment, Damara smiled back at him, looking into his eyes. Then suddenly shy, she blushed and looked past him to Gawain, who had called a greeting.
"Let's go sit down, shall we?" Lancelot smiled. He ushered Damara to the table where the other knights waited and signaled to the barmaid to bring two drinks.
ooooo
Damara was having a wonderful time. She drank wine, danced, drank wine, flirted with Lancelot and drank still more wine. She had started out vowing only to drink the one tankard but had felt so relaxed and carefree at the bottom of that one that she quickly ordered another. And then another.
She didn't care that Tristan sat in the corner, with Sorcha on his lap, her hands roaming over his body. And Damara was bound and determined to show him that she didn't care by having the best time ever. She danced with every knight that asked, and even though she'd never really danced before, she found that in the arms of the knights it didn't matter. They tossed her around as if she was a rag doll, and she loved every minute of it.
If her laughter was a little too bright, a little too forced, nobody really noticed. Only Damara knew that she had to keep laughing in order not to cry. How could one's heart ache so badly and still keep beating? It must be the wine, she thought. Much as she tried to hold on to her earlier anger, as she watched Tristan she instead found herself understanding the pain that had driven him to such cruelty, and his need to lash out, for she was feeling that now too.
Lancelot was very attentive and as the evening wore on she found herself deciding that she would have him that night. Drink had made her bold, and anyway, why not? She was no virgin, and he was an attractive man that she liked enormously. He would never hurt her, she knew that. She could feel safe with him. And if there was the slightest chance that it would grieve Tristan, so much the better. She didn't want to think about long term consequences for her friendship with Lancelot or whether she loved him or not. She just wanted to feel something – anything - to replace the empty hole in her heart, if only for a little while.
Vanora's words about Lancelot and Tristan's friendship had made an impression on her, and she had started out the night deciding that she would do nothing to come between them. However Tristan was making it abundantly clear that he couldn't care less what she did. His face was buried in the neck of the buxom blonde creature that Damara saw was dismayingly attractive. Desperate to show him she didn't care, she held Lancelot closer and laughed all the louder.
ooooo
Tristan sat in the tavern in his preferred corner. His eyes had not left Damara since she'd arrived. Every movement she made, every sway of her hips, mesmerized him. She was happy and enchanting as she threw her head back and laughed and danced. The musicians played one merry reel after another and Tristan watched as his brother knights swung her around and tossed her back and forth.
He cursed himself for indulging his anger earlier that day. If indeed Damara was innocent of Lancelot's touch, she would not remain so for much longer – and Tristan himself was responsible for that. More than that, what he'd said to her had been unforgivable, and he couldn't forgive himself for saying it to her.
He was once again in the corner, alone and separated from those closest to him. This time he was watching the woman he loved fall into the arms of one of his brothers, and he couldn't think of anything he could do to stop that. He wasn't going to fight Lancelot – he had not taken her; Tristan had lost her. And for tonight, the fight was gone out of Tristan. He had tried to dredge up the anger that had been such a comfort to him for months, but found he could not. The rage had left him and now he was just weary and sad.
When Sorcha came to him his first inclination was to send her on her way, but in his pain he found himself reaching out. The fondest hope Tristan held for this evening was the thought that maybe if he drank enough and closed his eyes tightly enough, he could hold Sorcha and pretend he was with someone who had briefly loved him until he had ruined it. Someone with long dark hair, blue-green eyes and the kindest face he'd ever seen.
Sorcha noticed with irritation the way Tristan kept gazing at the drunken brunette who was throwing herself at the knights. What he saw in that little milquetoast, Sorcha had no idea, but she was fed up with competing for his attention. It was time to make him forget all about the little brunette. "Let's go," she whispered huskily into his ear.
Tristan looked at her, not comprehending at first. Then he looked past her to Damara and Lancelot. The dark knight bent down and whispered something in Damara's ear and she lightly smacked him on the chest and laughed. Tristan noticed that her hand lingered on Lancelot's chest and saw the knight's hand come up to cover hers.
He looked back at Sorcha and nodded. Wearily, he got up from his chair and followed her out the door.
ooooo
Damara laughed brightly at a joke that Lancelot told and glanced over at Tristan to make sure he noticed what a good time she was still having. To her shock, he was not there. Her eyes scanned the tavern and her heart lurched when she saw him leaving, hand in hand with Sorcha. Her face fell and she felt as if she had been punched in the stomach.
Lancelot noticed her sudden change in demeanor and his gaze followed hers to where the scout could be seen walking out the door with the blonde prostitute.
The dark knight gazed wistfully at Damara's face. He'd known what she had been feeling tonight, all too well. He felt the same way himself in the presence of Arthur and Guinevere. That gut-churning agony, the hate and love that you were sure was out there for all to see, and the desperate need to hide it. More than that; the need to pretend you were the happiest person in the room, when inside you were dying. He'd played along with her tonight, but now it was time to be her friend.
"Are you all right?" Lancelot asked softly.
Damara looked up into his face, eyes bright with unshed tears. "I hate him," she said.
Lancelot looked at her knowingly, but with understanding. "I don't think you do," he said.
"Let's leave now," she said suddenly, looking into his eyes.
Lancelot looked at her for a long moment. He knew what she thinking. Slowly he shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea, love," he said.
Damara looked away, eyes downcast. "So," she said softly, "you don't want me either?"
Lancelot pulled her close against him. Gods, that wasn't it. He could very happily take her to bed, but what about after? What would become of them after? "That's not what I'm saying, Mara," Lancelot said. "I just think..."
"No!" Damara sobbed as she pushed him away. His rejection, coming on the heels of Tristan's disregard, was unbearable. "If you don't want me I'll find someone who does!" She reeled away from him but he pulled her back.
"Don't be foolish," he said. "You don't want to do that, and I'm not going to let you."
Drunkenly, she stood there, swaying as she poked him in the chest. "Don't you dare tell me what I want and what I don't!" She jerked away from him, trying to free herself from his grasp.
Furious, she looked around, and noticed a handsome young man standing at the bar. He'd been casting admiring glances her way all night. "You there!" she called to the startled fellow. "Do you want to have me? Because he doesn't!" With her thumb she gestured at Lancelot.
A man somewhere in the tavern shouted, "I'll have you! Come over here, lass, we'll take care of you!" His remark was punctuated by the laughter of his friends, who urged the man to step forward to try to claim the prize.
The knights began to rise from their table, ready to stave off any trouble that might occur.
"You lot couldn't take care of a wet dream!" Vanora shouted as she walked over to Lancelot and Damara, who had buried her face in Lancelot's chest. "Sit down and shut up, the lot of you!"
"Get her out of here, before she starts a riot, will you? I suspect she'll start removing her clothing next," Vanora said. "And you mind your manners, in her present state she'd probably bed anything."
"You mean even me?" Lancelot said, somewhat insulted.
"I mean especially you," Vanora laughed. "Just put her to bed. Alone, mind you," she said.
TBC