BlackPaintedWhite: Thanks for reviewing, here is another chapter. I hope you like this one as well.
Ailis-70: Yes, Damara has gotten bold, but she and Tristan have been together for some time now and she has blossomed. With the bar wench on Tristan's lap, I can totally see him not pushing her off.He didn't care if she was on his lap, he wasn't going to do anything with her anyway. But he also didn't expect to see Damara there. Men rarely want to be teased for being "whipped", and when they're together in their own environment they can be much different than when with their women. As I'm sure you know, being a Marine and all, right? ;) I remember these tough soldiers who would be talking all hard and then when their wives were around it was a whole 'nother ballgame.
Cardeia: There is a lot of tension between them, they are very physical in their relationship. I envision those two having a number of lovers' tiffs as he is obstinate and strong-minded and she has bloomed in this relationship. She's not afraid to say what she thinks now, not afraid to disagree with him, though she generally only goes so far. He does have quite a temper and definitely wears the pants in this family unit.As opposed to say, Bors and Vanora. I definitely picture her leading Bors by the nose and her being content to let him think he's in charge. What Tristan says, goes.
Disclaimer: Not making any money from this, so don't sue.
Rating: M. WARNING: The following contains mature subject matter of a sexual nature that some may find objectionable. Please do not read any further if you feel that this may offend you.
The mystics, Damara among them, rode behind Merlin on the way to the blessing ceremony. She could not ever remember being as nervous as she was at that moment, knowing what could be awaiting her.
The ceremony itself was not the worry; her role in it would be minimal and was very simple. Her purpose was to assist Merlin, and that was all. She did wonder at his motives in insisting that she take the position as it rightfully belonged to Abhainn. The man was understandably upset about being set aside in favor of Damara and she determined to speak to him later, to let him know that she had not had a part in it.
No, the ceremony was not the worry and Merlin's motives were not of immediate concern. What had her stomach tied in knots was the possibility that Tristan would recognize her, for she could not predict what his reaction would be.
At the purification ritual the night before, Damara consumed a drink that had relaxed her greatly and had opened her mind. She'd been bathed and her hair washed, and she'd seen nothing objectionable in the matter. If only it had ended there.
Unfortunately, she had allowed her back to be tattooed and her body to be smeared with woad, staining her dark blue for the foreseeable future. But by far the worst of it was the way she was dressed. She was garbed much like the other women, but while they looked natural, at home in their native garb, Damara felt horribly exposed.
Some of the women wore leggings, others wore the same type of wrap that Damara wore, slung low around her hips. Damara asked if she could wear leggings for more modesty, but the only replies she received were amused giggles. The Woads were completely unconcerned with what she termed "modesty". These were people who sometimes ran naked into battle, after all.
The top Damara was wearing was probably not any smaller than the ones worn by the others, but she felt very conspicuous in it. It consisted of not much more than a strap of leather across her breasts and Damara grew increasingly distressed at the thought of appearing in public in such garb.
She did not even have her hair to hide her breasts behind. To her dismay, her hair had been pulled back tight, twisted and braided, with the remainder flowing down her back. There was no hope of covering herself with it now.
Merlin came in and smiled when he saw her. "You look as you should now – not dressed in those foreign clothes."
"I remember faintly dressing like this as a very young child, when visiting with my mother's people. But I was a child then, Merlin. How can you expect me to wear this around people who know me?" She looked down at herself in distress. "Everything is visible! What will they think of me?"
At this, Merlin looked displeased. "Do you think my daughter, the queen, is less well thought of when she chooses to wear her native clothing?"
Chastened, Damara looked at her feet. "Of course not, my lord. But she was born to it, looks as if she belongs in it. This is not who I am."
Merlin leaned forward and kissed her on her forehead. "You were born to it also, my child. You only need to go back and remember." He hesitated a moment and then said, "If it will make you feel better, know that I hardly recognized you. You're wearing the woad, in unfamiliar garb, with your hair done differently. Unless someone looks at you very closely your identity will go unnoticed."
Damara was not as confidant of that as Merlin seemed to be, but she chose to believe him in the hope that he was right.
ooooo
The knights stood in their places just outside the newly built cathedral that Arthur had commissioned. The original wedding and unification ceremony had been held at Stonehenge, but the use of this building was a symbol of compromise between the king and his people. The king was Christian, but it was devoid of overtly Christian symbols out of respect for the pagan beliefs of many of his subjects.
Though the crowd that waited was large, it was unusually quiet. The knights shifted uncomfortably in their formal armor. Thank the gods they didn't have to fight in this stuff, thought Lancelot. It was shiny and looked good and he knew he wore it very well, but it was damned impractical. "Ah – here come the witches now," he said.
The knights watched as the horses arrived and Merlin and his mystics dismounted. Gawain was keenly watching the females and said in a whisper, "that one looks familiar, doesn't she?"
The other knights looked, save for Tristan, who was busy trying to adjust his armor. He hated this damned uncomfortable stuff. The Woad in question dismounted from her horse, showing a goodly amount of rounded backside in the process. Said Bors with a grin, "I don't think I've ever met that one on the battlefield; I would have remembered her."
Said Galahad, "She does not have the look of a warrior, I doubt you would have met her on the field."
Lancelot shushed them. "Quiet! And you've probably just seen her around the keep. We are all friends now, you know," he said cynically.
Gawain said, "Oh I'd like to be friends with that one." He laughed quietly and Bors smiled in agreement, eyes roaming appreciatively over her lush form. "I'll try to catch up with her at the festivities after and try to work on friendly relations between our people," Gawain continued. Bors' familiar rumble of laughter was subdued, but caught Lancelot's notice. He glared at the two of them. This ceremony was important to Arthur and Guinevere and he would not have the knights make a mockery of it.
They all bowed as the King and Queen passed in front of them. After Merlin and his apprentices entered the building it was then the knights' turn. They took their places in front of the assembly, facing Arthur and Guinevere, with the rest of the assemblage filing in behind them. They had no role in the ceremony, but as Arthur's knights they did hold places of honor at the front of the gathering.
Gawain was watching the ceremony and trying to place the female Woad who was assisting Merlin. She seemed so familiar to him and yet he could not remember where he had seen her before. He realized that he was being poked frantically by Galahad and annoyed, he jabbed him with his elbow to silence him. The poking recommenced and exasperated, Gawain hissed, "What!"
Galahad leaned over and whispered in Gawain's ear. "The mystic – is that Damara?" Gawain looked at him, not sure he'd heard right. Galahad nodded. "Look for yourself!" he hissed.
Gawain took a closer look at her. It was hard to tell what with all the blue dye and the painted designs on her face. As he studied her, the Woad met his eyes and then quickly dropped them when she saw the recognition begin to dawn.
Gawain was dumbfounded. What in the world was going on? Damara was no mystic, nor was she Woad. But what was she doing here? He wanted to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it, but that would have to wait until afterwards, when he got the truth of it. This was going to be good.
He wondered why Tristan had never said anything. True, he wasn't the type of man to confide in the others, but this was pretty significant, at least worth a mention.
He looked over towards Tristan, but could not get his attention. Lancelot glanced at Gawain, impatient with his fidgeting. Gawain rolled his eyes towards the front, trying to get Lancelot to look, but all he got was a puzzled look from the dark knight. Gawain leaned over in front of Bors, and Lancelot leaned slightly to meet him, straining his ears to catch Gawain's low whisper.
When Lancelot was certain that he'd heard Gawain correctly, he took a good look at the woman standing next to Merlin behind the altar. His eyes widened as he realized that Gawain had spoken the truth.
Damara's eyes met his and she realized that the dark knight also recognized her. Lancelot's small grin slowly broadened into a wide smile, which he tried to cover with his hand. He slid his eyes slowly down her body and back up again, clearly appreciative of what he was seeing. By the time his eyes made it back up to her face he knew that underneath the blue she would be blushing furiously.
Bors, who had also heard what Gawain had said, stole a look at Tristan. The scout was regarding Lancelot's shenanigans with curiosity, and he followed Lancelot's gaze to see what had so captured his attention. As Bors watched, Tristan's brows drew down as he began to look very closely at the blue nearly naked woman who was standing next to Merlin.
The realization dawned on Tristan's face but his certainty was not complete until Damara looked at him and he saw the fear in her eyes. Surely she would have known that he would disapprove of this nonsense, yet she had gone ahead anyway, without saying anything to him.
He was standing here like a fool, the other knights sniggering at her attire, and at his obvious ignorance in the matter. He yearned to go get her and drag her out of there and in fact began to move forward to do just that. Seeing Tristan's movement, Bors grabbed onto his arm. "Hold on, boy," the big man whispered gruffly.
Tristan's eyes continued to shoot daggers throughout the rest of the ceremony. Tristan hadspent years of his life killing Woads, he still hated the sight of them, though he did try to tolerate them now. And here was his woman, dressed like one of them! He didn't know which angered him more, the fact that she looked like one of these savages, or the fact that she had neglected to mention this to him. The other knights kept a wary eye on him; any humor they might have felt dissipated in the knowledge that Tristan was coldly, dangerously angry.
After the ceremony, everyone filed out and Tristan pushed through the crowd, trying to find Damara, but it seemed she had slipped away. Everywhere he looked there were blue people, but none he recognized.
The knights followed him, in the hopes of preventing any incidents that might possibly occur. Tristan stood outside the cathedral, scanning the crowd for any signs of Damara, and the knights waited and watched.
Suddenly from behind them came a whispered voice. "Back here!"
They all turned around and saw Damara standing there, ducking slightly. "Don't turn around you idiots! He'll see!" she hissed.
Bors stood watch while the others spoke with Damara.
"Tristan is angry, isn't he?" she said in a low voice.
Taking another look at where the livid scout stood, still searching for his woman, Lancelot said, "I think it's safe to say that." He laughed shortly, a bark of disbelief. "What is this all about?" He waved his hand at Damara.
The healer sighed. "A request of Merlin's. There's too much to explain. I need to leave before Tristan sees me."
"Hmmm. Too late," rumbled Bors.
Damara poked her head up and shrieked in fright. Tristan was heading their way, his face like a thundercloud. She looked around wildly, but there was nowhere to run - he would overtake her in no time. Her more rational self wondered what she was so frightened of. He was very angry, yes, but it was still just Tristan. Still, to be on the safe side, she ducked behind Bors.
Lancelot and Gawain walked up to Tristan to try to slow him; calm him down, but he pushed right through them. Bors, the human wall, shielded Damara with his body.
"Get out of my way, Bors," Tristan said coldly.
"No – can't do it. You're going to have to come through me, boy," Bors said affably.
Furious, Tristan feinted in one direction and then reached around Bors in the other, grabbing Damara by her arm and dragging her out from behind the big knight. She cried out in pain, but Tristan paid no heed. He grabbed her other arm tightly and shook her.
"You embarrass me! Look at yourself!" he hissed at her.
Tristan started to walk away, dragging Damara behind him. Lancelot moved to block him, putting his hands on Tristan's shoulders.
"Tristan," he said. "Let go of her arm – you're hurting her."
"Don't interfere with me. This is between Damara and myself. We're going home, where I can find out what the hell is going on."
"Not like this, you're not," said the dark knight.
"And who is going to stop me?" sneered Tristan. "You?"
Tristan rounded on the dark knight, directing all his fury towards him. "You need to stop being concerned with other men's women. And not just mine. You think people don't know why you stay away? You think they don't talk about…"
"Tristan!" Damara's voice was sharp and chastising. The other knights looked decidedly uncomfortable. Everyone knew that Tristan was referring to Lancelot's seeming attraction to their queen, but it was something that had never been spoken of.
He looked down at her. "You take up for him against me?"
"I wish you not to say anything that you will regret later."
She looked at Lancelot and the pain on his face broke her heart. "I'm sorry – I didn't mean to be the cause of any rancor." She wanted to go to him and comfort her friend but did not dare with Tristan in his present state of fury.
Damara turned and looked at Tristan. "We'll go now."
To the others she said, "please give our apologies to Arthur and Guinevere." She began to walk away with as much dignity as she could muster. Tristan stood for a moment, eyes spitting his fury at the knights for their interference, and then he too walked away.
He held tightly to Damara's arm, pushing her slightly ahead of him as he walked. He did not speak and Damara thought it best to maintain silence as well, which she did until she saw they were going straight home.
"I need to get the baby," she said. Vanora's children had been watching him.
"You'll get him later," Tristan said. His voice was tight and controlled and Damara saw that he brooked no discussion on the matter.
When they arrived at their hut Tristan pushed her through the door and it slammed heavily behind them. Damara turned towards him, watching and waiting.
Tristan stood, looking at her. She sensed he had so much to say that he was simply trying to find a place to begin. Finally he spoke.
"It ends," he said. "I said as long as it did not interfere with us, I would allow it. But this…" his eyes swept her form in disgust.
"I'll talk to Merlin," Damara said. She knew her words would probablyprovoke Tristan, but in his current mood she could have agreed with him completely and he would have found something to object to.
Tristan's eyes narrowed. "You'll talk to Merlin? As if he has any say in this? This is my decision, and you will abide by it without question."
Damara looked at her feet. It was more complicated than that, and she wanted to wait for a better time to talk about it, for she dreaded Tristan's fury. He was thus far keeping his anger under control.
When Damara did not immediately acquiesce, Tristan spoke. "You're not planning to defy me, are you?" A part of him almost wished she were. He was livid, and spoiling for a good fight.
At her continued silence, he went on. "You won't talk to Merlin - I will.Indeed, he will be lucky if all I do is talk."
"Please, Tristan," Damara said softly.
"Please Tristan' what?" he snarled. He crossed the room swiftly and she involuntarily flinched.
"Why do you back away from me?" he growled. "Have I ever hurt you?"
"No," she said softly.
He angrily paced the floor. The uncomfortable dress armor he was wearing grew unbearable and he began working at it, pulling it off and flinging it to the floor. Some of the pieces were more difficult and he cursed and flailed as he struggled with them, eager to be free of the uncomfortable garb.
Damara moved forward to assist him, but at the touch of her hands he pushed her away. "Don't touch me!" he snarled.
Damara felt her own anger begin to surge. "There is no need for you to be nasty to me when I am only trying to help you," she spat.
He rounded on her. "You can help me by not making me a laughingstock in front of the men," he said. Tristan could see that Damara was getting angry, and he was glad of it. He needed to vent his rage and it was hard to do when she compliant and biddable.
"It's bad enough that you paint yourself as the savages do, but to flaunt yourself in that..." Tristan tried to find the words to describe her attire but fell silent as the proper words failed him. "Have you no shame?" He spat.
Damara narrowed her eyes. "So far I have embarrassed you and made you a laughingstock, have I?" She knew she had a fine figure, nothing at all to be embarrassed about, and Tristan's words had hurt her pride.
"Rather than laughing at you, maybe the others think you're a very lucky man, did you ever think of that? You think I don't know appreciation when I see it in a man's eyes?" Damara spat.
"Who was looking at you like that? Lancelot?" Tristan snarled.
"What are you afraid of? That one of them will look at me and want me?" Damara kept going, not even hearing what Tristan said. "That maybe they'll envy you being in my bed? Or that maybe the next time they pleasure themselves one of them might think of me?"
Tristan's face went white, and he crossed the distance between them in seconds. "And you like the thought of that?"
Damara saw she'd gone too far in pushing him. "No – I was just…"
Her voice was cut off as Tristan pushed her up against the wall, trapping her with his body. "You were just what?" he growled. "Letting me know that there are other men who want you, that you can find someone else if you want?"
Not giving her a chance to answer him, he went on. His hand went to her face, holding it so she could not turn from him. His breath hissed against her ear, against her neck. "The thought of him wanting you, touching himself while thinking of you – that excites you?"
"No," Damara whispered. She knew which knight he was referring to. It had only ever been Lancelot that had made Tristan insecure where Damara was concerned.
"Do you think of him when you're with me?" Tristan's lips were now against hers and she could feel his anger in the whisper of his hot breath.
She tried to move her head away from him but his hand held her firm. Her lips parted, and she spoke against his mouth. "Never, Tristan. Only you," she said softly. She trembled, for along with his anger, she felt his arousal, and her own desire began to rise.
Tristan was seething with fury, and she could feel it in the tenseness of his body. It was tightly controlled, but Damara sensed she only had to do or say the wrong thing to release it.
"Only me," he rasped into her mouth before taking it with his own. His hands began to roam her body, pulling roughly at her clothing. His mouth ripped away from hers. "Get rid of this," he commanded.
At his words, Damara felt her anger surge. How dare he? She knew that were she to say nay in earnest he would stop. But she found herself wishing to take out her fury on him as he wished to with her. And she knew thatat the end of it, with both of them sated, they would work through this as they did anything else.
Reaching up, she and grabbed his head and pulled it against hers. Bruising his mouth, cutting it with her teeth, she kissed him and tasted his blood upon her lips. Her other hand went down to the front of his trousers, where she gripped him tightly.
A strangled cry issued forth from Tristan's throat as he pulled his mouth free from Damara's bruising kiss. He lowered his head and his teeth nipped at her shoulder, as he pulled frantically at their clothing.
Damara's breath hissed with the pain of his bite and she reached around him and dug her nails into his back, dragging them across his skin. Tristan finally freed her from the wrap that she wore and swiftly impaled her upon himself, slamming her up against the wall.
She cried out, a primal noise of pain and something else, a sound that cried out her want. Her legs wrapped around Tristan's waist, but she was frustrated - she had no leverage to push back against him and she frantically wanted to go wider, take him deeper.
Full of anger and deliberately disregarding her needs, Tristan spent himself quickly and sagged against her, crushing her between his body and the wall that had bloodied her back.
Damara slid to her feet, still aching with need and shaking with anger. "You're not finished," she said.
He looked at her, eyes hooded. "You may not be finished," he said. "But I am."
Damara was infuriated. She wanted to scream that she would go to Lancelot, Gawain, any of the other knights and get the satisfaction that Tristan denied her, but his anger was still too near. She also knew that it would be a hollow threat because even were she to carry it out, none of the other knights would touch her.
She realized that there was nothing for it. Both her anger and her desire would have to fade away of their own accord. But she could not stay here with him right now, for fear of things that would be said and done that could not easily be taken back.
She pushed past him, giving him a mighty shove, and went to the basin where she washed herself. Not looking at Tristan, or deigning to speak to him, she picked up her wrap and began to get put it back on.
"What are you doing?" he asked her.
"Getting dressed," she informed him in a voice tight with anger.
"Not in that, you aren't," he said.
Her only answer was a contemptuous flicker of her eyes in his direction.
"Don't defy my wishes, Damara," he said in a low, dangerous voice.
"Why not? You defy mine!" she spat at him. "You selfishly take your pleasure, leaving me in need. Your anger at me was great, now you have incurred mine and I wish to be away from you."
As she turned away from him, his hand went to her shoulder to stop her. "Do not go out that door, Damara," he said.
Damara shook off his hand and turned on him. "If I do go, am I not welcome back?"
"Don't test me," Tristan warned.
"As you test me?" She snarled. "I go to Merlin now, to request my leave of him, and will return when I get it. If you will not welcome me back, place my things outside so that I may know."
Tristan could not believe she was defying him like this, and more, daring him to turn her out of their home. And what she had said about Merlin - what did that mean?
While he was mulling this over, Damara went to the door and opened it. "Don't come after me," she said in a voice of ice.
The door slammed heavily behind her and Tristan started to do just that, belatedly remembering his state of undress. Cursing, he laced up his trousers and found his tunic, not bothering to turn it right side out before putting it back on.
He ran out the door and looked to see in what direction Damara had left, but she was nowhere to be found. Furious, he went back into the hut, slamming the door even harder than Damara had. He idly thought that the hinges would soon need replacing if this were to keep up.
He planted himself heavily in a chair and put his head in his hands, sighing heavily. It was just as well she'd been gone, he thought. They were both far too angry to do anything other than harm right now.
He looked at the spot where he'd stood as he'd taken her, up against the wall, and felt a surge of desire at the recent memory. She'd be back tonight, he knew, and would not return to find her belongings outside. No matter the provocation, he would always take her back, as he believed she would him. He looked forward to her return and to the making up.
TBC