plzkthx101: It may look like I've written myself into a corner, but I think you'll be pleased with the ending. Whenever it comes around, that is. At this rate the thing will last forever, lol.
Hessa: Thanks for reviewing! Yes, she truly seems to be between a rock and a hard place doesn't she?
LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Thanks for reviewing again - here is another chapter finally.
newsieskane: I wanted to develop the relationship between Bran and Tristan - they live in the same household and it's only natural that Bran would gravitate to him. Now that Tristan has expressed an interest Damara has encouraged that and it's starting to pay off. But now she's worried that it's all for nothing.
Ailis-70: Merlin is being a PITA but while he has an agenda he's really not a bad guy. At least he tries not to be. He's not enjoying being the bearer of bad tidings, but he does intend to have his way. Tristan would love to crack him upside the head (really, gut him is closer to it) and is tempted to but while he may be a bit volatile sometimes he's not that foolish. Maybe Damara should have told Tristan right away, but she wanted to rest and gather her thoughts and decide how she felt about the matter beforehand.If he had insisted, or if she had known he was going to take offlooking for Merlin in the dead of night she would have.
KnightMaiden: I don't intend to let Tristan die, never fear.I thought it was an outrage that he died in the movie, so I'm not about to kill him all over again. (smile)
Cardeia: I always liked the mystical aspect of the Arthurian legend and I get why they didn't put that in the movie. But Lancelot did allude to Merlin being a "dark magician" and I wanted to throw a bit of that in here. I see him as a servant of the gods, (his female counterpart serves the Goddess) trying to figure out what they want and usually being pretty good at carrying out their wishes. Sometimes he throws a bit of his own agenda in there in the guise of "the gods" wanting this or that. He is trying to maintain some sort of political relevance in the face of Arthur now being King. So he's going to grasp on to whatever he can. I don't see Tristan as believing in any of this, but Damara, having worked with Merlin is a bit more privy to the mystical aspect of things. He's shown her a little, and is aware of her own gifts even though she has no interest in using them. She is at least aware of the possibility that Merlin could be telling the truth, or he could be playing a game. Does she dare gamble that he's only running a bluff on her? There is that sticky bit about Tristan being yanked from death's door that hangs over all of them. Tristan knows he should have been dead, but doesn't want to think about the implications of that. He puts it off to being lucky and looks no further than that. Everybody who was around when he was injured sort of thinks, okay, he should be dead. We're glad he's not but this is weird. Merlin has some uses for Damara and those are spoken of in this chapter. I didn't want to make it about Merlin wanting her, but more about her possibly being of use to him in some fashion.
Anyway, on with the chapter, which has taken me forever to put together. Hope you like it, because I've re-written it twice.
Disclaimer: Don't own it, not making any money, etc., etc., etc.
Tristan left the soundly sleeping Damara and headed for the stables. The horses did not stir when Tristan came in – his was a familiar presence and did not trouble them. Swiftly, silently, he saddled and bridled his horse and led him outside.
Upon arrival at the gate, he motioned for the guards to open it for him. They would note his departure in their log, but would not alert anyone. The knights, and the scout in particular, were liable to come and go at all hours of the night.
Once clear of the gates, he gave the horse his head and they made for the trees. He had no fear that his mount would stumble, for this was a path they had trod many a time over the years, and the moonlight was more than sufficient to see by. Both he and the horse could find their way blindfolded, Tristan would wager.
He slowed as he neared the forest, watching and listening for anything out of the ordinary. Though the time of Woad warriors swooping down from the trees was past, Tristan had spent too many years watching for them to ever completely relax his guard. And he was aware that, ally or not, his armed presence in this forest could be construed as hostile.
Construed? Tristan snorted. He was hostile.
Merlin had been their enemy for too many years for Tristan to simply turn off the mistrust and dislike of the man. That Merlin was now considered an ally meant nothing to the scout, and it certainly didn't mean his interference in Tristan's personal life would be tolerated.
The forest closed around him, embracing him. The darkness here was nearly total, but for the beams of moonlight than occasionally shot through the branches. Rounding a bend in the trail, he was startled to see in a flood of moonlight, a robed figure blocking his path.
"You wanted words with me, Scout?" Merlin said.
Due to long years of practice, Tristan knew that his face remained impassive, that not even a glimmer of reaction appeared in his eyes. Even had it been broad daylight, no one would have seen Tristan react. But somehow, he felt that the wizard had seen even in the dark of night.
Merlin unsettled Tristan, one of the few men to ever do that.
Yet another reason to dislike him.
"Thank you for saving me a long trip, wizard," Tristan replied casually, as if his sudden appearance in the pathway had not been unexpected.
Though Merlin should have been addressed more respectfully as befitted his status, Tristan was completely unconcerned with masking his true feelings for the man. Quite frankly, Tristan despised him and didn't care if the man knew it or not.
Looking about and listening carefully, Tristan tried to detect Merlin's ever-present guard. He could neither hear nor see anything in the thick canopy of trees, nor on the ground, but the Woads could be nearly as silent as Tristan himself was. Merlin seemed amused at the scout's precaution.
"I am quite alone," said the old man.
The knight turned his attention briefly to Merlin. "Are you entirely sure that was wise?" Tristan asked. For the briefest second, the thought flickered in his head that if Merlin were to disappear, Tristan's troubles would do likewise. The scout's eyes gleamed at the thought.
"I will not die by your hand, Scout," laughed Merlin. It did not surprise him that the knight's thoughts would run to death as the first solution to this problem. Not for the first time, Merlin wondered what Damara saw in such a man. The scout was uncouth, uncivilized, for all he scorned Merlin's people as such.
Tristan reflected that the wizard would not die by his hand only because Tristan chose not to kill him. Satisfying as the man's death might be, there was no honor in taking the life of one who could not defend himself. He had killed many in the heat of battle, but he was no murderer. All the same, Tristan saw nothing wrong with engaging in wishful thinking.
The older man began walking to the side of the path, further into the trees. "It is late, and I believe you wish to talk. Let us get to it before morn, for I am getting no younger. Follow me, and you will know everything that I can tell you."
Tristan once again looked around, but could detect no one other than Merlin. After a moment's hesitation, he dismounted and disappeared into the woods behind the other man, leading his mount behind him and keeping his senses alert to any other presence in the woods.
There was a thin path through the brush, which Tristan followed into a clearing. It was heavily protected and concealed by a thick wall of trees and brush. Large stones for sitting upon encircled a fire pit where the wizard was busily engaged in lighting a fire.
How many times had Tristan ridden past this spot and never known of its existence?
As Tristan watched the other man, he noted that Merlin used flint and stone as he himself would have. From the stories that circulated about the magician, the knight had rather expected that fire would have leaped from his fingertips. Truth be told, given the otherworldly air of his surroundings, Tristan was a little disappointed that Merlin employed such an ordinary manner.
When the fire caught, the wizard stood up straight, groaning as he did so. "Not as young as I used to be," he wheezed.
Taking a seat on one of the more comfortable looking rocks that ringed the clearing, Merlin pointed at another rock. "Sit," he said to the knight. "We will be here for some time yet."
Tristan remained standing, unwilling to take even this simple order from the older man.
Merlin looked up at Tristan and smiled slightly. "Or stand, as you wish." He appraised the scout for a few moments and then said, "You are a proud man, Tristan. That may not always stand you in good stead." He leaned forward, holding his hands out towards the fire to warm them.
"I want to know what you want with Damara," Tristan said. He was here for a purpose; not idle chatter.
"And for that you came all this way? You could more easily have asked her," Merlin said. The wizard picked up a stick and began poking at the fire with it, rearranging the kindling which had not yet caught to the larger wood.
"I am asking you!" Tristan said harshly. "Whatever you said to her has troubled Damara deeply, and she is reluctant to speak of it until morning. I am not a patient man on this issue, so I will get my answers from you."
Merlin's expression was somber, and his face was compassionate in the firelight. "Truly, it saddens me that she is upset, but it cannot be helped." His eyes studied Tristan. "I see you do not believe that," he said.
Believing himself far enough removed from Merlin's order to sit, Tristan finally deigned to seat himself upon a rock before the fire. He remained coldly silent, waiting for the older man to begin explaining himself.
"Very well," said Merlin. "I will tell you what I can, and we should be quickly done if there is a minimum of interruption from you."
Tristan gestured impatiently at Merlin to begin. Merlin's eyes narrowed slightly. This impudence from the scout was beginning to irritate him. He had gone out of his way to see the man when he clearly did not have to. The least he was owed was the courtesy of respect.
Tersely, he said, "Quite simply, she owes a debt. A debt that must be paid."
He watched Tristan, trying to gauge his reaction. The scout had to have heard the rumors surrounding his near demise, and was the type of man who would not believe tales of magic or of the gods. However, he was not required to. Damara believed in them and that was all that was necessary.
"You should have died that day on the battlefield. I think you are aware of that fact," Merlin stated.
The look on Tristan's face did not change but Merlin could see the truth in the scout's eyes. Somewhere deep inside of himself, Tristan knew, even though the fact of it brought up questions that he consciously avoided. Arthur had been there, and the other knights as well – men whose opinions he knew and trusted. They had seen his injuries and would not have lied to him about their severity.
No, Tristan knew the truth, and if he knew that one then he could be persuaded to believe the rest of it.
Having satisfied his curiosity, Merlin continued. "When you were injured, Damara came to me and requested that I see you, which I did. I told her what Arthur himself told her, that you were not long for this world. That was something that she could not bring herself to accept." Merlin's face grew soft as he remembered the beautiful healer's determination, how she had pleaded with him. His heart had softened to her, but it had not been until she'd spoken of her foreknowledge of Tristan's death that he had seen the possibilities.
Tristan noted the other man's change of expression and his own grew hard with displeasure.
It was a look that Merlin noted. "My feelings for her are not what you think, Scout," he said. He watched Tristan carefully and saw that his words were not believed; a feeling that was evidenced by the knight's snort of skepticism.
"I'd be interested to know what those feelings are, then," said Tristan.
Merlin was amused at the scout's possessiveness. "I am fond of her. That she is a beautiful woman does not mean I seek to put her on her back," he said. "She has talents that are far more of interest to me than any she could perform in my bed."
The scout's hackles were rising, Merlin noted. "I have just told you I am not interested in bedding your woman, and still you bristle," the wizard said wryly.
"It seems to me that the thought of it may have crossed your mind," said Tristan sourly.
"And you would flay a man for his thoughts? Mayhap you should have chosen an ugly woman for your mate, one that no other man would look upon with desire," he informed the scout. "As I said, she has talents that would interest me were she the plainest woman in all of Britain. That interest dictates that she will remain untouched by me. Will my word on that satisfy you, or will you instead continue to take offense that I may have had the occasional thought of her lying beneath me?"
Merlin's words had been designed to needle Tristan, to no purpose other than Merlin's own amusement. The scout had dared to disrespect him, and in return Merlin would poke at him where he was most sensitive. In truth, though Merlin had been subject to a stray thought or two regarding Damara, he had no particular desire for her.
"I do not want your woman for myself, Tristan. I have women aplenty for that purpose and have no need to take one from another man, even would I stoop to it." Merlin explained.
Tristan didn't entirely believe him, Merlin saw, but it really didn't matter what the scout believed or didn't. Damara had no choice but to come with Merlin and the scout had no choice but to accept it. Indeed, Tristan would be well rid of her – she was his only weakness, if the scout would but see it.
"I will continue on, if you are through indulging your jealousy," Merlin said.
Tristan bristled at Merlin's words, but nodded tersely for him to continue, which the older man did. "When I told Damara you were beyond help, she begged me to aid you. She said she would pay any price if I could intervene on your behalf. I cautioned her that the price for such a service would be high, but she was in agreement with the terms."
Tristan waited for him to continue, but the wizard merely looked at him. Finally, Tristan spoke. "And what was the price?"
Merlin hesitated before answering. He did not fear the knight, but wished to consider his words before speaking. Tristan was known to be cool in battle – and previously in every aspect of his life. But since Damara had entered his life he could be disturbingly volatile where she was concerned.
Tristan grew impatient at the other man's silence. "The price, wizard…what was it?" he prodded.
Merlin realized that the knight was unlikely to be overjoyed with what he was about to hear, no matter how it was phrased. Looking calmly at Tristan, he told him the words that were going to change his life.
"She is to leave you and begin a life of service to the gods," Merlin replied simply.
Tristan studied the other man carefully, before uttering a short bark of amused disbelief. He had to be joking, though after a few moments it occurred to Tristan that Merlin could very well not be.
"She'd never do that," he said.
Even as the words left Tristan's mouth, he thought back to her behavior that evening and realized that she might very well do exactly that. Something immense had been on her mind when she'd left him to bathe, when she'd pleaded for sleep and time before speaking with him. Now he knew what that something was, and what her decision was likely to be.
Why else would she avoid the subject unless it was going to be a painful one? He felt a cold hand wrap itself around his heart and begin to squeeze. "She refused…didn't she?"
Merlin watched him with sympathy in his eyes. There had been a curious break in Tristan's voice, which tugged at Merlin's heart. He could see for a second the naked fear on the other man's face, before it was quickly covered up.
Though he had needled Tristan earlier, he was not a cruel man, and was not enjoying this misery that he was charged with inflicting. All the same, a deal had been struck and the terms must be lived up to.
Though it would ease the sting somewhat to know that Damara was leaving him to ensure that Tristan remained among the living, Merlin did not think it would serve his purpose to impart that knowledge to the scout.
"What can you offer her?" asked Merlin softly.
Tristan looked at him. His mind was going in a hundred directions all at once, and he'd not quite comprehended what the wizard was asking him.
"Offer her?" he asked.
"You heard me," Merlin said. "What do you have to offer Damara?"
Tristan thought about that while Merlin watched him covertly. Mentally Tristan ran through an inventory. He had his heart to offer her, such as it was. His lifelong love and protection, which as a knight might not be that long, granted. Children, should they be blessed with them. He would be as good a father to her son as he knew how to be. He would never have anything in the way of riches or finery to offer her, but Damara cared nothing for such things.
While he searched his mind for more, he was interrupted by Merlin's voice.
"Let me tell you instead what I have to offer her," said Merlin. "A chance for her to live up to her potential. A chance to become great. She is a good healer, but she is one of several here." He waved his hand, dismissing her worth in that arena.
Merlin leaned forward, bracing himself against his staff as he looked at Tristan. "You don't see in her what I do. She is amazingly perceptive, when she lets herself be. She can part the veil and look into the future if she chooses to. I can teach her to hone these skills, and acquire others. She could be an advisor to those in power – becoming quite powerful herself."
"In time I and my kind will be trusted by your people. But for now, Damara can be a bridge between us. She is a Briton, but Romanized. She is known by both king and knights. Where my words might be cause for suspicion, hers would be trusted."
Tristan found himself drawn in by Merlin's voice, fascinated by what he had to say, even though he was not sure he believed it. Tristan thought that Damara was special, yes, but in the way that every man thought his woman was special. Surely not to the extent that Merlin described. She was just…Damara. Wasn't she?
"The possibilities for her are endless, Tristan." Hearing his name, the scout looked up at Merlin, yanked out of his thoughts. "She would do none of that, living the ordinary life that you have to give her. She can be important to many, or important to only you."
Suddenly Tristan felt the meagerness of his own offerings. If Merlin was speaking the truth, and she could have and be all that, then what he had to give was indeed small and inadequate. Why would Damara not want what Merlin had to offer? The chance to serve king and country - to be important and respected?
Merlin watched as Tristan's thoughts flickered across his face. "It is a debt she owes, Scout." The wizard said softly. "Let her pay it. Let her go, with your blessing."
Tristan blew out his breath and rested his head in his hands. Suddenly he was very weary. There was much to think about, and his thoughts were too disorganized to make sense of them right now.
"Take the life she bought you and make another for yourself," came Merlin's voice. "You will find happiness with another woman, you'll have children…"
Tristan looked up and his hand raised to stop the other man from speaking. "The woman I have has not even left me yet and already you speak of another?" His look turned suspicious.
"You try too hard to persuade me, wizard. Can it be that you must do so because you were unable to persuade Damara?" Tristan asked.
Merlin's face turned hard and the firelight's dance upon it gave him a sinister cast. "I have no need to persuade Damara of anything. She is well aware that she has no choice in this."
Tristan turned an icy gaze upon the other man and his eyes narrowed. "Damara will make whatever decision pleases her and my sword will back up that choice," he informed Merlin coldly. "So you think hard on any ultimatum you issue."
Irritation flashed across Merlin's face. He was unused to such insolence, and fought the urge to put the disrespectful pup in his place. He was also aware that he had made a misstep where Tristan was concerned. Losing his temper would not regain that lost ground.
"You misunderstand," said Merlin. "Damara has no choice because she gave her word to pay whatever it cost to keep you from death's grasp. Are you saying that she is so lacking in honor that she could choose to go back on her word?"
Tristan bristled at the implied insult. "Your tone insinuated a threat should Damara not do your bidding. I tell you now that if her lack of choice comes from other than her own sense of honor it will be dealt with."
Despite his irritation at the scout's impertinence, Merlin had to admit that he admired the man's courage. It had been a great many years since someone had spoken their mind to him in such a way. And considering the news that Merlin was imparting to him, his reaction was not unexpected.
He pitied the man his impending loss of the woman he loved, but Merlin thought that he would eventually get over it and find another. After all, Tristan was a knight of the round table – there were no shortage of women who would bed such as he.
Tristan's face turned thoughtful. "Let us speak of this lack of choice, Merlin. For argument's sake, let us say Damara refuses to do what you have proposed. What then? What would the consequence be for that?"
Drawing down his brows, Merlin regarded the knight. This was the question he had not wanted to answer. Tristan would be nonplussed at the thought of his own death, and it could not be held over his head the way it could be Damara's. He suspected the knight would prefer to take his chances and remain happily with Damara until such time as the gods took back their gift.
That did not serve Merlin's purpose. Damara would have been properly trained had she been with him since childhood. As she was now an adult, there was much lost ground to be covered.
Truth be told, the gods were immortal, and a human life span was as the blink of an eye to them. Tristan could be taken immediately upon Damara's refusal or within a year. He could live another twenty years. It was all the same to the gods.
But Merlin did not have that kind of time.
Tristan's fate had been interrupted, and a new one was not set. Until a god took notice - or Merlin directed their attention – Tristan could well be forgotten about. Merlin had no way of knowing without going before the gods again.
He was loath to do that.
"Merlin?"
The wizard looked at the scout, who was still waiting for him to answer his question. Merlin sighed and explained, leaving out that which did not serve his purpose.
"Your life was purchased with the promise of future payment. If that payment is not rendered, that life will be taken back."
"And you told Damara this?" The scout's eyes narrowed dangerously. If so, her demeanor suddenly made sense. It had not felt true, that Damara would leave him for the reasons Merlin had outlined.
"She is aware, yes." Merlin returned.
Tristan snorted. "So that is the reason she would go to you – not for knowledge and power as you would have me believe. You threaten my life to get her to do your bidding." His hand went to the comfort of his sword. He ached to draw it and put an end to this meddling, this interference in his life.
"'Tis no threat, but a fact, Scout," Merlin said. He noted the other man's hand on his sword, but was unconcerned. As he'd told Tristan before, he was not to die by his hand. "The gods have rendered a service and are owed payment. A life for a life. Hers in service for yours returned to you. And for her service she will have so much more than you could ever give her. Why would you deny her that?"
Tristan glowered at Merlin, hating the man, hating this situation he found himself in. He had no doubt that Damara would leave him if she thought it would save his life. That he did not believe in it would matter little if she herself did. The seemingly real possibility that he would lose Damara took its grip upon him and for a moment he forgot to draw breath. Life without her would once again be cold and gray. Having known the warmth of her love, being without it would be intolerable.
"I don't believe in any of this." Tristan told him flatly. "This magic…these gods of yours."
"Don't you?" Merlin asked. "I think if you look deeper, you will find that you believe more than you care to. In any case, Damara believes and that is all that is required."
Tristan hated that Merlin knew Damara so well, that he knew exactly how to get her to do his bidding. He only hoped that there was a way to convince her that Merlin's teachings were nonsense, convince her to stay with him.
He looked into the glowing embers of the fire. It was dying down – had he really been out here with Merlin that long? It was getting late, or early rather. The next day would be upon them in a matter of hours and Tristan longed for his bed, longed to pull Damara close to him and forget about this evening's events.
Merlin's voice, soft and sinuous, worked it's way into Tristan's consciousness. "Think of her, Tristan. If you insist she stay with you, and you die for it – what would that do to her? I think quite possibly that it would destroy her. Would it not be much better to part now, allowing her to go her way with the knowledge that you will remain alive and well?"
What was best for Damara? Tristan pondered on that. Was it he? He liked to think so, but Merlin's words had put doubt in his head. Questions were swimming through his head, but one in particular passed through his consciousness more than the others.
"When?" he asked the wizard.
At Merlin's questioning look, Tristan elaborated.
"If Damara stays with me, how long would we have together? Assuming I do believe in any of this, that is, " he added.
Tristan saw a shadow pass over Merlin's face. "I am no longer young, and while I would stay and answer all your questions, I fear they will be many." He groaned as he got to his feet, and stretched to relieve the stiffness he felt from sitting on the cold rock. "I have told you what you need to know, and it is time for me to seek my rest."
"I have many questions yet," Tristan protested.
"I'm sure you do, but you know all you need to. Knowing the how and the why of it all would not change what must be," Merlin answered. He leaned heavily upon his staff.
"Go your way now, Scout, for we are done here."
Merlin's tone bore a finality which was borne out when he turned his back to the scout and began to walk away. Though Tristan protested and called questions to the wizard's retreating back, they went unanswered, as if having fallen on deaf ears.
Gathering up his mount's reins, Tristan began to lead him back through the woods, following the almost invisible path that Merlin had taken. When he arrived back to the main road through the woods, the scout could find no trace of Merlin. The man had not been so far ahead of him that he could have left already, but no matter which way Tristan looked, there was no sign of him.
Looking upon the ground, he could find no trace of any footprints either. The hair rose on the back of his neck momentarily, and he had a sudden unreasoning urge to flee. The woods suddenly felt deep and heavy, full of unknown threats that could not be chased away with a sword.
With a low growl, he quelled that urge. He was not a superstitious man, nor was he a boy to be frightened by thoughts and shadows. Merlin had no doubt taken a turn into the woods and had avoided the main path altogether. The man thrived on trickery, Tristan thought with disdain.
Satisfied with that explanation, he mounted his horse and set off through the woods, back towards the Wall, back towards Damara. Though he felt an urge to go faster, he maintained a moderate pace, and kept his senses sharp for any presence in the woods that might pose a threat to him. His many thoughts wanted to intrude, but he swept them aside for examination at a later time. Long years as a scout had taught him never to allow himself to be distracted by anything, and this most recent trouble would not break that longstanding habit.
Soon the ride through the forest was over and Tristan felt much more at ease once they were back out in the open, and out of Merlin's woods. He had never before been a man given to irrational fears and he chided himself for giving into them now.
He kicked his horse into a gallop, eager to get back to the bed where his woman lie sleeping.
Normally he would have bedded down the horse himself, but this time he woke the stable boy. "Be good," he admonished the horse, who had only last week pinned another stable boy between himself and the stable wall. The boy had not been harmed much, just a few bruised ribs to go with his bruised pride.
But Tristan did not want any mishaps tonight that would warrant his further attention. Hopefully his horse was as eager for sleep as his rider was and would be too tired to cause any more such mischief.
After leaving the stables and after leaving one more warning to the stable boy to be cautious around the cantankerous nag, Tristan left for his home.
Quietly he entered the hut and lit a lantern, though he did not need the light to find his way around. He went over to the pallet on which Bran slept, to check that the boy was well. He smiled slightly at the soft snores that came from the small sleeping form, a form that had once again kicked off his blankets.
He wondered that the boy could sleep as he did, on his belly, with his legs pulled up under him and his rump high in the air. But sleep he did, and Tristan tenderly tucked the blanket around him that he would not sicken from the chill night air.
That finished, Tristan turned to Damara, who lay sleeping in their bed. She did not know, but it was often his habit, when returning late at night, to watch her by lantern light as she slept.
He enjoyed drinking in the beauty of her face in repose, listening to her occasional sighs and murmurs as she slept. He would wonder at those times what it was she was dreaming of. Occasional nightmares that woke him and sent her sobbing into his arms needed no explanation, but he wondered at her happy dreams – was he present in them?
The long dark silk of her hair beckoned to his fingers, and he ran a few strands through them, marveling at the softness of the cloud that streamed down her back.
He moved her hair to the side and his eyes followed the criss-cross of old lash marks that webbed her back. He noticed the newer markings on her back where he had roughly taken her against the wall. They looked as if they hurt, and he felt shame at what he had done. He would have stopped had she objected, he felt sure. He could never tell, nor could Damara, what was going to bring on the terror that still plagued her occasionally. Their most passionate, furious encounters might not bring it on, but sometimes it came even during the most tender bouts of lovemaking. It was a puzzle, but one that Tristan hoped to help her solve one day. Until that time he would remain patient with her.
As his eyes passed over her skin, he noticed the tattoo that now branded her. It was placed high upon her back, ending almost at the base of her neck. It was a small tree with 3 stars above. He did not know what it signified and was fairly certain that if he did know, it would anger him greatly. For Merlin had ordered that placed upon her, he was certain. He arranged her hair to cover the tattoo – he did not wish to think upon it right now.
Turning his attention back to her scars, he reached to touch them, the old marks and the new, but then pulled back. Their presence embarrassed Damara and she was ashamed for Tristan to see them. She would tense up whenever his hand would brush across the nude skin of her back. He had tried many times to tell her that they were not ugly to him – they were simply a part of her. He wanted her to feel that he loved and accepted everything about her, including her scars. But she would have none of it.
Maybe one day she would accept his touch upon them. If they were together long enough.
That thought led him again to thoughts of Merlin. From their conversation, Tristan didn't know what was true, what was deceit. What to believe and what not to. He thought briefly of waking Damara, so they could figure this all out right here and now, but when his eyes fell upon her peacefully sleeping face he decided just to join her in slumber. There would be plenty of time for talk in the morning.
He removed his clothing and slid under the covers next to her. Though deep in slumber, she turned towards his presence and curled up into him. Her hand, as it usually did, came to rest upon his chest, his heart directly under her palm. It was a habit she had formed to reassure herself that he still lived, as he recovered from his battle with the Saxon. It was a habit she retained and he found great comfort in it. As if she was always looking out for him.
He knew one way or another, she always would. Even if that meant leaving him.
TBC