Many, many thanks to you guys for reading and reviewing, as always. It's greatly appreciated and most welcome.

This is the penultimate chapter .

WARNING: this chapter contains bad language and violence – if this offends, please do not read!

Chapter 9

It wasn't just the growing chill in the night air that caused a tremble to shiver through Prue's tired body as she sat upon the bed waiting for her lover's return.

She could keep it from him no longer, she knew that. The child had been growing inside her for almost three months. How he hadn't noticed by now was beyond her, but then her figure was so slight and the pregnant curve of her belly hardly formed at all. And besides, the last couple of weeks she had felt so tired and unwell that there had been little intimacy between the two of them with Prue, more often than not, pushing her bewildered lover away with some or other grumpy refusal of his advances.

He would say nothing, as always, which irritated her even more. If he'd have complained or asked what was wrong, then it would have opened the pathway for her to tell. But no, trust him to make things difficult for her.

She hadn't meant to keep it from him for this long, but the time had just never seemed right to tell him and deep down, she hoped he would eventually just guess and save her from this moment.

'As if!' She thought to herself with a weary smile.

When it began to dawn on Prue that she could well be with child, she had hardly dared to hope that it be true. She had begun to believe it possible she would never know motherhood - a whole four seasons had come and gone by and nothing. With the passing of each new moon came the knowledge that this again, would not be the time and it had become more and more difficult for Prue to stay the ever growing pain of disappointment.

Bors only had to drop his breeches, Vanora always laughed and she had a swollen belly before he could hitch them back up again!

Prue gave a little smile at the thought of Bors. What a proud father he was, how he loved his Vanora and their ever growing brood! Would Tristan be the proud father?

At the turn of thought, Prue felt another anxious flutter within. She had no idea what he would feel and that scared her most of all. Never once had he ever mentioned her bearing his children. Not even a whisper of surprise that she hadn't fallen yet and he certainly showed no interest whatsoever in Bors's.

What would he say? Would he be ecstatic…angry…indifferent? Would he say anything at all? Would he change toward her, become distant and cold, not wanting the baggage of brats around his neck? Would he even care one way or the other?

To Prue, the tiny, innocent life that now grew inside her was the complete embodiment of their love. The wonder she felt at finally nurturing that precious love within herself and the prospect of one day soon, holding it in her arms, filled her with such incredible joy. That Tristan might not feel as she did tore at her heart relentlessly. Her very doubting of him alone, left Prue feeling wretched at how little she really knew her man. She was failing miserably at her first test of faith in his love and she hated herself for it.

Prue bit down upon her lip and shivered once more. Forcing her fears away, she glanced toward the cold stone fireplace. She should light a fire, she thought; bring warmth into the room before Tristan returned following the reprimand from Arthur.

She hoped desperately that he would not come back to her in one of his dark moods, irritable from the dressing down he was no doubt receiving. She had neither the energy nor the frame of mind to be coaxing him out from one of his tight-lipped moody humours, tonight.

Prue got up with a sigh and left the room to fetch logs to build a fire.

There was a chilled stillness to the air that night and apart from the low murmur of voices and laughter from the tavern across the way, all seemed silent.

Prue strolled across the courtyard and past the stable entrance. The horses within seemed a little more agitated than was usual, their restless hoofs rustling back and to upon the crisp hay. She heard them snort and murmur their irritation a little, but paid little heed to it.

Turning the corner, Prue made her way down the dark, shadowy gully next to the stable were the wood pile stood and began gathering what she needed.

When the hand clasped tightly around her mouth, Prue's first startled thought was of Tristan playing his usual games but almost immediately she knew it was not her lover that held her so. The hand was thick and coarse and the first reek of its sickly sweet filth made Prue almost retch. The logs in her arms clattered to the ground as panic raged through her body and she clawed frantically at the hands that held her silent and almost suffocating in their stench. The terrified woman began to fight and kick with every breath in her body.

"Get 'er down for fuck's sake!" a course, cruel voice hissed desperately " 'old 'er still, will ya, ya dumb bastard!"

Prue, still fighting and scratching desperately, knew now there were two of them, but she could see nothing in the darkness of the night, except their murky shadows groping frantically in the darkness.

"She's like a fuckin' wild cat!"

Prue's frantic screams were muffled all too well beneath her attacker's grasp. She then felt herself being dragged forcibly backwards and tried desperately to dig her heels into the hard ground.

There followed another barrage of angry snarls as she caught sight of the shadowy figure of the second man scrambling about in front of her, making a grab for her legs. Prue gave another muffled cry and began furiously bucking her body, kicking and clawing with all her might, fighting fiercely to free the grip that held her and at the same time, keep the other attacker at bay.

"Keep the whore still, will ya!" the first man growled viciously, the panic in his voice beginning to rise, anxious now that sound of the woman's irrepressible struggling could attract unwanted attention.

Without any more delay, the dark silhouette before her, swung back his foot and with one brutal kick, she became still.

Every breath left her body with the sickening thud. Prue felt searing pain tearing through her belly and ravaging her delicate frame as her legs buckled and then gave way. She was drowning in the agony. Her head spun wildly as she battled the pain and nausea that engulfed her.

Completely helpless now, she could do no more than gasp frantically for air, as tears of anguish flowed down her grey, colourless cheeks. No longer did she fight and scream. The only sound was of her breathless whimpering as she lay slumped and motionless in her aggressor's arms.

"Y'sure thisbe the one she said?"

"Well I ain't wasting this chance if it ain't, I'll go first, and you keep 'old of her in case she starts again. Get her round the back o' the stable"

Dragging her limp, almost lifeless body further into the shadows, Prue cried piteously within as she felt her dress being torn up to her waist and the appalling touch of calloused hands groping roughly at her thighs and spreading her legs.

Grunting with lustful excitement, the man began fumbling anxiously with the ties of his breeches. The throbbing was almost killing him now and he ached with longing to thrust himself into her motionless body. Both men were slavering like filthy, rabid dogs, one urging the other on impatiently, desperate for his own chance.

"Mmmm, she smells so sweet…" Prue could do nothing as the animal bared down upon her, his eyes wild and his foul smelling mouth twisted and drooling in a sickly grimace of lust. Her mind wept silently with pain and desperation as she tumbled ever deeper into a pool of terror and despair.

It was at that moment an arm shot around his head from behind and with an effortless twist, a stomach-churning crack was heard as his neck broke. His accomplice, still bobbing excitedly as he held on to Prue's arms, stopped dead in disbelief. His open mouthed expression never once altered as he stared at his friend slumping unceremoniously to the floor. As realisation dawned, the man gave a yell of panic and releasing Prue, he began his desperate attempt to scramble to his feet and flee for his life.

He never got more than two strides when the blade whistled silently through the air and embedded deep between his shoulder blades with a satisfying thud. He fell to his knees, letting out a terrified cry as he did so. Tristan strode swiftly over to his target. Grabbing the man's head in one hand, with the other he drew out the knife. Then, reaching around with expert precision, he stuck the blade into the man's neck and slowly and effortlessly, severed from ear to ear. The dying man gurgled and shook as the life drained from his body. Tristan felt the warm thick flow of his blood trickling over his hand and with a grunt of satisfaction; he pushed the body roughly to the ground.

Tristan stood quite still and did not move for a few seconds, his enraged mind taking time to take in the scene around him. He recognised these men. They were the strangers he had seen with Morin in the tavern earlier that night.

His dark, smouldering fury was suddenly broken with the sound of a soft, gasping cry from behind him. Turning back sharply, Tristan went swiftly to his ladies side.

Cursing violently under his breath and wasting no time at all, Tristan gathered Prue up in his arms and strode hurriedly out to the courtyard.

Once there he yelled out several times for Dagonet .The big man appeared quickly before him confused and bewildered at the desperate sound of Tristan's call.

"What is wrong, Tristan? I heard you call, what ..…" it was then he realised Tristan held Prue in his arms and the look of distress on the scout's face sent an instant panic through him.

"My God, What's happened?" The big man demanded fearfully as he ran over towards them.

"Help me, Dag! They've hurt her bad, I fear." Tristan growled, angry and desperate.

"Who did this?" Dagonet demanded again, a deep fury mounting in his voice. Tristan motioned his head toward the gully where the bodies lay hidden by the shadows. He gave Dagonet a steady knowing look which left the man in no doubt they had been dealt with. Dagonet did not stop to ask anymore questions but instead instructed Tristan to get her quickly to their room and he would follow directly. Dagonet went straight away to enlist Vanora's help instructing her calmly and clearly of everything he required. He would wait for her in Tristan's room. he told her,

"Make sure you bring everything I have asked for and tell Bors to inform Arthur." Were his last words to the shocked and distraught Vanora as he made his way quickly back to Tristan's quarters.

Tristan laid Prue gently upon the bed and crouched beside her, enfolding one of her little hands between both of his own. She gripped his fingers like a vice as the pain seared mercilessly through her body in frequent rhythm. Tristan looked on, his face dark and hard set, feeling helplessness and fury like he had never felt before. As he watched her writhe in pain, he felt the irrepressible rage bursting within and he battled furiously against its growth lest it explode, right there and then. His body almost shook in frenzy. His jaw clenched, the muscles flexing painfully. Only once before had his self-control been put through such a trial. He had to stay his rage; he knew that. She needed him now.

There would be time enough soon, for retribution.

At that moment the door swung open and Dagonet strode swiftly in and straight to Prue's side. He was the nearest thing the knights had to a healer and only man Tristan would trust with his woman's life. Despite or maybe because of (if Tristan were truly honest) the fact that he knew what she still meant to his friend. Dagonet had never stopped loving Prue, Tristan knew that. He could still see it in his eyes to that very moment. Tristan saw everything, but said nothing. She had chosen him and that was enough.

"Prue, listen to me" Dagonet began as he gently stroked her clammy forehead "Where did they hurt you, I need to know?"

Prue tried desperately to speak but instead she was suddenly engulfed in yet another wave of agonising pain and she cried out bitterly as she crumpled herself up into a ball, futilely gripping her stomach in a frantic attempt to quell the pain. Dagonet needed no more sign.

"Do something Dag!" Tristan hissed "She's in pain for pity's sake, man"

"I can see that Tristan." Dagonet retorted angrily. "Just keep her calm, best you can. Leave me to the rest."

He was hurting every bit as much as the Scout. To see Prue in such distress and pain was agony to him and he had to help her. He could not have Tristan snapping at his heels over it. That he would do all that was in his power, was irrefutable.

Within a short while Vanora had arrived with all that Dagonet had requested. Tristan had built a fire quickly on his friend's demand and Dagonet had speedily set to preparing his usual willow tea with which he hoped he could subdue Prue's agony.

The pain kept on and on. Prue thrashed and squirmed, whimpering and crying out as Dagonet tried to ease her distress. But every time he pushed the sour brew to her lips she would knock it away.

Although he kept his silence on the matter, it didn't look good to Dagonet; he felt fear for her in the depths of his soul. So much pain, so pale – he didn't like this, not one bit.

Before long, Prue felt the inevitable warm, damp flow between her legs as she fought in vain to cling on to her baby's life.

Dagonet saw the deep wet stain creeping its way through Prue's dress and over the blanket she lay upon.

"Christ man! Why didn't you tell me she was with child?" Dagonet snapped angrily at Tristan.

The scout looked blankly back at Dagonet, his face pale and drawn. Dagonet had never seen Tristan look so wretched, his eyes clouded with anguish and confusion. He hadn't known.

Dagonet raised his brow in disbelief.

"NO, no, no, no…!" Prue cried out as she clasped her hands between her legs in a sad, desperate attempt to stop the heavy flow. "Tristan… help me…!" she sobbed.

Tristan almost fell apart as the revelation began to unfold in his mind; this was more than even he could bear. Sinking on his knees beside her he gathered her up and held her tightly in his arms. His heart fell to pieces as she clung desperately to him. Burying his face into her hair he wept and pleaded to whomever - he did not know - to have pity and release her from this agony.

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Before long the contractions had subsided and Prue lay despairing and exhausted in Tristan's arms.

Tristan gently stroked and kissed her hair.

"Our baby" Prue whispered over and over again "I'm so sorry, Tristan"

Tristan comforted her tenderly. Telling her again and again that she was not to blame, that she was safe now and that he would never let anyone hurt her, ever again.

Vanora stood by the fire with Dagonet, preparing another vat of hot water with which to bathe her friend. The worst seemed over to her now and she must try to give whatever comfort she could. She watched, quietly and unobserved, the tenderness with which Tristan now soothed and reassured the heart-broken Prue.

She felt shame that she had ever doubted Tristan's love for her friend. Seeing them together now, remembering the sound of Tristan's tears, his helplessness, and the heartbroken look he now bore. No one could deny his devotion. How could she have been so wrong? She had judged this man ill, of that she was certain. And she was so sorry for it.

As Prue lay in the comfort of Tristan's arms, he seemed so reassuringly strong to her, but inside he was dying. His head throbbed and his heart ached. He felt desolate and stunned. She had been carrying a child, their child. Such a precious gift she had to give him and now it had been stolen away, just like everything in his life. He felt he truly was a cursed man. How could he have let this happen? This was all the result of his own thoughtless, violent actions. He knew who had attacked her and why. Once again, she was the innocent victim of his wrong doing.

But he would make them pay for this.

"The water is hot now," Vanora spoke gently, not wishing to intrude upon their sorrow. As Tristan looked up at her, Vanora felt her heart break once again at the look of utter despair on the scout's face face. He nodded his understanding and then with one more embrace, Tristan gently laid Prue down. She needed washing and fresh blankets. Vanora would see to that, she was in good hands – there was something he must see to and it could wait no longer.

Tristan suddenly stood up and made a move to leave.

Both Vanora and Dagonet stared at him, almost astonished. But then they both saw the frighteningly dark temper that now shrouded his face. Vanora felt a chill run down her spine, overwhelmed by the terrifyingly rapid switch of his mood.

"I'll be back soon" he muttered, emotionless." Unfinished business-say nothing"

Dagonet stared at the scout for a second, a little puzzled, then gave him a nod and turned his attention to Prue. Tristan had his reasons. Whatever they were, they were his own, and Dagonet would not question them.

Vanora lowered her head in accord; she knew now, where he was going. She had seen the bodies left in the gully earlier that evening and she too recognised the filth that lay there.

Tonight she and Tristan were to share a secret that Vanora would speak of to no one, not even Bors, for the rest of her life.