Disclaimer: I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong. I seriously don't own King Arthur. Really. I promise. Swear, even. I mean, if I did own King Arthur, don't you think I'd be off playing with the knights?
Author's Note: I love the reviews, you guys. I know I really don't reply, but I got the oddest PM the other day so I gotta ask:
Lily Angel of Darkness: Finger thing? I know what you're talking about with Anne Boleyn and the six fingered man from the Princess Bride, but there isn't anything like that in my story. Perhaps you misread?
Chapter Five
When they all finally returned to the fortress, Helena found her sister attempting to forcefully make several guards go out and look for them. She jumped out of the saddle of the stallion and was immediately assaulted by her sister, who wrapped her arms around her tightly, almost cutting off all of Helena's oxygen. After she pried Livia away from her, she laughed at the harried look on her twin's face.
"You look more stressed out than I usually do. Did someone catch on fire? Was there a war? Did you accidentally rip another dress?" Helena's joking was cut off by the slightly dazed look in her sister's eyes, and realized that she was having a vision.
"Good Jesus, you killed so many," Livia muttered when she finally snapped back into reality not a moment later. "But you aren't hurt? How oddly lucky."
"Exactly as I was thinking. We'll speak more on it later," Helena agreed. "I see your attempt to rouse an army did not succeed, but all is well. We lost only a few guardsmen, not much else."
"A few guardsmen and a bit of Helena's dignity, mind you," Gawain had come up from behind them and settled an arm around Helena's shoulders comfortably. She knew the only reason he did it was because he was a great deal taller than she, and used the opportunity to lean on her as if she were a brick wall rather than a nineteen-year-old girl.
"What do you mean?" asked Livia, who looked confused.
"I'll tell you about it later," Helena promised, hoping her sister would drop it.
They conversed for a few minutes, listening to Gawain relate the entire battle, including Helena's heroics, though he managed to make it look like he had saved everyone's life on more than one occasion, and had added a part about Merlin running out from the forest and shouting a curse at him, but it didn't work because Gawain claimed he was 'impervious to curses'. Helena rolled her eyes at her sister when he wasn't looking, making Livia laugh, but didn't bother to correct him and remind him that she had been there and she was incredibly certain that at no time had Merlin jumped out and cursed anybody. By the end of the story, Gawain sounded almost godly in his abilities, while he managed to make the rest of the knights sound like incompetent weasels dressed in armor, especially when he started on about how Galahad and Dagonet had been crying because they were scared right before he saved them from a Woad that was 'at least ten feet tall'. It was amusing enough that Helena felt as if she were about to break a rib from holding back the laughter building up inside of her, and Livia looked as if she were in quite the same position.
Suddenly, a hand grasped Helena's upper arm and pulled her away from Gawain with a powerful tug, making Helena let out a yelp of surprise. She was surprised to find her face to face with Tristan, who began dragging her away from Gawain and Livia though no matter how loudly she asked what in the hell he thought he was doing, he wouldn't explain himself to her. Livia didn't do anything, just watched rather helplessly on as her sister was dragged away by the scout before turning to Gawain for an explanation, but all he did was shrug.
"Do you think he'll kill her?" Livia asked once Helena and Tristan rounded a corner out of their sight.
"I doubt it. Tristan's too noble to kill an innocent, I think," he replied passively, his attention completely focused on her. "Want to go get an ale?"
Livia glanced back in the direction her sister had disappeared in before turning back to him, nodding.
"Sure. I'm sure she'll be fine."
Helena had no idea what was going on as she was literally pulled through crowds of hundreds of people until she found herself inside of the stable, which was completely devoid of anyone, much to her surprise. Tristan was behaving oddly, and she couldn't help but see the anger brewing in his dark eyes, threatening to boil over at any moment. But she couldn't find a reason why he'd be angry with her. Was it because she had run off that night? Or perhaps because she had avoided him so long afterwards?
He pushed her against a wall, pressing her firmly enough that she knew better than to leave where he had positioned her, then began to pace up and down in front of the stalls, looking so distraught that it almost broke her heart. For a long while, she watched him pace and he said nothing, though every once in a while, he would stop and look at her as if he were going to say something, then shake his head and continue his pacing. Finally, she decided to break the silence.
"Tristan, what is all this?" she demanded, though she noticed how her voice didn't sound angry. He stopped pacing right in front of her, turning to her, his dark eyes boring in to her own as if he intended to read her soul. It made Helena incredibly uncomfortable.
"You– you shouldn't..." he stopped talking again, and was just looking at her now, his eyes rather confused looking, most likely mirroring the expression on her face.
"I shouldn't what? What, Tristan?" Helena tried to prompt him to continue, but it seemed to only irritate him as he stepped away from her, his eyes hardening considerably.
"You shouldn't let Gawain and Lancelot get too close to you," he warned her, and Helena gaped at him in surprise. He was acting so strangely because she had flirted a little with Gawain and Lancelot? What was all of this about?
"What are you talking about? Why shouldn't I?" she demanded, her voice losing the desperate softness it had previous held. Tristan was gradually becoming angrier, she noticed, and Helena wished she had something with her to protect herself with.
"God you're so– you're so stupid, you know that? Can't you tell that all they'll do is use you like a common whore and throw you out like used up rubbish? And you're... you're so..." he made a sound of frustration, and was pacing again. Helena didn't say anything. She was still unsure as to what was going on. "I can see what's going to happen to you already. You'll be stupid and you'll fall for one of them and when you get hurt by them, what are you going to do? Throwing up your skirts like a common bar wench..."
"Excuse me? Are you calling me a slut?" Helena was angry now, and she stepped away from the wall, her hands fisted at her sides. "I think I can judge characters by myself, thank you very much. And, yes, Lancelot and Gawain may not be the noblest men in the universe, but you're much, much worse Tristan. What you're doing right now, is far worse than jilting a lover. You're insulting your friends. Probably the only friends you have."
"You're such an idiot, you just don't get it, Helena!" he all but yelled at her in response, pushing her back against the wall. "You aren't some common bar wench! I will not have you sleeping with some womanizing knight! You're too good for that!"
"And I will not have you ordering me about as if I were your property!" Helena yelled back. "I am not yours to command, Tristan! And I will sleep with whomever I want, thank you very much!"
"Then you would... you would just go out and sleep with one of them, would you? Just get a good fuck out of them and get it over with!" his use of the vulgarity was to bother Helena, and it had worked considerably well.
"Yes, that's exactly what I'd do, Tristan," she hissed in sarcastic anger in return. "I'm just some whore. I'm so glad you've finally found me out. We could just have a quick thrust here as a prize if you'd like."
The sarcasm wasn't lost on Tristan, who was enraged even more than over her unwillingness to tell him that she wouldn't sleep with Gawain or Lancelot. When he pushed her back against the stable wall this time, it was harder than he meant to, and though it didn't visibly hurt her, he knew Helena would have bruises from this encounter. And a part of him didn't care.
"Then you're no better than a common, disgusting, wench. And to think I thought you were actually something special," he spat at her, and stormed out of the stables.
For a moment, Helena just stood there, stunned. One of her hands lay lightly on her chest, in which her heart was still fluttering quickly. She suddenly felt very cold, and rather weak. She wrapped her arms around herself and sunk down on to the floor of the stables, not caring that she'd probably ruin her dress in the process. It was then that she started crying, sitting there huddled on the floor, shivering violently and weeping.
It was in this position that Arthur found her five minutes later as he wandered in the stables to put away his horse's saddle and bridle. At first, he hadn't realized that it was her, and had though it was just one of the town girls crying over one of the stable boys, a common occurrence. However, when he recognized the blonde hair and white dress, he immediately felt his heart leap in his throat, and het down his saddle hurriedly, crouching on the ground in front of her, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders.
"What? What is it? Are you hurt?" he asked, not sure what to do.
He had never been very good with women, especially not ones who were crying. So when she flung her arms around him and buried her face into his neck, Arthur was quite possibly the most uncomfortable that he'd ever been in a long time. But regardless of the fact, he held her for a little while, rocking her and whispering to her the way she had done with her sister several days before, his voice calm and soothing. About ten minutes later, Helena seemed to have come into the right mind and removed herself from him, still sniffling a little.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to throw myself at you like that," she apologized, sounding a little embarrassed. Arthur wiped the tears off of her face and smiled reassuringly.
"It's okay, Helena. Are you okay now? You aren't going to unexpectedly burst on me, right?" he asked, and she laughed a little, though so weakly that he could tell it was (rather poorly) faked. He changed his tone into a more serious one. "What happened? Did someone attack you?"
"Oh, no. Well, not really. It's nothing... don't worry about it Arthur," she rose from where she had been crouched and still wiping the tears off of her face, offered him a hand to help him stand as well. Arthur accepted it and rose as well, but he couldn't ignore the pure distress showing on her face.
"Come here," he said, and hugged her close to him. She was shaking like a leaf in autumn in his grasp, and he couldn't help but wonder what had happened. Was it one of the Roman guards? They often went out of their way to do something stupid, and if one of them had assaulted her, they would all pay the price. "I don't know what happened, and I doubt very much that you plan on telling me, but I promise you, everything will be okay. Whatever is plaguing you will go away, and if you ever need help taking care of it, I'm right here."
He held her at arms length, making sure she wasn't going to cry again, and wiping the remnants of the tears on her face. Once she had fully composed herself, he put a friendly arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead.
"Come, my concubine, we've got to get you into something that'll have people talking behind their hands about you for the next few months and will make Lancelot drool so much he'll forget all about his liquor, which believe me, takes a lot," he said, gently guiding her out of the stables. Helena laughed weakly, leaning against him as if she was too weak to stand on her own.
"What do I need to get dressed up for?" she asked, her smile gradually coming back, though it didn't reach her eyes the way it had when they were riding back to the fortress earlier. Arthur couldn't imagine what could happen to her to take that shine away from her in so short an amount of time. He tried not to let his anger at the idea that anyone hurt her show on his face, and smiled for her.
"Well, we're having this great feast, and seeing as I'm your escort you're going to have to look something like a queen," he replied. "Or a Babylonian prostitute straight out of the bible, your choice."
"Perhaps we can find something right in between that is worn in conjuncture with me not going," she suggested hopefully.
"Not on your life, as my temporary mistress and a guest of this household, I insist that you come, no matter how grumpy or scantily clad you may end up being," Arthur insisted, brightening slightly when she laughed.
"I think you spend too much time with Lancelot," she said, shaking her head at the idea.
The instant Tristan had left the barn, he had known what a huge mistake he had made. He could already hear Helena's sobs behind him, and a part of him wanted to march right back in there and beg for an apology. But Tristan knew there was nothing like that to be done. Most likely she would never forgive him, nor speak to him again and he would have to live out his days in misery because of it. The instant the words had come out of his mouth, the instant he had called her a 'whore', Tristan had to fight the urge to punch something for his own stupidity.
That was mostly why he was now sitting in the corner of the tavern, drinking away his sorrows and not speaking to anybody whatsoever. He was afraid that if he went anywhere near Helena again, he would have yet another one of his outbursts, though he wasn't sure if he could possibly insult her much more than he already had. He didn't understand what was going on. Not once in his life had he been so absolutely passionate about another being, only to be absolutely cruel to her in the process. Tristan couldn't figure out what was wrong with him.
It didn't help that her exact carbon copy was sitting at a table near the front of the bar with Gawain, speaking merrily, but occasionally casting dark glares Tristan's way. He had no doubt that she had sensed what had happened between himself and Helena, and he was surprised the girl didn't tell Gawain about it. When he had first noticed Livia, he had thought that Helena had entered the bar with Gawain as revenge, knowing that he would be there. Until, of course he saw the different posture, the much more aristocratic stance, and the much more richly made dress. Neither of those three things belonged to Helena. But the fact that they looked exactly alike didn't make it any easier to be in the same room as Livia.
What made it all worse was that he suspected Arthur was going to be throwing a feast, and if so he was required to be there. And as for Helena, well she either would be, or she wouldn't and Tristan couldn't decide which one would be worse. Would it be the idea of seeing her dressed in a beautiful gown, flirting and dancing with all those other men as if she hadn't a care in the world that would send him over the edge? Or would it be the idea that while others enjoyed festivities, she would have locked herself away in her room, just as she had in the last confrontation, not going outside or seeing the light of day for weeks just so that she wouldn't have to lay her hateful eyes upon him? Both of them made Tristan wish they served something stronger than ale and wine at the tavern, because he was beginning to feel this horribly sinking sensation in his heart that he couldn't shake off, and he was worried that he wouldn't be able to get rid of it. He couldn't be weak. He couldn't allow himself to feel guilty for the incredibly stupid words he had said earlier. He wasn't allowed to, after all. The others depended on him to be a steady rock for them when they were in the middle of a raging river.
However, the feeling only got worse when he got to the party and saw her there on Arthur's arm, not exactly giddy and having a good time, but calm and collected and a damn good actress. He had decided on the latter because she had spotted him when he had entered the room, and while her hands holding her goblet shook violently, her smile stayed plastered on her face as she spoke with Vanora. And it didn't help that she looked so beautiful either. She was wearing another Roman gown, though this one was by far the most appealing one that Tristan had ever seen. Its neck was cut low without being obscene, and the bodice of the gown hugged her torso tightly, showing off her curves and bound with a golden ribbon. The skirt trailed after her, though not as long as some of the noblewomen he had seen, and her sleeves were off the shoulder and bell shaped, sweeping down to the floor. With her hair hanging straight and loose, she looked nothing short of a goddess.
"I must say, I envy Arthur his duty as an escort tonight," Lancelot had come up behind him without Tristan noticing, and the scout almost jumped in surprise. Almost. "She looks beautiful."
"That she does,"Tristan agreed, then quickly added. "As does her sister."
Of course, he hadn't even spotted Livia yet, and for some reason, while the twins looked alike, to Tristan Helena was the more beautiful of the two. Perhaps it was because they were so alike that he had felt that about her.
"Oh, stop lying, I know you haven't even taken your eyes off of Helena yet," Lancelot replied, jostling past Tristan to head towards their table before turning around. "Maybe if you weren't such an indomitable ass, she'd dance with you."
"What are you talking about?" Tristan asked, having been fairly certain they had been alone inside of the barn together when he had said those things.
"I was in one of the stalls during your argument," Lancelot replied, stepping closer to Tristan so their conversation would be private. "You're very good at breaking the mood between Matilda the barmaid and I. But anyway, I must say Tristan, I never expected you to be so bad with women."
Tristan sighed and edged past Lancelot to get to the table, and was irritated when Lancelot followed him there. The man was grinning in that conniving way that he often did, his dark eyes shining with mirth at Tristan's expense. They sat down at one of the long tables together, and Lancelot waited for a servant to pour him another goblet of wine before he began speaking again.
"I'm going to give you some advice, Tristan, and I'm only going to give it once so listen well," Lancelot said, and Tristan paid attention, though his eyes followed Helena as she danced with Arthur. They weren't so much dancing as romping about, and having a great deal of fun while doing so, a fact that didn't escape the scout's notice. "If you care enough about her, apologize and do it quickly because if you don't, one of us will move in on her, and it will probably be me."
Tristan turned to him before saying, "You're a real bastard, you know that Lancelot?"
Lancelot seemed to enjoy that Tristan had said this and smiled at him wickedly, his gaze straying to Helena as well. Tristan saw his friend's smile fade slightly upon looking at her, and become something more of an obsessive look, the one Tristan imagined he had on his face when they were in the stables, one that was rather disturbing.
"She's incredible, isn't she? Go dance with her," Lancelot suggested. "I'm sure Arthur wouldn't mind, and she wouldn't be allowed to turn you down."
"Why are you doing this when you're so clearly attracted to her?" Tristan asked in curiosity.
"Because it's amusing me to see you chase after a woman. I was starting to wonder if you were a eunuch, but this interesting development proves otherwise. I'm willing to give up one decent lay to see you make a fool out of yourself over a woman," he replied, though much like Tristan, his eyes never left Helena's form.
"I won't be making a fool out of myself. I won't be coming anywhere near her. She despises me," Tristan replied hopelessly and Lancelot chuckled, patting him on the back.
"Then make her stop despising you," he suggested, and rose. Tristan watched as Lancelot made his was over to Livia, who had been speaking with Galahad, whispering in her ear. A moment later, they made their way onto the dance floor, joining in with the crowd.
Once again, his eyes found Helena, who was still dancing with Arthur, the two chatting and laughing like old friends. However, the sight of Arthur's hand resting so assuredly upon her waist as they danced didn't stop Tristan from believing the worst of them. He watched as Helena kissed Arthur lightly on the cheek before she made her way off of the dance floor, accepting a goblet from a servant, pushing through the crowd and out into the courtyard, apparently to be alone. Overwhelmed by curiosity, Tristan rose from his seat and followed closely behind, though only Lancelot noticed his departure.
Staying in the shadows, he entered the courtyard, watching as Helena sat lightly on the stone bench that she had sat on a week before when he had insulted her for the first time. She looked tired and drawn, and Tristan wished he could come forward and comfort her, but chose to stay away for as long as possible and watch her instead. His mind kept replaying her grace as she sat upon the black stallion, which had to be at least 16 hands tall, riding without holding onto the reigns, and firing arrow after arrow so gracefully that it was easy to believe the bow was an extension of her body. She had looked absolutely beautiful, like a warrior woman from Tristan's dreams. When the sun hit her hair and pale skin, she almost seemed to glow, and the only color besides the black horse beneath her were those blue eyes, so strong and thoughtful that they were awe-inspiring. It had been an amazing thing to watch as she took down as many, if not more, Woads as Tristan did.
"Oh there you are, child, I was wondering where you had gone off to," the cardinal exited the party, passing right by Tristan so closely the scout could've touched him, without noticing, and headed towards Helena, who looked surprised by his sudden entrance. As if as an after thought, she rose from the bench and curtsied quickly, though it lacked the comfort and grace that her sister conveyed in that simple movement.
"Good evening, cardinal," she greeted him, her voice wary and tense. She clearly wasn't comfortable around him, something Tristan found understandable, as much as he understood her discomfort around himself. "What brings you out here, sire?"
"You are a very beautiful woman, Helena," the cardinal ignored her question, staring at her with a look in his eyes that Tristan didn't care to see. He looked like the personification of lechery and evil at that moment.
"Oh thank you, your grace, but my sister far surpasses me in beauty," she replied, in a modesty that probably wasn't false. "Your compliment is much appreciated, however untrue it may be."
"I never lie," the cardinal inched closer to her. "And I'm not lying when I tell you that your profession, while rather questionable, is not one that I look down upon."
"My– my profession?" she asked, seeming not to understand.
"As Arthur's lover. I consider it a profession, you see. Your kind do very well for themselves, especially in such hard times," the cardinal replied, taking Helena's hand again. She looked rather distressed at this. "But tell me child, what does Arthur provide for you that someone of a much more...noble stature... could not?"
"Well, your grace," Helena seemed to be floundering for a response, and the pink tinge to her cheeks was visible even in the dim light. Tristan saw her glancing towards the crowd as if hoping to catch one of the knight's eyes. "He... he is very kind to me. And he's, uh, very... he's a very good person. And an excellent... lover?"
"I'm sure that you could do much better than that," the cardinal was moving even closer to Helena now, and a few more hesitant steps would find her pressed against the wall. She looked so helpless at that moment that Tristan figured, her anger with him be damned, he wasn't about to allow her to be molested. Quickly, he stepped out of the shadows. The relief on her face was obvious, no matter how much she stiffened at his presence.
"There you are, Helena! I've been looking for you. I believe you owe me a dance," Tristan immediately said, acting as if he had just walked into the courtyard. The cardinal immediately released Helena, who visibly calmed at the loss of contact. He looked at Tristan with annoyance clearly written on his face.
"You're interrupting a private conversation boy. You go back inside. Helena will be available to you in say... five minutes?" he hissed, frowning deeply.
"Oh but I did promise him," Helena quickly jumped in, attempting to cover up the fear in her eyes. "And I'm not one to break a promise."
She moved quickly across the courtyard to Tristan, turning back to the cardinal once she had reached the scout's side. The man was clearly annoyed with both of them, scowling deeply. He took a step towards them, and Tristan felt Helena's cold hand take his own, squeezing it tightly. She was afraid of the man, and he realized why. If he were to find out about Livia, her sister would be killed, and if the cardinal happened to remember this particular night, Helena would be doomed as well.
"You would prefer to go on with this... this pagan knight, rather than to linger here a while with me for our discussion?" the cardinal all but growled, his eyes catching sight of their interlocked hands. "Ah, perhaps there are some extracurricular activities that Arthur is not aware of?"
"No," Helena all but shouted, not out of anger, but out of desperation. "No. Arthur and his men live by the idea of equality, and in Arthur's eyes, all of his men should get equal share of what Arthur receives. Tonight, Tristan gets his share."
Tristan didn't realize the implications of what she said until several moments later, when the idea registered within the cardinal's mind as well. His scowl turned into more of a disappointed frown as he thought it over. Tristan released Helena's hand and put his arm around her shoulders, hoping the movement would be realistic enough for the cardinal to leave them be for the sake of Arthur's rules.
"So you are nothing more than their whore?" the cardinal seemed to be pondering this. Tristan tried not to notice the deep look of pain upon Helena's eyes when she heard those words, tightening his grip around her shoulders.
"Apparently so. That's all I have been referred to of late, your grace," she replied, and Tristan could hear the vindictive tone of her voice as she said it. The scout saw her glance at him out of the corner of her eye as she said this, and tried to send her an apologetic look. "Come, Tristan, we shall have our dance and then retire."
Taking his hand, she led him back into the party, releasing him only once they were out of the cardinal's sight. Tristan instinctively staid close to her in a protective manner, but Helena pushed him away with faint annoyance on her face.
"Thank you for your help, Tristan, but I don't wish to take up any more of your time. I am sure there are many fine noblewomen here tonight who would enjoy a dance with you. You needn't stay amongst commoners," she looked away from him as she said this, her eyes finding her sister on the dance floor with Gawain. She nodded to her twin, who nodded back, and moved to get past Tristan who was in her way. "Excuse me."
She went to move to his other side, and he did the same, blocking her path once again. When she moved again, as did he, this time on purpose. She looked at him in confusion, her eyebrows knitted.
"I believe you owe me a dance," he said, arms crossed over his chest to show that he wasn't planning on giving up. "And I'm going to hold you to it."
Helena nearly smiled. He could see the flicker of merriment on her face before she subdued it. She nodded and took his arm, and Tristan led her out onto the dance floor. As they began, Tristan found himself surprised at what a fair dancer she was. As she was brought up by men, he had supposed she would never have learned the art of dance, but apparently he had supposed wrong. Arthur, who had spotted them entering, had a very surprised look in his eyes, though Tristan wasn't sure what the cause of it was. Had Helena or Lancelot informed him of what had happened earlier? Or was it just because no one expected the scout to fraternize, even with the most beautiful woman in the room.
He noticed the distracted look on Helena's face, and leaned in closely so she could hear him speak over the music.
"What's the matter?" he asked, his lips only centimeters away from ear. She shivered noticeably, but otherwise seemed unaffected by his close proximity.
"I believe my sister's flirting with every knight in the room at once, and I'm quite worried she'll cause problems," she murmured back, and it sounded like she was laughing. "I think she's decided she'd like to have all of them in her bed rather than just one."
"Aren't you going to stop her?" Tristan asked curiously. He had always supposed that Helena strove to control nearly every aspect of Livia's life, but apparently he was wrong. He had been so wrong when it came to Helena as of late.
"Oh no, don't be silly. She's still so young and stupid. She'll
either make a fool out of herself or get hurt, and learn something from it in the process. I'll always be there to pick up the pieces of whatever she's broken, and she knows that. I'm not one to stop my twin from having her romances," Helena replied. "As ill-advised as they are."
Tristan laughed at this, wondering who was more likely to get hurt. Would it be Livia or whatever knight she decided to play with? She certainly was a feisty one, and probably wouldn't give up without a fight. He imagined she had broken quite a few hearts in her lifetime.
"Which do you think she'll choose?" he asked out of curiosity. Helena was the only one in the room who could properly judge her sister's tastes, after all.
"Well, to tell you the truth, I'm surprised she hasn't taken a stab at you yet," she replied, to his dismay.
"Why would you say that?" whatever deities were out there, he could only pray that Livia wasn't attracted to him. The last thing he'd want to do was turn down Helena's twin and put himself in her bad favor once more.
"Livia's always been fond of the dark, mysterious types," Helena replied thoughtfully. "She always used to get herself in such trouble, running after the only dodgy person in whatever city we were staying in that week. It always would turn out that he was a murderer or something else to that effect, and whatever visions Livia had been having, she had been casting aside as something else. She can be so ridiculous about men sometimes."
"And you? What are your tastes in men?" Tristan couldn't believe he had allowed those words to leave his lips. He felt like such an idiot. Helena, however didn't seem to notice his discomfort.
"I haven't the faintest idea. I've always been so busy looking after Livia, I never really had time for such things. This is the first time in a very long time that I haven't had her within three feet of me for an entire day. In fact, I must admit I'm rather happy to have her roaming around the fortress alone. I daresay this is the safest place we've ever stayed in, and I plan to take advantage of it for as long as possible by dropping my sister off with someone else."
"Do you still worry for her?"
"Every waking moment. Every time I see something move in the shadows that I cannot explain. Every time I know she's had a vision, but she won't tell me what it was of. There isn't a moment when there isn't the tiniest bit of worry for Livia somewhere within me. Such is the curse of sisterhood."
"I suppose I would have been the same way, but my mother worried enough for all of us in my family," he replied. "There were eight of us, and I was the second eldest. She worried over all of us morning, noon and night. She cried for weeks before I was taken away to become a knight."
"She sounds like a perfectly wonderful mother to have," Helena replied with a smile. "To always know there's someone out there who loves you no matter what. That must be a wonderful feeling."
Tristan didn't bother telling her that three years into becoming a knight he had received a notice from his father alerting him that his mother had been killed by Roman soldiers when she had refused to give up one of his younger brothers to the service of the Romans. From what Tristan knew about the Romans, she had probably been beaten and raped before they finally gave her the relief of a sword. But he hadn't cried. Not a tear had been shed. And to this day, Tristan didn't quite understand why.
"It was," he agreed. He hadn't noticed that the song had ended and they had stopped dancing until then. He abruptly released Helena, feeling foolish. "Listen I wanted to apologize for earlier, I–."
"You have well made up for yourself, by preserving me from the rather forward nature of the cardinal. There is no need to apologize," she said quickly, placing a light hand over his mouth. Tristan removed it gently, taking it into his own hand.
"I insist. I was being an absolute fool. An indomitable ass. You must think me heartless," his words were rushed and spoken so low that no one besides those carefully listening could actually hear him. Helena looked more shocked than he thought it possible at his words, her eyes slightly wider than normal.
"It-it's alright, Tristan. You hurt my pride, is all; and scared me a little. Both injuries have been dealt in much more barbaric ways than your own upon myself. It's no trouble. Please don't bother yourself over it," she replied, patting his hand with her other one before releasing it.
"Sister, may we retire? I'm not feeling well," Livia approached them suddenly, looking rather pale and unsteady on her feet. Tristan had a feeling it wasn't so much illness that had gotten to her, and apparently Helena did as well.
"Have you drunk all of the wine in Briton yet? The way you're carrying yourself, I'd say so," she scolded Livia, and undeniable smirk of amusement on her face. "You go say goodnight to Gawain... or was it Galahad? Lancelot? Which one of the thousands of men you charmed tonight with your ways actually escorted you here?"
"Galahad," her sister answered woozily. "But I'm afraid he's passed out in the corner."
"Well poke him awake and say goodnight while I bid Tristan and Arthur goodnight as well," Helena replied, looking as if she were going to laugh. Livia stumbled off to the corner where the knights were gathered, all presumably drinking more than enough to keep themselves from seeing straight for at least two days, and Helena turned back to Tristan, laughing. "Well there's something you won't miss as a brotherly duty. Caring for your hung-over siblings after they spent a whole night carousing, while challenging any man who might have offended their honor to a duel and fighting all the other ones off with a stick. Tomorrow, I daresay I'll be the one in dire need of a drink."
Tristan laughed at this, glad to see that she wasn't particularly angry about the knights' bad examples being set upon her twin. Without warning, Helena hugged him, her arms tight around his neck, and her warm cheek pressed against his own. He was entranced by the light scent of pachouli rising off of her skin for a moment before hugging her back, though gently so he didn't hurt her.
"Thank you for saving me tonight, Tristan. Thank you," she whispered in his ear before releasing him and flitting away to say goodnight to Arthur before he could say anything in response. Tristan had to admit, the look of shock hadn't melted off of his face for several minutes, until Lancelot cuffed him hard on his back, a wide smile on his face and a glint in his eye.
"Well I don't know what you did, Tristan, but I'd say you've won her over," the dark knight congratulated the scout.
"I don't know what I did either," Tristan murmured helplessly, watching as Helena practically drag her sister out of the room. "I have no clue."