Sorry for such a long wait! I had a crazy busy week. Here's the next chapter! Hope you enjoy!
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Terror. Yes, that was it. That was the word; not worry nor distress nor concern, but terror. Tristan stood tall and erect in the entryway, his mouth an expressionless, horizontal line across his face. But his eyes, oh! His eyes held pure, unadulterated terror. For a moment that stretched on like an eternity, there was no motion in the room but the trembling of Jillian's hands. Their only contact was the stare that they held between them. Everything else was separated by an impenetrable wall of air.
Jillian's eyes fixed on Tristan's foot as it took a slow, hesitant step forward. The other foot followed more eagerly and in what seemed like one swift, agile movement, the silent man drew himself beside her bed, running his hand through her hair and scanning her body for injury. Jillian's hands were still shaking and she felt dizzy from the suddenness that he had come upon her. She turned her face from him.
Tristan sat back, instantly retracting his hand to his side. He directed his gaze straight towards her, but her eyes refused to meet his. "What is it?" he asked urgently, a knot forming in his stomach that told him something was terribly wrong. He pressed his fingers beneath her chin and pulled her head to face him.
"Tristan---" she began, but the words would not form. She could feel what she wanted to say, but she simply could not transmit it verbally. Instead, she found herself asking almost instinctively, "You wanted this, didn't you? Fatherhood, I mean?"
He sighed in relief, gliding his hand up to her cheek, "Is that what all this is about? Jillian, you know you can count on me. You don't have to be afraid."
She tilted her head away from his caress and said, "I know that I can count on you. What I want to know is if you desire to be a father. Last night you said that you were happy because soon you would have a family that brought you something other than hate. But, I wonder, is that really how you see it? That nothing could be worse than the family you already have, so why not? Why not become a father? Or do you want this? Really truly want this?"
"Jillian, please, what brought this on?" he asked, avoiding her question.
For the first time, Jillian looked Tristan square in the face and this time it was her eyes that were filled with terror. "Can't you see that it is gone?" she cried with tears streaming down her face, "It's gone and I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" Her body convulsed as she buried her head in her hands, violently sobbing.
She felt Tristan's strong hands grip her shoulders. "Shhh. Shhh," he hushed, "It's going to be ok. You're alright. That's all that matters."
Her body lurched inside his grasp for a moment until she unexpectedly bolted upright at a sudden realization and turned sharply to Tristan. Her face was calm, dangerous, and her eyes were blazing. "Is it?" she asked, her voice shaking with intense emotion, "Is that all that matters? Answer me honestly, did you want this child?"
"It's of no consequence now. Please, lay back and rest…" he said, still not answering her question.
Jillian's hand swung suddenly at full force across Tristan's face so swiftly that he did not even realize she had slapped him until he felt the burn on his cheek. "I wanted this child!" she screamed, "It mattered to me! Maybe it's going to be ok for you, but it's not ok for me! It's not! But it will be ok for you, won't it? I can't have anymore children, so you don't have anything to worry about anymore! You think you've beaten the world at its own game by locking yourself in from the rest of us, making people think you don't need anyone, but really you just don't care! You're selfish and self-centered and you don't care about anyone else! You threw away our child just like you threw away Tarra!"
Tristan clenched his jaw at the provocation, "Oh, I'm the selfish one? Is that it? Even with the sacrifices I was prepared to make!"
"Sacrifices? What sacrifices?"
"You want honesty? Alright. Maybe fatherhood wasn't exactly in my plans for the future. But I didn't have a choice in the matter! Did you ever think of that? But I was willing to try---for you!"
"Oh! Oh, I see! You didn't have a choice in the matter, but I did? Is that it? This pregnancy was some kind of conscious decision I made at some point, right? So I climbed on top of myself and planted your seed. Is that what you're saying?"
She had a point. Tristan could do nothing but sit still in a stunned state of bewilderment. He knew that everything he said was wrong in Jillian's ears, but everything he said was also honest. Above all things, he believed in honesty. "I would have loved our child," he whispered, and that was the truth.
Jillian drew in an exhausted breath and her face softened. "I loved our child already from the moment I knew it existed," she whispered, "And I still do."
Upon hearing those words, his heart broke for her and he regretted every bit of harshness he had shown her. "I can't imagine the hurt you're feeling," he replied gently, trying to soothe her, "but can't you see what a blessing it is that you're alright? That you're safe?"
"Hurt? I can't even feel to hurt! I feel numb!" she cried. "To feel numb," she repeated, laughing sardonically at her own words, "Such a paradox. To feel the lack of feeling."
Tristan felt an intense guilt rising within him. He had been honest, but he had also been insensitive and cruel. "Can you ever forgive me?" he mumbled, feeling too guilty even to make eye contact.
Jillian sighed, "You were being honest, and I think deep inside I knew that you felt that way."
"You must know that it was not a lack of love for you, but a lack of faith in myself that drove those feelings."
"You are so wrong in your judgment of yourself," she said, "You would have made a wonderful father."
"If only…"
"Yes. If only..."
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Meanwhile, while the dialogue between Jillian and Tristan unfolded, Tarra had exited the hut and was immediately met by Arthur. He had that look of appreciation on his face that always frightened her because of the rarity with which she ever received it from anyone. Tarra cleared her throat as Arthur stood before her. "I wouldn't go in there if I were you," Tarra said, "They're likely to be kissing or cuddling or other such vulgar, repulsive acts of endearment."
"It was actually you who I was looking for," Arthur said.
"A poor alternative, I'm afraid. I exude vulgarity," she replied with a smirk.
"Are you ever serious?"
"Not if I can help it."
Arthur smiled, "Well, I just wanted to say that Merlin told me what you did for Jillian and---well---"
"Arthur, please," interrupted Tarra, "I fear you're about to turn me into some kind of heroic figure and I assure you it's the last thing that I deserve."
"I take it you don't accept gratitude, either then?"
"I accept what I deserve," she said, then added with a grin, "and steal everything else."
"Tarra!" called Galahad who was sitting with the rest of the knights around the fire. The sky had grown dark with night, and there was a chill in the air. "Come join us!" he called.
"Yes," added Lancelot, "Come sit by me." He patted his hand on the empty spot on the log next to him.
Tarra strode confidently over to where the knights sat. "And why would I want to sit next to you?" she asked Lancelot.
"Because you're madly in love with me, obviously," Lancelot teased.
"Obviously," Tarra replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
"Don't listen to him," said Gawain, "He's delusional."
Tarra bravely took the seat next to Lancelot. "I'll sit here," she said, "but know that I'd sooner fall in love with the backside of a horse than your sorry self."
"That can be arranged!" Lancelot jibed, whistling to his horse that stood lazily tied to a nearby tree.
"How is Jillian?" Gawain asked seriously, changing the subject, "Is she alright? We heard that she, well, that she lost---"
"She did," Tarra replied quickly, relieving Gawain of the duty of forming the awkward words, "But she'll be ok."
"A shame. A damn shame--about the baby, I mean," commented Bors dryly, "Vanora almost lost one of ours once. Number 4, I think. The thing came out, but it wouldn't take in a breath. Scared Vanora to death. Always a damn shame to lose a child. Why are you all looking at me funny?"
"It's just strange to see you demonstrate anything resembling compassion towards an offspring, even your own, that's all," replied Galahad.
"That's because they're mine," Lancelot teased.
Arthur approached the fire, seeming completely oblivious to their laughter at Lancelot's jibe. His face was set in its usual cool, commanding countenance. "We'll camp here tonight," he declared, "And return to the wall in the morning."
"Arthur, what's your opinion on undergarments?" Tarra asked suddenly out of nowhere.
The question blindsided Arthur. "Excuse me?" he asked, looking as if something had just smacked him between the eyes.
"Sorry," she replied, "But something needed to wipe that dull, serious look off your face for once." Arthur's face contorted into a confused, quizzical look. "Eh, it's an improvement, at least," Tarra commented.
The knights abandoned the fire for the moment to unload their camping supplies from their horses. The night sky had effectively driven away the setting sun, and the only light left came from the crackling fire and the full moon above. While the knights remained occupied and distracted with unloading their effects, Tarra slipped off into the woods. She had some serious thinking to do.
There was a light, cool breeze that swept around her as she trudged between the trees. She could no longer hear the muffled sounds that echoed from the camp, but instead heard the rustling of the leaves and the crickets' sonorous chirping. She stopped for a moment, breathing in her surroundings, and then began her pacing. She probably looked like a crazy person, but she didn't care. It wasn't like there was anyone there to see her.
'Alright, Tarra,' she thought to herself, 'What's the plan of action? We need a plan here. Stop getting so involved with these people and figure out your course of action! You gotta pull it together right this very instant! Now, if you're going to do something, you'll have to do it quick. We're out here in the middle of the woods, so it's the perfect opportunity. A much more ideal location than at the wall, that's for sure. Now, it's pretty clear there's nothing to be done with Tristan. That situation has gotten way too complicated. But you still have a chance with Arthur. Now then, a plan. Wait until they're all asleep, then run off with his head into the forest. See? It's so simple. Lucia and Barak can't be too angry with you as long as you've done that much. And you can always come back for Tristan. Yes, this is a good plan. Why are you trembling? Pull it together, Tarra. What's the big deal? You're a thief. What's the difference if you steal gold or lives? It's the same basic principle. Stop shaking!'
Tarra could feel a clump rising in her throat, so she swallowed hard. She wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs and felt for her dagger. She drew in a deep breath and looked around her. Wait a second, where was she? She had walked so far and had been pacing in so many different directions that she had completely lost track of the direction in which she had come. 'Damnit!' she cursed at herself.
Tarra paused for a moment, studying her bearings. She scanned the trees for anything that she recognized or that looked familiar. 'Blast it all,' she thought, 'Why does every tree have to look the same?' She drew in a deep breath, chose a random direction, and began walking. No, this couldn't be right. She turned around and began walking in the opposite direction.
Suddenly, she heard a familiar voice from behind her, "You really should pay more attention to where you're going on." Tarra groaned inwardly. Lancelot.