#21 Family

The last few days had been busy and Kirra had been kept on her toes. It would seem that everyone in the village knew of what she had done for Vanora's child and was interested in having her help them out too.

Arthur still had not decided where to put her or maybe he had forgotten about her. Which was mildly frustrating, she needed a place to set up her herbs and things. She needed a place where the people could come and feel comfortable – the knights' barracks was not that place. The people were intimidated by the knight and the man were growing annoyed at the people that always seemed under foot.

And Kirra felt somewhat uncomfortable staying in Gawain's room. Not uncomfortable with him, but with the knowing looks and suggestive grins she received whenever the other knights saw her coming or going. She sensed that a woman had never been allowed to stay in the barracks before. There never had been a need before.

Roman slaves.

She thought bitterly one early morning as she lay in bed. It would take time to come to terms with the fact that here her people were just that -- that she was also just that. A slave didn't marry therefore any lovers they did have were had in different places.

Even Bors kept Vanora apart from the barracks. Kirra was unsure as to why she had been allowed to stay; maybe it wasn't a permanent thing. It made her sick to think of being separated from Gawain so soon after having arrived. There was still so much she was unsure about and he was so solid and warm. The only constant thing in her life and, she loved him.

She slipped quietly from the bed, so as not to wake him and groped in the dark for her dress. Finn looked up at her from his place on the floor and thumped his tail in greeting before yawning and going back to sleep. It was too early in the morning for him to be awake yet.

Finding her dress on the chair where she had left it the night before, Kirra put it on, shivering slightly in the cool room. She found her cloak and slippers and grabbed her comb from the little table, then quickly tiptoed across the room to the door. As she opened it, she winced at its creak of protest and her eyes flicked to Gawain. He rolled to his stomach, burying his face in her pillow. Once he was again still, Kirra released the breath she had been holding, exited the room and closed the door.

Outside, she put on her slippers and was fastening her cloak when she felt the now familiar feeling of someone watching her. It seemed to her that almost from the moment she had arrived here that someone was tailing her, following her and watching her wherever she went. No matter how hard she looked, she could never see anyone, but she knew someone was there and it made her nervous.

Well, she thought defiantly, sick of the feeling. If someone wants to be awake this early too and follow me around then more power to them.

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Tristan followed the young woman, slipping in and out of the shadows, as she made her way in the direction of the stable. Arthur had called him in and questioned him extensively about her not long after she and Gawain had unexpectedly shown up following Gareth and Galahad. It had piqued his curiosity because he had been unable to answer any of the questions. Tristan had no idea who the young woman was -- why should he? He hadn't asked Arthur why, only made note to find out who she was. Arthur had asked him to keep an eye on her and report back.

Tristan had been slightly annoyed by the request; why should he have to watch this woman? He didn't care in the least bit who the other knight look as lovers, so why should this be any different? Though, it was highly unusual that Arthur had given permission for her to stay in the barracks and that caught his insatiable curiosity.

He had found that his task was rather easy, as the woman followed Gawain about or was in his room tending to the masses – this annoyed Tristan further. It made everything difficult that she was constantly surrounded by people – and Tristan didn't particularly like people. His luck had been that he had found on the first morning that she seemed to enjoy rising early.

He had woken to the sound of a door creaking open, so naturally he had to find out who it was. None of his fellows woke that early if they didn't have to. Normally the other knights were sleeping off the effects of the previous night's recreation, or they were somewhere else altogether -- still with the previous night's recreation, so a door opening so early in the morning was unusual and Tristan had to find out what it was.

It had been her.

He slipped out of his room as silently as always, but noted somewhat uncomfortably as he had with the previous night, that the woman could sense him. For an eternal moment, she had peered into the shadow where he was hiding. She had even come towards him, so close that he thought for sure she would see him, but she hadn't. At that point it hadn't really mattered because he had clearly seen her. And for the first time in a long time, Tristan was caught unawares.

Except for her eyes, which were a clear and startling grey, the young woman looked exactly like his mother, down to the way she moved when she walked. He must have made some sound because the woman's eyes darkened with fear before she spun on her heel and ran down the corridor. She was quite a bit quicker then he would have thought.

Tristan, of course had followed her, she only got as far as the stables before stopping and entering a stall. It was the stall of the black mare that he had stopped to admire the day before. He had silently entered the empty stall next to her and heard her breathing hard and whispering to the mare in a language which he couldn't understand.

She didn't come out either, until Gawain came and found her and Tristan heard the young woman tell Gawain about someone being in the hall watching her and he knew Gawain would know it was he, just as Dag had. But he stayed hidden anyway, listening and was surprised when Gawain didn't tell the woman, Kirra – her name brought a painful twinge in the region of Tristan's heart. Gawain only told her that it must have been a ghost.

She must have not appreciated the teasing because Tristan next heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh and saw Gawain leave the stall, laughing and rubbing his arm. The woman soon followed, muttering under her breath in that unknown language.

After that, Tristan had taken to following her every chance she got. It amazed him that none of the men told her how much she resembled him or perhaps they had before he had started following her. He knew they could not have failed to see it the moment they met her, but none had said a word, only watched her in curiosity.

What really bothered Tristan was that no one had thought to tell him; even Arthur had not when he had called him in and told him to watch her. Perhaps they thought he knew and why not, it was very seldom that Tristan didn't know what was going on. But in this case, he had no clue as to why she would appear now.

The young woman in front of him began to hum, causing him to pause; it was a tune he hadn't heard in years. One his grandmother had sung. She was combing out her dark hair as she walked silently down the hall.

She was tiny and Tristan wondered briefly if his mother had ever been that small. Though he had been a man when he had been taken, he had been small – only just taller then she. He had reached his full growth here on the island as he played death games with its inhabitants. Now that he was older he wondered how his mother would measure up to his taller stature. The thought pained him.

He didn't want to think of home and he certainly never spoke of it. Speaking of it only served to remind him of what he was -- a slave -- with no rights or privileges of any sort. It made him think of what he longed to forget: the battles he had fought, the blood he had spilt, and the lives he had taken over the years all because he had been forced to. Could his mother have even recognized him? Or would she see only the blood that covered his hands and feel only the darkness of his mind?

No.

He ground his teeth and forced those thoughts from his mind. He couldn't think like that. To think like that was to sink into despair and despair made one slow. It was a luxury

Tristan couldn't afford.

He turned and focused on the task at hand. Kirra had entered the stable and was plaiting her hair into a fat braid. She tied it off and suddenly wheeled about on her heel, catching Tristan off guard, Damn, he thought as he moved to the shadow but was too slow and she caught sight of him.

Her grey eyes flashed as she said, "I know you are there, so just come out. I am tired of this game." Her voice was oddly accented.

Tristan slid smoothly from the shadow. He must have been closer then she thought because she startled and fell back a pace. She recovered quickly and demanded, "Who are you?"

She was brave to confront him like this, alone and unprotected. He said nothing and waited to see what she would do.

She drew a step closer, "I know it's you who's been following me. I could feel you watching me." Tristan gave no indication that this bothered him. "If you wanted to talk to me all you had to do was walk up to me and say so. I don't like being played with." Her voice was calm but he could feel the sharp edge to her words.

As she continued to advance on him, Tristan was more and more amazed at the resemblance between her and his mother. There were a few differences, Kirra's lips were fuller and her high cheekbones softer, but her nose, and her eyes, by the gods even her brow was the same. She had stopped inches away from Tristan, closer then he liked, and looked up into his face. Her steady grey eyes narrowed in thought, then widened, the expression unreadable.

Kirra brought her hand up slowly to push the hair out of Tristan's face, so she could see his eyes; eyes which, shockingly enough, were the same shape as her own. Tristan stiffened as she gently brushed her small fingers across the markings on his cheeks, he did not want to be touched, not by this woman who looked so like another he once knew.

Kirra had cocked her head to the side and was looking intently at the markings as if trying to piece together a puzzle. She whispered something so faintly that Tristan almost didn't catch it.

"Wanderer."

When it registered to his slowly numbing mind, he stepped away from her; equal parts pain and wonder written on his normally stoic face. No one had ever even pretended to know what his tattoos meant, not even the tribal shaman had known. No one but he and the goddess who gave him the marks as a boy knew what they signified and he had never told anyone, never told her.

"I know you."

Her voice was soft and low and stunned. She stepped even closer to him, claiming one of his hands before he had a chance to escape and Tristan wanted to escape. He wanted to flee from the avalanche of memories that was threatening to bury him, but, as he had done countless times before, he forced himself to stand firm.

Kirra held onto his clenched fist with both of her small, slender hands until he relaxed and then she stroked his calloused palm, "I remember you."

She was in shock, but couldn't stop talking. Why wouldn't she just stop? Tristan wanted to throw his hands over his ears, he didn't want to know what she remembered, but she continued in a voice that was low and sad.

"I remember you. I remember those. No one knew where you had received them and I was always afraid the goddess would take me and give me marks like them." Tristan closed his eyes unwilling to remember.

"You would laugh at me and call me … imp. Tell me that the goddess had no use for such a skinny, little, girl."

Tristan's eyes suddenly snapped open, heart constricting in his chest; he didn't want to believe who this woman claimed to be. Though he knew it was true and had known in those first moments he had seen her. She was studying his hand as if it could tell her his secrets.

"Then when I cried in fear, you wiped my tears away and told me that they came from the goddess and they were to guide and protect you and if the goddess ever chose to take me away, it would be done in her wisdom and for my own good …" Kirra looked at him again, her eyes misty with memory and she smiled wistfully, "Then you promised to take me riding if I would stop crying."

Over Kirra's head, Tristan saw Gawain, Gareth, and Galahad walk into the stable, the girl's brute dog with them. They stopped short and fell quiet when they saw him and Kirra. Tristan tried to pull his hand from her grasp but she hung on and hissed.

"No."

Kirra feared that if she let him get away now, she may never remember everything. The memories were coming like bubbles into her mind and she didn't want them to burst before she knew what they contained. She felt Tristan's discomfort and saw the pain in his eyes. He knew who she was, but she sensed that he on his own would never have told her, so she clung to him like a drowning person too panicked to care if she dragged him down with her.

Tristan looked back down at Kirra, her jaw was set and there was pain in her eyes.

"I remember the day the Romans came."

Tristan's jaw hardened and he glanced at the watching men, his eyes flicking rapidly from them and back to the girl. He didn't want his fellow knights to hear this.

Kirra ignored his darkening eyes and continued speaking, "Mother," -- Tristan flinched -- "was trying to pry my hand from yours and I was throwing a magnificent fit – kicking and hitting. I couldn't understand what was happening." Kirra's eyes filled with tears, "All I knew is that there were bad men who were coming to take you away. When I asked when you would be coming back, no one answered and no one looked at me. I knew what they meant, though -- that you would never be coming back." Her voice broke and she dropped his hand. Tristan didn't move only waited, it was too late to run now.

"Then as you rode away, I ran after screaming your name over and over," The tears in her deep grey eyes spilled over and poured down her face. Surprising himself, Tristan moved to take her face in his hands to again wipe her tears away, the tears of his baby sister, but at once Kirra pulled back, anger and old betrayal written on her painfully familiar features, "You never looked back, never once, and I was left alone, Tristan" She had found his name at last and now it hung on the air like a curse.

She took another step away from him, her face ghostly pale, "You left me alone and I couldn't find you. I … I … I couldn't find anyone."

Then she turned and ran, pushing between Gawain and Galahad without seeing them. They looked at Tristan for a moment. His arms hung limply at his side, the expression on his face was dark and unreadable. He seemed to not see them either.

Gawain glowered at Tristan and turned on his heel to follow Kirra and Tristan swung his gaze to Gareth and Galahad, daring them to say something. The two youngest knights backed away and quickly left the stable, Finn closely following Galahad. It would be worth more then their lives to say anything to Tristan this day.

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Gawain finally found Kirra sitting on the hillside next to a burial mound. She was pulling up the grass, rolling it into little balls, and flicking them into the smoking chalice at the foot of the grave.

"You know, that is very disrespectful."

Kirra turned her icy, livid gaze to him and spitefully flicked another grass ball. It landed in the cup with a little hiss and she turned back to her grass ball making. Gawain settled himself beside her.

"Well, I guess Eric wouldn't mind. He would probably do the same thing."

Kirra didn't answer, but made to stand up. Gawain grabbed her wrist and forced her to stay sitting.

"What happened back there?"

"I don't want to talk about it," She growled. "And let go of my arm."

Gawain frowned but didn't relinquish her appendage, "Not until you tell me."

Kirra tore herself free and turned to glare at her husband. Gawain nearly flinched from the murderous look in her darkened eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me? Hmm? Was it some sick game to see how long it would take before I saw him? You've known he was following me all along, haven't you? And you never deemed it important enough to let me know?" Kirra looked as though she were going to hit him.

"Kirra, I wanted to introduce you properly, face to face. For some reason I thought that would be the best thing. I did tell you I couldn't find Tristan." Gawain sighed. "And when Tristan does not want to be found, he won't be."

"That is a pathetic excuse," Kirra hissed.

"Perhaps, but it is truth," He rubbed her arms. "You know I would never have hurt you on purpose."

The anger simmering in Kirra's eyes faded a bit as she accepted his apology, "I know, but you still should have told me. Someone should have, I mean, you all know. Anyone who has met either of us could not help but notice the resemblance. It was a horrid thing to do."

"It won't happen again."

Kirra gave Gawain a dry look, "No kidding."

He grinned and hugged her to him and she allowed herself to be squeezed for a moment before pulling away, "I am still mad at you, though, so don't think that you've gotten off the hook."

"What can I do to make it up to you?"

Kirra thought, then smiled slyly, "You have to go and ask Arthur when I get to set up shop and where. I am sick to death of having no where to work and I know it annoys you all. And," she took a deep breath. "I would like to have my own room."

Hurt crossed Gawain's features and Kirra tugged a lock of his long hair, "It's only because I feel so uncomfortable. Everyone looks at me with that little smirk and I know they think that I am your" -- she paused and wrinkled her nose -- "you know."

Gawain smiled at her reticence and finished her sentence, "Lover?"

"Thank you," she said sardonically.

"Well, you are."

"That may be true, but the way they use that particular word makes me feel dirty, like I am one of those tavern workers."

"I'll get them to stop using that title," Gawain promised. "And really it will not matter if you move out of my room or not, the others will still know what we are."

She leveled him with a glance, "No they won't, not unless one of us tells them the truth and until that happens, I want my own room."

"It will make things more difficult."

Kirra groused, "For you or for me?"

"Kirra! You are just being argumentative now and childish."

She stiffened and crossed her arms over her chest, "Well, that's what I am and if you don't like it, tough, because you're stuck."

Gawain shook his head stubbornly and again hugged her stiff form to him. He loosened her braid and shook her long hair free, "No. You are a beautiful young woman who is taking her anger out on her helpless man."

Kirra relaxed, "I am being awful, but I can't seem to help it today." Her voice was muffled against Gawain's chest. "And I don't really want my own room; I just don't want to be looked at like some sort of freak."

He chuckled and Kirra felt the sound throb through her body. "No freak, agreed. So, what did happen back there?"

Kirra looked over the graves to the rising sun, "I remembered who I was, really remembered and I remembered who … he was." She had a hard time saying Tristan's name.

"And?" Gawain prompted, nudging her with his shoulder.

"Do you think that he would want me to be telling you this?" Kirra asked the question, knowing the answer.

"Tristan? Definitely not, but then, he is not one to tell much of anything, so I will just have to depend on you for that."

"And if I get in trouble for it?"

"I am sure that all of us together could protect you from him, maybe."

"How reassuring."

Kirra knew Gawain was jesting, but knew that under most jests there is an ounce of truth. If Tristan was as Gawain was leading her to believe, then what kind of life had he lead? What type of person was he? She remembered him as quiet, but she had never doubted that he had loved her even though she had been so much younger then he. She looked up and found Gawain watching her and waiting.

"I don't remember everything, and much of what I do is still a bit fuzzy. He is my brother, but he is quite a bit older. I think I was a surprise, because Tristan was the youngest, until I came. He was perhaps twelve when I was born. Our parents were old and I don't remember any other siblings, so I attached myself to him. He was the only one who could control me."

Gawain chuckled, "A wild one even then, huh."

Kirra smiled sadly, "Yeah, I used to throw fits until he took me with him wherever he was going. My mother let me go, just to get some peace, I think. Anyway, he was my hero." She sat unmoving for a long time, deep in thought, examining the memories that were rushing back.

"Come on," Gawain said after some time had passed. "Let's go find Gareth and Galahad and make sure Tristan didn't cut their eyes out or remove their ears for being at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"That's not nice," Kirra swatted him.

Gawain's brow creased, "You think I am teasing? How do you think Eric died?"

"Well, considering that I am the only sister Tristan has, I would have to assume the man died on a battlefield somewhere and not on account of Tristan or his anger over me. I sincerely think that you all are afraid of nothing but smoke and mirrors."

Gawain had never thought of that. Tristan had made him uneasy since their first meeting. Perhaps it was his silence or perhaps it was the fact that the man was unflappable in the face of unimaginable odds, Gawain didn't know. But still, even after all their years of service, there was something about the scout that made one wary. Apparently, it was not a sentiment to be shared by Kirra – or she just didn't know him well enough yet.

"Well, you may be right, but you have never seen him in battle."

The thought seemed to trouble Kirra, "And I hope to never." She looked up into Gawain's blue eyes and hugged herself. "I hope never to see you that way, either. Let me have my undisturbed, if slightly skewed, thoughts of you all. I watched a lot of movies, so I have an idea in my mind of what you must be capable of, but my heart can't take the thought. Life here is too precarious."

"I didn't mean to upset you, love," Gawain said in earnest. He could feel Kirra's sorrow and unease at the thought of her husband and her brother being feral killers – which they were, one more so than the other. "We can't help what we have become."

Kirra suddenly shook her head to clear her troubling thoughts and smiled alluringly, "I think that I have a better idea then finding the boys," she ran a finger across Gawain's cheek, "why don't we take advantage of their scarcity and …"

Gawain's expression changed when he caught the meaning of Kirra's words and at the change she jumped to her feet and darted deeper into the trees leading him on a merry chase before he caught her and made her finish her sentence.