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Eight: Never Another

Abigail had been in the tavern for the better part of the day. After she had returned to Neasa's hut the night before, she had cried herself to sleep, for no other reason than to finally purge herself of the selfish scout. He had even followed her into her dreams that night.

Abigail remembered it as if it had happened only yesterday. She and Tristan had shared each other's company for several months and had become the deepest of friends. She remembered the way he had showed his affection to her in the middle of the tavern not three nights prior. Abigail was certain that Tristan was the only man she would ever love. They sat, now, on a low hanging branch of a mighty tree just outside the Wall. The late afternoon sun illuminated the golden leaves and cast a warm glow over all that it embraced. They had been sitting in the tree reading a volume that Arthur had lent his scout for several hours, periodically taking breaks to steal sweet kisses from one another. The volume of Greek tragedies was easily forgotten by the enamored pair because Abigail could not read, and Tristan was only proficient enough to collect the basic idea of each passage and relay it to her.

So, instead they sat talking and showing their affection for each other. Tristan was rarely in such a lighthearted mood, and Abigail found that she was thoroughly enjoying it. "Tristan, you can't stop there. I must know how it ends, do they find each other? does love prevail? I must know," Abigail giggled as she halfheartedly swatted away Tristan's roaming hands.

"Abby, they are call tragedies for a reason. It is best to stop while they are still cheerful in nature," Tristan remarked before he captured her lips in a soft kiss, effectively silencing any further questioning. Abigail sighed contentedly as Tristan pulled her closer as he leaned against the trunk of the tree straddling the low branch. Abigail sat happily wrapped in his arms as the enjoyed each others company.

"Tristan…why do you waste so much time with me? I know what the others say about how you are just humoring my childish fantasies," Abigail said embarrassedly as they watched the sun begin to set.

"The time I spend with you is never a waste. These are the happiest moments of my sordid existence; how could they be a waste," Tristan asked sternly before continuing. "Do not listen to anything anyone says about us. They simply do not understand what we have, certainly you know that. What has really brought this on," Tristan asked as he positioned her so that he could look into her eyes.

"I am just a plain girl with little to offer other than myself. I have no great beauty or skill. Why would you want me and all the troubles that come with me instead of one of the wenches who are beautiful and skilled and cause little trouble," Abigail admitted shyly as tears began to stream down her soft cheeks.

Tristan nearly screamed in frustration at the one who made her feel inadequate, but quickly calmed for her. "Abigail," he said as he lifted her chin to look at him as he kissed away her tears. "You are the most beautiful woman to ever walk this earth. You are skilled in more ways than I can count, from your gentle touch to you quick wit. And finally, you are no trouble at all and never will be because you the woman I love. No whore could satisfy me the way your company does. No wench could ever calm me the way your touch does. No other presence could make my heart do this," he said as he placed her small hand to his chest, "the way your presence does. I swear to you Abigail; I shall never take another whore for the rest of my days because no other woman could ever replace you. Now cease your tears, my love. We have read enough tragedies for one day, no need to act them out as well," Tristan said as he brought his lips to hers in a searing kiss that simply enforced everything he had told her.

Slowly, Tristan slipped out of the tree with Abigail cradled in his arms and carried her back to the fort. He did not carry her home as he did most evenings, but instead he carried her to his own quarters to show her how much he truly loved her for the first time.

When she woke in the morning to Neasa's wise voice singing in the morning light, Abigail had begun to feel human again. Though her eyes were puffy and red from crying herself to sleep, Abigail quickly dressed and went out to face a new day. She remembered her dream, but she knew that there was little she could do about it now. Perhaps she was the only love Tristan would ever have, but that did not mean he could not choose a loveless life.

It was several hours past dawn as Abigail finally left Neasa carrying another parcel for the elderly healer. She would simply leave the parcel at the entrance of the healing wing then go off to find Vanora. Her wrist was feeling marginally better this morning and Abigail was hoping to be able to perhaps aid at the tavern for at least a few hours. Vanora would hopefully allow her to do some of the cooking or cleaning if not actually carrying trays or mugs. Abigail was excited to start over again, and though Tristan was never far from her thoughts, she found that it was no long hard to see him as simply an unpleasant memory, or so she told herself.

As Abigail passed the stables she noticed Jols walking toward her quickly. His pocked face was set in a worried frown, and Abigail wondered what could be so dire that the normally jovial squire was so upset. "Jols, is everything well," she called as he approached her swiftly.

"Milady, where have you been all morning," Jols asked with a worried tone. His soft hazel eyes were filled with concern that only furthered Abigail's confusion.

"I have been at Neasa's enjoying the wonders of a fitful night's sleep. Why is it that my sleep habits are so important, Jols. Is something wrong," Abigail asked in utter confusion as she noticed Jols' demeanor only decline.

"Nothing is wrong, milady. Just was worried when I didn't see you this morning, after all the commotion I heard last night," Jols covered up his true worry, knowing that Tristan would skin him alive if Abigail knew Tristan had gone looking for her. Hell, Abigail would probably skin him alive for allowing Tristan to ride in such poor condition. It was best to keep one's mouth firmly shut when dealing with that pair, unless one had a death wish.

"Oh I am fine, Jols. Thank you for your concern, but I am feeling entirely better today. I find it is best not to dwell on the past any longer," she said with a bright smile, almost comparable to the ones she had graced the world with when she was still loved by Tristan.

"That is good to know, milady. I wish you a good day," Jols returned her smile, but he was devastated, not for himself but for her. She had finally given up the one thing she had always cherished. It was a dark day indeed, even if she could no longer see the clouds they would find her soon enough. Losing love after feeling the fruits of it was most painful indeed.

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Tristan had ridden all day and only returned as the fiery sun made its daily retreat from the sky. Clouds had moved in once again and a light rain had begun to mist the already damp island. Tristan's injuries were causing him no little amount of pain, and his inability to locate Abigail was causing his already broken heart to blacken even more. Tristan had become accustomed to pain over the years. All of the knights had gathered their own impressive collections of scars, but Tristan had never felt such intense pain as that which Abigail caused him daily.

As Tristan rode his stallion into the stables, Jols came running toward him. "Master Tristan, I have found Abby. She was simply sleeping in this morning," he said as he reached the exhausted scout.

Never before had two emotions warred so furiously in Tristan's heart as they did at that moment. Tristan felt relieved that Abigail was safe, but he was also enraged that she had lied and decided to stay at the fort. Quickly, Tristan's anger got the better of him and he slid off his mount only to stumble into Jols' strong arms. "Easy sir, you're still very weak," Jols said as he righted Tristan and allowed the injured scout to stand on his own.

"Where is she, Jols," Tristan asked between clenched teeth as he began to hobble toward the entrance of the barn.

"She was spending the day with Vanora, I believe," Jols answered even though he knew it would have probably been better to lie to his friend.

"Thank you, Jols," Tristan said as he hobbled out of the stable and in the direction of the tavern. He was going to show Abigail once and for all that it was in her best interest to leave this place and find a new home where she could find love and peace. However, all thoughts left his mind when he entered into the courtyard of the tavern. Tristan may have been blinded by pain, but he knew his eyes would never play such a cruel trick on him as they were doing now.

In the center of the courtyard was Abigail with her long auburn hair waving around her as she danced. A Roman soldier held her close as he spun her around. Both were laughing and enjoying themselves as Vanora sang for them. Tristan stopped dead in his tracks and watched the smile that, until this night, he had believed he was the only person who could bring that smile forth from her lips. She hadn't left because she had taken his advice and moved on. So quickly she was able to cast off her feelings for him and bestow them upon one who was so like the man who had ruined their happiness.

Tristan forgot his fury in that moment and in its place was a void of emotion. Tristan had finally become the heartless killer that the villagers always whispered about. He would do nothing to prevent Abigail's future happiness, but he would nether do anything to promote his own. Tristan knew at that moment that though he had only a meager few months of service left, he was not meant to see his freedom. Tristan was a weapon, and once his fight was over he would be useless.

Taking a seat in the shadows, Tristan watched as the young Roman twirled Abigail around the courtyard with his affection for her easily read in his eyes. As Tristan watched, he remembered what it was like to have Abigail look at him as though he were the only thing that ever mattered.

When Tristan passed her father's home, she began to cling to him as though if he let her go she would be cast out from society. He was her sanctuary, where none of the villagers' harsh words could touch her. He carried her up through the barracks towards his quarters as though nothing were the matter. Guards simply watched as he carried her, none of them brave enough to say a word against it.

When he came to his room, Tristan opened the door, while still holding Abigail tightly to his firm chest. "Do not fear me," Tristan whispered as he felt her tremble once they entered his room.

"I could never fear you," Abigail whispered back as she looked up into Tristan's eyes as he gently laid her on his cot. All she could see was love and passion dancing in his honey brown eyes. She was lost before she even began, and only prayed that Tristan would forgive her for her innocence. Placing a chaste kiss upon her sweet lips, Tristan quickly rose from his place above Abigail in order to light a fire in the hearth. Abigail composed herself after a moment and watched as Tristan coaxed the flames to dance freely in the fireplace. With his back to her, she could freely watch him without feeling self-conscious. She loved Tristan more than the air she breathed, but she was young and naïve. She knew that Tristan had seen many women before her, and she couldn't help but feel inadequate when things began to become intimate.

In any other aspect of her life, Abigail was the loud and vivacious foil to Tristan's quiet and brooding self. However, behind closed doors, she was passionate in a different way. She spoke calmly and with her whole heart. She bared her entire soul whenever she was with Tristan and she couldn't help but worry that one day he might reject it or scoff at it because that is what she had seen so many men do to the women of her village.

Tristan turned back to see Abigail staring at him lost in thought. Tristan frowned as he once again joined her on the cramped cot. "You worry that I will not want you after this," he said knowingly as he gently pulled her long auburn locks away from her porclein face. "I have told you before, that you are the only woman I shall ever love again. You have nothing to prove to me because I can already see the love within your eyes. What else could I possibly ask for," Tristan whispered between placing soft kisses to Abigail's jaw and neck.

"But what if I…" Abigail was cut off by a searing kiss that made her forget her argument. All that existed for a moment were Tristan's soft lips and tongue caressing her own.

"I could live a life free of any touch so long as you would tell me daily, that you loved me," Tristan vowed as he rolled atop her and ending any further arguments with his tender caresses. "You are my heart Abby, and if I lose you I shall lose the will to live," Tristan whispered as he drew the full skirts of Abigail dress up to her hips, gently running his fingertips up the silky skin of her thighs.

Abigail was at a loss for words as Tristan gently guided her hands to take part in the action. She simply gazed up into Tristan's eyes, letting her own soft orbs do the talking. Before long she was bared both physically and emotionally to Tristan and he to her, but neither seemed to notice their own nakedness as they saw only the love reflected in each other's eyes.

Tristan was as gentle as lamb as he made love to Abigail, and Abigail clung to him long after they were both satisfied as she simply enjoyed being in Tristan's embrace. No words were needed, no thoughts needed to be aired. Both knew what the other felt and thought. Both knew that there would never be another person for either of them so long as they breathed.

As Vanora's voice faded bringing the song to a close Tristan was woken from his memories. He felt his heart ache as he watched Abigail embrace the Roman in an affectionate gesture, and he pulled a wench over to bring him a mug of ale. He watched Abigail throughout the night as she laughed and spoke with the young Roman. By the time the tavern was beginning to send its patrons away, Tristan was too drunk to walk. He simply sat in almost a trancelike state as he watched an exhausted Abigail kiss her Roman love goodnight. He didn't move when he saw her begin to help Vanora cleaning up for the night. He didn't follow her like most nights to ensure that she returned home safely. Tristan just sat in his own world and watched as life passed him by. He barely even noticed when Vanora knelt before him shaking her head tiredly.

"You're a fool, Tristan, but at least you're a noble fool," she said as she gently tugged him to his feet and let him lean his weight against her sturdy frame in order to help him to his room. Vanora didn't reprimand him or show him any disgust. She simply helped him home because she knew that he had lost much more tonight than just his coordination.

XxXxX

Oh my, it has been so long. Please forgive me, but my muse ran away with all my free time in tow. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and read this story so far, you are the reason I have returned to it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and hopefully the next will be coming shortly.