Disclaimer: Don't own it!

Unexpected Arrival

Tristan woke to a splitting headache, as well as various other pains throughout his entire body. No sooner had he felt the strings of consciousness beckoning him, than he also felt the overwhelming churning in his stomach. By the time Tristan was feeling somewhat human again, the sun was already well into its ascent of the sky. How ironic that the only sunny days that this island ever saw were those that he felt dead to it. He had not been so lucky to forget all his troubles in the bottom of a glass. He, unfortunately, remembered every moment of his torment as well as every sway of his former lover's hips as she danced with another man. Not just any other man either, but a Roman soldier.

It had been nearly two months since he first set eyes on the happy couple, yet he still felt the knife twist freshly in his side every time his gaze turned upon them. How could he not feel pain of loss? She was the only woman he had ever loved, and probably the only one he ever would. It seemed that every morning he woke the same. His head pounded, his clothes lay askew, his stomach revolted, and his heart felt broken. Slowly, as always, Tristan rose and pulled off his soiled tunic only exchange it for a slightly less filthy one. After dowsing his head in a basin of water, Tristan threw on a cloak and left his chambers.

Two months, he had watched the smiles shared between his former lover and the kind Roman soldier. Two months, he had seen his chances slip by. Two months, he had closed himself off from the rest of the fort and even his brothers. The rumors had grown from hushed whispers spread around the fort to glaring statements spoken aloud as he passed through the market. However, Tristan was deaf to the words shared about his loss of the "only good thing to ever happen to him." He was oblivious to anything other than the pain that he didn't even know could wind itself around his heart.

He could hear the whickers coming from his horse's stall as he entered the stable, and he instinctively knew that the dappled grey was entertaining company. "I knew there was a reason that he was packing on some extra weight," Tristan called before he even turned the corner to his stall. "I should have known you would be the one spoiling him," he said lightly considering he felt as though there was a brick of ice caged inside his chest.

"I have to spoil someone since you won't let me spoil you," came the rough voice of a woman who had spent too many years speaking to no but the air around her. "I see that you have not been taking care of yourself," she said as she stepped out of the way so that Tristan could join her in the small stall.

"What brings you to the fort, Líadan," Tristan asked coolly as he rubbed his horse's nose in greeting.

"My sister seems to suddenly wish for my presence here. She tells me that there is a great rift here at the fort. What do you know of this, my child," Líadan asked as she removed her hood to show a head of grey hair. The years had not been kind to the Briton, but she was no less lively than a girl of twenty. Her looks fooled many into believing she was frail, but Líadan was anything but incapable of fending for her self.

"I know that this rift is no one's business but that of the two parties. If two people choose to move in separate directions, that is their decision alone. Neither Vanora, nor Neasa, nor even you can change that. So, I suggest paying your visit to Neasa before leaving, but do not get involved in the affairs of others," Tristan said angrily as he threw his saddle of his mount.

"You used to value my opinions Tristan. Where has the little boy I met so many moons ago disappeared to? Where is the young man who used to come to me for advice," Líadan asked with regret as she watched Tristan mount up.

"That little boy is dead, and in his place a man who is fully capable of making his own decisions and mistakes," Tristan sighed as he kicked his horse lightly in the flank in order to move out of the stable. Líadan glided slowly beside him as he exited the confines of the stable.

"Then please do an old hag a kindness and tell her where this child is buried so that she may properly mourn him," she requested as she held firmly to his booted foot from where she stood below him.

"He is buried beside the child that he would have spawned had your sister not aided in its demise," Tristan replied icily as he kicked his horse into a gallop without warning, disappearing through the gates of the fort.

"You should never have told him of her pregnancy," came Neasa's voice as she joined Líadan outside the stable near the cart she ran at market.

"He had a right to know that he had spawned another…I cannot control the visions I receive, just as you cannot stop that feelings you get about others. Had I not told him that she had killed his son, he would have followed her to Fort Maia and murdered Antonius. Then they would all be dead now. Would it please you more if that girl had been viciously raped and murdered by her betrothed in front of Tristan instead simply being cast off eventually because he couldn't keep from taking every girl in sight? No matter what you say, I did right by telling him," Líadan sighed as she took Neasa's weary hand in her own. "We cannot force them to be together. We can only protect them from the forces keeping them apart."

"Perhaps you are correct, but you have not seen how they carry on as though they have nothing left to live for," Neasa said as she turned back to her stand and led Líadan behind her.

"Why do you think that I traveled all the way here in the onset of winter, sister, if it were not because I saw what has become of them," Líadan asked curiously as she stood beside Neasa's small cart. "I thought you said that you would never sell your skills. You would only lend your service to those who sought you out."

"I am not like you Líadan; I cannot keep my gifts from others who may need them simply because they scorn me," Neasa sighed as she sat on the stool behind the cart. "So, why is it exactly that you have come now, after eight long years of absence?"

"He has not needed me for eight years, so I have kept my distance. He comes to me when he needs anything, but now I see he has reverted back to his old ways. He says the child within him is buried, but I see differently," Líadan said in a weary voice as she lifted a small sack of herbs off the cart and smelled it.

"As much as you act like it, you are not his mother. You can't come running every time he scrapes his knee," Neasa said in exasperation as she snatched the sack back from her sister's curious hands.

"I saw his death, Neasa. What do you want me to do, stand there in the shadow watching while he rides off never to return? I saw them dragging his lifeless corpse back from battle because he believed that he had nothing left to live for. Maybe he isn't my child, but neither is he anyone else's. I took him in when no one would even speak to him, so it is my duty to see to his safety," Líadan cried as she once again pulled her cloak over her face to hide its withered visage.

"He is to die? But, I thought that you stopped that prophecy when you told him of the child?"

"There is more than Tristan's own stubbornness out to kill him, sister. My visions have been growing stronger as his freedom draws nearer. That is why I am here, but I fear that there is little I can do to stop his fate this time. Only he can choose to live or die," Líadan sighed as she turned from Neasa's cart and began to weave her way through the crowds toward the tavern.

"Where are you going," Neasa called out above the din of the market.

"To see the girl who has unwittingly torn out my child's heart and danced upon it," Líadan answered lightly as she faded into the crowd.

"She only did it because hers was torn out and fed to that hawk of his first," Neasa whispered as she watched her sister walk away. "Maybe she can do what we have all failed to. Or maybe she will simply ruin both of them."

XxXxXxX

"Let me go, Darius. I have to get back to work, or else Vanora will have my hide," Abigail shrieked as Darius held her in his lap tickling her into submission.

"She would have to go through me first," he laughed as he held tightly to Abigail. "After all, I do not have watch until tonight, she wouldn't keep you from me when we have so little time together as it is, would she? Isn't that right Vanora," Darius called as he rose from his seat with Abigail still clutched tightly in his arms.

"Get out of here, you two, and I don't want to see you until after sundown," Vanora called from within the kitchens. Abigail immediately calmed in Darius' arms and bestowed gentle kisses to his jaw instead. However, just as they were about to exit the tavern, a cloaked figure appeared in the doorway. Like a specter the figure entered the tavern, but it almost seemed as the shadows followed it.

"Abigail, you have grown into quite a woman since I last met you," the figure said eerily as it approached the happy couple slowly. "You must be Darius," the haggard figure observed as it reached out to touch his muscled arm which still held Abigail to him. "You are not what she needs. She needs a man who understands her without her having to even voice her thoughts. She needs a man who will give his life for her and she in turn would give her life for."

"Who are you," both Abigail and Darius' smiles faded at the stranger's words.

"I am one cursed with the sight that others wish not to see," the cloaked figure said before moving past them toward the kitchens. "Enjoy your afternoon because the ones that you share are rapidly drawing to a close."

"Stop," Darius called after the stranger as he placed Abigail on her own two feet and stalked after the figure. "Where do you think you're going," He shouted as he burst into the kitchens to find Vanora embracing a withered old woman. Abigail was not a step behind him, and she too just stared at the odd scene.

"Líadan, what brings you back to us," Vanora cried as she clung to the older woman.

"I have seen things that I fear I must change," Líadan sighed as she held onto Vanora for support of her weary bones.

"So you decide to start by upsetting my betrothed," Darius asked coldly from the doorway.

"I simply state what I see. It may upset some, but others have killed in order to be able to see what I do," Líadan said calmly, and for the first time both Darius and Abigail saw the woman's face. There was nothing shocking about the weary lines creasing her visage, but neither expected to see two snow white orbs where her eyes should be. "You seem shocked to find that I am blind to the world around me, children," she said almost pityingly.

"But then how do you know who we are, and what we look like," Abigail asked confusedly.

"Just because I am blind does not mean that I cannot see your beauty or shock," Líadan said to Abigail then turned to Darius. "Nor does it mean that I can't see where your heart truly lies."

"But…but," Darius couldn't believe her words, neither could anyone else in the room other than Vanora who still held Líadan's arm in support.

"Forgive me. I have revealed too much in my haste to right the wrongs set before me. I must find my sister again," she said as she began moving toward the door to the kitchen, but Abigail followed her quickly.

"How do you know these things," she begged as she tugged at the woman's cloak.

"What you really wish to know is what else I have seen, but you are afraid to ask. Well, let me assure you that I know that you have cried yourself to sleep every night since you gave up your child for Tristan. I know that now you mourn both the loss of him and your child. And I know that you see him watching you but are afraid to approach him for fear of being hurt any more than you already are… but know this. He is frightened as well. He is just an expert at hiding it," Líadan whispered into Abigail's ear before hurrying into the crowds again and seemingly disappearing all together.

Abigail just stood in the center of the square wondering about the old woman who had just walking into her life and yet again turned it on its head. Just when she thought that things were going to work out, everything had changed again. Tears streaked her freckled cheeks as she thought of the woman's words. They were true, and she could do nothing to change how she felt. She could only pray that perhaps one day Tristan would feel the same.

XxXxX

Okay, I realize that it has been a month and a half and that this chapter seems to come out of no where, but I promise the next one will be much quicker in coming because I have half of it written already. Please tell me what you think of this chapter. I always appreciate your opinions. Happy Holidays to everyone!