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Second Thoughts

Tristan trudged back toward the barracks with the searing pain in his shoulder failing to distract him from thoughts of Abigail. Her mud covered form looking up at him through tear filled eyes served only to make Tristan wearier with the burdens of his failures. "Fool," he growled as he thought of how she had told him what the child had mean to her. Of course, she had loved it. It was just as much a part of her as it was a part of him if not more because she had carried it within herself. Unlike him, she had mourned the loss of her child alone in a strange place surrounded by strange people. Those emerald green eyes haunted him as he tried to cover his bleeding shoulder with pressure. Green eyes cried for him as he shut his own lids against the pain in his shoulder.

Suddenly, memories came unbidden to his tired mind. The knights had returned from battle one night over a year ago carrying the body of a fallen brother. Kay had died in combat as so many before him, but he had been close to all of the knights. None of them came home unaffected. Tristan, especially, carried a heavy burden for he had been closest to Kay when he died, but had been unable to aid the larger knight when he needed it most. Tristan himself had not come back unscathed, but he refused to let the others see his own weakness.

When he did not show up at the tavern that night, Abigail went searching for him. She found him brooding in the darkness of his own quarters, but that didn't stop her from entering. "You should not be alone when you are mourning. It is unhealthy," she had said calmly as she approached him slowly.

"I do not need your or anyone else's pity, so leave me in peace," he had growled lowly from the corner where he sat licking his wounds.

"I do not pity you anymore than I pity any of the other knights that serve and often die around here," she said calmly as she sat beside him and leaned against his weary shoulder. "I came because you are hurting both emotionally or physically, and I vowed never to leave you to hurt alone," Abigail sighed as she wrapped her arms around his cloaked figure and buried her face in his neck.

"Just leave me alone," he growled and tried to pry her off of him, but she only hung on tighter.

"I will miss Kay too, but unlike you I realize that there was nothing any of you could have done. So, I am going to sit here holding you until you realize that you are not to blame. Then I am going to sit here kissing you until I see that knot in your brow ease away," she said firmly as she held him tightly to her. It took several hours but eventually Tristan returned her embrace, and was soon enjoying her soft lips as they assaulted him mercilessly until he relaxed and fell asleep holding her.

Tristan didn't realize that he was no longer headed toward the barracks until he saw the slumped figure sitting in the mud in front of him. He did not know when exactly he turned around to return to his past love, but he was not sorry that he did. He could hear the sobbing from where he stood several meters away. He hadn't lied when he said she was beautiful even when covered in mud. Her halo of auburn curls peeked through the streaks of mud, and her eye shown an even more vibrant green behind the veil of tears. Before Tristan could talk himself out of it, he was kneeling beside Abigail and clutching her tightly to his chest.

Abigail didn't even realize who was holding her at first, but those strong and sinewy arms could only belong to one person. One person, she didn't desire to deal with anymore. She punched at his chest, but he didn't let go. She kicked out and splashed the mud, but he held firm. "Don't fight me because I am not going to let go. You told me once that one should not mourn alone because it is unhealthy. The way I see it, you have been forced to mourn alone since you left this fort. I will not see you continue on like this," he said in a gentle whisper as he stroked her knotted hair.

"I would rather mourn alone than with a heartless wretch like you," she sobbed into his cloaked shoulder. "I hate you."

"I am sorry to hear that because I shall never stop loving you. And, I am going to continue to hold you until you realize that it's not your fault that you had to rid yourself of our child. I am sorry that I said what I said to you. When I heard that you had been with child, I felt as though I was the wealthiest of kings. Then I was told that you had destroyed it, and I felt as though my heart had been torn out of my chest. But I realized very quickly that I could not remain angry at you for long, but you had already left. I realize that you suffered just as much as I did from that decision, but I was not there to help you through it. Now, I'm here, and I am not going to let you go until you forgive yourself as I have," Tristan whispered into her muddy hair and kissed that crown of her head.

"I can never forgive what I did. I…" she broke off with a sob.

"You are not to blame. Your father, the Romans, fate; they are all to blame but not you," Tristan sighed as he gently rubbed her back and stood still holding her tightly cradled in his arms. "You were but a child being faced with a world much harsher than you knew existed. You did what was best for you and probably that babe as well. Had it been born it would have faced death at the hands of your husband, or it would have faced a life of ridicule and pain," he said as he began to carry her back toward his chambers.

"But you said…"

"I was hurt and angry. I said it to hurt you, not because it was true but because it would cause you pain. I didn't realize that you already had your own pain to deal with," he assured her as he continued to walk slowly. "Now, relax and enjoy this because in the morning I am going to return you to you betrothed and pretend that tonight never happened," he said as he softly kissed her quivering lips. Abigail didn't return the gentle kiss, but she did not protest it either. Instead, she remained silent and clung to Tristan tightly as they entered the knights' barracks.

XxXxXxX

"Something must have happened, Líadan. I saw her coming this way, and now she is no where in sight," Neasa said worriedly as she and her sister sat quietly.

"Things are beginning to mend themselves. Surely you felt the two aching spirits just moments before. She will not return this night, but she will return a different woman in the morning," Líadan spoke sagely as she continued to sip at her tea.

"What if he hurts her further? He is wild, you cannot know what he will do to her," Neasa worried tirelessly.

"I know that he still loves her deeply and can no more hurt her than he could escape this enslavement. He will send her home without further hurt, but he will sell what is left of his soul to do it," Líadan sighed as she rose and headed toward the room her sister had cleared for her. "I suggest finding your bed because there is no use in waiting up for her. She is in good hands."

"I hope that you are correct," Neasa sighed as she too went in search of her bed.

XxXxXxX

They entered his room in silence. Tristan could barely keep Abigail in his arms because his shoulder was beyond painful. He could feel the chill when his blood soaked shirt stuck to his back. However, Tristan continued to hold Abigail safely within his arms until he reached his cot and placed her gently upon it. Without removing his cloak or tunic, he joined her on the bed. He knelt beside her and carefully untied the cloak from her small shoulders. With deft fingers, he pushed the fabric off her but continued to hold her gently. Next, he reached back and untied the strings of her corset before removing that from her petite form as well.

Abigail sat motionlessly in the circle of Tristan's arms as he slowly and with the utmost care removed her filthy garments. When he finally had her in nothing but a threadbare shift that was also saturated in mud, he moved from the bed and went to the fire where a cauldron of water sat heating. Taking it off the fire he carried it to the basin in the corner of his room that waited partially filled by the maids when he had first returned earlier that evening. After filling the bath with the steaming water, he returned to the cot and led Abigail slowly to the bath.

Standing beside the basin, Tristan slowly removed her thin shift and she stood naked before him as she had only done once before. However, Tristan's eyes did not rake over her figure like the eyes of a lecher. Instead, his eyes only gazed into Abigail's emerald ones as he lifted her frail body and place her in the basin. Once she was in the water, he slowly and carefully washed her as he would a small child. Each arm and leg was cleansed gently, then her back felt his gentle hand tenderly clean any lingering mud from her smooth skin. Carefully, without looking he reached over her shoulders and washed her stomach and chest. It was not an intimate caress, but that of a care giver. She had nothing to fear from Tristan; she simply enjoyed the safety of his embrace. Finally, Tristan cupped his hand in the water and brought it over her head letting it rinse the mud out of her unruly hair. Gently, he washed her auburn locks then rinsed them before finally lifting her from the basin and wrapping her in a thick cloth. He carried her to the cot again and laid her there and carefully dried her soft skin before fetching one of his many tunics and dressing her in it.

"Are you feeling any better," he asked as he helped her get beneath the covers of his bed so that she would not catch cold.

"I didn't realize that this side of you still existed," she sighed tiredly as he stroked her cheek tenderly. She placed her small hand over his and clutched it to her heart as she gazed into Tristan's loving eyes.

"It exists only for you…only tonight," he said in an equally hushed voice before turning from her and dropping his cloak awkwardly because it was becoming harder and harder to use his right arm. He heard her soft gasp when his blood soaked tunic was revealed, but he hadn't expected to feel gentle fingers tugging his tunic up.

"I did this, and still you cared for me," she said with almost a hint of awe in her voice. Without warning she took the knife that had done this to him and used it to cut his tunic so she could tear the back open and slide it off his shoulders. Tristan made no protest at her ministrations. She simply led him back to his bed and fetched the needle that she knew he kept beside his cot. She cleaned and stitched the wound before wrapping it tightly in a clean bandage. "We shall have Neasa look at it in the morning," she informed him as she tenderly rubbed his tense shoulders being careful of his injury.

"You know I shall not be here in the morning," Tristan said calmly as he drew her around to face him on the cot. "Tonight is…"

"…goodbye, yes I understand," Abigail finished for him as she placed her finger to his lips. "Just lie with me as you used to do, and I shall never ask anything of you again," she asked calmly as she lay down beneath the covers.

"Anything you wish," he said softly as he lay beside her and gathered her in his arms. He held her in silence until he felt her breathing slow and sleep claimed her. "I never stopped loving you, Abby. You are the only one who shall ever know my heart intimately, and I shall not break my promise to you. No other woman shall know my bed but you. I just hope that you shall find happiness when I am no longer there to protect you," he whispered before he too found the tender caress of sleep.

XxXxX

Happy New Year everybody! I hope everyone finds this chapter a bit happier than the last one. I hope you enjoyed it, and please tell me what you think.