Tristan was in trouble. And not just in trouble with Alynor, which meant disappointment and harsh glances, or Antoinette, which meant a tongue whipping and then stony silence, but real trouble, of the potentially dangerous and painful variety.
He was just so hungry. All the time. He could actually feel his stomach, an empty and painful ache that never went away. And looking at his brother tearing off a piece of his own bread for their sister while his bones became more defined made him angry. And his sister's dresses becoming looser and looser made him even angrier.
He thought the gambling would help him make more money. Money that would buy them food and make the stale aired rooms filled with drunk men and raucous laughter worth it. Money that would make his brother smile and his sister hum while she walked again.
But it didn't. He spent a little at first, and a little more, and convinced himself it would work, but it only made things worse until one day he owed more than he had. Much more.
So he took his empty stomach and his even emptier pockets to a man whose name he'd heard in the bars and crowded rooms. He felt like he was selling his soul, but the other option wasn't much better.
Doran was not a frightening man in appearance. He was shorter than Tristan expected, devoid of almost all hair except a thin ring of brown near his ears and rosy cheeks. He didn't glare or scowl, but Tristan almost wished he would. Sometimes smiles were the hardest things to read.
"What do you want, boy?" Doran asked, peering at Tristan. He was seated on a high stool so they were eye to eye, but Tristan knew he would be the taller one if they stood back to back.
"I've heard you make loans," Tristan said, his eyes moving around the room, which was empty save for Doran and two dark haired men who sat a few feet away, not looking but definitely listening to the conversation.
Doran studied him for a moment, his grin not disappearing. His lips were red with wine.
"I do," Doran confirmed.
Tristan almost let out a breath of relief, but Doran soon spoke and crushed it.
"With men. Not lost boys who can't repay their debts."
Confirming his earlier suspicions, the two men at the table let out laughs. Tristan always teased Antoinette for blushing but as the blood flowed straight to his cheeks he realized how awful it was to point out that someone had turned red. He felt foolish and small.
"I can repay it," Tristan insisted, steeling his jaw. "I'm starting a job with my brother soon."
"Yes, and I'm going to be crowned King next week."
Tristan's throat blazed with anger as he choked back an insult.
"I'm not lying. It's with the blacksmith, Kelman. You can ask him."
Doran paused for a second, contemplating his goblet of wine. It must have been gold at some point but was tarnished now.
"I know Kelman," he finally said. "And I will ask him. But I have one question first."
"Yes?"
"What kind of trouble are you in?"
Tristan pulled his cloak closer. It was one of those Summer days where the chill held on with the growing clouds. Either that or he was nervous, as he tended to be every time he came here.
It wasn't the edge of town, or even a bad part of town, but he felt like he had a layer of dirt on him every time he came. He kept his eyes low and on the dusty ground. It was hard living in a village where you knew mostly everyone, but if he kept his eyes down and his cloak close hopefully no one would look.
It had been a year since that day, a year of worrying each month that someone would see him slip away, or that Doran would demand more money, but someone he had managed. He had paid more than half back, but now that he was in training, he worried of someone finding out. It would tarnish his reputation and surely ruin his chances of a better life, but he just had to wait a little longer.
He would have more money once he became a knight, and he would pay it all to Doran, and never look back.
"Stay, Antoinette. I'll ask my husband to go tomorrow," Mrs. Mortimer said, peering at the sky. "It looks like rain."
"I can be back before it starts," Antoinette said, fastening a cloak around her shoulders. "You need your medicine tonight."
"I can last one day with nightmares!"
"You shouldn't have to," Antoinette insisted. Mrs. Mortimer was plagued with nightmares that left her tossing and turning. After Gwen told her of Gaius helping Lady Morgana with the same thing, she had been able to sleep with his help, but she had ran out of it and was now regretting telling Antoinette of this fact.
"You'll be tired for tomorrow!"
"Nonsense. I like walking!"
"You are going to ignore all of my arguments, aren't you?" Mrs. Mortimer asked with a sigh so big that it wrinkled her dress.
"Of course," Antoinette said brightly. "I'll see you soon!"
Antoinette was crouching under a tree, inspecting the leaves of a plant that grew under it. She was on the edge of town now, taking her time getting back because she knew she'd just be sitting in her home alone. She'd told Gaius she'd help him get some herbs he'd been needing, but really she welcomed the distraction.
She wasn't as good at identifying herbs as she was spices, but she was pretty sure this was the right one. She began to dig in her pocket for a small knife when she spotted a figure walking quickly in the nearby town.
She was far away, but Tristan had a telltale walk. Quick, sure footsteps. He was taller than all of them, even Alynor, too, and his blue cloak was fastened around his shoulders. He only had one cloak, so it had turned a strange mishmash of dark and light blue that told her it was him.
But what was he doing here? The boys were supposed to be at the blacksmith right now. Training in the morning, work in the afternoon...that's what they'd told her. But here Tristan was, on the opposite side of town from where he was supposed to be...
The forest followed the town pretty closely, save for a few twists and turns. The nearest home wasn't for yards away, separated by a low stone wall, but she could keep her eye on him if she moved quickly...
So she did. She abandoned the herbs and walked under the cover of the trees. No one would see her unless they were specifically looking, thanks to her dark cloak and the ever growing clouds in the sky. She almost thought it would start raining just to accompany her dark thoughts.
Tristan's walk was quick, as he had much longer legs and even more purpose. She lost him every time he walked in the way of a house or horse, but found him again if she kept her eyes peeled.
She tried to be quiet, and sidestep particularly vulnerable twigs, but she feared she was still making noise tramping on the littered forest floor.
As she almost tripped for the third time, she pushed her hair from her face and kneeled under a tree, seeing Tristan slow down. She could barely see his face, but from here his expression looked strange to her. He was near a small cottage, with no particularly striking characteristics on the outside except for a heavy looking wooden door. What could it be?
"What are we looking for?"
Her heart flew against her chest, making her breath escape in a gasp as she jumped and turned to the voice. She dropped the skirts she was holding up from the dirt and put her hands on her chest as she saw a grinning Gwaine standing beside her.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, looking to where she had been moments before.
"What are you doing here?" she countered, regaining her composure slowly as she stood up beside him. He still towered over her, but less than before.
"Following you," he said simply, still smiling.
Antoinette had to give it to him—he didn't embarrass easily. And she could always trust him to be honest.
"Is that an acceptable thing where you're from?" she asked, smoothing her hair. It had gotten caught on a low hanging branch earlier and probably looked like she'd run through a windstorm. Gwaine's hair looked better than hers, curling nicely around his ears, and she felt even worse.
"And just what are you doing?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm...I'm..." Antoinette looked around for a moment, gathering her thoughts before settling for the truth—not without a forceful tone and a reddened cheek. "Following my brother."
"And is that more acceptable?" he chuckled, still staring at her.
"He's family," she argued, throwing her hands in the air.
"We're friends," Gwaine said, smiling at the confused look on her face. "Or do you disagree? Because sometimes you get quite flustered around me, and I wonder if that will lead to swooning. It has happened before—"
"—I'm not flustered, I'm frustrated," Antoinette corrected with a glare. "And don't pretend like no one's ever told you were frustrating before."
"Never!" Gwaine insisted with a nudge to her shoulder. "Talkative? Perhaps. And an 'annoying' every once and a while, although I prefer lively..."
"You're not quite helping your case," Antoinette said eyeroll, although she couldn't help but chuckle.
"No, but I fulfilled my intention."
"Which was?" Antoinette asked slowly, turning her head to look up at him.
"To get you to laugh," he replied with a smirk.
Antoinette let her gaze fall to her shoes. She was suddenly very aware of how close they were standing. If she still had a father, she expected he would be quite disapproving of the whole situation. She didn't do much like a lady, but she did feel strange at being alone with a man with no one around to watch or listen.
So instead she turned her attention to her original problem and she inched away from Gwaine, even though he smelled like fresh grass and apples, and he made her laugh without her realizing.
"I've lost sight of him," Antoinette said, crouching again to let her eyes move from the small cottages to the dusty roads. She didn't see her brother's cloak or figure anywhere.
"And why is it so bad that he's over here?" Gwaine asked.
Antoinette almost jumped at his voice again, because he'd crouched beside her to look with her line of vision. She breathed in just once before speaking.
"Because he's supposed to be at the blacksmith's. And he looks serious...Tristan doesn't often look serious."
"You don't give him enough credit," Gwaine told her, straightening his spine. "He takes training very seriously."
"And not much else," Antoinette said. "I know his faces. He was serious...and afraid?"
She turned away from town now, back toward the forest. She figured she might as well go the way she'd come.
"Well you can ask him later." Gwaine scratched his neck, frowning.
Antoinette nodded absentmindedly. Tristan was only a year older than her, but she'd always felt responsible for him. He was carefree and fun and it sometimes got him into more trouble than he could handle. Only a year ago, her and Alynor would sit up nights worrying about him staying at the tavern too long. She didn't want him to become a knight almost more than anything, but at least it would make him more responsible, or so she hoped.
Antoinette began walking back, not bothering to try to be quiet now. Her feet squished against old, matted leaves and cracked small broken twigs. She felt Gwaine following her, but for once, he had nothing to say.
They had been walking for a few minutes when she heard a roll of thunder in the sky. She turned her eyes upward as the first drops began to fall.
"Oh perfect," she grumbled, pulling her cloak around her arms.
"Well at least I can skip the bath later," Gwaine said as the droplets clung to his hair.
Antoinette couldn't help but smile, but he couldn't see her as she walked ahead, her pace quickening.
But it didn't matter. They were too far, and the rain was not going to be a quick shower. She felt it start to seep through to the skin under her dress and squish into her shoes.
"Would you like to run?" Gwaine asked as the rain grew harder. The drops sounded against the ground and dripped from the leaves, clinging to her face like liquid freckles. One rolled from her nose to her lips as she smiled.
"Yes please, Sir Gwaine."
He smiled and darted off first, his red cloak flowing behind him. She followed the bright color as the rain made a blurry curtain over the forest. She desperately hoped she wouldn't slip and make a fool of herself.
"Keep up, Ant!" Gwaine called, slowing to reach her.
"You're in better shape than I am!" she protested, her hair sticking to her neck and the sides of her face. She tried to push them away but they clung to skin as much as her now wet dress.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her forward, making her faster, and making her more sure of her footing. She laughed as he pushed the foliage away with his other hand, swinging it like there was an oncoming dragon. His own hair was pasted to his head, and there was water in his beard, but his eyes sparkled anyway.
As they ran, she forgot about her brothers and danger and dead parents and hunger, and felt the trees and the rain around her, and didn't care that it was all seeping into her skin.
Gwaine must have felt the same, because he laughed and shouted things to her the whole way, about plants and skies and rain.
They stopped when they reached her side of town. Antoinette realized the home journey was much quicker, not only because they were running, but simply because Gwaine had a knack of making her feel better when she least expected it.
"Well, there's our exercise for today," Gwaine said, shaking his hair out, breathing heavily. "A lovely day for a good run."
Antoinette didn't bother with her smoothing her hair, or fixing her dress, but just stood there dripping with a strange look on her face.
"How do you do that?" she asked, much more breathless than Gwaine. The air leaving her lips was audible. Gwaine had barely noticed they were running so hard.
"What?" he asked, running a hand through his hair and tucking it behind his ears.
"Always make things seem better than they are," she said, her mouth somewhere between a smile and a frown, which Gwaine didn't know was possible. "I wish I could do that."
Gwaine felt the mood shift, and his voice softened along with it.
"There are different ways to stay sane. I prefer jokes and optimism."
"I thought you just couldn't take things seriously," she said honestly, bowing her head. "But you're just being strong in your own way."
She paused, looking toward her house, which she couldn't see from here. He had to go the other way toward the castle, but he was in no rush. And for once, he didn't feel the need to make a joke or lighten the mood.
"Thank you for walking with me," she said, smiling and nodding at him before starting to walk toward her home. "Or running, I suppose."
Gwaine nodded and bit his lip, watching her for a few moments before she turned back around.
"And Gwaine?"
"Yes?" he asked, holding his breath in his throat.
He watched her smile go from the sarcastic one he usually saw to a genuine, eye brightening one.
"I'm lucky to be your friend."
Thanks for reading! Not much feedback on the last one, so I'm hoping for some more responses to this one! Also thank you so much to those who review and don't have an account so I can't reply personally!