In the Still of the Night
In the still of the night
I held you
Held you tight
'Cause I love
Love you so
Promise I'll never
Let you go
In
the still of the night
Chronology: Tristan is 26. Raja is 16.
It was a cool, breezy morning in mid-July. Raja was taking her morning ride with Odin through the forest. She missed her uncle terribly. He had only left five days ago, but still, her heart was heavy. She missed sharing breakfast with him, him quizzing her on miscellaneous things that he had taught her. The only consolation was Tristan and her brothers. What would she do without them? They had been on patrol since yesterday morning. Woads had amassed, so she wasn’t sure when they would be back. In a few days she would send a missive to them via Horus. Her old black and white feathered friend was always generous enough to carry a message along.
Her reverie was broken when she heard a quiet nicker a short ways away. The breeze carried it towards her, and she heard a keen distress in the horse. Without prompting, Odin trotted in that direction, and they came upon a dirt covered, gray horse whose ribs were showing. She dismounted quickly, approaching the sick animal slowly to show that she meant no harm. She let...him, it was a male, sniff her hand. When she was sure that the horse was comfortable, she stroked its neck softly, the animal moving to nuzzle her. Odin walked closer next to the horse, lending his comfort as well. Raja had a great affinity for all animals, and on some level she could communicate with them. They trusted her, felt safe with her.
“Back away, woman,” a deep, withered voice commanded.
She turned to observe a filthy man in rags. He was tall, with red hair which was probably normally lustrous but it was weighed down with grime. He had a grizzly beard, and a long diagonal scar trailing down his face. He looked in worse shape than his riding companion. The man possessed a rather well made sword, Raja had her dagger and sword. He looked as if he were about to keel over, so Raja felt he posed no threat.
“Back away,” he repeated, stepping closer. He looked at her curiously, this light brown woman with ethereal eyes and the blackest hair he had ever seen.
At his movement, Odin made a sound of warning, ready to protect Raja. Raja said something softly to him in Arabic, and Odin was still but remained on guard. The Egyptian woman was not sure of this man, perhaps he had been abusing the horse? She did not know, but she wasn’t about to just turn over a sickly animal to this person unless she was sure.
“I suppose this horse is in your care?”
“You suppose correctly. You will not harm him.”
Raja couldn’t help but chuckle at that. The idea of her hurting an animal was ludicrous, but seeing this man’s obvious concern, she knew that he was no abuser. “I was not going to take him from you. I was concerned at his poor condition. And I think you can put your sword away, Odin is getting edgy, and I mean you no harm.”
He gave a wheezed laugh. “No...harm,” his voice shook, then he collapsed.
----
The knights sat around the fire, eating the hares that Tristan had caught, savoring the fruits of his labor. Tristan ate his share, then began sharpening his sword, tuning out the conversation of the others. He had been hoping to spend more time with Raja, not wanting to leave her so soon after her uncle departed. A few days ago, Horus had caught up with them with a note from Raja, which eased his discomfiture slightly. She wrote that she was fine, and for Bors, that Vanora, who would be giving birth in a few months, was well, and for a last word: Do not get killed. Ah, but despite all that, thoughts of his Raja were constantly with him.
He stifled his sigh. He knew he shouldn’t worry so much, but how could he not worry about her? It still left him completely befuddled. The last few times he had made love to her gently, yet passionately, quiet tears were always trailing down her cheeks. At first, he thought he had hurt her, but she assured him that he did not. Her tears were a new thing. She never cried when he took her roughly, regrettably leaving bruises on her person. But it was the soft times of their bedding together. He would hold her to his chest, still buried inside of her all through the night. In the mornings, he would awake with his hardness pulsing inside of her sex, begging for release. Unconsciously, her muscles would contract around him, and he had to keep himself from taking her while she slept. But she would groan, saying his name into his neck, he would turn her over and her eyelids would flicker, her arousal waking her. He always pinned her arms above her head, taking her in her semi-conscious state.
“...and then she had the gall to bring Tristan and Raja into it,” Galahad complained. “She said why couldn’t I be more like him!”
Hearing Raja’s name, Tristan’s full attention centered on the conversation he had been missing out on. “What about Raja?” Unintentionally, the fire cast the reflection of flames in Tristan’s eyes, making his question seem more threatening than curious.
“His fault,” Galahad muttered.
The knights laughed. “Galahad’s complaining because his woman wants him to treat her better,” Bors said, patting Galahad on the back.
“What does that have to do with Raja?” Tristan asked.
“Oh, pup here has it in his head that it’s your fault for being so attentive to my dear cousin, that made his wench expect unreasonable things from him,” Lancelot smirked, always there to give Galahad a good ribbing.
Tristan gave a derisive snort, sheathing his sword with a clang.
“Unreasonable being him defending her when a man pats her ass and calls her a wench,” Gawain informed.
“But she is a wench!” Galahad insisted.
“But she’s your wench,” Lancelot pointed out. “So, apparently, law dictates that you should defend her.”
“I’m supposed to smash every man’s face in when he pats her ass? Women are bound to have that done to them in the tavern at night. Besides I only bedded her three times and she thinks we’re engaged!” Galahad’s head was swimming at the ridiculousness of women.
“That’s what you get for bedding a woman who doesn’t consider herself a whore,” Lancelot tsk tsked. “So much to learn. Just dole out the extra coin, don’t be cheap.”
Galahad threw him a dirty look, then a small one to Tristan, but not small enough.
Tristan stared at him right back, eyes expressionless. He gave a lazy shrug, “Not my fault you are too cowardly to stand up to another man.” He stood up, grabbing his bow and quiver, shouldering his sword, and left to scan the area.
“Coward!” Galahad preened at the insult. “Just because I don’t try to kill every man who looks at the woman like him...” he let that trail off. “Coward,” he scoffed under his breath.
“Yes, but Raja is quality,” Lancelot expressed, “and calling her a wench or touching her unwarranted...I pity the man who does that,” he finished good humouredly, with just a subtle hint of threat in his voice, for he did not like anyone doing the like to his cousin either. “Beware of Tristan. I think there should be a sign.”
----
Raja knocked on the door, steadying the tray of food in her hand as she did so. When she heard him, she opened the door, smiling good naturedly.
“How are you?” she asked him.
His name was Kerrigan. He was twenty-four years old. He had been captured by Woads, they having mistaken him for a Saxon, although he was a Briton through and through. He managed to escape, although it was no simple feat. An old battle wound he had on the back of his thigh was a constant impediment for swift, graceful movement. His horse, Angus, had unfortunately suffered along with Kerrigan. The red-headed man was a rogue, living nowhere and everywhere. He spoke briefly about his past, he had lost his wife and child to childbirth only a year ago. He bounced back quickly with Raja’s help. He had gained quite a bit of weight back in the last twelve days, and Angus was doing immensely well, too.
Raja placed the tray over his lap, fluffing his pillow so he could sit up more comfortably.
“I’m doing well,” he replied, thanking her for the breakfast. He couldn’t help his brief glances at the woman who had graciously nursed him back to health. Her personality reminded him of his dear, lost Alexandra. His scars were not hideous in her eyes, his limp a part of him, but not a weakness. Other women had shied away from him, his facial features deterring them, they whispered behind his back. Yes, Raja reminded him of his wife’s accepting, good nature. Kerrigan had barely glanced at a woman since his wife’s death, certain that his heart was dead.
But Raja created a spark inside of him, and he began to hold a genuine, platonic affection towards her. She was a bit young for him. She had told him about her husband Tristan, who was a Sarmatian knight. And after he thought about it, he’d realized that he had met him briefly before, he was under the command of Arthur Castus. They had come to stay at the village he’d resided in with his wife perhaps a mere two years ago. Kerrigan was an ironsmith and a weapons maker, the best for miles and miles, people would often travel to seek his talents. He doubted the knights remembered him, but he certainly remembered them. One of them had propositioned his wife, and Kerrigan had made no secret that Alexandra was his, and if the man so much as looked at her again he would smash his face in. As it turned out, Raja had laughed heartily at this, telling him the man who had approached his wife was surely her cousin, Lancelot.
Raja opened the curtains, letting in rays of sunshine that lit the room. She stoked the fire, then came to sit on a chair next to him.
“Angus misses you,” she told him.
Kerrigan grinned widely. “And I him. He is doing well?”
“Very well,” she assured him. “His appetite has returned, his ribs no longer show, he has his energy back as well. He is a very playful horse. Odin enjoys his company.”
“I’m surprised that Angus even let you near him as he did. He is usually very cautious. His previous owners had abused him.”
“I could tell, those horrible scars on his hide. If you tell me who those people were, I will go and kill him,” she said, half serious.
He gulped down his drink, swallowing his laughter along with it. “Some how, I doubt you are jesting.”
She smirked. “I detest the abuse of any animal.”
“I agree.”
“Well, I think you are well enough to step outside today. You’ve been on bed rest for quite a few days; it’s best you stretch your muscles.”
“Wonderful,” he said, taking the last bite of his bread.
Raja took his tray, then came back with a clean pair of breeches, tunic and socks. She had to help him dress, studiously ignoring his nudity. His limp was a bit pronounced, but over his convalescence she had used heated oil, massaging the damaged leg so it would not cramp up. Angus whinnied excitedly when he saw Kerrigan walk into the stables. Raja introduced him to Jols, Kerrigan thanking him for aiding his horse back to health.
“I’ve walked him around periodically, but I think he might be ready for a light trot now,” Jols told him.
“Would you like to go for a ride then?” Raja asked Kerrigan.
Jols brought Kerrigan what looked to be a brand-new, custom made saddle, along with all the other necessities that were needed for Angus. It looked expensive. Kerrigan thought it was for Odin, but he turned to see Raja saddling her riding companion with his own incomparable accouterments.
Raja noticed his flustered state. “It’s for Angus.”
“I can’t possibly accept this,” Kerrigan refused as politely as he could.
Raja stifled a sigh, pursing her lips. “Well, accept it for Angus then.”
“It would take me ages to pay you back,” he declined again.
Raja spewed a litany of profane words in Arabic. Kerrigan understood none of it. But Jols, knowing her reaction when people refused simple gifts, gave Kerrigan a sympathetic shake of his head, backing away so as not to call attention to himself.
“I will never understand what it is with people and money. It is not difficult. Angus needs these things, and it is also more comfortable for you. If it helps, pretend that it fell from the sky.” She finished readying Odin. “Well? Stop staring and saddle Angus.”
Kerrigan did so, not wanting to feel the lash of her tongue again. He had been fending for himself for so long that his pride kept him from accepting such lavish gifts. Raja was obviously wealthy, but he wondered how, as she was married to a knight.
“Thank you,” he said, “you’ve done very much for both Angus and I that I am forever in your debt.”
They mounted the horses, trotting out of the stables and into fresh air, leaving the fort behind. They rode in silence for a time, Kerrigan enjoying the blue skies, and the lush vegetation that surrounded him. It was nice here, and he had the fleeting thought of staying for some time. It was what he usually did. He found a job, earned some money and went along his way. The notion left his mind as quick as it had come. He couldn’t bear forming any attachments.
They came upon a clearing, a creek with clear water just in front of them. They dismounted, letting the horses graze and take sustenance from the water. Kerrigan and Raja drank from their hands, sitting in the shade after they had quenched their thirst.
“How’s your leg?” Raja asked.
Kerrigan gave it a few test stretches. “Seems good for the moment. Thank you.”
“If it becomes worse there is a much better masseuse that works in the bath house. She can do wonders with her hands. I’ve only had partial training. Her name is Karina.”
Kerrigan nodded. No more words were spoken, they simply enjoyed the breeze wafting over them. After a time, Kerrigan felt something too still next to him. He had had his eyes closed, but they snapped open, falling on Raja. She had a distant look in her eyes, pupils dilated. She had lost some of the color in her face, staring at something in the distance.
“Raja?” He scooted a bit closer to her. He lightly touched her shoulder. “Raja?”
At the small physical connection, Raja nearly came out of her skin, swiping at his hand. Gradually, she came to her senses, Odin had trotted worriedly near, nuzzling her head. She blinked a few times, Kerrigan coming into focus. She said something softly to Odin in her language, and he trotted away.
“Are you all right?” Kerrigan asked. “Maybe we should go back.”
“No, no,” she insisted. “I’m fine really. I just became lost for a moment. I didn’t hit you too hard, did I?”
He chuckled, some of his ease abating seeing the color coming back to her face. “Not at all.”
“I apologize. I just drifted off. But perhaps we should head back. We’ve been out longer than I thought.”
She stood up, but when he tried to a tight pain shot through his damaged leg. The muscles cramped, draining the color from his face from the searing agony. He bit his lip, hissing obscenities. Raja immediately kneeled down in front of him, propping him up against a tree.
“Can you stretch it at all?” She put her hands under his thigh, the tendons constricted, the torn muscles cramping.
He tried to extend his leg, which only caused him more pain. The Egyptian woman began kneading his muscles firmly, coaxing his leg to extend bit by bit. Kerrigan could finally stop clenching his teeth, allowing his discomfort to be soothed by Raja’s capable hands. Minutes went by, Horus’s caw breaking through the silence. Odin and Angus nickered, Penelo’s caw adding to the cacophony of animal noise.
“Raja?”
Raja looked to see Tristan standing only a few paces away next to Dyne, with a ferocious look on his face. No doubt she and Kerrigan looked less than casual, her soft hands on him firmly, his leg between her thighs.
“Tristan,” Raja smiled widely, ignoring Tristan’s expression. “You came back early!” At Kerrigan’s movement to extricate himself from her, Raja stood up, meeting Tristan halfway.
The scout’s remonstrations were halted by his Raja’s arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him close. He closed his eyes for a moment, wrapping his strong arms around her waist, holding her tightly to him. He buried his face in her neck, breathing her in. His good feelings were interrupted by a sound of a horse he didn’t know. Tristan’s eyes shot open, instantly colliding with the bright blue of the man Raja had been with.
“Tristan, this is Kerrigan,” Raja said. “Kerrigan, this is my husband Tristan.”
Kerrigan smiled, trying to diffuse the apparent fury that the harried man was trying to hold back. He limped towards him, Angus by his side.
“Good to meet you, finally,” Kerrigan held out his hand, “Raja’s told me all about you.”
When Tristan hesitated to take his hand, Raja poked him in the ribs through his hauberk. Throwing her a quick, reprimanding glance, he took Kerrigan’s outstretched hand for a brief handshake. He pulled Raja closer to him, arm held possessively around her waist.
“I suppose now would be a nice time to head back,” Raja declared, determined to break the tension. “It is almost lunch time.”
The men nodded, mounting their horses. Tristan did not fail to notice the concerned look on Raja’s face when Kerrigan winced as he saddled himself. How close had they gotten while he was gone? He had arrived at the fort, when he went to their room, Raja was not there. He asked Vanora, and she told him about Kerrigan. Jols told them that they went for a ride. Tristan had almost strangled Jols, letting Raja leave with a man she hardly knew. But he restrained himself; it was not Jols’s responsibility to take care of Raja. He immediately went to find her, Horus and Penelo leading the way. And imagine what he comes across, Raja with her hands intimately caressing another man’s person.
The three of them rode back in silence, Tristan taking sharp side glances at the red-headed man. When they entered the stables, Tristan insisted that Raja leave Odin in the care of Jols this once. Kerrigan stayed with Angus, assuring Raja that he felt fine, he would tend to his horse, perhaps get better acquainted with Jols.
When Tristan and Raja entered their room, she stopped him from making any asinine comments.
“Before you say anything, think carefully before you make any ridiculous accusations,” she warned him. “Your jealousy is entirely misdirected.”
He pursed his lips, knowing she was right, but when it came to her he wasn’t entirely in control of his good senses. “Maybe,” he chose his words carefully, biting down his agitation, “you did not quite see the position you were in with him when I happened upon you.”
“He had an old battle wound that still bothers him. It cramped up, and it takes careful massaging to loosen it.”
“This isn’t the first time you’ve touched him like that? There are professionals for that. What’s that woman’s name that works in the bath house?”
Raja threw her hands up in frustration. “I was helping him is all. And Karina,” she stressed her name, “was not with us just then, or did you not notice?”
“Don’t sass me, woman.”
“Then do not throw around foolish notions,” she retorted.
He snorted. He turned from her, ridding himself of his sword which he placed on the table and his heavy hauberk. He knew he was being unreasonable, but two weeks without her...Nevertheless, she approached him, touching her lips lightly to his. The kiss was not enough, his tongue broke through the barrier of her mouth, their tongues dancing together. How long they stayed locked together was unknown, but suddenly, she pushed away from him, her nose scrunched up in disgust.
“Ugh! I cannot believe I didn’t smell it before.” She stepped away from him.
“What?”
“Dead animals.” Ever since they were younger, she somehow could smell a successful hunt on him, and she would never go near him until he washed the scent away. The blood of a battle never bothered her, but an animal? Out of the question.
“Now who is being unreasonable?” he teased, stepping towards her.
She put her hand up to stop him. “Absolutely not.” She took his appearance in more closely. His beard had grown to a point that she could have braided it. His hair was tangled beyond measure, and no doubt caked with dirt. But still, he was the most handsome man she had ever seen.
They went to the private bath, she helped him rid himself of his clothes, although he could have done it himself. It was simply an intimate action they had fallen into. Raja tossed his sodden clothes into the corner, draping the clean ones she always made sure were handy over the bench. She poured some soothing oils into the water, assuring Tristan that they were not scented.
It was not until he immersed himself into the water that every sore muscle cried out for aid. She knelt behind him, unbraiding his hair. He dunked himself under the hot water, and as he languished in its healing properties she uprooted the grime from his brown locks, gently untangling it. She washed it three times to be sure. Raja bathed his body, seeing the bruises that he had acquired while he was away. Blisters covered his feet, she clipped both his nails and toenails, taking the dirt from underneath both. Tristan washed his beard, scrubbing his face numerous times. He almost fell asleep when Raja washed his back, her soft hands running up and down him.
After, he sat nude on a chair with his feet soaking in almost scalding water as she trimmed his beard, leaving his jagged locks as they were. She massaged the tension from his shoulders with hot cream, and his already semi-hard penis came fully erect. Without any words, he pulled her by the wrist to face him, and he knew she was ready for him as well. His member throbbed with anticipation as she gracefully shed her clothes, standing like a goddess in front of him. She straddled him, not yet impaling herself upon his wanting. His phallus was locked between them as they kissed deeply, his hands cupping her buttocks, running up and down her back, feeling her breasts, thumbing her taut nipples into beads of hard pleasure.
“Now, Raja,” his was a husky growl. He held her by the hips, raising her up, she slowly, agonizingly, slid down so her hot, wet folds encompassed his penis. He almost came then and there, but he held himself back, reveling in the feel of being inside her haven.
Gently, she rocked her hips, her fingers tangling in his hair as his own kneaded her luscious flesh. He moaned hot air into her neck, growls of ecstasy rising from the pit of his being. She rose and fell around him, wrapping her arms around him to anchor herself so that she may grind deeper. She arched her back, a moan escaping her lips when he began to suckle her nipples, grasping her breast in one large hand, squeezing, kneading, taking more of her pungent flesh into his mouth. Raja’s neck bent back, thrusting forward, urging him to suck harder while she continued to ride him. When he could take no more, he grasped her hips, setting the pace to a feverous motion. Together they came, sparks of lightning exploding inside of them, they panted as they floated back down from the peaks of their love making.
Raja waited until the feeling came back into her legs before she pulled herself away from him, instantly feeling bereft when she was empty of him. His seed trickled down her leg, and while he removed his feet from the now lukewarm water, she cleaned her person with a wet cloth, joining him on the bed. She rubbed soothing cream on his feet before wrapping them in clean, crisp cloths.
“Come here next to me,” he ordered yearningly.
She pulled back the blankets, covering them, she placed her head on the crook of his shoulder, cautious of his bruises.
“How many, Trissy?” she asked, softly caressing the bruises on his torso.
“Five,” he told her, nibbling on her fingertips.
“Everyone is okay?”
“They are as bruised up as me from the attacks, but nothing serious,” he promised her. “How were you, Raja?” He felt the movement of her jaw, curling into a small smile.
“Just fine.” She looked up at him, not able to keep from touching his face, his sharp cheeks, the bridge of his nose, running her fingers down to his neck, lingering for a moment in the indentation between his collar bone.
A deep purr rumbled inside of him at her touch. He took her hand again, bringing it to his lips. He still did not know what he had done to deserve a woman such as her. She treated him like royalty, making sure he had clean clothes, mending them when they became too tattered, the way she paid attention to every sore, cut, bruise when he arrived from even a short day’s patrol. How many women would so unselfishly attend to their man with such care?
“Thank you, Raja.” And he meant it, she was never to be taken for granted.
She grinned. “Well, someone has to make sure you don’t go around smelling of dead animals.”
Tristan laughed, sending a vibration through Raja’s body. He situated his body so that she lay on her back, his head was propped up by his hand, his other now stroking her face, taking her in. So delicate, so fair, so small compared to him. She stole his breath with every look, sent fire raging through him at her every touch.
His thoughts roamed in the silent room. Words came unbidden from his mouth, “How did you come upon that man?”
She smirked. Despite everything, she knew he would ask at some point. “I was taking my morning ride, it was the day after you left. I happened upon Angus, his horse, he was very sickly. Kerrigan came up from behind-” Tristan tensed. “-thinking that I was going to steal Angus. He was in an awful state as well. The Woads mistook him for a Saxon, but he managed to escape. He collapsed, and I took him back here. He healed faster than I thought he would.”
“Hmm.” That was his only reply. “Is he staying?”
“I’m not sure. I got the impression that he just travels around, not staying in one place too long. His wife died, along with his child a year ago. I suppose that is a logical reason to want to leave the town where she died. Do you remember him?”
“Why should I?”
“Two years ago, you men stayed at the town he lived in. Lancelot tried to woo his wife, and Kerrigan threatened bodily harm if he tried to touch her again. He remembers all of you.”
A rueful ‘hmmph’ came from Tristan. “I don’t remember him. I believe that was the year you were gone, I would not have paid too much attention to anything but my duties.”
“He is probably as lonely as you were.”
Tristan knew she felt genuine sympathy for the man. Injured people, emotionally or physically seemed to drift to her, and she could do nothing but aid them. He certainly did not envy the man’s situation. He’d be in hell without Raja.
“I want you to be nice to him,” Raja stressed. “None of your territorial pissings.”
He puffed in wry amusement. “You said yourself, he is a lonely man. And if there is one thing you are ever ignorant of, it is the effect you have on males.”
“What does that mean? I never encourage any man.”
“Not intentionally. But unless you are paying attention, you never notice the looks on their faces. They undress you with their eyes, and as a man, I know the thoughts that are running around in their heads. Do you blame me for wanting to protect you?”
“No, but I can also protect myself,” she reminded him. She sat up on her side so she could look at him. “You worry about me too much.”
He turned his head away, then back to her. “I just don’t want anyone to hurt you again, Raja. All right?” He looked into her eyes. How would she handle it if she were even so much as beat up by another man? He did not want her to feel compelled to hide another vial of poison from him.
Raja understood him. Perhaps he was more afraid of it happening than she was. “All right, Tristan. But Kerrigan is not going to hurt me. I am a good judge of character, if I thought he was a danger to me, I would never have gone off with him by myself. I may be oblivious to how men stare at me, but I am not stupid.”
He grudgingly accepted that. He would deal with it as it came. He was a
natural possessive man, protective of her, had been since she was a child. That
would never change. It was well past
----
The July sun beat on Kerrigan, he felt hot and sticky from the stable’s heat. He walked around the village, just looking around. He stopped in front of smithy, deciding to take a look, he could not deny he missed the process of weapon making.
“Kerrigan?”
An old man’s voice floated towards him. Vaguely familiar. He took the white haired man in, his leathered face clearer. “Samuel?”
Samuel laughed. “You remember me.” He shook Kerrigan’s hand, giving him a tight hug. “It’s been years since I’ve seen you, lad. I heard...about Alexandra, I’m sorry.”
Kerrigan nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. Samuel had been a friend of his father’s, they had a partnership long ago until he died. “How have you been?” Kerrigan changed the subject.
“Not much to complain about for an old man. Business has been good, lived here for six years now.”
“You were always one of the best,” Kerrigan complimented.
“Ah,” Samuel smiled modestly. “I’m thinking about hanging it all up soon though, this arthritis is slowing me down. Say, how long are you staying?”
“Not long.” He briefly told him about how he came to stay here.
“Ah, of course Raja would pick up a sick man!” He laughed.
“You know her?”
“Of course! Her uncle and she came from
“Where is he now?”
“He went back to
“No, no,” Kerrigan insisted.
An almost comical look of relief donned on the old man’s face. “Good, that’s good.” He patted Kerrigan on the shoulder. “Maybe you should rethink your short visit here. I could use an assistant, and like I said, I’m getting on in my years.”
The idea of his offer was tempting, but then he came back to reality.
“Just think about it,” Samuel said, seeing the indecision on his face. “Hmm?”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Kerrigan told him.
They said their goodbyes, the young man needing to bathe and rest, he felt his leg cramping again. After his bath, the pain shot through him again, crippling him. He tried to loosen it himself, but it only seemed to get worse. He sat naked against the wall, white with pain.
“Oh, my,” a woman’s surprised voice sounded in the empty room. “I...” she looked back, whipping her head back around, “uh...sorry, I didn’t now anyone was in here.”
He tried to say something, but the agony in his leg made it impossible to speak, let alone care about being nude in front of a strange woman.
She heard his wheeze of pain, peeking again, making sure not to look at his lack of clothes. “One moment.” She left and came back with a towel, turning her head so he could drape it over his privates. “Ah, very well, then.” She kneeled in front of him, taking charge as masseuse. She recognized the pain the injury was causing him as she had in many men over the years.
Kerrigan continued to clench his teeth as she rubbed hot oil onto his leg, massaging it deftly. Slowly, the tension abated, but not fully.
“Try stretching it just a bit,” she ordered. As he did so, she used her fingertips to knead more firmly.
He took in the sight of her. Light brown hair, almond shaped eyes the color of dark brown. Kerrigan felt a less than platonic flutter beneath the towel that covered him, which surprised him, he had felt nothing in his nether regions since Alexandra. The woman’s lips were full, complexion flawless. Her blue dress hugged her curves. He struggled to maintain the hardness he was feeling. His leg was between hers, he could feel her thighs against his calf as she massaged his leg back to life.
She must have felt his intense stare, because she looked up at him suddenly, captured by his blue eyes.
“What is your name?” Kerrigan asked.
“Karina.”
“Karina,” he repeated. “Oh, Raja told me about you.” Does she know everyone around here?
She smirked. “And you are Kerrigan.”
His eyebrows shot up.
“Raja told me about your injury,” she explained. Karina felt a distinct thump in the pit of her stomach. An attraction of the likes she thought herself incapable of feeling for any man other than her deceased husband of two years. Gods, how she missed him terribly. She had avoided companionship with men since then, despite the advice from a couple of friends that she should not isolate herself so. But they did not understand the agony of losing someone so dear. Yet, now, here she was, kneeling in front of a scantily clad male who was looking at her with piercing eyes. “Can you stretch it a bit more now?”
He tested it out, the tautness of the muscle was eased. “That is much better. I thought I was going to have to sit here all day. I am glad you came in when you did.”
She laughed, it lit up her face, hypnotizing Kerrigan all the more. When her back turned, he managed to redress himself, slipping on his boots. He realized the sun was setting, baffling him as he could have sworn it hadn’t been so late when he walked in here. He supposed he lost track of time with Karina.
They walked together out of the bath house, stepping out into the early evening’s sun. He sighed, knowing they had to part ways now.
“Thank you again for your help.”
“It’s what I do,” Karina smiled at him, also feeling the regret of having to go their separate ways.
They stood looking at each other, unaware of the passersby.
“Perhaps you would like to take a walk?” Kerrigan blurted.
“I would like that.”
----
Over the next few days, Kerrigan and Karina spent as much time together as they could when she was not working her brief evening shifts in the tavern as she did twice a week, or working in the bath house. Karina thought the scar on his face allowed him a certain charm, and he was pleased that she was not discomfited by it. They were at ease enough to speak haltingly about their deceased loved ones. In each other, they found a mutual understanding and compassion for their shared ordeals.
Raja was glad for the two of them. And Tristan was glad that Kerrigan had some other woman to take care of his ills. The two men found each other alone in the stables one evening, tending to their horses. They were both well aware of the other’s presence, but they said nothing. It was only when Odin came sniffing around Kerrigan’s person for apples, as he did everyone, that Tristan had to speak up. Odin’s forays had Kerrigan being nudged around.
“Odin,” Tristan said the horse’s name, repeating something in Arabic after that. The scout procured an apple, splitting it in half for Odin and Dyne.
“Does he have a stable?” Kerrigan asked.
“He does,” Tristan replied, he motioned with his head, “but Raja never closes it behind him. He sleeps on his bed.” Tristan gestured with his head again to a bed of nettles and hay that Raja kept in good condition for Odin.
Kerrigan chuckled, never knowing anyone who spoiled a horse so badly. The men finished caring for their animals at the same time, not quite knowing what to say or do. They thought they would end up in different directions, but they both had it in mind to go to the tavern, so they were near each other for longer than anticipated.
Tristan entered the tavern before Kerrigan, heading over to Raja who was sitting with Lancelot and the other knights. He sat down next to her, kissing her on the cheek. Kerrigan sat down across from them, a spark igniting in him when Karina came to their table to fill their cups.
“Are you staying then?” Raja asked, seeing the way Kerrigan was looking at Karina as she walked away.
Kerrigan rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know.”
“But you have reason to stay,” Raja went on. “Samuel needs you.”
“I was thinking about it,” he replied. “I suppose I could stay for a bit, see how things work out.” His eyes caught Karina’s again. He was distracted by a loud slap nearby.
“Good for nothing bastard!” A blonde woman stood in front of a young man.
Raja turned to see Galahad holding his hand against his cheek, looking agitated at the woman’s behavior.
“What was that for?” Galahad rubbed his cheek.
“What was that for?” The woman’s face was turning red. “That man groped me, and you can’t even say anything!”
“Gods, woman,” Galahad groaned, rolling his eyes, “am I really supposed to defend you against every man who touches you? You work here, it happens all the time!” He looked towards his friends, wanting them to back him up. They wisely chose to stay silent.
She threw a stray cup of ale in his face. “Even he stands up for his woman,” she pointed a hard finger in Tristan’s direction, “when a man so much as whispers something about her.”
Raja raised her eyebrows at this, looking at Tristan. He shrugged lazily, casually sipping his drink.
“Why can’t you be more like him!?” the woman shrilled.
He wiped his face with his sleeve. “Him?” Galahad retorted incredulously, looking at Tristan with disbelief.
“You are useless!” She slapped him again before stalking off.
Lancelot laughed the loudest as Galahad stormed out of the tavern.
“The women love you,” Raja said into his ear.
“Flattered,” Tristan replied dryly.
Kerrigan had enjoyed the scene, although he agreed with the woman. He hated to see a woman mistreated for any reason. Tristan and he had more in common than they knew. They were both protective and possessive of the women they loved.
“Don’t touch me!” Karina snapped.
Kerrigan heard her agitation, setting his eyes on a man with his arms tightly around her waist, holding her to his lap as she tried to struggle away from him. That protective nature of Kerrigan’s flared up, disliking the man touching her. He walked to them, not letting his limp deter him.
“Let her up,” he demanded, blue eyes hard, unforgiving.
The man scoffed, releasing Karina. He stood up, brushing his hands down his Roman garb. Kerrigan stood half a head over him.
“Perhaps you should direct your attentions elsewhere from now on.” Kerrigan stood like a stone wall between the man and Karina.
“Why should I let a cripple dictate my actions?” He looked condescendingly at the red-headed man.
“Because this cripple,” Kerrigan’s voice was a lethal growl, “could cut your throat before you could blink.” He touched the hilt of his sword. “That is...if you ever touch her again.”
“Whatever,” the man spat, “the wench ain’t worth it anyway.”
Before he could sit down, Kerrigan’s large fist collided with the man’s face. “Never call her that again.” He led Karina out of the tavern.
“Oh, hell,” Lancelot complained, “we have another Tristan on the premises!”
The scout shot him a look.
----
Tristan carried Raja back to their room. Simply because he could, so he could feel the weight of her in his arms. Tonight, he wanted to be gentle. He set her on the edge of bed, kneeling in front of her. He slipped off her shoes, then ran his hands up her calves, up her thighs. He slipped her skirt down her legs, letting his fingertips trail down her skin. She gasped as he nibbled and kissed her inner thighs, getting closer to her heat. A loud moan escaped her when he inserted a finger inside of her, then two. He coaxed her, attending to her clitoris until she came. He licked her juices off of his fingers, replacing them with his tongue.
“Tristan,” she whimpered.
“Not yet.” He denied her for a bit longer. “I could live off of you,” he said, going back to drinking her sweet nectar.
How many times she climaxed, he did not know. She sat up on the bed, still quivering from her multiple releases. Tristan shed his upper garments, revealing his toned muscles. Her tongue swirled over his abdomen as she unlaced his breeches, pulling them down to his ankles before he kicked them off. She massaged his aching penis, licking off the bead of wetness from the tip of his phallus.
His jaw clenched, his growls rumbling deep inside of him. His fingers tangled in her hair as she took him in her mouth, painfully, he pulled back.
“Not yet,” he repeated.
----
Kerrigan and Karina lay together on her bed, holding each other in the darkness, listening to the crackling of the fire. For the first time since her husband died, she felt safe. She had wanted to cry when Kerrigan had come to her aid, even though that had not been the first time she’d been harassed. They held onto each other tightly, comforted in knowing that they felt alive in each other’s arms.
----
Tristan made love to Raja gently, coming together strongly, seeing white specks before their eyes. He kissed her tears away, telling her he loved her.
“Stay inside me, Trissy,” she whispered. “No one else can be, ever, when you are. Even in my sleep.”
With those words, understanding came to him. Was it possible to love her any more than he already did? With those words, he now understood why she cried.
The stars were bright above
I'll hope and I'll pray
To keep your precious love
Well before the light
Hold me again
With all of your might
In the still of the night
-Five Satins