We’re in this Together
You and me
we're in this together now,
none of them can stop us now
We will make it through somehow,
If the world should break in two,
until the very end of me,
until the very end of you
Chronology: Tristan is 26. Raja is 16.
Raja and Tristan sparred as the others looked on. Already twenty minutes and neither of them had yet to best the other. They were quick, precise, tactical, but had different fighting styles. The majority of Raja’s training had been taught by her Uncle Ardeth, who had learned his skills in combat from a plethora of different countries. For the most part, Raja only sparred with men, so naturally, she was at a disadvantage as she lacked the brawn. She made up for it in speed, springing like a cat, using her legs to make up for her lack of upper body strength. She was not easily beaten, with her sword she was less than helpless.
The two of them used their swords, iron clanging against iron, the sun reflecting off of the shined blades as they danced around each other, making it as if they were fighting with each other and not against one another.
“Is this going to take all day?” Galahad called out from the sidelines.
Turned out it wasn’t, just as Galahad had called out, Tristan’s and Raja’s swords locked together in another stalemate. A hidden smirk passed between the two of them as they detached their blades, walking side by side to where the other men stood.
“Come on, Galahad.” Gawain headed towards the clearing. “Time for your ass to get handed to you.”
The younger knight snorted, constantly the butt of all jokes, as he followed Gawain.
Raja practically chugged down the soothing water from her flask, eager to quench her terrible thirst. When the flask was empty, she took deep breaths, and then noticed the odd looks her friends were giving her. “What?”
“You’re not supposed to inhale it,” Lancelot commented.
She couldn’t think of any witty comebacks, too exhausted to even try. Raja only rolled her eyes and said she was going to lie down.
When she was out of earshot, Dagonet asked Tristan, “Is she all right? She’s not usually that winded after sparring.”
Tristan watched Raja’s back as she departed to the fort. “More tired than usual,” he replied.
----
Raja had been more tired lately, she had felt like a lump the last several times she had slept late into the day. Now, she languished in the warm water, trying to keep herself from falling asleep. Since when did sword practice make her this achy? She quickly washed her hair and got out of the tub. Despite it only being around the third hour of the day, when she entered her room she threw one of Tristan’s tunics on that was lying around and pulled the covers over her head. She was asleep before her eyes even completely shut.
Shortly after Raja had fallen asleep, Tristan entered their bedroom, still sweaty and dirty from sparring. He was surprised to find Raja napping, she rarely did that, usually she would find something to do to keep her awake. He leaned over her, placing a kiss on her temple, smiling at her wearing one of his tunics that swallowed her. He liked it when she did that, his clothes came away smelling of her.
After Tristan had bathed, Raja still had not awakened. She did not wake up for the rest of the day or evening, so when the sun set, Tristan crawled into bed next to her, and pulled her close.
----
He wakened to a still unconscious Raja in his arms. He kissed the curve of her shoulder, causing her to stir with a faint moan. She rolled over, facing him with sleepy eyes and a tired, but affectionate morning smile.
She mumbled, “How long have I been asleep?”
Tristan smiled at her, the longer she slept the more difficult it was for her to mark the time. “You fell asleep after sparring yesterday, and now it’s the next morning.” He kissed her softly on the lips to silence her protests.
“You should have woke me up.”
“Hmm, you know I never do that unless I have to.”
“I know I shouldn’t go back to sleep but my muscles ache and I can barely keep my eyes open.” She said all this in murmurs, struggling to keep her eyes open.
Raja didn’t catch his look of concern. He stroked her cheek, feeling for a temperature, but her skin was cool to the touch. He said nothing as he watched her gradually drift back into a deep slumber. Her health had been fine for months now, no fevers, or coughing or fainting spells. Her appetite was fine, Tristan knew, she had simply been tired as of late. After an hour of just laying next to her, he got up and splashed cold water on his face from the wash bowl, got dressed, and with one quick check on Raja he headed towards the tavern.
It was quiet this morning and you could hear the shuffling of feet from the serving ladies. He took a seat with Bors and Dagonet, ordering his bread, meat and cheese. Bors was holding his three weeks old child – his and Vanora’s fourth. Children had always made him somewhat uncomfortable, well, except for Raja when she had been kid.
“Where’s Raja?” Bors asked.
“Sleeping,” Tristan replied between a bite of meat.
“She’s been sleeping a lot lately,” Dagonet commented with concern.
Just then, Thea, a friend of Vanora’s came to the table, relieving Bors of the child. She took a seat next to him, cooing and making cutes faces at the baby. She had just heard Dagonet’s last words, which she rolled her eyes to.
“She was sparring yesterday, of course she’s tired,” Bors said as if it were completely obvious.
“Sparring?” Vanora placed Bors’s food on the table. Her and Thea exchanged a look.
“Men!” Thea uttered impatiently. Thea was a good woman, good hearted, but she was nosy and had a habit of offering unsolicited advice. “She should not be sparring in her condition.” She gave Tristan a reprimanding look, clicking her tongue in deprecation.
Vanora shushed Thea, giving her a stern look as she bent down to retrieve her child. Thea loved children and was always agreeable when it came to babysitting. At forty-three, she had no children of her own, and her husband was deceased.
“Condition?” Tristan’s stare aimed at Thea unwaveringly.
She was unintimidated by the grungy man’s countenance. She was practically an old woman, plus, he was Raja’s husband, he certainly was not going to hurt her. Thea and Vanora exchanged another look, but Thea’s was one of bafflement at Tristan’s ignorance.
“You men are so completely oblivious to what is going on with your woman’s bodies.” She tsked again.
“What’s she babbling about, Nora?” Bors grumbled.
Thea threw her hands up in frustration, looking at Tristan as if he were the biggest dope on the planet.
“Thea,” Vanora hissed at her.
“She’s in the family way. A little over three months, I’d wager.” Thea informed Tristan, ignoring Vanora’s insistence that she keep her mouth shut.
The three men at the table were rendered silent.
Bors spoke before anyone else. “What the hell makes you sure?”
“I have been delivering babies around here for near fifteen years, I know a pregnant woman when I see one. Really now!” she scoffed. Thea stood up from the table. “I expected more from you, young man,” Thea reprimanded Tristan before excusing herself. She knew that Tristan, despite his outward stoicism, was one of the most attentive, caring husbands she had ever met. She would never tell him that of course, wouldn’t want to ruin the man’s reputation.
Dagonet cleared his throat.
“Did you know?” Bors asked Vanora.
Vanora looked sideways, then down at her baby. If Vanora knew, then it had to be true about Raja’s pregnancy.
“Well, congratulations!” Bors patted Tristan on the back heartily, grinning from ear to ear.
“Why the congratulations?” Lancelot’s inquisitive entered the conversation.
Tristan shot Bors a deadly look, which the man ignored in his excitement.
“Tristan here is going to be a father!” Bors announced.
Vanora shushed him, completely agreeing with Thea about her assessment of men’s ignorance. “Bors, I think you should take the baby for a nap.” She placed the baby in his arms. “Go on, now.” She shooed him away.
“A father?” Lancelot’s eyes popped.
Tristan rose abruptly from his seat, the chair scraping against the floor. He didn’t look angry, but he sure as hell didn’t look pleased either. He walked out of the tavern without a word, without a glance at anyone.
“You oaf!” Vanora slapped Bors upside the head.
“What’d I do?”
“Can’t keep your mouth shut for a moment, can you?” Vanora hissed.
Bors’s mouth hung open in bafflement. Vanora took the baby from his arms, even though she had just told Bors to take the small boy for a nap. She pivoted sharply, sniffling in disdain as she left the tavern, nearly knocking Galahad down, Gawain following.
“What’d we miss?” Galahad asked, observing the myriad of expressions that ranged from surprise to confused on the men’s faces. “Did someone die?”
----
FIVE MONTHS AGO...
Tristan knocked on Ardeth’s partially opened door to his study.
“Come in,” Ardeth said.
Tristan opened the door, knowing from the expression on the Egyptian’s face that this talk he had wanted with the scout was one of importance. He gestured Tristan to sit, not speaking for a moment as he regarded Tristan in silence. To Tristan’s surprise, the man rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb in what appeared to be concerned fatigue of some kind. He sighed, placing his entwined fingers on his desk, his dark eyes meeting Tristan’s without flickering.
“I was hoping,” Ardeth broke through the silence, “that I would not have to have this discussion so soon. But,” he spread his hands in resignation before assuming their original position, “here we are. This is rather difficult for me to say, and I deliberated carefully as to whether I should interfere by broaching this subject with you. I will be straightforward about this for this is not a matter to be taken lightly. Now that you and Raja have engaged in a physical relationship” –Tristan could not help but be slightly taken aback at the man’s words – “it is imperative that you understand the consequences of the situation.
You know that Raja has had struggles with her health since she was a child. A fever swept through the village when she was but a year old, and regretfully she contracted the affliction, though her mother and father did not. Needless to say, she almost died, but recovered in a sense, as she has had a shadow over her heart to this day. Raja is certainly more fragile than she would ever like to admit, and the fact of the matter is her body is strained enough trying to keep her aloft, and it would be pushed to the limit to try to sustain her and a child.”
Tristan’s eyes came alight. “Is she-”
“No,” Ardeth shook his head, “perhaps I worded that wrongly. I am saying
that if in the event that she were to become pregnant, it would be extremely
dangerous. Of course, the chances of her conceiving are low, yes, but it is
still possible. Her womb is also scarred” – Tristan knew this, from being
stabbed in
Tristan swallowed a jagged lump in his throat, taking all of this in. His blood could not help but run cold, his heart from thumping wildly beneath the chest that Raja had so sensually caressed earlier this morning. He was speechless, and could only look at Ardeth dumbfounded. The Egyptian waited patiently for Tristan to absorb everything he had just been told. He felt an infinite amount of sympathy for him, especially if a pregnancy should come to pass, and the decision the young lovers would have to make – abort the child, or risk Raja’s life. Ardeth had a good idea which option Tristan would take.
“What would we do if she did conceive?” By then, he had gathered all his wits, the protective instincts he had always harbored for Raja flaring up.
“You have two options. The both of you could decide to go ahead with the pregnancy-”
Tristan’s eyes flashed. “That is not an option.”
Ardeth ignored Tristan’s hostile tone, understanding the position he was in.
“I mean,” Tristan calmed his voice, “what would I do to cease the pregnancy. I know there are herbs to accomplish that.”
Ardeth nodded and sighed. He opened his desk drawer, placing a small half-filled bottle of pale yellow liquid, and another bottle full of pale blue liquid on the top of the desk. He pointed to the full bottle. “This is to slow the bleeding, it can be taken plain or mixed with something else, preferably tea. Just half will do, use the rest if you need it. This one,” he referred to the pale yellow, “is to induce the miscarriage. It can also be taken plain or mixed.”
Tristan nodded, memorizing every direction.
“Tristan, this is a decision for the both of you,” Ardeth repeated.
He set his mouth in a hard line, shaking his head resolutely. “I will not let her sacrifice her life, even for a baby.”
Ardeth looked at Tristan, compassionate and understanding. “I admire your absolution. I wish I had had your resolve twenty-one years ago.”
Tristan’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
Ardeth chuckled lightly; then turned serious. “Yes, I had a wife once, Inara. I would have given her anything, denied her nothing, not even a child. She miscarried three times, the blood loss just weakened her.” Ardeth sighed, remembering. “She was determined though, despite the opposition from learned physicians, including myself. I should not have obliged her that one wish. But because I did, I lost my wife...and child. That is the only regret I live with to this day.” Sorrow filled his eyes. “You and Raja deserve a long life together, Tristan, without regrets.”
----
Tristan sat against the large oak tree at his and Raja’s place in the forest. The waterfall fell from the rocks into the clear water of the lake, sprinkling rainbows. Ardeth’s words played repeatedly in his mind. He remembered every word, and the declaration he had made which had never wavered. He had put the thought of it in the back of his mind, hoping that what he and Ardeth had discussed would never come to pass.
Could Thea be wrong? Almost four months? Tristan had noticed Raja’s slight increase in weight. He knew her body better than she did, as she with his. He could always tell when she had lost or gained weight, even the slightest ounce, or visible to anyone who looked. He felt the rise and fall of body temperature, every scar, every bruise, if she were the tiniest bit pale. He had not connected her weight gain to pregnancy.
Tristan wanted to scream. Instead he shot to his feet, punching the trunk of the tree with rage – rage that once again, pain would pull Raja down a dark path. He did not care for himself, he knew for sure that he could take this, and as long as he had her, he would be all right. But his Raja? He wanted this over with.
----
Raja sat in her armchair by the window, reading a book. She had woken up a bit groggy but relatively rested. She ate and bathed, made the bed, tended to Odin and Horus, then went back to her room for some quiet. She didn’t know where Tristan was, and her brothers had been giving her weird looks. They kept asking how she was feeling, which left her confused as she had been fine for months.
She sighed and closed her book and stared out the window in such concentration that she didn’t even hear Tristan come into the room, but after a moment she felt his presence.
She smiled at him. “Where were you?” Raja got up and wrapped her arms around his neck, instantly feeling complete when he hugged her back, squeezing her tightly.
After a moment, Tristan pushed her away gently, holding her arms just above the elbows. He turned her around, relieved that she wasn’t asking questions. He released her arms, slowly placed his hands on her stomach...feeling, pressing gently, rubbing back and forth against the blue cotton of her sleeveless tunic. Raja felt the shift in his body as his hands abruptly stopped, the heat of his palms burning through her clothes. Tristan took her hand in his, bringing her own, smaller hand to her belly to press against the immature mound that his hands had been sensitive to.
“Do you carry my child, Raja?” His voice was quiet, husky in her ear.
Raja swung around, a look of shock and confusion on her face. “What would make you think that?”
“Thea said that you are a little over three months with child,” Tristan told her, and saying it out loud, he knew it was true.
Raja’s paled, unconsciously putting both of her hands against her stomach, feeling for something that she did not even know was there. She shook her head in denial. “I haven’t had any symptoms, Tristan. None.”
“I feel it, Raja.”
Her hands were still on her stomach. She bit her lip, belief seeping through her body as well. “Well,” she scoffed self-deprecatingly, turning to look out the window, crossing her arms.
Tristan allowed her silence. He had already has his moment to come to terms with the situation. He sat on the end of bed, waiting for her to speak.
“I suppose, the probability of this happening was not so minor after all.” She continued to look out the window. “Do you want children?” She faced him, asking this question. “I mean, we never talked about it,” she went and sat next to him on the bed, “but...”
Tristan entwined his fingers with hers, bracing himself for what he had to say. “I would only want babies with you, but you know that can’t be.”
“Why not?”
“You know why, Raja.”
“If you were any other man, I would not be so conflicted over this. But,” she looked at him with distress, “it’s you and me in here.”
“I know, but nothing is worth your life, not even a baby.”
“We could still try,” she insisted.
“No,” Tristan said firmly. “There is only choice of action here.”
Raja pulled away from him. “So you’ve already decided?”
“I decided a long time ago.”
“What does that mean?”
“Ardeth told me about this. Everything. I made a choice then, and I have not changed my mind.”
“It is not for you to decide.”
Tristan felt his calm shake, but he knew losing his composure would not help him with this argument, certainly not this one. “Raja, you know what will happen-”
“No.”
“Listen to me. You are not going to risk your life for this.” His gaze was iron.
“I have to think about it,” she replied quietly.
Tristan took a deep breath. “There is nothing to think about. I don’t want to fight over this.” He tipped her chin up with his forefinger. “Haven’t I nearly lost you enough? We’ve come this far, and we can’t just throw it away on an uncertainty.”
“Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a father?”
His mouth curved in a small half smile. “It’s crossed my mind. But that doesn’t change anything.”
“What if one day you did want a child, Tristan? And if you saw our friends around us with their babies, happy, you would resent me because I could never give you one.”
“I wouldn’t, Raja. You have always been everything to me, nothing else matters but you.”
With a sad smile, she cupped his face in her hands, brushing his tousled hair out of his eyes, looking into the stark clarity of his love for her.
“Not today,” she said. “I think I have to sleep again.”
----
Tristan heard Raja’s screams of labor from behind the door. He paced the halls, his brother knights all waiting with him. He winced when he heard another stifled scream, she was trying to stay as quiet as possible. But the obvious pain stabbed Tristan through the heart, knowing there was nothing he could do about it.
Bors noticed the impending father’s discomfort. “It’s all right,” he patted him on the back, “they always yell.”
Tristan looked at the stout knight, his attempt to comfort going a very short way.
“Tristan!” he heard Raja call. “Tristan!”
Without hesitation, he bounded through the door, ignoring the protests of the women who insisted that he not be there. He kneeled down by Raja’s bed, clasping her hand in assurance. He placed a kiss on her knuckles, consoling her with his eyes, as there were no words that would do in this situation. In the distance, he heard the command for Raja to push once more and then there was a beautiful wailing that filled the room.
Vanora put a cleaned baby, wrapped in the quilt Raja had made for the baby boy, in his arms. He sat hip to hip with Raja on the bed, and seeing her, she had never looked more beautiful in her life.
----
They named the boy Ardeth, after Raja’s deceased uncle. He had raven hair, and brown eyes sprinkled with gold. When he lost his baby fat, he would definitely have his father’s sharp facial features.
The insistent cry of Ardeth spieled through Tristan’s and Raja’s room. She stirred, but Tristan told her to stay put. He got up and looked at his son in the cradle that sat at the end of their bed. Gods, he was so small. Gently, Tristan picked the baby up, cradling him in his secure arms, kissing him softly on the forehead.
“Shh, Shh,” Tristan whispered.
“Is he wet?” Raja asked, sitting up in bed. Only three weeks after giving birth, she was still a bit weak, but recovering faster by the day. She smiled, seeing Tristan hold their tiny son in his arms, making her heart almost burst from her chest in happiness.
Tristan gracefully slid back into bed next to Raja, baby still in his arms.
“I think he’s hungry, that’s all. My son has a big appetite,” he laughed, giving Ardeth to Raja.
She pulled down the straps of her shift, exposing her milk-filled breasts. “He still doesn’t like this one,” Raja smirked at Tristan, referring to her right breast that constantly ached because her son was always more partial to the left one. “I don’t understand.”
Tristan put his arm around her, touching his son’s tiny hands, the boy instantly placing an iron grip on Tristan’s forefinger.
“He’s going to be as strong as his father,” she said.
“Yeah, he’ll be a great hunter.”
“I think not,” Raja protested. “No hunting.”
“Woman, every man hunts.”
“Not my son.”
“You’re going to try to stop me from teaching my son to hunt? Like you used to try to stop me?” He grinned knowingly at her, kissing her on her sweet scented hair.
“Fine. He will also learn how to sew.”
“Sew?” Tristan gave her an incredulous look. “Men don’t sew.”
“Hmm...I recall teaching you how to sew many years ago.”
Tristan snorted, not wanting to go down that road. They sat in silence, watching their son with awe. When Ardeth was done, Tristan got up and burped him, patting his back gently until the baby drifted. He got back into bed next to Raja, noticing that her breast milk had dampened her shift.
“I told you he didn’t like this one,” she said, attempting to wipe herself up.
He stopped her hand, pulling her strap down the rest of the way, leaving her breast exposed. He licked the drop of fluid that was trickling down her chest, loving the sweet taste of birth. When he heard her sigh of relief at the abating pressure, he suckled harder, kneading her flesh, taking the delicious liquid into his mouth. Raja relaxed against the pillows, placing her hand behind Tristan’s head as he relieved her...pleasured her. She urged him to take as much as he wanted, take it all...
Suddenly, he stopped, tasting something coppery. He looked at the substance flowing from Raja’s breast, but it was no longer milk, but blood, pouring heavily.
“Raja?” he looked up at her, only to see her face a mask of white. “Raja? Raja!”
----
Tristan had pulled the bedcovers back to see the sheets and blankets covered in blood. Raja was nearly unconscious, hardly aware of what was going on around her. So much blood. He called for help, anyone...Raja’s heart was beating slower...
“Raja!” Dagonet said. “I need you to stay awake for a bit longer, okay?”
She looked at him through hazy eyes. She felt so weak, depleted.
Vanora and Dagonet attempted to stop the bleeding. Tristan gave the small bottle filled with pale blue liquid that Ardeth had given him months ago. Neither of them asked why or how Tristan had had it in hand.
Raja was cleaned up, the bed sheets changed. A fever spread through her body, barely able to lift her head. Tristan didn’t leave her side as she floated in and out of consciousness.
They did not even need the substance to cease the pregnancy, nature had did it for them.
Raja opened her eyes slowly. “Where’s the baby?” her voice cracked.
Tristan was silent for a moment. “It’s gone, Raja,” he said as gently as he could.
There was a confused silence. “No, you were going to teach him to hunt...” her voice trailed off, realizing that she had been dreaming all of that. “I am so sorry, Trissy. I’m sorry I’m not strong enough.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He kissed her hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles. “Nothing at all. I love you.”
She nodded, a tear falling free. “Just us.”
“Always.”
You and me
We’re in this together now
None of them can stop us now
We will make it through somehow
Even after everything
You’re the queen and I'm the king
Nothing else means anything
-Nine Inch Nails