Siopao- O.o –is eaten-
Calliann- Yea, I think it's definitely going to be a girl. Much more funny scenes can be added if the kid is a girl…Like her trying to be more like mommy and kicking daddy in the leg!
SpectralLady- Glad you liked the picture, and glad you liked the chapter:D I think the kid is going to be a girl.
Babak- Haha. I don't think I'll have them get married…I'll save that for Guinevere and Arthur. Tristan getting married would just…I dunno, it doesn't fit him when I try to think about it. This I must ponder on…
AngelsBlade- o.o everyone else seems to like the pregnancy idea. But then, the mystery is, Vrena doesn't even know if she is yet. So we have to wait until things happen. And yea, male children have definitely been done to death, not just in fanfiction, but some of the real legends as well. Damn men…
Zeriae-sighs- she doesn't have any idea if she's pregnant or not. If you slept with a guy and made sweet love and –cough cough-ed, what would you do? You would get a pregnancy test. But yea, this is around 600 A.D., they don't have those yet.
Esther'nEra-guardians-ofChaos- xD I knew it…
katemary77- Aww, hate me now:P maybe I'll do a good job at it, maybe you guys will locate my house and kill me with a cheese grater, who knows.
Dw- yay :D
Lenao- A boy would be interesting, but a girl would just bring the story…some interesting humor. See one of my above review replies for details on that xD…
OP- DUDE:D thank you!
Gondorian Archer- If you liked him last chapter, imagine this chapter: it's the next morning already, and he's completely plotzed. :P
By the way, guys- you can start feeling depressed now, because this is officially the last chapter! ;-; I know, I'm really sad to end it too. I cried while I was in the shower, and my parents are all like, "o.O wtf is wrong with you?"
…I can't really tell them that the reason I cried was because I came up with a cool idea for a Jack Sparrow/OC fanfic and had to leave my Tristan/Vrena fluffness to the imagination of the reviewers. But yea, thank you to everyone who ever reviewed for this story! I put a lot of time and effort into it, and you guys made me feel good about myself! I hope you won't be to angry at me for ending this way, so I tried to make the ending light and crispy, if you get the hint. :P
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Chapter 21- Your Own Decision
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After all the drinking was done with, and Lancelot had fallen to the ground in a heap of drunkenness, it was Arthur and Gawain (the most sober of the knights) who took Tristan back to his room. Why them? Well…
Guinevere looked to her right at Vrena, who was without a doubt not getting up from her bench with the help of someone who could walk. By the end of the game, all the knights seemed persistent in getting her as drunk as possible.
Thinking back to when they had washed themselves at the inn, she began to think of the woman's situation- which was not looking first-rate.
'If she indeed was with child thanks to Tristan, we will not know until it becomes obvious. And it has only been two days, as of now.' Guinevere thought to herself as she helped lift Vrena from the bench, wrapping the girl's arm over her shoulder for support. She would find Vrena a separate room, which she doubted she would be leaving for a while. The poor woman will be screaming with headaches by morning.
After getting Vrena into a bed and allowing her to fall into an inebriated sleep, Guinevere closed the wooden door behind her and decided to come back in the morning with a bucket and some wet rags. Yes, that would do…
Being sober enough herself, Guinevere decided it would be good for her to walk around a bit…breathe some of the fresh air and calm herself. 'Those two must really have been hiding their feelings for some time to go that far…' she could not suppress a laugh. But then halted it as thoughts wandered into her head- 'If Vrena will be expecting child in the next nine moons…that would mean the babe would be born around the warm season. But what will Tristan think of a child?' She tried to shun these thoughts from her head, breathing a deep sigh.
She was walking past a house, the last one before you would run into the wall- when she heard voices. The one speaking she recognized as Arthur's, and she did not know who the other tone of voice belonged to until she peeked her head around the side of the place. Was she hiding? No, no, she was simply trying not to intrude on important manly conversation.
"Surely you have others that can do that, Bishop Germanius! I and my men have just put our lives in the hands of death sunrise this morning, and you want to send us out again? I beg you to understand that they are all free men now. You have given them their discharge papers, you should know this!"
"Artorius, please, calm yourself."
"I will not calm myself! Is this the will of god you are asking of me, or your own?"
"This is the will of the pope and god's. One of his horsemen rode in to me today after maneuvering around those piles of dead bodies outside the wall, and he sees you and your men with the capability to accomplish a simple task of the lord."
"At least explain to me this task in detail before you continue, so I know whether I should heed your words or vomit on your shoes."
Guinevere kept listening. 'Is this man trying to convince Arthur to ride out again when he only just returned? This selfish god of the Romans tries to control every aspect of human life!' She exclaimed to herself and continued to tune in to the Bishop.
"The pope has been receiving word that a high-ranking official in northern proximity-"
"Which?"
"Not one of Rome or Briton, but in Lothian."
"So Lot is causing trouble again?"
"No, I am afraid that king Lot is not the concern- yet."
"Then continue."
"Yes, yes…recently, the pope of a Roman-established area in the north is being suspected of planning to break oaths with our Roman churches-"
"If this duty you wish of me is for the church, then I cannot stay any longer and listen to you."
"Let me finish. Lot is already aware of these rumors, and has informed us that if we do not sustain the northern churches from causing mayhem in his kingdom, he will not hesitate to send out his entire military to bring them down himself."
Guinevere heard a heavy sigh come from Arthur.
"So you are telling me that if this pope of Lothian is not subdued by the Church of Rome before Lot can get to them…?" Arthur awaited more elaboration.
"It will be trouble for all of us. All the pope of our church needs done is for you to find out if these rumors are factual, and if they are, report back immediately."
"And how will this benefit me and my men? I will repeat myself, we are free. I hope you can strike a good bargain, or the answer is no."
Guinevere took a breath when the Bishop did not reply right away. She knew what an uprising and corrupt church meant. She knew that Lot of Lothian, the king from the north, would not hesitate to rid the Romans from his land. He had never liked the idea of them there in the first place, but it was necessary to keep oaths with Rome. If Lot poured water on the flames of the churches…that would also be breaking an oath.
Now that she thought about this, it turned out to be quite serious. If the Roman churches in these parts of the south did not discover first that the northern pope was planning a revolt…that would not be good at all.
"Artorius, good man of Rome, the pope trusts you and your men. If you do not want to speak to them about it, perhaps I should."
"They will not listen to you. We will both speak to them about it…but I doubt they will agree. We will discuss it at the round table noon tomorrow, if you are still here."
"Agreed then. Thank you." The Bishop said to Arthur in a grateful tone. Poking her head around the corner of the house, she saw Arthur coming her way. If any time, this was not one to be hiding behind a house. She would pretend she had accidentally overheard. She walked out from behind the dwelling, almost running in to the commander.
"What are you doing out here so late?" He shot her a curious look.
"Walking, star gazing, listening to discussions of the state." She said freely. There was no point in trying to hide anything from the man she loved, it was futile. Especially if that man was Arthur Castius.
"So you know then…" he said solemnly, looking to the ground.
And then Guinevere was struck with an idea.
"Yes, I know. I would like to be there tomorrow when you speak to your men, and so would Vrena. It would mean a lot to both of us if we were included." Guinevere proposed, and Arthur allowed a restraining look to cross his features. But he knew if he said no, they would appear before him at his round table anyways.
"That is fine with me…just…don't upset Germanius. He will certainly not think it wise that I invite women to my meetings." Arthur laughed. Guinevere laughed as well.
She would go to Vrena in the morning with the bucket and rag, as planned, but also an invitation.
-
When Vrena awoke that morning, a skull-splitting headache nearly threw her out of her bed. Remembering the four mugs of beer she had consumed that previous night, she sat up and clutched her hand to her forehead, the source of the pain. She felt as if she was about to spit bile all over the floor, her stomach nauseous and screaming at her for torturing it so.
She heard the door of her room open, and looked up to see Guinevere carrying a bucket and a wet rag. Silently she swore to herself that she would never in her life go near the foul drink again.
She took the rag from Guinevere and put it to her forehead, feeling relieved at the cool dampness that engulfed her. The woman sat the bucket next to her bed and took a seat on a chair that was placed in one of the room's corners.
"Don't worry, you will be feeling better by high noon. If you think you're suffering, you should see Lancelot." Guinevere joked, trying to make Vrena feel better. Vrena managed a laugh at trying to imagine Lancelot after all the drinks he had consumed during the night.
With the cool rag on her head and a pillow behind her back, she began to feel much better. Guinevere had also brought a herbal drink that tasted just as nasty as liquor, but Vrena was persuaded by the woman that it would settle her stomach and cure the pounding in her head. Right now, that was all she wanted to get rid of, so she downed the vile beverage quickly until none was left.
Guinevere left, but then came back by the time the sun had raised high into the sky, shining through the small stone window of the room. Vrena had pretty much dazed off, and had no knowledge of how late into the day it was. She was feeling better, yes…but looking into a small mirror she had found on top the table to her left, she had a redness beneath her eyes and looked as pale as snow. She swore again that she would never drink, even to save her life.
"Arthur is about to have a final meeting at the round table with the other knights and Bishop Germanius. We've been invited."
Vrena looked up to Guinevere and saw that she was not fooling around.
"Why did he bother inviting women?" Vrena laughed, curious as to why it mattered if she showed up. She honestly did not feel like leaving bed. But Guinevere answered her sincerely, giving her no choice.
"Apparently the Bishop had important news of an incident occurring up north. Arthur invited us because we both fought at the battle yesterday, and the Bishop agreed that it was only respectful, even though he did not like the idea of women joining the gathering."
"…Should I?"
"Yes, I think you need some fresh air either way."
Vrena bowed her head and moved herself from the cot, planting her feet firmly onto the floor to steady herself. Her walking turned out to be better, at any rate. She was not tipping over or swerving, and she was proud to say that she did not run into any walls on the way to the round table.
She was surprised to see that the outside of the dwelling looked the same as many of the other houses- battered and worn. But the inside she saw was elegant and lush, like she had just stepped into a castle. They were the first there, which she was sure Guinevere had planned.
Arthur's room -that was also located somewhere inside the same housing, Guinevere pointed out, was just down the hall past the two double doors. Vrena didn't even bother to ask how she knew all of this.
They waited for a few minutes, and then Arthur finally came into the hall. He seemed aggravated, tired, and worn out- he quickly sat down on one of the fancy chairs, paying no attention to her or Guinevere.
"I'm guessing they were not pleased?" Guinevere asked him, and Vrena knew she was referring to 'they' as in the knights.
"Most of them were still asleep, and Lancelot's nearly dead. When I tried to get him up, he kept mumbling some nonsense about not having enough to drink. So when I went to tell Gawain, he agreed to drag him out, and Bors said he would assist Tristan." Arthur said in a forced voice.
Vrena then felt a pang of guilt. She had been so drunk and sick during the night, she had forgotten to tend to Tristan's wounds! She made a mental note that after the meeting, she would help him back to his room and tend to it then. It needed to be kept clean, or it was at risk for infection.
Before long, Galahad appeared looking completely smashed, if that's even a way to put it. His hair was messed up a bit from laying on it the wrong way, and it was obvious that he had thrown on his clothing in a rush.
Tristan and Bors were the next to wander in, and the scout managed by himself to claim a seat next to Vrena. Remembering that she needed to clean his wound, she leaned forward to converse quietly.
"I need to talk to you afterwards." She informed him inaudibly, and he nodded slightly- out of everyone who had entered the room of the round table so far, he was the only one who did not have a pounding headache or look like a wreck. He looked as he usually did- hair windswept and braided. She silently wondered to herself if he had ever combed it in his life.
Her observations were cut short, however, as Gawain waltzed into the room with Lancelot flung over his shoulder. She could not help grinning as Gawain literally threw him on top of the round table and began yelling into the hung-over knight's ear.
"Wake up, Lancey! We haven't got all day." Gawain chimed, and Lancelot let out a moan of disapproval, sprawling out on the top of the table, a hand clasped to his head. Guinevere was right…he was worse off then her. But then, he was the one that started that damn game.
Lancelot forced himself to slide off the table, nearly landing onto the floor- but he caught himself and threw himself into a chair, looking worse then Galahad. His eyes were unfocused as he stared at the vibrant reds and gold's of the round table, not paying attention to any of them.
After a longer amount of waiting, the Bishop and his priest companion entered through the double doors, and they all went silent. The knights glared at him in resentment…this was the man whom had sent them on that last dreadful mission. Vrena wondered what exactly this high-ranking religious man wanted to speak with them about.
"My former knights," Arthur spoke- making sure 'former' was stressed, "Bishop Germanius has offered us a proposal. Before you spring from your chairs and walk away, try to listen to some of his news." Arthur finished, sitting himself back down into his chair. The Bishop smiled, cleared his throat, and stood up.
As the man began talking about the welfare of the north, Vrena became uninterested. What the north had to do with the south, she did not know as of yet. But as the Bishop talked on, she listened intently to the concerns his pope was having with a Roman region in Lothian, and that if the church in the north was not restrained by the Church of Rome, Lot of Lothian threatened to rid of them himself- which would break all oaths that have ever been established between Rome and the north…which was not a good thing.
"And what do you expect us to do about it? I do not get involved in any predicaments with the church, and don't plan to." Lancelot slurred, glaring at the Bishop. Lancelot was the first to speak up after the Germanius had laid forth his proposal.
Vrena sat quiet while the men began discussing among themselves.
"This is more of a job for rogues then for knights. Why don't you strike a deal with one of them? They would be glad to do it for pay." Vrena spoke aloud, and the whole table went silent and stared at her. The Bishop seemed taken aback by a woman coming forward with query, and Vrena was not surprised at all when he sent her a frown.
Now, you see, Vrena as a Woad child remembered meeting rogues in person. Sometimes when Merlin or his scouts could not gather information on their own, they relied on employed Rogues to take care of it for them.
In growing up, Vrena had always wondered why she had not bothered to claim the title of rogue for herself. She had all the skills required to work as one: making bargains, enterprising, skill with the bow (which was all she needed, anyone could stab someone with a dagger), disguising herself (as she had said earlier, she had always wished to impersonate a nun), and most importantly- the ability to cover up your tracks and keep silent. The only thing that had prevented her from advancing in the occupation of a rogue was the attack on her village, and her being sent to Marius' town before leaving to be taken care of at Tirth.
So as of now, Vrena was highly considering accepting this job if the knight's wouldn't.
"The Roman church does not associate with scoundrels who steal and hunt for money and bounties." The bishop said as-a-matter-of-factly, holding his head high. Guinevere was shooting her a look, and so was Tristan.
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Tristan simply stared at Vrena, sitting all smug in her chair. What point was she trying to get to with questioning the pope about employing rogues?
He remembered a few days ago back at the tavern, when Arthur had asked her what she was planning to do with her life from that point on. They all thought she was joking when she had mentioned joining the British Rogue, but now he was again lost at how her mind worked, which always frustrated him.
Yes, in her childhood she was trained as a Woad, which gives her some skill. But as of yet, she has merely helped them with simple tasks that only involve her shooting arrows from a bow. Now that Tristan thought on the subject, he realized that none of them really knew what she was good at.
…Either way, he was not going to let her go anywhere without him.
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"Well, you've said what you want accomplished; may I ask what the reward is?" Vrena asked the Bishop. If it was a lousy deal, she would try to strike it higher, and if that didn't work…he could forget it, she wasn't going anywhere.
To her, this was a chance to travel north to a place she had never been. She by no means enjoyed being in one place for a long time- that was why she was so happy as a child. You can wander the forests wherever you like as a Woad. But once she had been taken to Marius' town, she had always been confined within walls. It became worse once she had gone to Tirth, were women sat and did chores all day.
Also…it was a time for her to think about things. Mainly, yes, Tristan. If she could get away for long enough, it would give her time to focus on the matters at hand. Did she even want a child? Once last night, she had been reminiscing about Tirth, and all those times she helped the midwives deliver babies. It looked painful, something she was not sure of doing.
But then, did she really want to rid herself of her own child? If she even had one? It was easy for a woman to get rid of it on the spot…Vrena knew all the ingredients needed to formulate the brew, and it could be done with common plants easily locatable in forests.
Her thoughts broke when the Bishop replied in a melancholic tone, sending her stares that made her want to go at him with a battering ram. But she tried to restrain herself and listen to what he had to say.
"It depends on how high the knights wish it." He said, putting an emphasis on 'knights'. Vrena felt her blood boil. If this man wanted to play the sexist holy man- he had met his match.
When none of the knights answered, the Bishop looked around nervously. Did he really think any of the men would take up his offer after what he had just put them through?
"Thirty gold pieces a day, and you have a deal." She said nonchalantly, crossing her arms and leaning back into her chair. She felt like the old Vrena again, daring enough to do anything, not the one mourning over past losses. If she was going to start clean, this was her chance.
"Vrena!" Guinevere hissed at her in disbelief.
"Do not make decisions for my men, lady." Arthur warned her in a hard tone. The rest of the knights were staring at her as if she had two heads, and Tristan was focusing his eyes into space, it seemed. He didn't show any sign of disapproval, which made her feel much better.
"I wasn't making decisions for your men, Arthur, I was making them for myself." Vrena replied to him, a smile on her lips.
"Thirty gold pieces per day, that's my offer." She said, turning back to the Bishop, whose expression looked as if a large stampede of wolves had just entered the room. She held his gaze for a few seconds before he finally spoke up.
"Ten."
"Twenty five..."
"Thirteen."
"Twenty four..."
"Fifteen?"
"Twenty three…"
"Sixteen?"
"Twenty two…"
"Seventeen?"
"Twenty one…"
"Eighteen!"
"Twenty and three silver pieces…"
"Twenty!"
"Deal." Vrena said evenly, The Bishop's eyes nearly burning holes into her. He quickly pulled himself back from where he had leaned forward onto the table and un-clenched his hands. Vrena also pulled back from were she had inclined forward and sat back into her chair.
"Count me in." Vrena nearly jumped at Tristan's voice from beside her, were he had finally begun to stare at something besides the table. His eyes had locked with the Bishops, who shrunk back. She had to laugh at how imposing the scout was when he glared, and felt her stomach do more flips as his eyes met hers, then turned back to the priestly man, who just then had learned to count twenty plus twenty.
"That's forty gold pieces a day then, split evenly to twenty." Germanius said, looking worried. If any more of the knights joined, that would be a hefty amount of gold for all of them if they took their sweet time with this task.
Unfortunately for Bishop Germanius, the rest of the knights caught on rather quickly.
"I'll go on vaca-" but Galahad was cut short from that sentence as Gawain slammed on his foot from under the table.
"I'll go." He corrected himself.
"Me as well." Gawain added, obviously finding the look on the Bishop's face amusing.
"I'll go! Just shut up, all of you, my head is about to burst open…" Lancelot groaned and slouched into his seat.
"Then that's that, we are all going north to unearth the information the pope wants to know about this…uprising." Arthur finalized the deal once Guinevere had given him a nod. Vrena was now at failure for words.
She had lost her peaceful trip.
-
As Vrena looked back on how her life had changed so quickly in that mere month, she felt a tear stream down her cheek and land onto her dress- a green one like she had worn the day at the ice three years ago.
"Ma, no cry! Play!" shouted the high and childish voice of her two-year old daughter, Annaleeze. Vrena let out a laugh of recollection, wiping the tear away from sight. Thinking back to those days, it made her realize how quickly memories can come back to kick you in the rear when you least expect them to.
Just a few more hours before the sun had climbed high into the sky, Arthur and the others will again return from another arranged meeting with allied Saxons troops stationed at the coast.
This was how it was every year- a few months she would be happy, the next few lonely and lost, and it would switch back and forth as the former knights would leave under request of the high king, usually to amend or establish truces with converted northmen from overseas. They were paid to do it, of course.
Guinevere was sitting across from her in the grass as they watched Anna run around playfully, tumbling in the grass and soiling her dress- Vrena wished her childhood could have stayed that way.
They looked up towards the clearing of the trees, both of them hearing noises coming from the forests that rested along the borders of the town. From standing on top of a hill, you could easily see Hadrian's towering wall, not very far from the town. The noise became louder, and now Anna could hear it- hooves, beating on the ground. Not exactly a quick gallop, yet evenly paced.
Vrena smiled as the five knights on horses –excluding Bors, whom Vanora banned from leaving the town until he knew how to properly make a bed, which was quite funny when you remembered that this was Bors- rode out of the forest path that led to the western shores. Vrena had never been there, and when Tristan tried to explain to her once what the shores were like, it made her realize how little she had moved around since giving birth.
Anna squealed happily and ran towards her father, whom was dismounting Arvin. It was something they started doing whenever they had to be separated- he would take Arvin, and she would keep his steed for Anna to ride. She was indeed like her mother, always ready to try things.
After three years, she had expected her stomach to act normal around Tristan- he was still his silent and inexpressive self, which Anna always found fascinating. When one of the men would make a joke and he would not laugh, she would always say something like "Ma, daddy is broken again! He didn't laugh at Lance-lot!" In which Lancelot (usually the one making the jokes) would call their child 'the spawn' and correct her for the thousandth time on how to pronounce his name.
She watched as Tristan bent down to hug his daughter- when Vrena had confirmed to him that she was with child so long ago, he didn't exactly know how to react. In fact, everyone seemed to know how to react but him. But after she had finally given birth, though, and he got to hold Anna- it became more real to him, she guessed.
As Anna went to go pester 'Lance-lot', 'Gal-had', 'Ga-ain' and 'Ar-door' as she usually did, Tristan's eyes met hers, and Vrena quickly stood from the ground and walked over to him. The weeks seemed to pass by like years when he would leave, but nothing ever changed with him. He still had his disheveled and braided hair, dark eyes and the ability to send her gut flying in all different directions.
Is face showed hint of concern as he neared her, gazing into her eyes.
"You've been crying." He said, putting his forehead to hers. She had obviously not taken the time to wipe away the tears well enough, and her eyes did feel watery.
"If it looks like I have been crying, then it is from tears of joy." She smiled, loosing herself in his eyes while tugging at one of his long braids. He didn't seem to mind the tugging all that much anymore, especially after having his two-year-old daughter yank at it every time his head came within her small arms reach.
"We can't stay long…there are troops of northerners to the east that wish allegiance with the high king, but that will not take long. We'll leave tomorrow and be back before you know it." He explained and wrapped his arms around her waist, sending a chill down Vrena's spine. All these years, and her nervousness had never done away with itself. It never wore out, ever.
"Well," She said, grinning, "At least we have until dawn."
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What a crappy way to end a story. You guys must hate my guts now.
bye-bye, guys! If any of you are PotC obsessed fan girls as well as Tristan obsessed, you might enjoy the story I'm starting soon!
I was thinking that when I get the spare time (and have drunken a good amount of Mountain Dew Code Red), I can add a little 'sequel' chapter. But as of now, I have no ideas for it :P
Thanks again to all of you! I love you all! (not like that, but you know) :D
III Cari III