There is absolutely no excuse for the delay in this chapter and I sincerely hope I didn't lose any of you lovely readers in the transition, but this was just such a pain! I spent months staring at the beginning of a smut scene and just got blocked! I've read enough smut to be thoroughly debauched, but writing it? It's miserably tough. I don't know how romance novelists are able to pump out loves scenes without making them sound either too clinical or cheesy… anywho, here goes.

If I owned anything, this show would be filming a second season :(

Chapter 13

"Why must we keep off the roads?" Vivien whispered, smacking yet another low-hanging branch out of her way, "We are not criminals."

Tristan stopped so abruptly that Vivien ran into the seemingly enormous expanse of his back. He spoke without turning to face her.

"Criminals, my dear Vivien? If you are not a criminal, then I do not know who is. You are a slave who has abandoned her child-rearing mistress in the dead of night…" Tristan started before Vivien smacked him upside the head and hushed him.

"Did you just hush me, woman?"

"Shh! Don't you hear that?" Vivien whispered furiously before slapping a hand over his mouth.

Grinning beneath her slender fingers, Tristan gently removed her hand from his lips before he did something that 'crossed the line' in her precious book of morals and instead listened to the obviously false bird calls. What was it call again? Hawk? Mockingbird? Damn it all…Swallow! That was it!

Keeping his fingers loosely threaded with Viviens, he made a soft coo into the night above Vivien's head. Before Vivien could make the smart mouthed retort he could see forming on her ridiculously lush lips, Kay emerged from the shadows; arrow notched and aimed directly at Tristan's family jewels. Damn Kay for knowing he'd rather take an arrow to the skull.

"Well took you long enough! We've been on Arthur's land for nigh on an hour now, you lazy cow! Where was the welcoming party I requested?" Tristan teased while Vivien clawed at his arm, trying to make him hush.

Kay smirked and lowered his bow.

"Well Arthur mentioned something about waiting for you naked on a bearskin, but I didn't think you'd want this lovely creature to ruin our fun…so the arrow to the balls seemed second best, in my opinion."

Tristan gave a hearty laugh and gave Vivien's blushed cheek a pat before walking over to embrace Kay. It had been far too long since he had seen or fought with or beside this young man. Damn shame his rather ridiculous brother turned out to be of royal blood. Tristan had always favored Kay over Arthur, but he didn't decide who's blood was worthy of a crown, so he was content to take the role of spy for Kay's dumpy (royal) brother.

It wasn't so much that he disliked Arthur. Quite the opposite; he was able to scramble some of the most prized fighters on this rock of an island to fight under his colors (the ever honorable Gawain, included. From what Tristan had heard, Gawain had a fair ration of mockery headed his way for certain nuptials that Tristan was not invited to). Tristan respected him, but he knew far too much about Arthur (and his family) to ever see him as a superior. Tristan suspected this was going to be a problem when he came to Camelot; whether it be that he openly mocked the new king, or disobeyed a direct order, he just knew he was going to be in trouble before he'd even settled in.

That was half of his reasoning behind bringing Vivien to Camelot. She might work as a balm for Tristan's (in all possibility) many transgressions against the King. That… and he had an odd addiction to inked markings that made her skin something of a fantasy breathed into glorious flesh and bone.

"So I suppose this is the part where I surrender my visible weapons and pledge fealty to your little brother?" Tristan quipped, breaking his inner reverie to address his fellow swordsman. Kay sighed before answering.

"First of all, Arthur is the King now, and you must remember to address him as such. Second, I wouldn't believe a word of your pledge of fealty to anyone, much less my brother. Last, if I believed you would surrender any of your weapons I would've already asked, but since I know I would have to wrestle them out of your cold lifeless hands, let's just skip that part and get out of this bloody cold before this poor lady freezes to death."

He isn't terribly good at archery, Gulcan thought as he watched Awen change Gawain's firing stance yet again.

"Now you're just embarrassing yourself, Gawain! Can't you just let us watch her kick your arse into the dirt again and be done with it?" The one called Tristan yelled from the stool beside the water basin.

Gulcan didn't know what to think of this newcomer, but he had an easy countenance and Arthur's men seemed to trust him enough, despite his six month absence from their ranks. Gulcan knew better than to make his interest in Arthur's warriors known, so he would let time tell him if Tristan was to be trusted or not. In the meantime, Gulcan was more than content to watch Gawain try to beat Awen's near perfect archery skills and chuckle with Arthur's ranks when Gawain failed and Awen smacked him upside the head and corrected his stance over and over again.

Gulcan laughed when Awen ripped the bow from Gawain's grip and pushed him out of the way to fire another arrow dead centre. She smirked at his grimace and danced circles around his footwork. Gawain may have superior swordplay to Awen, but she was mighty quick and Gawain had much to learn if he wished to best her speed. Gulcan would know; he trained her.

Gawain finally managed to get an arm looped around Awen's middle and fell backwards, knocking both of them to the dirt of the training ring's floor. Not the most sophisticated of maneuvers, but efficient. It wouldn't be enough to hold Awen down for long, but Gulcan was sure Gawain knew as much. Gulcan turned from the fanfare and made his way down to the kitchens where he knew Hardte would be harassing the cooks for more salted meats.

As if by design, Gulcan heard Hardte yell an obscenity in Pict at a very frightened looking kitchen hand. Gulcan made to restrain his King, but found he was beat to the task by the strange, dark-skinned girl that had traveled with Tristan.

The rumors surrounding her were thick and murky. Gulcan could not distinguish truth from lies where she was concerned; he had heard she was a sorceress' assistant, that she was a spy for Arthur's deceitful sister, that she was Tristan's mistress and he was Morgan's spy. Gulcan found himself lost in the politics of Arthur's court, but the girl seemed sincere enough. She was quiet, kept to herself, didn't have any noticeable perchance for witchcraft and that was enough to satisfy Gulcan.

The dark-skinned girl tugged gently on Hardte's arm and handed him a portion of salted sheep flank. Gulcan couldn't see Hardte's face, but he imagined a look of surprise on the hardened warrior's face and let loose a small chuckle that led all onlooking parties to stare at Gulcan. He shrugged and walked to Hardte to steer him to the doorway and away from prying eyes.

"Have you seen Awen lately, my King?" Gulcan queried in Pict.

Hardte gave Gulcan an odd look before nodding.

"She doesn't appear to be unhappy. It would seem that our plan to use my daughter as a bargaining chip has not been all for not. We have destroyed OldWolfe and will soon have no use of this Camelot. She will be happy to stay here and keep us informed…"

"You not think to abandon Camelot after you've sworn fealty to the king, do you?" Gulcan interrupted much to Hardte's surprise.

"Well, of course I do. This is not the place for Picts, Gulcan. We belong out in the forests where our forefathers reigned. We do not belong in this stone fortress anymore than Arthur deserves to be king of it."

"Hardte…"

"No, Gulcan," Hardte said as he turned towards his second in command, "It has been decided. The men will rest easier away from these walls. We will fight for the puny, boy-king when he calls, but we will not stay in this stone cage forever. I would rather burn it to the ground."

"And what of Awen, Hardte? She was to lead your clan when she came of age and now you are going to abandon her in the stone fortress you so desperately hope to escape? Have you forgotten she is your only kin? She…"

"Enough, Gulcan! Enough." Hardte all but yelled and turned from his friend to retire to outlying forest.

Gulcan watched him go, filled with something near hatred and an overwhelming sense of disappointment. He knew Hardte. He knew how he hated this place and his thoughts on the boy king. He knew that Hardte would burn Camelot to its foundations before he'd stayed another month, but Gulcan had expected Hardte to do something infinitely less stupid than leaving his only child in the castle he had deserted. It wasn't that he feared Arthur's retaliation, because he knew Hardte would stick to his word and come to Camelot's aid when summoned. He feared Awen's reaction. She would be filled with hate; much more so than the young girl who screamed revenge for her mother's death. Gulcan had seen the pain she had barely riened in long enough to learn discipline. He had seen, first-hand, how her actions were dictated by her rage. Gulcan knew what her anger would make her capable of, but Gawain didn't and Gulcan didn't know enough about his son to know if he would stand by her while she cursed her father into the abyss, or if he would grow tired of her antics and leave her to her own devices in a castle filled with people not her own.

Gulcan very honestly doubted Gawain to by the type of man to abandon anything. If he was being honest with himself, he knew he didn't really fear Awen's anger so much as his own loss. If Hardte withdrew from Camelot, Hardte would be forced to follow by his rank in Hardte's army. If Hardte withdrew, Gulcan would have to not only abandon Awen, he would have to abandon Gawain…again.

The thought alone made Gulcan's throat constrict and his chest ache. Was leaving his boy once not punishment enough for his sins?

"Will he leave?"came a throaty, feminine voice behind him.

Gulcan turned to find the dark skinned girl that had arrived with Tristan looking at him with wide eyes.

"You speak Pict?" Gulcan asked in Hardte's language. The young woman nodded and repeated her question in Pict.

"Yes, I believe he will," Gulcan responded in English. He didn't know why, but he suspected that if there was ever a girl to start circulating a tale around Camelot, it would be this one who arrived with the bold and brash Tristan. Seeing as his time was limited here at Camelot, Gulcan decided it was time for secrets to be brought to light, "What is your name, clever girl?"

"Vivien."

"That is a beautiful name, Vivien. Tell me child, can you keep a secret?" Gulcan asked in Pict. Vivien nodded.

"Then let me tell you the story of how I came to be amongst Hardte's ranks…"

"…and did you tell anyone else?" Tristan asked in an unusually quiet tone when Vivien had finished telling him what Gulcan had disclosed to her earlier in the afternoon.

"No. He said it was just a story, but from what you said of your Gawain, it speaks truth."

"First of all, he's not my Gawain. He's Awen's Gawain. Secondly, we don't tell anyone about this until I've had a chance to talk to Gawain. I mean no one, Vivien. Not even someone who doesn't speak the same language. No one must know. Do you understand?" Tristan asked, his unusually low voice coming out as a growl near the end.

"Yes. I understand. Why did he tell me, Tristan? Why not tell Awen? Or even you? Someone who knows of Gawain?"

"I don't know, pet," Tristan looked out towards the setting sun and cursed, aware of Vivien flinching at the profanity, "Listen, I have to go hear Arthur talk about god knows what for god knows how long so we'll pick this back up later. Are you sleeping in the maid's quarters?"

"Well yes, but you aren't allowed down there!" Vivien practically squeaked with embarrassment. Tristan gave her a wolfish grin.

"That's never stopped me before." Tristan punctuated the thought with a light kiss to the corner of Vivien's mouth and was out of sight before the blush could form on her cheeks.

"TRISTAN!" Gawain bellowed once he had restored his clothing to its rightful position.

"Oh, I am terribly sorry to intrude. Was I interrupting something? Perhaps the long overdue consummation of a marriage? I may be incorrect, but aren't you supposed to have a more romantic setting than a storage cupb…"

Gawain felt a small amount of relief in being able to choke the air from Tristan's lungs, as he was sure killing him would be frowned upon based on the information he was able to provide. Gawain liked this particular warrior; he was a good hand with a sword and did truly beautiful work with scabbards, but sometimes Gawain wanted to kill him for his jokes gone awry or truly horrid sense of humor and that was just the way they functioned. Unfortunately for Tristan, Gawain now added another instance to which he would consider killing his friend…intercourse interruption.

He had been so close; so painfully close to being inside this wanton woman he called wife and Tristan had to come knocking on all the bloody doors in all the bloody castle. Awen may have been a minx born of seduction (what with her leaning her slight frame against his all afternoon in what he thought was archery technique, but couldn't really remember past the feel of her hands running along his arms and chest), but she was as curious as a cat. When she heard Tristan bellowing for him, she immediately disentangled her half-covered limbs from his and poked her head out the door of whatever room it was he had pushed her into when they reached the castle.

Gawain briefly considered letting Tristan pass out from lack or air before he felt Awen slap the arm he was using to pin his comrade to the wall. Instead of chastising him for Tristan's slightly purple face, Awen pointed to her ear and made a face that was clearly not amused. Suddenly connecting the dots, Gawain chuckled and released Tristan to push the hair back from the ear he had abused yelling at his foolish friend.

"I'm sorry, Awen." Gawain said, pressing a kiss to her offended appendage and receiving another slap from Awen in recompense. She pushed him away slightly and pulled a look that said he was crazy for thinking a kiss would dull the ringing in her ear, before muttering something in Pict and turning from the men to slap the side of her head, wishing for better results.

A slightly woozy Tristan looked on the exchange with a bemused expression, but decided he should leave his comments to himself until after he told Gawain of the stories provided by Gulcan.

"What do you want aside from thoroughly ruining my night?" Gawain asked. Tristan knew he should've kept the comment to himself, but he just couldn't help himself.

"I'm more than happy to pick up where she left off if you'll make an honest woman out of me. Although, from the talk about Camelot, it doesn't sound like you've been able to accomplish that." Tristan said with a glance in Awen's direction.

Before Gawain's fist could connect with his skull, Tristan ducked and pushed away from the wall.

"It seems you're in a foul mood this evening, so I'll just cut to the chase, shall I? What do you know of the Pict Gulcan, who arrived with your charming wife here?" Tristan said as he draped an arm across Awen's shoulders. Gawain smirked, anticipating the action before Tristan could and watched in amusement as Awen used Tristan's arm to flip him over her frame and kick his ribs when he met the floor.

Tiratan gasped for much needed air as Awen pulled the knife from her leggings and sat on his chest, pulling the blade flush to his throat.

"Why say 'Gulcan'?" Awen all but screeched into Tristan's very surprised face.

"Yes, Tristan. Please tell us. Why mention Gulcan?" Gawain said, leaning against the wall he had almost strangled Tristan against moments before with a Cheshire grin on his face.

Tristan looked back and forth between the two of them as though they had switched heads before bursting out laughing, causing Awen's blade to nick the skin of his neck.

"My god, man. If Arthur can arrange marriages this perfect, then I will happily sign up as his next victim. She's bloody brilliant!" Tristan chuckled to himself, "And what a pleasure it is to meet you properly, Awen. Decorum doesn't suit you, my dear."

"Just say your peace and be done with it, man. We've no mood for your games tonight." Gawain sighed, making no motion to remove Awen from Tristan nor her blade from his bleeding throat.

"As I was saying, this Gulcan character chose to tell an interesting tale to the woman, Vivien, and as it pertains to you I thought you might like to hear it before it swarms the castle as rumors inevitably do." Tristan dwalled out nonchalantly, placing his arms behind his head in the picture of ease (if not for the Pict girl sitting on his chest with a knife to his throat).

"Well? Out with it man, or I'll let Awen slit your throat out of boredom."

"Turns out your pal Gulcan once was a warrior for Uther. He offered himself as captive when Hardte's father ransacked their village in exchange for his family's life…"

"I don't see how this pertains to me, Tristan."

"Then don't interrupt! Anyways, he ended up making his way through the ranks at an alarming speed and ended as Hardte's right hand when he took control from his father. But…and here's the important part…he left a wife and child while he was making his way in the Pict army; trying to get home to them. When Hardte granted him this boon, he found his son was gone to be a soldier and his wife had been given the unpleasant death that only women know. Sounding a pinch familiar?" Tristan asking Gawain while looking at Awen's befuddled expression.

"There are many stories that begin and end the same as mine, Tristan. Do you expect me to share some sort of comradery with the man based on circumstance?"

"No, I just wanted to ask what your mother's name was before I start making wild conjectures as to your parentage." Tristan said as he watched Awen's face go from confused to calculating. Tristan couldn't help but give the girl an enormous amount of respect. She didn't speak the language fluently, but she could follow along like she was reading a book.

Gawain paused and shifted on his feet uncomfortably before muttering, "Miriam" under his breath.

Awen gasped, dropping her knife and scrambling off Tristan like he had suddenly burst into flame. Tristan nodded and looked at both of them before addressing Gawain.

"Gulcan had a wife named Miriam; gone from this world thirteen years if Vivien's recount is accurate. Is it safe to assume that the similarity is uncanny?" Tristan stood and looked at Gawain.

Gawain nodded and looked to Awen who slowly nodded the legitimacy of Gulcan's past.

Tristan had never been accused of being the smartest lad in the bunch, but he knew when his presence was unnecessary and took his leave without another word leaving the odd couple to Camelot's newest revelation.

He didn't know how long he sat staring into the fire. Every now and again, Awen would throw another log into the flames to keep them burning, but other than that, he had no way to mark the passage of time.

Awen had been remarkably quiet since that twat Tristan had sent his world spinning. She did nothing but sharpen her various blades and throw wood on the fire when it threatened to die.

"Awen."

The sound of her sharpening stopped and he listened to her quiet footfalls as she drew closer to him.

"Gawain," she said kneeling next to his prone form by the hearth.

Without taking his eyes from the flames, he asked, "Awen, what kind of man is Gulcan?"

He didn't see her puzzled expression, nor did he see her mouth the words back at him trying to understand them.

"Gulcan is man," Awen said unsure if that was the answer he wanted.

Gawain smirked and turned his head from the fire to regard Awen. She was looking at him like perhaps he was a bit thick and maybe shouldn't question if men were men. He turned himself from the fire and took her hands. She looked at him questioningly, but said nothing.

"Is he a good man, Awen?"

"Yes, he good."

"Is he kind?"

"Yes, kind"

"Good and kind to women?"

"Women? No. No women but Miriam. He talk of Miriam always."

"Did he ever talk of a son?"

"No. Always Miriam."

Gawain nodded, but said nothing, instead twining and untwining his fingers with Awen's.

"Gawain?"

"Yes, Awen?" He responed without looking up, pulling Awen's fingers up to his mouth and pressing kisses to her slim, scarred knuckles.

"If Gulcan have son, Hardte would want for warrior. If he had, no say, to keep away Hardte…"

"I know Awen. I may not understand the ways of your people, but I understand wars and those who fight in them."

Awen sat quietly and let Gawain continue to press his lips to her hands until he turned his mouth into her palm and stopped there to rest his face again her callused flesh. She didn't know why, but she wanted so desperately to erase that terribly sad expression from his face.

Pulling her hand from his she carded her fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He gave her a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes and it angered her. He wasn't allowed to be sad. She didn't care if Gulcan was his father or if that stupid Tristan was spreading lies; he wasn't allowed to be sad when she was there and able to make him stop being sad. It was simple, really. He wasn't sad when they were kissing, so she kissed him.

Once he recovered from the initial shock of being part of a kiss instigated by Awen, Gawain responded in kind; weaving his fingers into her wild hair and feeling the firm press of her slight frame against his. She pushed further, her tongue against his, his back against the furs on the floor, their legs twined.

Later, when he was back to his senses, he would wince as he recalled the complete lack of finesse exercised, but in the moment it was just her skin against his. Pulling off clothing, her bare skin flush against his; her gasp bit off by his lips when he slipped his fingers into her. His groan against the skin of her throat when she wrapped her slender, sure fingers around his painfully erect cock.

Neither of them knew quite how it happened, but her back is against the furs now and he's above her, and he's rubbing against her and between her legs and she wants him everywhere all at once and she's almost mad with the want.

Gawain knows she has no idea what she's in for and there'll be pain before there's pleasure, because that's just the way life is. He smiles at this small epiphany, but her wild eyes pull him back to the moment and he smiles a wolf smile down on her before she attacks his mouth and he pushes into her slowly.

She gasps and bites down on his lip until she tastes his blood against her tongue. It hurts. Bridge said it might, but she didn't say how much. It hurt from the inside and pressure was almost unbearable. He seemed never ending and the pressure wouldn't end. She could hear him hushing her, his lips at her ear and his whole body shaking. She wondered if it hurt him too. Pulling his face towards hers, she locked eyes with him trying to express whatever the pressure was, but she had no words to use.

Gawain brushed the tears from her cheeks that she didn't know she had shed and nodded.

"I know, Awen," He said in a nearly unrecognizable voice that was deep and trembled, "It hurts, but it will pass. Wait and don't move unless you want to."

Awen nodded and shifted her weight, trying to alleviate some of the pressure, but then Gawain moaned so deeply she could feel it resonate through her entire being. She didn't know what had just happened, but she wanted it to happen again. She shifted her hips, trying the pressure and finding that it had lessened with the pain and was now bearable, if not a little uncomfortable; but his reaction was well worth the slight discomfort of him stretching her. His lips trembled out a gasp and his head dropped onto her shoulder, his own shoulders shaking.

"Lord, Awen. You'll be the death of me." Gawain said pushing his weight back onto his elbows, "I'm going to move, Awen, and I want you to tell me to stop if it hurts at all. Do you understand? Any pain and I'll stop."

Awen nodded and physically braced herself. It felt okay when she moved, but she didn't know what would happen when he did. He said it might hurt. She didn't want it to hurt like that again.

Biting her lip, she felt Gawain's gaze focus on her as he shifted his hips ever so slightly. It didn't feel bad, just different; so Awen looked back into his too dark eyes and nodded her assent.

Slowly, Gawain's hips pulled away from her and he slid out of her body until almost nothing of him remained and just as slowly pushed back in with a barely concealed groan.

This…was good, Awen decided. It still felt strange, not at all how it felt with his fingers inside of her, but there was a certain fullness to having Gawain in her. She let go of the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding and saw Gawain smile above her as he pulled back again, pushed in again.

Awen soon caught on to the movement of his hips and canted her own against his, finding it more pleasurable with him pushing in than out.

Gawain watched her, if for no other reason than to distract him from the feel of her slick and hot and tighter than a vambrace around him. She was incredible. She was stunning. She would be his undoing. She was lifting her leg and wrapping it around his hips and his eyes crossed at the new sensation. His vision regained clarity when he heard her gasp with his next thrust. She looked at him with something close to awe in her eyes and he smiled. He had just found how to pleasure her and it made him feel like God.

"Do again." Awen demanded in a furious whisper.

"My pleasure, milady." Gawain said with a rock of his hips into hers.

Awen eyes rolled back and she let loose a moan that would stay in his memory until his dying breath left him. She was magnificent. She was his. He was hers.

What little control he had left withered away into nothingness and soon they were thrusting with each other, slamming together in a frenzy of panting and sweat and pleasure. The sensation in Awen's stomach coiled tighter and tighter until she couldn't feel anything but Gawain around her, inside her, encompassing her. Higher and higher she went until with a spasm and a strangled sob she came hard against Gawain. He wanted to watch her, to see her lost in bliss, but her orgasm left her clenching around him so hard he could barely breathe and he spilled into her with such force he thought he might have lost consciousness from it.

Awen lay there, with Gawain collapsed atop her, breathing harsh and body weightless. She didn't know why, but she felt she could sprout wings and fly and it made her laugh. Gawain turned his face towards hers and smiled.

"Do I want to know why you're laughing?" Gawain croaked in a voice almost too gravelly to recognize.

Awen paused in her laughing and looked back at him.

"Do again?"

Gawain laughed and his body shook atop hers. Awen found herself laughing again and when he rolled off of her and onto his back, she followed and sprawled across his torso.

"Of course we can, Awen. As often as you want." Gawain said with a grin. Awen grinned back and kissed him before throwing her leg over his and rubbing against him.

"Oh, you hell cat! Give me a minute.' Gawain groaned in mock misery before flipping her onto her back again and pulling her leg up around his waist.

"Hell cat?" Awen queried, arching her back and rubbing herself against his semi-erect cock. Gawain groaned.

"Yes, my beautiful Awen. You most certainly are a hell cat."

Awen didn't know what that meant, but if she could get him inside of her again by being a 'hell cat' then she was happy to do so.

Well? What did we think? This story isn't over and hopefully the lemon wasn't rotten and there will be more to come—think of all the positions curious Awen has to discover—but, review so I know if it was terrible or not! Please!