Tristan was enjoying life to the fullest, or at least trying to.
Tiriel was still head over heels in love with him and Tristan would be a fool if he didn't take advantage of that. But despite all the fun they had in bed, it seemed that now that he had her and the mystery was gone, her energy and passion were the main things that were keeping them together. Now that she had stopped being the one girl who was not interested in him, the one who contradicted everything, there was really no reason to continue trying. Everything was as if was supposed to be, but he was slowly starting to realise maybe there was less fun in that. Even Tiriel's adventuring spirit lost much of its attractiveness when he didn't have to pursue her.

 

Boredom lurked behind this seemingly perfect romance and Tristan did the only thing he knew to chase it away. He started looking around again. After all, there were other challenges to pursue. He had seen Edric talking with young lady Nadine and just the thought of the two of them becoming friends made him too angry for words. He could imagine them laughing at him together, scheming to cheat him of his own fair inheritance.
Tristan was determined to not let it get that far.
He chose the church as the best place to talk to the girl and while her mother was busy crying over her husband's grave, he filled the daughter's ears with sweet words. He didn't even have to try that hard.
It took a single red rose and a few mentions of how Nadine was too beautiful to stay locked at the Lorimer Manor all her life and the girl was already swooning. He promised her safety and rebellion at the same time, a way to escape from her mother's gilded cage and lose nothing while doing it, but nothing too specific.
And when he had fanned her interest enough, when he was sure she wanted him, he disappeared and let her think about how she could earn his favour.

While Tristan was busy scheming, Elena felt she was at a crossroads of her life.
She often thought about Orin, the funny boy the gypsy said was her true love, but after that magical first meeting he seemed to vanish from the world. Eventually she accepted the idea that he might have been conjured up just for that one day and settled for the life she could have.
When she met Malcolm it wasn't love at first sight, but they understood each other. And he wasn't going to disappear and that was probably the most important thing.
It was Malcolm who pushed their relationship forward, who asked her to be only his and who wanted to meet her family. And she went along with it, desperate for real lasting love and for some stability in her life.

Malcolm seemed to be more than stable. He wasn't one for big emotional outbursts, but soon he was completely at home with her family, eating meals with them regularly and talking about his big plans. He only needed some money to go from blacksmith's apprentice to being his own master with own workshop.
Tristan rolled his eyes, but Elena did her best not to see him.

She was happy, she had no reason not to be. Malcolm said he loved her, he would give her a family and enough money for a comfortable life. What more could she possibly want? Only there were times when she thought of Orin, or somebody else with whom she would feel a spark of something more than just stability. Was this really what she wanted for the rest of her life?
She didn't want to emulate Tristan, but maybe what Delia had with Adrian...?

Or maybe she just needed to stop thinking about it, stop worrying and take the plunge. That, after all, was what Delia had done. Maybe what Tristan was doing wasn't all bad, when he seemed happy doing it.

Elena didn't know what she had expected or if she had really expected anything at all. When Malcolm proposed to her after the first time they had fooled in bed together, she was definitely surprised, but decided to just roll with it.
She just smiled and accepted the ring and the new life that lay behind it without much thinking.

It didn't take long for her to discover how good a decision it had really been. She had started feeling ill in the mornings, nauseous and strangely tired despite not doing anything that could cause it. As the only woman in the house, she only realised she might be pregnant after long days of worrying and trying to hide both the sickness and her fear.
She didn't want her brother to make fun of her. She didn't know what Tristan had against Malcolm or against her, but he was turning more and more vicious. After she had accepted to marry Malcolm, there wouldn't be a day without Tristan reminding them how hard and boring their life would be. He said they had no money, that as just an apprentice Malcolm wouldn't get his own workshop, that they would never achieve anything. He said there wasn't a chance for her to be a knight or anything else, that she wouldn't be allowed in a castle even as a servant. He spoke about her like he knew what she wanted and never mentioned any plans for his own life, but she felt too sick to say anything and Malcolm was probably too well brought up to argue.

And with a baby on the way, it wasn't like there was any other choice now. Even if she wanted to go back, to choose a different life for herself, that road had closed and there was no sense even thinking about it.
They rushed the wedding to get married before she started showing too much and when they said their vows, Elena did her best to only look forward.
She didn't regret anything. Or at least not too much, not enough to think about it.

After the wedding Malcolm moved in with her and her family. He said it was temporary, that he just needed to save some money to build her a proper house. Tristan rolled his eyes and laughed at him. Elena mostly ignored them, dealing with her queasy stomach and all the other pains that came with pregnancy.
She tried hard to be happy and help her new husband make a future for them, but she couldn't stop thinking about her own mother and her tragic death. She was afraid for her life and there was nobody she dared to confide in.
When the day came and she went to labour, she was grateful Tristan was away on one of his romantic conquests. Malcolm at least tried to help, he brought her a woman from the village before settling down to wait and relax.
Finally it was over and Elena was holding her newborn son and suddenly everything was just right, despite whatever Tristan might say when he returned. It was probably the thought of her brother than made her discard all the names they had briefly discussed with Malcolm. She would name her son Adrian, after the man who might have been her father. Nobody knew for sure, but Tristan should never forget the uncertainly applied to her as well as him.

Even before the baby was born Tristan had felt superfluous in his own house. He should inherit it one day, at least if he didn't have something better, but with his sister and her husband in there, he didn't even feel at home. And with the baby, it was even worse. He got no sleep at night and nobody even cared. Even his father, who had never really cared about children, was fussing over little Adrian and it was just too much for Tristan.
He never really wanted that stupid house, anyway. He was sure he could build something much better, and then Elena and her boring husband would be sorry they made him move out.
When he realised how much discomfort and hard work building a house required, it was already too late. He didn't have enough money for anything else and was far too proud to come back.

Instead he tried to forget his reality by chasing dreams. The village was full of other girls all too eager to go to bed with him, girls he had ignored when chasing Tiriel, but who had never stopped wanting him. He went from one girl's embrace to the next one, running from dreary work, from responsibility, from a grey life that would remind him he wasn't a noble, a knight or anything else.
Soon it became almost routine. The smooth talk, the embraces, kisses, everything that came after, he was just going through the motions, always rushing to something new.

Even when Celestine admitted she liked him, the convent-raised girl who had always run from him, there were no real emotions. It was a nice distraction, but nothing too special. He didn't even think about the girl herself, she was just another one in a line and there was nothing to distinguish her from the others.

But even if Tristan didn't really care about anything, someone else did.
He had no idea Tiriel was even there and watching, until she stormed up to him, her face a mixture of shock and hurt.
"I thought you loved me... you said... how can you do this?"

Celestine took a step back. "I didn't know you were..." she began, but Tiriel didn't really notice her. One glance was enough to see she was just another victim and nothing else was important.
"How could you do this to both of us? All those promises and then you discard us? I'm pregnant, do you ever care about that?"
Tristan opened his mouth, but his eyes said everything even before he could. He didn't care. He might give excuses, more promises, even, but he didn't really care.
Tiriel slapped him hard across the face, and then again.

Tristan exploded. "If you're pregnant, it's just your own stupid fault. I don't care. Why should I even care about you?"
"You're pathetic." Tiriel laughed, but her laugh was bitter, just to hide that she would like to cry.

It was probably this laughter that was the worst for Tristan. Tiriel had humiliated him, made him feel small and worthless, and he wanted her punished. For the slap, for her accusations, for making him interested and then becoming boring. He wanted her pilloried like a harlot and hoped that her shame would make him feel good again.
When he dragged her before the priest, he was still counting on the status he imagined himself to have, but the affair very nearly turned against him. The priest calmly listened to both of them and then suggested a wedding, as the best way to save the girl's honour and give the child a family. As if Tiriel had any honour after attacking him like that! Tristan wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or explode.
It was probably this moment of hesitation that helped him the most. While he was still staring in shock, trying to understand what the priest was suggesting, Tiriel spoke up first.
"Never. I would rather take any punishment than let that... person... ever touch me again." The disgust in Tiriel's voice made Tristan want to scream. Even if he no longer wanted her, how dare she look at him like that?
The priest spoke up before a shouting match could start and even though he ordered both of them do penance, his anger seemed to be directed mostly to Tiriel.

She supposed the priest had really wanted to help her, or at least help the unborn baby. She tried to keep her head down, to do the penance without protests, but it was hard to think of anything else than how angry she was at Tristan. She tried to be humble, but even with her hair cut short as a mark of shame and a baby growing in her belly, she really had no use for the priest's talk of repentance and the Watcher's blessing.
She still had her dignity, even if she may have been the only person to see it.