Title: Ixiannithialsisa
Author: Surreal44
Rating: R to be safe
Genre: Mary Sue...I mean, Horror
Summary: She's beautiful. She's thin. She's going to change the destinies of the Knights in a way no one has imagined.
Beta Notes: No Beta. I didn't want to cause the delightful Evil Jacquie or ScoutLover to flee in terror.
Disclaimer: The original legends are not mine, nor are the ones from Disney's "King Arthur", whom this particular travesty is based on. I beg of all those involved with the movie to not hunt me down and kill me, and my sincerest and deepest apologies to Tristan and Mads.
Notes: This fic was born because of some girls I RP'd with did not like how I played Tristan, and suggested that he was a tap-dancing girly-man. So I wrote this as a tribute to them. It will be updated whenever I am motivated to add to the horror.
Read at your own risk.
KAKAKAKAKA
Prologue:
I have known the Knights. Brave men, all of them. Good men. The type of men that fairy tales are made of...well at least the general idea...they were a bit hairier and deadlier than the magical faery tales...But there was one in particular who was special. Really special. Would you like to know the tale? Then listen, and I will tell you... (( A/N: Ok, guys, like lol!1, I just wanted you to know when you see the italics it means that it's the narrator speaking, 'kay? ))
Tristan had always been different from the other Knights. It wasn't so much the quietly psychotic way he moved across the battlefield, killing anything that moved that made him different. It wasn't that he could be stealthy as a leopard when he ran through the forest, tracking his unwary prey and then striking with sudden, vicious and deadly in his attack.
No, what made Tristan different from the others was that he alone of the Knights actually understood that black socks with sandals is one of the biggest fashion faux-pas in existence. And no one else seemed to understand that Winter Skin Tones simply could not pull off orange. It had taken him ages to explain that to Galahad. At least the boy had taken him up on the idea of wearing a skirt. Galahad certainly had the legs for it…
But I digress. Tristan was not always so free-minded. For years he was held in bondage by those who said that brown was flattering on everyone, and that real men enjoyed being drenched in blood and gore. The constraints of society had forced him to comply, preventing him from self-actualizing and understanding the true joy one can find in wearing nothing but pasties and whipped cream.
It was not until he met HER ((A/N: Ok, so that was not the narrator, 'kay? )) that he realized how down trodden he really was...not until Ixiannithialsisa came into his life did he see what joy truly was...