Disclaimer: I do not own King Arthur or anything to do with it. I do, however, own the OC and the plot.
Plot: TristanxOC. As the Sarmatian knights take a rest after long months out in the wilderness, they come across a surprise in the woods. Ratings may change.
Opening his eyes, Tristan notices that his room is still shrouded in darkness. Sighing, he drags himself out of his bed, for once cursing his habit of getting up either at or before dawn. He reaches down and Puts on his belt, strapping his sword sheath onto his back. Leaving the room, Tristan decides to be as quiet as ever, as to not wake anybody. He makes his way out into the cold of before dawn, and starts to walks towards the stables to check on his stallion. Walking into the stables, he walks up to his horse, patting it on the nose fondly. The horse knickers and tries to nip at his sleeve, which causes him to chuckle lightly. As he pets the horse's nose, a smaller hand joins his, stroking the velvety softness of the horse. Tristan spins around to see Ghost standing there beside him, calmly whispering to the horse.
Tristan calms his breathing, and Ghost looks at him, pale eyes reflecting an almost haunting sadness within them. She pats the horse's neck, then walks to where Tristan is standing. She takes a deep breath and wraps her arms around his neck, embracing him. Tristan stiffens, trying to find a way to get away from her without hurting her again. Before he can actually say anything, Ghost speaks.
"Please, Tristan. Take me home…to where I belong." She pulls back, and iridescent tears are sliding down her cheeks. Tristan reaches up and makes her let go of him, then he steps back, dropping her hands.
"I don't know where you are from, Ghost." Ghost nods her head, and then her gaze falls to the floor. She looks back towards the horse, patting it's nose.
"Life is old there, Tristan. Older than man, than tree, than mountain. Life is older than religion, than God." she looks back towards him, and she smiles a wan smile, "I am strange to the feeling here, Tristan. I do not belong here."
Tristan stands there, silently watching Ghost pat his horse, evaluating the feeling of the moment. He catches his thought process, then steps forwards and takes her hand from his horse's nose. Drawing her closer to him, but not close enough to touch, he looks her in the eye. Leaning forwards, his lips brush against her ear, whiskers tickling her skin.
"Neither do I." He breathes, and a gut feeling confirms this statement. He does not belong here. He does not belong in Britain. Nor does he belong with Arthur and the knights. He does not belong with the living.
Neither do I…
Review, please! What do you think? I know that none of the knights are in this chapter, but I was just thinking that I should move along Ghost and Tristan…just a tiny bit.
~ xoxo, Ryuu