Title: Our Sons and Daughters

Vignette Title: History With Tristan

Author: Baby Blues

E-mail: purely_

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, except for the children and the story itself.

Notes: I got tired of typing up Chapter 8 of "Our Sons and Daughters" and decided to write short vignettes to keep myself from getting frustrated with the continuation of this fic. I figure it'll really help with my writing and keep my muse . . . amused. ^__^ Enjoy.

Summary: Tristan gets bored in history class and has lunch with Paige.

Dedication: To the hot guy who works at Aaron & Brothers. Thanks for always making the process of purchasing art supplies so delightful. ^__^ RRrrow!

"Elizabeth Bathory," Gary, 10th grade teacher of History 101, began as he hopped up onto his desk with a large book in his hand. His 4th period class began to settle down, listening, if not intently, to the opening of his lecture. "Born in 1560 to one of the oldest and wealthiest family in . . . Transylvania," he said the last word with a terrible evil, Romanian accent.

The class chuckled at his absurdity. It was an everyday ritual to hear him joke and amuse his young students with impressions, fun facts, amusing tales and renditions of historical accounts.

Gary Roberts, known just as Gary to the school and faculty, was only in his mid-twenties, fresh out of college compared to the other teachers of Hemery High. He was in touch with the new generation he was teaching his lessons to and the entire school loved him for it.

As Gary continued on with his intriguing way of educating his students about history, Tristan fell into his world. Perching his head against his crossed arms, he stared out of the windows, watching keenly as a burst of wind blew the leaves of the trees outside the classroom. The rays of the sun shone like piercing daggers through the vegetation that sat tall and proud on the school grounds.

He closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath as he let the smell of spring cleanse him. In two days time would be the last rainfall before the beginning of summer finally arrived. And even then it wouldn't be much.

He heard soft whistling outside and slowly looked up to find a group of jocks stalking two cheerleaders across the lawn. In a typical male manner, they nudged each other with elbows as the girls giggled over the attention they were getting.

Tristan mentally rolled his eyes as he settled back into a blank dream world.

This was his 14th day at school and he wished he was back at the hotel. He would rather sit through lunch with Brooke, Liam, and Aiden fighting on whoever got the last slice of pizza than to sit in the cafeteria with a tray of unknown substances.

"Mr. Aerilous . . . are you with us?"

Tristan took his time, opening his eyes and looking at his teacher as he sat up.

Gary quirked a dark brow at his new student. This particular teen was a strange one, quiet and often lost in a world all of his own making. He could tell that the other students were instinctively curious and fascinated by him whether they realized it or not. There was just something magnetic about the 15-year-old that everyone admired. But at the same time, Gary could sense that the others were too frightened of him to get too close. Maybe it was the strange way he could look at someone and see into their soul.

"I'm listening," Tristan finally answered.

"Then would you like to tell us something you may know about Elizabeth Bathory?" Gary asked, knowing full well the teen wouldn't know. He may be an outgoing and relaxed teacher but he drew the line somewhere. He had to make his authority known, He still had a responsibility to teach these kids something. "Maybe you know who she is."

"Elizabeth Bathory suffered from a mental illness we modernly call vampirism. As a young child, Elizabeth often had seizures, possibly from a neurological disorder that may have led to the psychological ailment she suffered," Tristan replied, shocking his teacher into utter silence. "Around her 40's and after a brutal incident with a maid servant that drew blood, Elizabeth began to believe that the key to eternal youth was to bathe in the blood of young women. It was said that around 500 girls were tortured and killed in her castle to satisfy her delusion and madness."

His classmates became silent as they listened intently to the young man that had barely said a word since showing up at school as the newbie. And here he was, giving a speech about some wacko lady.

"Since she was related to princes, a cardinal, and the prime minister of Hungary, her punishment of these deaths only lead her to solitary confinement instead of her own demise. She was basically imprisoned in her bedchambers where they walled up the doors and windows, leaving only a small opening where food could be passed. Four years after being walled in, Elizabeth Bathory, known as the Blood Countess, finally died after being discovered by a curious guard."

Tristan began drawing a picture of the woman on his notebook but continued on. "Interestingly enough, there are some connections between Bathory and the infamous Vlad Dracula who was also known for his vampirism. History deemed him as a mad count that punished people by his favorite penalty, impaling them on large, tall stakes. He took great pleasure in watching people die and would often sit and dine among those he staked, toasting them while he drank their blood in chalices."

He then met Gary's eyes, his eyes stormy and blue. "But I'm getting side tracked, we're talking about Bathory." The boy cleared his throat, "Although Vlad and Elizabeth weren't descendants, the connection between them falls on Prince Steven Bathory who helped Dracula reclaim his family throne and was gifted with Castle Fagaras, the Bathory family residence."

Tristan fell silent as he finished up his drawing, "It's said that the another reason why Elizabeth was imprisoned so sadistically was to never let her know that the government owed a large debt to her family estate after her husband, who died years before, loaned them money."

Tristan looked up at his teacher. "I can continue if you want me to. Specific details you want or need. Especially about the part where it was rumored she was a lesbian and had orgies in her castle."

"Whoa . . . seriously!?" a way too eager boy asked next to him.

"No. Not necessary," Gary cleared his throat. "You know a lot about Elizabeth Bathory and Vlad Dracul."

Tristan shrugged. "I read a lot, but my knowledge doesn't fall only on Romanian history." He paused, looked down at his notebook and signed his initials by his sketch.

"Well, continuing on . . ."

************

"Hey, Tristan," Paige greeted with a bright smile as she sat next to him in the school cafeteria.

He smiled in return but said nothing.

"How was class?" she asked, poking at spoonfuls of mush the color of green on her tray with a look of disgust.

"Ok," he shrugged, trying hard to ignore the conversation going on around the room about them.

"He's hot, gorgeous eyes . . . kinda weird though," Diane told her friends as they stared at the new guy that sat quietly two tables across from them.

"And a super genius. The guy can solve calculus problems like he's pouring himself a glass of water. I think Mrs. Kitchner has a crush on him," Meredith added.

"And he's talented," Alessandra said, her voice low and seductive. "He's in the orchestra, plays the violin," she continued a bit dreamily. "He came in late yesterday and you know how Mr. Johnson is with tardiness. Made the poor guy stand in front of class and play. But he was amazing . . . gave us all goose bumps."

"Impressive," Meredith breathed.

"I know! But look at him," Alessandra sighed, resting her cheeks against her palm, "I could just eat him up."

"Keep your claws to yourself," Diane frowned and glared at the pretty brunette, "He's mine, bitch."

Alessandra rolled her eyes. "Get over yourself. Plus, we would so super cute together."

"I dunno. The girl with him might make any stabs at him difficult," Meredith said disappointedly.

Alessandra smirked. "That's his sister."

"That's his sister?" Meredith asked, doubt in her voice.

"They don't look alike," Diane frowned.

"I think they have different fathers."

"Maybe mothers."

"Whatever, but you should've seen their brothers and sisters yesterday," Alessandra said, her cheeks turning pink, "They came by to pick 'em up, three older boys, just as lickable as he. Gorgeous family."

"How many of them all together?"

"I saw eight, including the two of them. Two other older girls and another girl younger than them, probably goes to the middle school."

"Eight? Jeez," Diane balked.

The bell suddenly rang and Tristan finally stopped trying to discern the crap on his tray and turned his attention to his sister.

"I mean, when will I ever use pie? Don't they realize that we're in the age of the future? By the time I start working, I'll probably own a calculator that can make cappuccinos." She looked at him in question, "What do you think?"

Tristan began gathering the school food he didn't have the courage to eat. "I think you just don't want to do it and are expecting *me* to do it for you."

Paige winced. "Ok, so you figured me out," she pouted and collected her things for her next class. "So . . ."

"I'll help but I won't do it for you."

She gaped at him.

Tristan always ended up doing her math homework since she was a total dunce when it came to numbers. He never seemed to mind when he sat at her desk and finished 20 problems within a thirty-minute time span.

"Fine," Paige sighed, knowing full well his guilt had finally come forth after their mom heard about her D- in one of her tests the other day.

Tristan fought off a smile. "You owe me a gallon of Cherry Garcia."

She quirked a brow at him, "You do realize that it'll be gone even before you can get your hands on it . . . or have you forgotten we live with Aiden?"

Tristan couldn't hold it back any long and finally let out a short chuckle.

Paige couldn't help herself and joined him. "I love you, Tristan. You know that, right?"

He nodded as they walked through the doors of the cafeteria, a smile on his handsome face. "I know, Paige."

She glared at him. "Stop reading my mind or looking into my soul or whatever you do. Can't you . . .I don't know," she shrugged, "Knock or something?"

"Knock?"

"Or ask," she grumbled.

"I'll try," Tristan smiled before the pair finally separated ways.

AN: I know I haven't updated in FOREVER but I've recently finished school and have started my own business. Life's been really busy but I really want to get back into writing. ^__^ I just need some love and support so always leave a feedback. They truly are the greatest cure for Writer's block! Thanks again and I'll talk to you all soon! ^__^