Katemary77- I plan on lots more angst and drama in the future for Vrena and Tristan. :smiles cunningly:
SpectralLady- Drop a review whenever you feel like it - doesn't bother me at all. Tristan might cheer her up in the next chapter :P
Calliann- Yea, you've got about two more chapters or so until I have to kill off Dag ;-; xD that would be cool. As a way of apologizing, Tristan says "You can kick me if it makes you feel any better."
HGandRHrforever- Ah, I'm not sure if I liked the twist at the end. I'm still debating over it :P
Sarah- It's ok, you don't have to review for every chapter! xD…
Dw- Psh, Galahad is not impulsive. In fact, he's probably the most normal of all the knights xD…and he seems like a person who would take into consideration someone's feelings.
Op- Dude :P
Lininlix- Rocks like…kicks arse rocks? Or rocks like…pointless as a rock?
Lenao- Welcome to the story :D
ElvenStar5- Yea. Actually, the typos aren't my fault, you can blame this site for those. See below for details :P…
Modernprincess- I think I'm going to wait to get to the knight's reactions on the topic of Vrena later next chapter. I'm still planning out the individual responses. And did you happen to watch the previews for the next episode of ER? I was too tired and went to bed before I could see it :O
I-I-I-I-I-I
NOTE TO ALL READERS: I've gone back and read a few of my chapters, and have decided to address my spacebar problem. You see, it isn't my spacebar, it's actually ff net to blame for making my work seem crappier then it already is xD…if I really had missed the space bar, Microsoft Word would have caught it instantly. Unfortunately, when I use the preview tool to do the italics and bolding stuff for each chapter, I use the editor. Which, for some reason can mess up spaces when you save. I say we send the admins spam until they fix that shit, yo :O
I-I-I-I-I-I
Oh, before I begin this chapter, I would also like to take a little survey for the story. So all of you readers, be prepared to give an answer! All of you get a say in this!
First question: Should I , in later chapters, include some slight PG13 content for a Tristan/Vrena scene? You know, like…yea, that xD…believe it or not, I'm actually pretty good with those scenes…
Second question: how long does it take to get to the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop?
Yea, yea, I know, I'll shut up and type the story now…
-
-
Chapter 12- Songs and Secrets
-
-
No one else had come to bother her as they set up camp for the night. Fulcinia had tried to get away from Marius once, but he was keeping her by him at all times. Something was wrong with that man, she could tell now.
The little boy from the wagon, whose name she had learned was Lucan, was already sound asleep. Dagonett's things were next to him, and most of the townsfolk had begun to light fires here and there for people to sit around. Vrena did not join them.
She watched as Lancelot was gawking at Guinevere, who was being bathed inside a tent nearby. Good thing Arthur was nowhere to be seen. Only after Guinevere had finished being cleansed did he emerge from the woods.
Over the past while, she had calmed down a bit, and her crying had ceased. But her eyes were red and puffy, plus she was irritable.
A bit of anxiousness fueled her mind as she saw a little girl running to her mother, carrying an instrument that she recognized to be acoustic. She could play the strings simultaneously, she knew. It was the way she had been taught. She smiled for the first time that nigh as the little girl tried to play a song, but kept missing notes.
"Before you play a song, child, you have to know the chords." Vrena spoke to the child in an amused tone. Her voice was still a bit dry and dim, cracking here and there, but she paid no attention to it.
The little girl looked up to her, along with many of the folk around her. It had been a long while she had been sitting on the log. She saw Galahad and Gawain turn around from unpacking their things, and Guinevere sat down near her, wrapped in a sapphire blanket. Vrena took notice that Arthur and Lancelot both had followed her over, sitting on the ground nearby.
Perhaps it was time to let out her tension? Sing the story of Annaleeze. It seemed suitable.
"Chords? How do they go?" The little girl asked, gazing intently at her instrument.
"'ere, let me see." Vrena said and held out her hand. The little girl looked up, and excitedly handed out the neck of the banjo-like contraption, which Vrena took gently and placed it onto her lap. It was well carved, fine wood with fine strings of wire. A nice instrument indeed.
"A Chord is simple. You can mix and match once you learn the basics. You just pick a few notes that fit together, like these-" Vrena explained, and then plucked five different notes on each different string, one after the other, using a different finger for each.
"Then, you play them together like this." She finished as she kepteach finger on its designated string, and swiped her hand down them,whilst a beautiful sound emerged- the notes she had picked merged into the other elegantly.
She still had her talent. The little child's face lit up. At least she was doing some good by staying here, teaching a child to play an instrument.
But, of course, her actions again caught up with her. A few more children came over, listening to Vrena play one chord after another, each with its own melodic resonance.
Before she knew it, she had about all the children from the town surrounding her. And before she could stand up and leave, the requests were pouring in from every direction.
You see, she can sing and play. But does Vrena like to do it in front of crowds? No, not at all.
"Sing!" "Play more!" "Please?" "A song!" "Please!" "Just one!" "We won't talk!" "Please sing!"
Vrena looked around, slightly panicking. She was cornered.
"Go ahead, Vrena." Guinevere encouraged her. She saw Guinevere look to where Arthur and Lancelot were, look back to Vrena, nudge her head in their direction again, and wink. Now, she might be mistaken, but was this lady suggesting that she sing a song about lovers? Or an even better guess, two men falling for one woman?
Vrena let the corner of her mouth creak to the side a little to form an almost invisible smile.
"You know, maybe I will." Vrena replied. A few of the children cheered and then began to hush one another. A nervous blush appeared on her face, and she was thankful for her large hood. Her eyes could barely be seen.
As long as she closed them and made no eye contact, she was sure she would be fine. 'Just pretend no one is there', she thought to herself, and took a few deep breaths; adjusting her eyes to the darkness and putting her fingers on the fingerboard. It was time to test her memory.
The song of Annaleeze began with a low tone, and then slowly progressed throughout the song. The composition was not Celtic, nor traditional Irish folk. Instead, it was a perfect blend of both, which gave the song a natural unique feeling.
After the first solo verse with the strings, she opened her mouth to sing. During the song, the hardest parts were when she would have to force her voice an octave higher. She could do it, yes, but it was a royal pain in the arse. She quickly adjusted her voice to a low tone, soothing and melodic.
"Haze gathered resting on one tor, young Annaleeze was born
In sallow gowns she'd prance free ground, throughout the palace lore
Strong ever be her heart and fight, true callings may yonder end
Two hearts imprisoned on that day, she joined the braver men
Flowing stream today they say, will cleanse away the red
So story state fair Annaleeze had better been off dead"
She allowed her voice to trail to a higher octave, but not by very much. She would need space to travel throughout the rest of the song. She added in a new sound to the notes, which brought out an Irish-like theme.
"Fancy steal her open heart, the bemused Anna ran
Fight battles and swing sword she might, but dare not love two men.
Dreary time passed blew the winds, she clashed in many lands
Returning to her native land, Anna she dreamed the day.
Flowing stream today they say, will cleanse away the red
So story state fair Annaleeze had better been off dead."
She allowed another short, vibrant solo for her fingers to take care of as she internally remembered the change in key for the next verse, which would make it bright, but at the same time adventurous and downhearted.
"Two men, how goodly bound they were, fine ties a long years coming
Love twist and severed fate's tight strings, as Annaleeze came running
Stinging bite of jealous thorns, upon the twig they rest
Though never can they reach the rose, stuck only to the stem.
Flowing stream today they say, will cleanse away the red
So story state fair Annaleeze had better been off dead."
A calmer tune she began to play, and softer, so that when she reached her highest pitch, she would actually be heard. She was now singing the highest she could ascend, which wasn't all that high.
"Fight they did for Anna's hand, waged fights noble and grand
Gloom and aching her poor heart laid, seams shredded stitched by hand
Dare say she loved them both she knew, death be upon one this day
And so she pierced her own good heart, and plunged into the bay
Oh jealousy love's lusting brings, to burn the hearts tight bound
Tall tales and truths ones thoughts may tell, but future holds more ground
Flowing stream today they say, will cleanse away the red
So story state fair Annaleeze had better been off dead."
She held her last word for a while, the high pitch mixing beautifully as each finger stopped slowly, one after the other, until she was only playing the Irish melody. Then lightly she released the last chord that ended the song, and was rewarded with silence.
But before she knew it, there was a loud eruption from behind and in front of her, some clapping, some whistling, and a few children giggling, running around to find their parents. She saw that Lancelot and Arthur were anything but smiling, though they did clap. Guinevere had a pleased look on her face, and mouthed a 'thank you'.
"It's been too long since my ears have heard how you sing, child." Came her aunt Fulcinia's voice, sitting next to her on the log.
"It has been too long since I've played, and you know I hate an audience." Vrena said as she handed the instrument back to its owner, the little girl still excited and happy. Vrena wished she could look like that again.
"You never told me what happened." Fulcinia spoke in a low hush, looking calmly into Vrena's eyes.
"Yes, let us walk." Vrena said, standing up. She shook her cloak a bit to get some of the chipped wood from the log off, then her and Fulcinia advanced towards the woods, where no fire light could be seen.
Vrena took a deep breath, as her aunt waited patiently without a word. How was she supposed to explain that her sister had gone mad? That she had almost died, had the knights not rescued her? After thinking for a few seconds, she decided to put it plain and simple.
"Vejha tried to kill me."
-
-
It was now late into the night, the moon was high. Soon it would set and the sun would begin to rise, and he would have to head back to the caravan. But until then, Tristan was left riding with nothing but himself and his thoughts.
After thinking about it for a while, a memory from fifteen years ago replayed itself in his head, reviving itself from the spot in which it had been buried deep. That was what he had done with most of his unanswered questions, thoughts and such. Kill them and bury them, so only the grave stone remained.
But now he remembered it clearly since Vrena had brought it up during their argument.
"Who travels and lives with Romans and Sarmatians because it was Romans and Sarmatians who killed off her kind!"
Her words had rung in his head for quite some time now, even long after he had left. So many knights and soldiers knew the tale of the defenseless Woad village, attacked fifteen years ago by Romans and new Sarmatian recruits, which he had been one of. He remembered it distinctly, firing his arrow to the top of the hill, watching it penetrate the skull of a Woad. The two others he had seen up there had disappeared, along with the horses they were escaping with.
That had been Vrena's village; it didn't take much to figure it out now. The rest was complete common sense. The white foal upon the mount was Arvin. Vrena and her sibling had been behind the hill at the time, and had escaped the bloodbath. Had they not have escaped…she would have been dead at that early age.
An interesting way your past seems to catch up to you.
When he had fought with her, he had never been so outspoken and ill-mannered in his fifteen years of knighthood. Always had he kept to himself, never told anyone about anything, or argued with anyone. Only a few times had he been in a dispute, he would only say so much, and then ignore the problem. But some trait about her forced something out of him.
A cry of a bird could be heard overhead, and a dark figure loomed in circled above him. Tristan whistled and held out his arm, the hawk glided down and placed itself on its usual spot, talons lightly clutching his arm.
For a few seconds, he just sat there on his steed, the bird perched on him, lost in his own thoughts. Nothing had ever preoccupied his mind like this before. He blinked once and brushed a few loose strands of hair from his face.
"Well, she is beautiful." He admitted to the hawk. Her face was memorable indeed; once you've seen it for the first time, it looms in your head. He was sure even Lancelot would agree with him, but there was no way he was going to speakwith Lancelot on this matter. He would keep it to himself, until he could tell apart what about her kept him as attached as he was.
He would have to return early morning, no matter how much he dreaded the thought. He had never apologized to anyone in his life, because never had he done a thing that would compel him to.
-
-
"I…I don't- How could such a thing have happened?" Fulcinia stuttered, trying to read between the lines of everything Vrena had told her. How Vejha had convinced the town of Tirth to think she was a witch, and nearly got her executed.
"Something pushed her over the edge, I presume," Vrena said with a deep sigh, knowing that her aunt was not taking this as well as she had hoped. Fulcinia was a quiet, frail woman, who stood up for what she thought was right- unless Marius told her not to.
"It's my fault…I should have told both of you earlier about what happened to your town, I-"
"It's not your fault." Vrena cut her off, putting her hands onto her aunt's shoulders to calm her down.
"Vejha hates me because I look more Sarmatian then Woad. That is not your fault. If anything, it is mine." Vrena spoke softly, Fulcinia now looking calmer then before, taking some deep breaths to calm herself.
"I promised Naeda that I would not tell you…but how did Vejha discover it? That Sarmatians were at the massacre? It makes no sense." Her aunt said, confused with everything she had been told.
"I don't care how Vejha found out, all I know is that she wants me dead. And I tell you now, aunt, should she try again, I will kill her myself." Vrena said seriously. It was true, too. Not once had she killed a man, it was sad that her own sister would be her first. It scared her to think of Vejha's madness, clawing at her mind. She wanted to talk to Fulcinia about Tristan, but the topic of Vejha was still pounding in their heads.
"You need rest. We both do. Let us head back to the camp." Fulcinia suggested, but Vrena grabbed her aunt's arm to prevent her from moving. She still had one more question.
"What has happened to Marius, Flucy? Tell me." Vrena asked. Fulcinia gave her a quizzical look, hesitation easily detectable in her eyes. If her aunt was in danger, she wanted to know about it. Fulcinia looked to the ground, and then looked back up to her niece again.
"I…it…it started five years ago." The elderly woman spoke quietly, finally catching her words.
"I…I don't know how it happened. But ever since, he has cared less about me, less about his son, and more about wealth and power. He does not like to be proven wrong, let alone be taken advantage of. And…he has indeed become dangerous. When I look at him, I no longer see my husband, but some devil in disguise. You did not hear this from me." Fulcinia spoke, and Vrena let go of the woman's wrist. She watched as her aunt walked away, the mix of snow and leaves crunching beneath her.
Feeling better mentally after speaking to someone about her sister, at was as if a huge burden had been lifted from her shoulders…but now the ones that were not as heavy before began to weigh her down.
She wished for the thousandth time that she had not argued with Tristan.
Hearing footsteps behind her, Vrena turned around quickly to see Guinevere, wearing a pale blue dress covered by a red cloak much like the one Vrena was wearing. She looked a bit surprised to see Vrena out here to late into the night, but advanced forward anyway.
"Should you not be asleep?" she asked Vrena from a distance. There was a great deal of pale moonlight seeping through the trees now, and the earth seemed to illuminate like silver.
"My body yearns to, but my mind will not allow me…" Vrena answered, turning to face Guinevere. "What about you?"
"I guess I can say the same for myself. I'm meeting someone, actually." Said the woman, walking over to stand next to Vrena.
"Is it the Sarmatian scout whom is troubling your mind, or something else?" Guinevere asked suggestively, causing Vrena to blush, her cheeks lighting up like flames. Of course, it was true indeed that thoughts of Tristan was keeping her awake, but did it mean anything among the lines this lady was hinting towards?
"It is not like that."
"Oh, so you admit he is on your mind?"
"It's not like that." Vrena repeated, causing Guinevere to giggle lightly. She had no feelings towards Tristan besides those of friendship. Or did she? No, do not think that way. The man despises every fiber of my being; it would not be probable anyways. Just because seeing him was exciting and talking with him led to odd situations, did not mean that they had any internal bindings.
"I think you're being dishonest to yourself."
"I think I would know if I was being dishonest with myself, of all people."
"It is not impossible, you know."
"But it is."
"Oh, so you are in denial?"
Vrena was clutching her fists right about now. She had no feelings for this man! That was it, end of story! She would have yelled that, but who knew if someone would overhear them. Guinevere sighed and continued.
"Then what thoughts are you having about him, exactly?"
Vrena froze. Yes, she had to think about this question. There were many things she thought whenever Tristan was near. How strong he was, how mysterious his eyes were when he looked at you, how his emotions were unpredictable, how he was so skilled with the bow, how handsome his voice was, how wonderful it would feel to be held in his arms.
In a few seconds, Vrena's eyes widened and her mouth gaped open as if she had just seen the living dead. Guinevere took one look at her and smiled deviously, success written all over her face.
'Oh, shit.'
-
-
-
:P I liked the way I ended that. Ending chapters with two or three words that quickly express the feelings of the character being examined is fun stuff :3
Hope you guys liked this, as short as it is...please attemt to answer the questions I posted before the story oo
III Cari III
