Out of Darkness Comes the Light - Chapter 11
Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone you may recognize. I don't even own the title. If you think I have ripped you off, sorry. This came purely from my own imagination, such as it is. I don't even claim that my story is any good...
Cardeia - I have a yummy pic of Tristan as my desktop. I swear, that man has the most intriguing hands. I have evil thoughts involving those hands fanning self
Galahad...he's so young. But he tries. I'm not sure I'm doing him justice. But I do have a little, tiny bit of a thing coming up with him. It's a fluff piece. But in line with this story.
Gawain? I originally had him sitting this one out, but you nudged him in. GRRR! But, as you say, he's got a connection to her. And he's not happy. That'll be the next chapter as I don't have it done yet. But I wanted you to see Tristan's reaction first.
Cassandra. Yes, she's the opposite of Teagan. Completely. Well, in most ways. Ever wonder that how most of our good friends are our complete opposites? That's why I have Lancelot and Tristan as friends. For me, it works.
Soceress Misha - Hold on, it gets better, I promise. I've only got a few more angstychapters to go.
blueskiezrusty -No! Don't be an alcoholic!grinBut your reviews always make me smile. They keep me going. Oh - more frustration ahead. laughing now
Tristan stalked to his room, his anger just under the surface. His hands making fists, clenching and unclenching in his frustration. His mind was an utter mess, he couldn't think clearly.
He cursed as he opened the door, silently closing it as he passed through.
Looking around, he realized that this was his life. In the corner of the far wall was the lone, small bed. The furs and linen sheets messed.
Teagan was laying there, smiling as she caressed his cheek, the sheet barely covering her flushed chest.
Walking to the bed he sat down, staring at the floor. The bare floor dirty and dusty from lack of cleaning. Clothes littering the floor where he had carelessly thrown them over the past weeks.
Next to the bed was a small table that held nothing but a few candles and his throwing daggers. Picking up the daggers, he kicked the table. It landed against the wall, smashing to pieces.
One by one, he threw the tiny blades, each one imbedding itself deep into the wall.
Getting up, he again looked around the room. This tiny small room. He had never wanted much in his life as a knight. He had always been alone. He preferred it that way. Not letting anyone close to him lest they get taken away. Then a fiery red-haired woman stepped into his life. Now he wanted more.
Leaving his room, he quickly went to the practice field, his sword hung loosely at his side. His mind fixed on Teagan.
Walking onto the field, Tristan's eyes automatically moved to the targets, now lined against the far wall. His mind going back.
Teagan had taken her first shot, the arrow missing the mark. The second hitting dead center. A look of pure satisfaction came over her face.
Her face. The small, round face with it's bright blue eyes that seemed to take everything in. Her red hair that fell in waves about her face.
He swung, the sword nearly sticking with the force of the impact.
That hair. That hair that just begged him to touch it. That hair that matched her personality, her fire.
Her fire that had been put out.
For reasons he couldn't understand, he wanted this woman. He wanted to see her laugh, to see her cry. He wanted to have her sit next to him while he ate. Or to have her near him, reading with a book balanced on her lap. The fire caressing soft features in her face.
It was her face he wanted to see as he rode into the gates from a mission. It was always her he looked for high on the wall as he passed underneath.
It was her warmth that he wanted at night. His body tightened at the remembered feel of having her underneath him.
He swung his sword at the post in front of him. The sharpness of the blade causing a large chunk of wood to fall to the ground.
Tristan kept swinging, his anger fixed on the post in front of him. Her words coming back to him.
"You don't get it. I cannot go through this again. I cannot stay here. Not with you."
And now she had left.
Tristan paused in mid swing, the sword fell from his loosened hand.
0o0o0o
"Tris?" Lancelot called cautiously as he pushed open the door to his friend's room. He had left the hall so abruptly. And Arthur wanted him to make sure that Tristan didn't do anything rash.
There was no answer so he entered quietly.
"Tristan?" He stepped further into the darkened room.
What met him was a bloody mess.
Not one piece of furniture, and there wasn't much, was upright. Clothes were everywhere and the small mirror that had hung on the wall, smashed to little bits. Several tiny throwing knives were dotted along one wall.
0o0o0o
After checking to make sure that Tristan didn't leave the fort, that his horse was still there, Lancelot then headed to the practice field. Hoping that Tristan would be there.
Sure enough, the man was there and it looked like he was annihilating the wooden dummy post. Large chunks lay scattered on the ground. In his hands was one of the larger hunting daggers that he carried with him.
"Tristan!" Lancelot called as he walked closer.
Tristan threw the dagger at Lancelot, just missing his foot.
Swallowing hard, Lancelot looked from the knife to Tristan. He knew the scout had held back. He could had hit him blindfolded. He could sense the unchecked anger flowing from him. His eyes were so dark, they were nearly black. His mouth set in a thin line.
Picking the knife up, he continued walking towards Tristan, calmly handing the dagger back to him.
Lancelot noticed the pronounced shaking in Tristan's hand as he took the dagger back.
"I'm sorry." He honestly didn't know what to say. What did Arthur expect him to do? Hug him? Get him drunk?
Lancelot didn't know. He didn't know how to help his friend as he watched Tristan.
Tristan turned away from Lancelot. He threw the dagger again. It hit another post, nearly 200 paces away.
A/N: Well? Don't worry, the angst is almost done. Several Swedish Fish have met their end while writing these two chapters. Cardeia, I hope I got into his brain good enough. Gawain and Teagan are next. Oh, and since you seem to be posting right after me, please put us out of our misery and post. It is frustrating, this waiting!