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Posted on April 28, 2013 at 10:12:40 PM by t r i s t a n
 The sudden glow of light in the darkened room came so suddenly, and shone so brightly, that Tristan was forced to shut his eyes tightly in an attempt to block out the glare. His head gave an uncomfortable throb. Had he hit that too? He couldn’t remember. He supposed he must have done if he’d passed out. No wonder everything hurt. Dark fur brushed past the boy’s fingertips as Sperantia jumped off the bed. The prince opened his eyes and peered through the gloom to see if he could make out what she was doing. He couldn’t, he was positioned too low against his pillows, and even curiosity was not enough to convince him that moving was a good idea. Everything felt like lead. “Is there water?” he managed to ask, a little faintly still. Arthur nodded and stood up, moving across the room towards the shelf where Nimueh had left the water jug. The king filled a goblet and then moved back towards the bed. “Can you manage yourself?” Arthur asked his son. Tristan nodded, “I think so,” he said, taking hold of the goblet as it was offered to him. He took a small sip. It was cold, soothing against his throat, but it also served to show him just how thirsty he was. Arthur caught Mallos’ eye whilst Tristan was preoccupied with the water, catching the meaningful expression on the Spaniard’s face. He sighed, glancing back at his son for a moment. His first impulse was to say yes, to tell Mallos to fix it all as if nothing had ever happened. Tristan would have been back in the stables the next morning...and probably back in the Marsh the day after. It was that knowledge that stopped him. Arthur believed, strongly, that life was a lesson, and Tristan needed to learn that just because he was talented, royal and famous, he was not invincible. One day, the safety of a kingdom would rest on his shoulders, and that required wisdom and caution, as well as courage. Tristan had plenty of the latter, Arthur had noted as such, proudly, on a number of occasions. There was always the danger that courage would turn into foolishness. Slowly, stiffly, Arthur shook his head in answer to the unasked question. He would keep a close eye on the boy, but Nimueh at the castle healer had both declared that although the injuries were serious, they were unlikely to be life-threatening. They just needed time. Tristan winced as he tried to turn to put the goblet down upon the bedside table as his chest gave another unpleasant twinge. He bit his lip as Mallos said something to Sperantia, before turning back towards the bed. At the Spaniard’s question, Tristan saw Arthur give his Grandfather a sharp look (a look that Tristan was very familiar with) but didn’t say anything. His expression was soft and warm again by the time the King looked at Tristan again, and so he paid it little attention. The boy shook his head, his brown hair brushing against the pillow, “I killed them,” he admitted, not feeling remotely as proud about the fact as he would have expected if he had imagined the situation a day earlier. “You should have seen Celidon though, he was amazing. I didn’t know he could fight like that.” Celdion raised his head and looked placidly at the two adult faeries, not looking remotely threatening as Tristan scratched fondly beneath the cu-sith’s chin. Arthur smiled. “We’ll have to talk to the cook about getting him something good to eat, won’t we?” “We both like cream buns,” Tristan told his father helpfully, and, in relief that some glimmer of personality were returning, the king chuckled, glancing at Mallos again with a smile, “cream buns it is then.”  |
Replies:
- él se fue con el invierno. - By mallos May 3, 2013 at 06:16:48 PM
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