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may your honour lift you high
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Posted on May 3, 2013 at 11:11:03 PM by t r i s t a n

Tristan sighed as he followed Alethea out of the room looking back over his shoulder at his father. The king only smiled at him airily for a moment before shifting his attention to the stack of papers on his desk. There was no getting out of it, that much was clear, and so the prince resigned himself to wasting what remained of the morning, resolving to try and make the best of it. The extent to which that was achievable depended very much upon his companion. He had not yet made his mind up about her yet. In Tristan’s experience the kind of girls who he ran into at court were all rather dull. They seemed to have a strange aversion to mud and squealed at the sight of even the tiniest of spiders. Some of them even had the irritating habit of asking him to get rid of the spider for them, whilst giggling...about something. There was Bryar though. Tristan liked Bryar, she didn’t mind mud or spiders, and she would never have been caught dead in a dress. Alethea didn’t seem to be especially giggly, but she was wearing a dress. It really was rather difficult to tell.

When she slipped her arm through his, he glanced down at it briefly, before looking back up at her with a smile. That was another thing that he had learned girls did. Whenever he spoke to Megan she had a habit of touching his arm all the time and she made an awful lot of eye contact. Tristan had learned to accept it, and, besides, she always listened very closely to what he was saying which he knew he shouldn’t have appreciated, but he really did. The prince had always enjoyed attention, and attention was what Alethea offered him seconds later. On this occasion however, he found that he felt a little less enthusiastic about it. He found the events that had occurred in the Marsh to be a little embarrassing. “I was attacked,” the prince explained after a pause, “in the Marsh, a pack of venaraptors found me and...well...those things aren’t exactly friendly.” He tried to make a joke about it, he wasn’t about to tell her that the creatures (and their teeth) still regularly found their way into his dreams at night. He didn’t think he’d ever forget their eyes, cold, yellow and merciless, nor the stench of their hot breath on his face. If there ever was a next time, he swore to himself, he would be ready, he’d take them out more quickly than before. “They ripped my chest up pretty well too. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Tristan gently removed her hand from his arm for a moment as he reached into the collar of his shirt. His fingers closed around a black chord and he pulled on it until a large pointed white tooth came into view. “One of the guards gave it to me,” he explained to Alethea as he held up the tooth and it span around as the chord steadily untwisted, “came from the biggest one. They said they brought the bodies back, but Father won’t tell me what they did with them.” Tristan caught himself, and glanced at her as he let the tooth drop back against his chest. He gathered up her hand again, returning it to his arm as they continued down the corridor. He couldn’t be sure, but he was fairly certain that the only girl he knew who’d have wanted to hear about how he’d have really liked to have had one of the skulls was Bryar. “Is there anything you particularly wanted me to show you?” the boy asked curiously as they approached the bottom of a staircase.

photography by Dominic’s pics | Mark Cutler at flickr.com






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