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the world will end when the stars cry
IP: 95.151.250.120
Posted on March 20, 2012 at 03:54:17 AM by tristan & celidon







Tristan shuffled his feet anxiously, his usually bright green eyes fixed upon the red and gold threads which made up the throw rug which covered the centre of the wooden floor of his father’s private study. He could hear the king speaking with the captain of the guard in a low voice, so low, in fact, that Tristan could only make out odd words. The guard saluted, Tristan heard the stamp of his boot against the floor boards, and watched as the man’s shadow slipped past him and out through the door. It closed with a clunk. Silence descended. Tristan didn’t move, and Arthur remained silent. The boy however, could feel his father’s eyes on the top of his bowed head, and slowly forced himself to raise his face in order to meet the King’s gaze. “How many times have we had this conversation?” Arthur asked, sitting back in his chair and fixing his son with a stern stare. Tristan looked at the floor again. “I know,” he admitted with a sigh, “I’m sorry. It just happened... I didn’t mean...” Arthur sighed, “things like this don’t just happen, Tristan,” he began firmly, “you made a conscious decision, and I know for a fact that you are not foolish enough not to have been aware, on some level, where it would lead. You need to think about what you are doing, you could have really hurt someone today. Try and consider other people more often, you are not the only person in the world.” It was Tristan’s turn to sigh, blinking back the tears which prickled behind his eyes. He hated, more than anything, being told off by Arthur. “Yes father,” he nodded agreeably in a quiet voice, lowering his eyes back towards the carpet.

---

Tristan looked up at the clock which stood in the centre of the mantelpiece which framed the fireplace in his room. It had only been two hours. He could not believe how slowly time could go. Arthur had sent him to his room and told him to stay there. Under no circumstances was he to leave it until his Father came and told him that his punishment was over. In the mean time, he had been supplied with a large number of books (of the strictly non-fun variety) a pen, and a stack of parchment to go with a set of instructions listing some of the tasks he should complete using the afore mentioned books. In short, that afternoon was set to be well and truly boring. “Urgh,” Tristan groaned, leaning back from his sitting position until he was lying flat on the floor, one of his hands reaching out above his head in order to scratch Celidon behind the ear. The large green dog began to wag his tail, a tail that was bandaged about half-way down.

The Prince propped himself up on his elbows when he heard footsteps coming along the corridor, followed by the sound of doors being opened and closed. Please be Father, Tristan thought to himself, watching his own door with baited breath. The door swung open, but it was not Arthur who was standing framed in the doorway, it was Thoth. “Hullo,” Tristan said, forcing a smile, though he failed to completely mask his rather sullen tone. “Close the door behind you,” he pressed on, waving his friend in through the door, “and keep your voice down.” Reaching out, Tristan moved a stack of books out of the way so that Thoth had somewhere to sit, and dragged a pillow off the bed for something for the other boy to perch on. “I was going to try and find you today,” Tristan explained with another sigh, slipping a bookmark into the hard-backed volume which lay open on the floor directly in front of him, “but er...something came up.” Pushing his fringe back out of his eyes, the Prince peered at his friend, his green eyes narrowing slightly, “Urm...Thoth?” he asked, as a smile finally edged its way onto his face, “why have you grown a hump?”






tristan & celidon
for we were made of stronger things,
the memories of soldiers, the children of kings


original image by Stefan Tell at flickr.com






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