Mallos lingered a moment in the entranceway and part of Tristan wished he'd stay there. He couldn't bring himself to look at him. His grandfather was like the sword and crown in the dark corner of the room, relics of a person who...no. He didn't think he could bear to see his own grief written on the face of the one family member he had left, especially when that person was the one he associated most with joy and laughter. He leaned forwards and covered his face, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. Another part of him wanted him to stand up and close the space between them. He wanted to throw himself into Mallos' arms like he was a child again who needed comfort after a nightmare. It would be so easy to shed responsibility, to let himself be cared for and consoled.

It was too late. Mallos had moved from the doorway into the chamber, his footsteps light as he crossed the earthen floor. Tristan tried to look at him, to force his eyes away from the walls to focus on a familiar face. He couldn't do it. He couldn't seem to do anything. The darkness grew more intense as a shadow fell across him, and the next thing he knew he was being pulled into a tight embrace. Tristan's breath quivered, catching in his throat on the exhale and he screwed his eyes tight shut and frowned. He was one step away from surrender.

But it was one step too far.

"I can't," he croaked, pressing an insistent hand against Mallos' chest, "I'm sorry, I can't." Tristan wrapped his arms around himself and stared down at the floor. The best he could do was stare at his grandfather's shoes. The sword in the corner tried to draw his eye. He could hear the sound of it clattering against the hall as his father pushed him, and it from the tower room. He remembered fighting his way down the stairs, and the last pirate at the bottom. He hadn't been able to stop, he'd been so scared, so angry, he'd just needed to make sure he was dead.

Nausea stirred in the depths of his stomach. He felt like he was back there. He could hear the sounds of the battle raging around him, and the dawning realisation of what was going on in the room he was running from. Back in the room under the henge, Celidon whined. The cu-sith slipped into the room, and draped his head over Mallos' shoulder. Tristan bit his lip.
"I'm sorry," he said again, finally managing to look Mallos in the eye. His worst suspicions were confirmed. The backs of his eyes burned, "I'm so sorry." Tristan fidgeted.

"I'm sorry I left him," he choked as the first of his tears escaped and left a trail through the dried blood and mud covering his face.


Tristan
_{the only thing left are the stars}