Tale of Four

Tristan crept out of the room alongside Vincent, not wishing to be near Elias and hear whatever rant he would go on next. Luckily for them, Elias seemed content enough to brood in his own anger at the perceived betrayal from his sister. Looking to Vincent, Tristan smiled.

"Congratulations, uncle." Wishing to try and lighten the mood Vincent was in, he joked, getting a disgusted look in reply.

"I am honoured by His Highness’s actions," Vincent said through gritted teeth, obviously scared that saying anything else might be overheard by Elias. Tilting his head to follow, once they got far enough away, Vincent dropped his act and quickly pulled a vial out of his pocket. Splashing its contents on a handkerchief, he pulled next, and he rubbed his neck and forehead, which had built up sweat. Finally, he placed both of the items on a random table, ripped his gloves off and quickly put a new pair on.

Tristan watched his entire process, still as confused as when he first saw Vincent act the way he did. "Is there a reason you do all this?" Hoping it wasn’t an offensive question, Tristan asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

Vinect looked at him, with even deeper confusion than Tristan’s own. "Is it strange that I wish to be clean?"

"No, but what you do is hardly a normal level of hygiene." Vincent frowned.

"I am not unclean, Tristan; I shall never be, and no one will ever say I am." Realising he had hit a nerve, Tristan stopped and moved on.

"Your marriage. I thought you would have liked it. Even if I am not attracted to men, I can still see Lord Doyle is a good-looking man. I have heard of his sister as well. Apparently, she is quite the prize within the Valley. If she is anything like Oscar, it isn’t your loss." Vincent’s face morphed into deeper disgust, twisting his beautiful looks, yet never failing to destroy them.

"Marriage." His eyes narrowed. "A repulsive idea."

"Really?" He spoke full of surprise. Vincent took a deep breath and nodded.

"I understand the Princess wholeheartedly, even if our reasoning for it is different. Sharing a bed with another and committing such filthy acts. Women always want children, but I loathe the idea. Disgusting beasts they are. When they grow older, it is fine, but before that." He shook his head. "And then any home you have, they bend to their will, making it theirs. You think it would be cleaner, but it never is." Tristan internally sighed, realising he had set Vincent off and wished to leave.

"Well, you can just have a loveless marriage. Worst comes to worst, you can adopt a child."

"A sully myself with a child not my own." Vincent said, full of disgust, "Any child who claims me as a father will be mine, not some scoundrel I take off the street." Rolling his eyes, Tristan lifted a hand to tap Vincent’s shoulder, the man quickly backing off to avoid the touch. Realising who he was dealing with, he lowered his hand and sighed.

"I wish you luck, uncle. If you struggle with your... duties as a husband, get drunk. Apparently that helps." Tristen quickly said and escaped, walking off, heading towards Mabel’s room. It was a quick walk, and he stopped outside; he knocked on the door. It went unanswered, and knocking again, he heard soemthing inside, "Mabel." Softly saying he heard another noise, followed by the door unlocking.

Peeking through, she stared at him and stepped out. "What?" Tristan smiled. Unsure of what to do or say, he nodded his head down the hall.

"Shall we drink?" Thinking of the advice he had just given Vincent, he asked, hoping to take Mabel’s mind elsewhere. She thought for a moment before nodding and turning into her room. Going to her wardrobe, she pulled out a green bottle.

"I’m not drinking the cheap stuff the servants have." Leading the way, Tristan happily followed as she led them to the Yellow Patio. Throwing the doors open, she sat herself down on the chair and clicked her fingers towards a nearby maid, ordering two glasses to be brought. It was quick, and the maid returned with the glasses and another bottle of wine, sensing the one might not be enough. Staying still, Mabel stared at him before laughing. "You can sit."

"Thank you, Princess." Placing his hand on his chest and giving an exaggerated bow, he followed her orders as she poured a glass for the two of them. Holding her glass up, Tristan quickly cheered her, the two sinking half the glass in one go. With a relaxed sigh, she loosened the top button on her shirt. Tristan said nothing about how it was unladylike and watched, seeing she wished to let herself drop all pretence she had to have when with the council.

"How could he?" Asking, she took another drink, "He has known since we were children that I wouldn’t marry anyone but who I chose. He was the first one to support me." Mabel looked at the red wine, swirling the glass with a listless expression. "Whenever mother would bring it up and berate me for not appealing to the Lords and their sons, he would be the one to defend me, say that I could choose who I wanted."

Tristan didn’t speak, seeing it was just a moment to vent. "When father was named king, he promised I would serve by his side when he took the throne, as the advisor he could trust, and now he marries me off like I’m cattle." Mabel stifled a breath and took another sip, finishing the glass and pouring another. Not wishing to be left behind, Tristan quickly drank almost all his own.

"I’ve known this Gerlad. He’s just like the rest of them. All of them seeing me as a strange prize to be had. The wild Cosmaton to be tamed. A challenge to try and sculpt me into a lady that suits the relam. A way to get power and standing." Mabel slammed a fist into the table. "I hate it. I’m not some challenge, nor a prize. Every one of them is always looking at me with that look. That repulsive look. They don’t see me, Tristan." She took a pause and another sip. "How am I meant to marry a man who only wishes to marry me because of some disgusting idea that I am to be tamed. Whatever that look means?"

"Mabel." Tristan quietly said, finishing his drink and pouring another. He could hear the anguish in her voice, of a fate that was worse than death to her. He was sure of it: if forced to do this, either Mabel would kill herself or Gerald just to be free. Taking another drink, he stared into her eyes. "I’m sorry."

"Why? Why are you sorry? You did nothing." Mabel said with anger but quickly drank to calm herself, "Sorry, that’s unfair."

"It’s okay," Tristan replied. There was a silence as he wondered what to say. For a moment, only the sound of the wind cut through the silence as they slowly drank. Finally, he spoke, "You know I have been hiding soemthing." Tristan said. He was unsure why he was willing to tell her his deepest secret. His mind screamed at him not to, but Tristan ignored it, feeling it was necessary for Mabel at the moment. "I understand what you feel, in a strange sense."

Mabel wanted to cry out how he could understand but held back, realising that Tristan was trying his hardest to say what he wanted. "A fate, forced on you that you never asked for. A fate that feels like it is the only way forward." Tristan took a shaky breath. His lip quivered as he felt his honest feelings about his life for the first time. Subconsciously, he summoned Annabell, the dove forming out of white smoke, nestling on his lap. Before she could fly off, his hands grabbed her, stroking her feathers to calm her down.

"You remember that night during the tournament, when I said my secret could sound treasonous." Mabel nodded. "I don’t understand it. I remember soemthing that happened before I was born. It sounds so strange, and I can’t explain it clearly, but before I was born, I heard a voice. The thing or being that spoke was incomprehensible, Mabel, a God. It spoke a language no one could understand, yet it was so clearly heard. It ordered, or preordained, I don’t know, but it told me to survive and wait." Grabbing the glass, he finished the wine, Mabel quickly pouring him another glass. "Seventeen years I have followed that order, becuase I don’t know what to do anymore."

Tristan stared into her eyes, dropping the act he always hid behind for the first time so clearly. Mabel looked at his gaze, at his slouched, tired shoulders and for the first time saw the tiredness and deep sadness that engulfed Tristan. "I...I... I can’t stop anymore." His voice shook. "I don’t know any other way of living that isn’t following that command. Edmund gave me an out, and I couldn’t accept it." He paused, licking his lips. "You desperately show everyone that you are not normal, but Mabel, and everyone looks at you, hoping to change that."

Tristan grabbed his chets, finally freeing Annabell, who quickly landed on his shoulder and nuzzled him, trying to make him feel better. "Do you know how hard it has been to survive. I was alone. My parents were dead; I didn’t know who to trust. I was a kid and told to survive by a being who knew they would die. It must have. I have just wanted friends, just wanted to be normal. All I have had, truly had, is Annabell. The worst part is, I don’t know what I’m waiting for, or if I missed it. I don’t know if I was surviving to claim the throne the day the vote was cast or if I must still wait; I don’t know anything. I am stuck in a fate I cannot free myself from, because without it, what am I to do anymore?"

Mabel stared at Trisatn as he took numerous deep breaths, calming himself down. Finally, he fixed his collar and sank the rest of the wine. "You think this marriage is the end, Mabel. Don’t let it be; don’t get yourself trapped in a fate you dread, becuase at some point you forget what you really want. I never had that luxury; don’t make the same mistake."

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