|WOO TRISTAN & ISOLDE I'll think of a title later
Author: BarnBum89 PM
So, this is a version of Tristan & Isolde. Just like everybody else I've added my own character. It's rated M because I don't know how graphic I'll get. Pairings all over the place, so don't ask.Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Drama - Words: 938 - Reviews: 5 - Follows: 1 - Published: 03-13-07 - id: 3439380
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I own absolutely nothing. I don't know why I have to tell you that, because you already know that I don't.
"She may be the reason Tristan, but you are the cause." she said as a single tear slid down her cheek.
"As I am the cause of my own." he replied as the vows were finalized. He barely wiped the tear from her face before she shyed away from his touch and turned on her heel to head back towards Castle D'or.
Tamlyn controlled herself throughout the reception, and even danced with some of the men. As Marke and Isolde were to leave the reception, she stood opposite Tristan closest to the doors leading out. Isolde stopped briefly to speak to Tristan, as Marke did to speak to Tamlyn.
"We have to end this now." he said to her sorrowfully without meeting her eyes.
"It's already ended. It ended the moment Tristan won that tournament."
"Why do you say that?" he said as if her reply had angered him.
"Because you know that I will not be THAT woman." she said coldly.
Nothing more was said between the two, but as he and Isolde left, Marke looked back over his shoulder, and his green eyes seemed to pierce her heart with their sharp stare.
Tamlyn and Tristan did not pass the time until the coronation, but rather endured it. Both were left to deal with the pain of their affairs in different ways. Tristan dealt with his pain by sneaking off to the Roman bridge with Isolde, while Tamlyn was left with her decision of bringing her affair with Marke to an abrupt halt the day he was married to another woman. While Tristan was sneaking off to the Roman bridge, Tamlyn was sneaking off to the stables. She had an immense love of horses, and Marke had given her Bronte, a tall, slender bay. The gift helped her cope with the loss of the gift-giver.
Marke grew weary of Isolde's constant "walks in the garden," and was surprised Isolde had not questioned him about his constant trips to the stables. Marke would remain in the shadows as Tamlyn tended to Bronte, the horse he had given her for the sole purpose of binding her further, but not officially, to him. He would watch her ride because since the day he had told her about Isolde, it was the only time she had ever appeared happy.
It was the night before the coronation. It was raining, and Marke could not find Isolde. He was searching Castle D'or from top to bottom, and was surprised to find Tamlyn in the stables this late at night. She was simply leaning against Bronte, stroking him, deep in thought, and she didn't see Marke approach.
"Have you seen Isolde?" he said as he stepped into the horse's stall.
Tamlyn turned towards him, and with an ice blue stare replied, "Has your pretty, pretty princess gone missing?" It was the first thing she had said to him since the night of the wedding.
She was startled when Marke grabbed her arm and backed her into the wall, trapping her with his other arm.
"She may be a pretty, pretty princess, but you will always be my queen." he said as he kissed her on the forehead and released her.
At the coronation ball, Tristan and Tamlyn watched from opposite sides of the room as their king and queen danced. She saw Isolde steal glances at Tristan, just as Marke was at her. She was a spiteful woman, and more than one man had told her so. She couldn't take it anymore, and made her way to Tristan after the song had ended.
"It may appear bold, but would you like to join me in making them feel only a fraction of what we feel now?" she asked of Tristan as she glanced at Marke, sitting with Isolde.
"A fraction of what we feel would be agony. And I am sure that you could make Marke insane by dancing with any man, but I will join you in making them feel that fraction." He offered her his hand, which she gladly accepted, and they proceeded to the dance floor as the next song began.
"Who is that, dancing with Tristan?" Isolde whispered to Marke as her gaze remained on the well-paired couple.
"Tamlyn. She was once betrothed to Merlot, my nephew."
"What happened to the betrothal? I'm sure she would have made him a lovely wife." Isolde replied careful not to let a jealous tone slip out as she watched the brown haired beauty dance with her lover, a smile on their faces.
"They decided that it could not be because they both loved another." Marke replied, also careful of his tone.
"She's beautiful." Isolde whispered as she watched Tamlyn move about the dance floor.
"That she is." Marke replied as he met Tamlyn's eyes from across the room. "That she is."