So obviously, I am one of the many girls in this world who have watched the movie and fell in love with it. So last night, as I was watching it for like...the sixth time, this idea popped in my head. I was actually inspired by the moment when Tristan is making this wristlet for Isolde because I realised the scene where he gives it to her is 'missing', if you will. So it started out as a missing scene for the movie and it ended up in this, a one-shot from Isolde's POV.

It's my very first fanfic of Tristan + Isolde so please be kind. I can only hope I have captured her character decently. I expect to write another, similar one Tristan's POV, unless you don't like it.

So I hope you won't be bored while reading this and I hope that you could give me some constructive criticism. I do need it and long for it!

So enjoy!

Bond. That's what it represented. Bond, commitment, love.

It was so small, so unimportant and yet it meant the world to her, it was the one thing she could hold on to for hope, hope that fate would smile down on them and that the winds would soon blow favourably for them. Some people would misjudge its meaning as ownership but she knew better, and so did he. It was just a string with some small rocks instead of beads, really nothing much, but it was her most treasured, precious item, the one thing she never dared take off her wrist. It was the one thing she had left from him, the one thing that reminded her of the beautiful moments she guarded well and kept safe in her heart.

She rolled on her stomach, careful to be swift and gentle so not to wake her sleeping husband by shifting too vividly on the soft mattress. With a sigh, she brought the wrist before her silvery blue eyes, brushing her fingertips on the small bracelet Tristan had made for her when he still was in Ireland, as her 'captive'. It was his gift of gratitude to her, for saving him, showing him another aspect of 'Irish kindness' than the one he knew. It was the only gift she had accepted with her heart leaping with joy and surprised beam, for he had made it with his own hands, with sincerity and warm-heartedness.

"Here. For you." he had surprised her back then, his stern voice hiding the promise of a mischievous grin.

She remembered running across the golden beach with her arms burdened with food and water for him. She had had no time to catch her breath or greet him when he produced the small item, holding it in his open palm before her, a wide, cunning smile playing across his lips. A grin of smugness that grew even brighter as she freed one arm and reached for it bashfully. She remembered examining it in her palm with eyes wide and lips parted in pleasant surprise.

She heard a breathless, silent giggle escape her rosy lips as she recalled his sudden frown of uncertainty and perplexion when he gave him no reply. "You…don't like it, do you?" he had guessed almost disappointed and she had strained herself from wrapping her arms around him in gratitude. He was still but a British stranger, she barely knew him truly.

"No, I…" she stammered, she was speechless after all. She never expected him to offer her a present. "I…love it. It's beautiful." She managed to master as she kept staring at the small wristlet of sea-rocks, pale and white as her own skin, shining like pearls as the faint sunrays kissed upon them. She fiddled a bit with it in her fingers before the appreciative, generous smile cracked on her lips and brought his clever one back on his ridiculously charming face again. "It really is. Did you make it?"

"Well, obviously there's no way I could've bought it, is there?" he reasoned cheekily and she bit her lips, a faint shade of pink spreading across the creamy white skin of her cheeks as she nodded in agreement. "Either way, I'm glad you like it."

"I do." She replied and she was surprised by how composed she was, by how well she could control her emotions that were about to burst out of her. "Why?"

"I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me. I mean, it's the least I can do for you." he had simply said, shrugging indifferently his shoulders.

She had smiled wildly as she practically tossed the small package of everything he needed in his arms so that she could put the wristlet on. Once she had, she marveled at it with gleeful appreciation before remembering they were not entirely alone. She could feel Bragnae's perceptive eyes burning holes on her back as she took her time walking towards them. But most importantly, she could feel his eyes, the penetrating, piercing ones seeing right through her, as if reading her darkest wishes and desires while her fingertips, still tingled gingerly at the spots where her delicate fingers brushed with his own calloused ones.

Now that small gift was just the memento of a time when she had been finally, even for a short while, content, alive, free even. But every memory of bliss slowly faded away with each kiss she forcefully accepted by her husband, with each day Tristan was gone, probably avoiding her, for even when he was present she caught him staring at her with enraged jealousy and hurt written all over his handsome face whenever she walked in town with Marke, a face of stone, drained from any kind of warm feeling. And oh, how she wished she could smoothen his pain away and hers along with his.

She could have been angered by the fact that he had caused this suffering to both of them, that he was the reason she married a man she knew she would never love in a way different than friendly. But despite his distancing himself from her every passing day, she could tell how he had regretted his decision and the advice he had given her onboard the British vessel. Yet regret could not undo what was already done. It only burnt him down, put his soul in raged flames, she knew him well enough to see that.

She sighed gravely, rubbing her temple with two fingers and then running them gently across her face down to her chin. A week, or maybe more, had passed since the day she had to married Marke and had to put away her love for Tristan and she wasn't sure for how long she would bear having to give herself to another man. Lying to herself, pretending it was him was not helpful anymore, never had worked anyway. And after all, it wasn't just the night she had to give herself to Marke but the day as well. She had to give herself to him when walking in the market as he took his hand in hers or made her taste some treaty from his hand or held her in his arms possessively. When they did everything she wished she and Tristan would but never could.

She remembered the moment when the kind Lord had commented on how beautiful her wristlet looked and she wasn't sure if she should have laughed at the irony or cried. Instead she had bit her lips as images of her moments with Tristan invaded forcefully her mind and heart all over again, causing her to ache beyond words and her soul to shatter in millions of tiny pieces.

"It was a gift" she had said and her heart had nearly stopped beating when she remembered how the day it was gifted to her, she had also been gifted with the young man's love also. The first time when he had touched her, only then had she realized that it wasn't he who was being held captive, but her. Her attention had been captured by him since the day she found him unconscious on her beach. He had been all she could think of. And when he woke up, his words, his looks, everything about him was constantly occupying her thoughts. Slowly, her heart was next to be held captive, the moment he offered her his gift.

A faint smile made the corners of her lips curl slightly as she brushed her fingertips on the small rocklets once more. Maybe those other people were right. Maybe it symbolized more than just bond. Maybe it symbolized how he owned her heart, her captivity by him. Yes, that's what she would call it for the remainder of her life.

Her gift of captivity.

Sorry for the abrupt ending! Please tell me what you thought! It will be much appreciated! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing (if you do!) Love you all!