Tristran Thorn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tristranthorn) wrote2007-08-10 10:15 pm
tristranthorn) wrote2007-08-10 10:15 pm
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[023] OOM - The truth about his birth
Tristran can vaguely remember the Seventh Magpie being so crowded -- it's happened only once before in his lifetime, and he had been very young then. When he makes his way back through the bar, he has to move carefully, weaving his way past people -- Wall-folk and other strangers alike -- eating (lambchops, bacon, mushrooms, fried eggs, black pudding) and drinking (ale, mead, lager) to reach the exit.
The conversation had gone strangely. Or - well. It went a lot more differently than he ever would have expected it to have gone. His original vision of this fateful day was as follows:
He would get himself back into Wall with a celestial rock in his pocket and find Victoria at her house. Or maybe in front of it (it didn't really matter so much, so long as she was there). He would bend down on one knee before her and reveal the star to her in a gallant fashion like some grand hero. And she would beam and giggle and smile at him. She would wrap her arms around him and he would kiss her and ask her to marry him and they would live happily ever after from then on.
Now, everything is different. Now not only is that dream far away, but it is nonexistent. And the very thought makes him unimaginably happier than he would have believed many months ago. Imagine being stuck here -- in some place where he really doesn't belong -- with Victoria, knowing she would never truly be happy with him. And he with her. He realizes now, quite clearly, that he really could never be happy with all of the things he once wanted. It was all a dream, an ideal his foolish mind had woven because he was young and infatuated and silly.
He is now a man, and he is a man in love. It just so happened to go all -- well, wrong (unplanned), and unexpected (a complete surprise) and ... strangely, he doesn't mind at all. His heart feels lighter.
He wants to tell her. He wants to shout it to the world --
"Tristran."
As he whirls around, his eyes land on a man far older than him rising as they meet eyes. He comes over to younger man and clasps him on the shoulder without speaking.
It is Tristran who breaks the silence. "Father," he says. "You -- you look good."
The conversation had gone strangely. Or - well. It went a lot more differently than he ever would have expected it to have gone. His original vision of this fateful day was as follows:
He would get himself back into Wall with a celestial rock in his pocket and find Victoria at her house. Or maybe in front of it (it didn't really matter so much, so long as she was there). He would bend down on one knee before her and reveal the star to her in a gallant fashion like some grand hero. And she would beam and giggle and smile at him. She would wrap her arms around him and he would kiss her and ask her to marry him and they would live happily ever after from then on.
Now, everything is different. Now not only is that dream far away, but it is nonexistent. And the very thought makes him unimaginably happier than he would have believed many months ago. Imagine being stuck here -- in some place where he really doesn't belong -- with Victoria, knowing she would never truly be happy with him. And he with her. He realizes now, quite clearly, that he really could never be happy with all of the things he once wanted. It was all a dream, an ideal his foolish mind had woven because he was young and infatuated and silly.
He is now a man, and he is a man in love. It just so happened to go all -- well, wrong (unplanned), and unexpected (a complete surprise) and ... strangely, he doesn't mind at all. His heart feels lighter.
He wants to tell her. He wants to shout it to the world --
"Tristran."
As he whirls around, his eyes land on a man far older than him rising as they meet eyes. He comes over to younger man and clasps him on the shoulder without speaking.
It is Tristran who breaks the silence. "Father," he says. "You -- you look good."
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His smile widens as he follows his father down the hall and towards the kitchen once more.
He also remembers the very first time he'd met Yvaine and is suddenly struck by the similarities his sister and the star share.
"I think somehow Yvaine and Louisa would get along," he says amusedly, "especially if I ever did anything to wrong the two of them at the same time."
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He laughs as they enter the kitchen and glances over toward his wife and daughter, who are still washing dishes.
"Like plates," he adds. "Any wrongdoings should wait until after there are plates."
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"You really shouldn't be telling Tristran about incidents with plates, Daddy."
She flashes a bright smile over her shoulder, "Especially when you know that they aren't true."
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"Mummy and I were beginning to suspect the two of you were plotting something."
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His voice is factual and the response comes without any hesitation, much like the effortless motion away from the reach of her towel.
"You would have been impressed with his skills in negotiation," a grin. "Especially when the topic of your room was brought up."
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Another dish gets rinsed an passed down.
"Though you may take her - as I have more than enough help now."
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Louisa wipes her hands off on her apron and steps away from the kitchen sink to join their father at the table once more, while Tristran remains where he is.
"I wouldn't believe you anyway," Louisa says haughtily. "I'm not five years old, you know."
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She hands him another dish, voice still that same low patter of speech - but a bit lighter now, more cheerful.
"I do hope that you treat your young lady more politely than that one does."
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He takes the dish, grateful to have something to do with his hands - it alleviates a lot of the awkwardness. And it doesn't particularly faze him that she knows things.
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Her chin stays low, back straight, nothing short of proper.
"You may ask questions, you know," she continues, with a great deal more effort than the simplicity of the statement implies. "I am, perhaps, not as good at all this as your father, but I will try."
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"I - I'm not really sure what sort of questions to ask," Tristran admits, his voice low. "I suppose I always just assumed that ..." His voice trails off. That she didn't love him so much as tolerated his presence.
He unknowingly continues to wipe the same plate dry, his mind lost in thought.
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She laughs quietly, a shared nervous habit, and her hands still in the soapy water.
"Him I could hold, perhaps. But you? You were not mine, and I - I worried."
She does that often.
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But somehow he's ... well, the feeling is quite unexplainable. All these years ...
He puts the dish down, and with it, the rag.
"You don't have to worry," he says, turning his head to look at her now. "Mum."
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"You worry too much, Tristran," she says, and then smiles slightly. "You get that from me."
Her chin tilts again and she pats the back of his hand once more before continuing to wash - she's never really been one for very many words.
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They finish with the rest of the dishes, and then he helps them finish little chores about the house as he used to when he had lived here before. Once the horses have been fed, and some of the broken furniture mended, the family gather once more at the kitchen table.
Things are different now. Somehow he has the feeling that he can no longer live here, even if Yvaine agrees to live with him here, in Wall. He knows she could never be happy here, and neither could he.
It is time to tell them good-bye.
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"It's going to be getting dark soon," he says, looking back across the table with a knowing smile. "Shouldn't be leaving your young lady alone at night."
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Louisa narrows her eyes, glaring impressively, and thwaps him neatly on the shoulder.
"Tristran!" she scolds. "You didn't tell me you had a young lady!"
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"Yes," he says to his sister. "I do, actually." He nods to his father. "And you're right - I suppose I ought to be getting back to her soon."
He clears his throat, amused expression immediately sobering. "But first, I just wanted to say a couple of things."
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It's hardly fair that no one tells her things.
Dunstan, on the other hand, just remains silent - settling back and gesturing for him to continue. They're listening.
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"I - well, once I left Wall and went into Faerie, I learned a lot," he begins. "I've discovered so much - it's quite ... it's something else. Unexpected. Magical." He has to avoid looking in Louisa's direction. It had been her who berated him for much of his childhood because of some of the things he used to talk about.
"The lady I've met, she's ... she belongs to that world." He lets that sit for a moment before adding, "And so do I, I think."
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Most of the right things aren't.
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"Really magical?" she asks then, quietly and perhaps a bit apologetically.
It's strange, almost, how it's easier to believe him now that she's no longer a child.
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"Really magical," Tristran confirms, glancing at Louisa once more.
"I don't ... think either of us could live here." He pauses. "Everything's completely different. There are things unimaginable over the other side of the Wall, things that no one can even begin to explain. And the girl I met, well ... I can't leave her." And he wouldn't want to.
He hesitates. "I think what I'm trying to say is ..."
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He grins as he receives identical glares, lips quirking up into a crookedly charming smile and arms crossing over his chest.
"You don't get rid of family, Tristran," he says. "You know where to find us when you need us."
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