[023] OOM - The truth about his birth

[tristranthorn]

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."

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[nosequels.livejournal.com]

The man grins and lets out a low chuckle, hand still braced upon his shoulder and eyes bright with some strange sort of pride as he looks him up and down.

"As do you," he says with a firm nod. "So you made it back without hurt."

[nosequels.livejournal.com]

When the meal is finished, and Daisy and Lousia are off to the other side of the kitchen tidying up, Dunstan rises easily from his seat.

"Coming?" he asks and grins at the blank look he receives in return, eyes crinkling and face looking suddenly younger. "You don't want to see then?"

He laughs at the sudden, scrambling attention and with a nod to his wife (a nod of understanding) he leads the way down the hall and up into the attic. The one the children hadn't been allowed into.

'Just a pile of old junk,' they had always said, and perhaps it was true - but in and among the dusty old boxes, in some far-off corner, tucked away and carefully kept, lies a worn wicker basket.

It's at that corner that he stops and seats himself with care - and, perhaps, the slightest creaking of bones - gesturing for his son to join him.