I miss you most of all; when autumn leaves fall (Excerpts)
Oct 2, 2024 7:03:51 GMT -7
Caleb Wood likes this
Post by Irene Delacroix on Oct 2, 2024 7:03:51 GMT -7
And just as their fingers caught; Timidly, he whispers soft And says, "God I love you, but you trouble me."
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NOTES - Iseult by Irene Delacroix.
NOTES - Iseult by Irene Delacroix.
Bird song drifted through the forest on a summer evening. It seemed like he thrushes and the larks had much to say. Singing their final goodbyes before night silenced them in it’s gentle yet swift embrace.
The air in the forest was warm, but Tristan and Iseult laid together regardless. They were wrapped in each other, a tangle of limbs, Iseult's golden hair like a halo surrounding them. They laid on boughs and thistledown, a makeshift nest for a brief moment of respite before heading back to their tiny shack. They'd spent most of the day gathering food, and hopefully they managed enough for at least a few days. Finally, Iseult was starting to recover from the brutal winter that left both of them thin and weary.
Iseult’s mind churned, like always, her guilt starting to eat away at her heart. She felt responsible for pulling them away from their homes, robbing Tristan of his knighthood and honor. He shouldn't be shouldering this burden for her, hiding them away. He should be serving his kinsman, his country, shining and resplendent. Tristan deserved more than this life that they had built together. Instead his armor laid in their little shack, gathering dust.
Selfishly, Iseult couldn't bear the thought of it coming to an end. If they went back, Tristan would surely be killed. The king’s advisors would love nothing more than to see his demise. Iseult would return to her duties as a queen, beloved among her people, and broken irreparably. She didn’t know if she’d be able to live through the ordeal, the very thought of it made her heart ache. All of this, from one little potion.
Iseult sat up, and Tristan stirred beneath her. Golden amber eyes opened, meeting an unyielding sapphire gaze, now clouded with thought. "Would you have loved me, if not for the drink we shared?" She leaned forward to wrap her arms around her knees, and laid her head on her arms. Her hair parted around her like a curtain, drifting down her back and framing her face.
Tristan was taken by surprise, but still, his hand reached for her, gently running his fingers through her hair. "I loved you from the moment you looked at me and told me your name was Iseult." He whispered, almost reverent. The potion that bound them was more than a happy coincidence.
What were once smooth, beautiful flowing locks now were matted and tangled. Her now frail frame did nothing but further break Tristan's heart. She was a queen, by rights, and deserved more than this life he could give her. They were squirreled away in the woods like criminals— fighting tooth and nail just to stay alive. It was the price they had to pay to be together, but it hurt him to see her waning day by day. Iseult always deftly pushed his concerns away, a quick change of subject, or a shake of the head. She didn’t need anything but him.
"And you? Would you be here without it?" Tristan asked, moving his head to see her face better, his other arm propping his head up. His heart skipped a beat for a moment, the weight of the question heavy in his eyes. He had never been certain of her answer. Their initial meeting had been rocky, to say the least.
A hint of a smile flirted with Iseult's lips, and she let out a thoughtful hum, teasing him. "I had naught but malice for you, for a time... after what happened to my uncle." He flinched, pulling his hand back before she continued speaking. She reached down, stopping him from withdrawing. Iseult grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently, interlacing their fingers together. "But in our time together to travel to Cornwall... well." Her voice became softened, wistful. "It became difficult not to love you. I was torn, but you won in the end, as usual." Her words were said in jest, but they hung heavy in the air anyways. They were tired, hungry, like animals in the woods, but happy to freely be in each others company.
Her eyes moved back to gaze out into the forest, birds flitting through the trees, and he felt her hand tremble in his. Silence stretched before Tristan spoke again. “That eases my heart.” His voice wavered, as if he was simply telling himself that, still unsure. .
Iseult felt each moment of silence, and she tensed. A small knot of anxiety filled her stomach. He must know, right? That she loves him? That she's done all of this for them? Iseult turned her head to face him once again, her mouth pressed in firm line. "I do love you, Tristan." She murmured, her eyes wide and searching his for understanding, for belief.. "In ways that I can't possibly describe. And its not because of the wine."
Tristan sat up, surprise on his fair features, and gently rested his hand on her shoulder. "No, Iseult, I know—"
She cut him off, the words spilling from her lips before she had a chance to stem the tide.
"On the ship, I knew the wine we shared was enchanted." Iseult's words were naught but a whisper, carrying a great weight to them nonetheless. For the first time, she told him the truth. It wasn't an accident. For once, she wanted to take her life into her own hands.
He blinked, confused. "What?" The confession took Tristan by surprise. He was always under the impression that it was mistake, a mix-up. The draught that they had shared was intended for Mark and Iseult to share on their wedding day.
"I had my maid fetch it for me, but I didn't know-" Tears pricked the corner of her eyes, and her gaze dropped away. "I didn't know it would pain us so much... to be separated." She didn't realize it had a compulsion attached to it, a force that drew them together. If they were apart for too long, the pain was almost unbearable. "I just hoped that we could use it as an excuse to..." Iseult let out a deep sigh, and buried her head back into her arms. "I don't know."
Iseult was sent off to a strange land to be wed to a man she had never met, all because a strand of her hair crossed the ocean. The man at her side managed to win her hand for his king, and yet they still fell in love. Taking the potion together was her desperate attempt at a way out. To put forth some reason, some explanation, so they could not be found to blame. "So we could be together."
King Mark didn't deserve it, not truly. It made it all the more difficult that he was kind, and caring. A truly honorable king. At least at the beginning. Their last meeting had been terrifying, the man nearly transformed by rage and suspicion— he had become a different man. Iseult was well aware he was driven to that point, and that they had a part in it. She couldn't imagine the pain. His wife, hopelessly in love with his most faithful knight—a man who was like family to him. They had tricked and witted their way through tests and traps, until they could no longer.
"Do you..." Tristan started to ask, then stopped. The unfinished question lingered in the air, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer. Instead, he reached for her, wrapping his arms tightly around her small, trembling body. The stress—and perhaps guilt—was wasting her away.
"I love you, Iseult. With everything I have." She buried her head into his shoulder, clutching tightly onto his back.
"And I you, friend." Her voice was barely a whisper, but Tristan knew she meant it.
They held each other in silence for a long while, the weight of it all resting heavily on them. She was a queen who had abandoned her kingdom, and he a knight with no kingdom to serve. Truly, they made a pitiful pair.
The air in the forest was warm, but Tristan and Iseult laid together regardless. They were wrapped in each other, a tangle of limbs, Iseult's golden hair like a halo surrounding them. They laid on boughs and thistledown, a makeshift nest for a brief moment of respite before heading back to their tiny shack. They'd spent most of the day gathering food, and hopefully they managed enough for at least a few days. Finally, Iseult was starting to recover from the brutal winter that left both of them thin and weary.
Iseult’s mind churned, like always, her guilt starting to eat away at her heart. She felt responsible for pulling them away from their homes, robbing Tristan of his knighthood and honor. He shouldn't be shouldering this burden for her, hiding them away. He should be serving his kinsman, his country, shining and resplendent. Tristan deserved more than this life that they had built together. Instead his armor laid in their little shack, gathering dust.
Selfishly, Iseult couldn't bear the thought of it coming to an end. If they went back, Tristan would surely be killed. The king’s advisors would love nothing more than to see his demise. Iseult would return to her duties as a queen, beloved among her people, and broken irreparably. She didn’t know if she’d be able to live through the ordeal, the very thought of it made her heart ache. All of this, from one little potion.
Iseult sat up, and Tristan stirred beneath her. Golden amber eyes opened, meeting an unyielding sapphire gaze, now clouded with thought. "Would you have loved me, if not for the drink we shared?" She leaned forward to wrap her arms around her knees, and laid her head on her arms. Her hair parted around her like a curtain, drifting down her back and framing her face.
Tristan was taken by surprise, but still, his hand reached for her, gently running his fingers through her hair. "I loved you from the moment you looked at me and told me your name was Iseult." He whispered, almost reverent. The potion that bound them was more than a happy coincidence.
What were once smooth, beautiful flowing locks now were matted and tangled. Her now frail frame did nothing but further break Tristan's heart. She was a queen, by rights, and deserved more than this life he could give her. They were squirreled away in the woods like criminals— fighting tooth and nail just to stay alive. It was the price they had to pay to be together, but it hurt him to see her waning day by day. Iseult always deftly pushed his concerns away, a quick change of subject, or a shake of the head. She didn’t need anything but him.
"And you? Would you be here without it?" Tristan asked, moving his head to see her face better, his other arm propping his head up. His heart skipped a beat for a moment, the weight of the question heavy in his eyes. He had never been certain of her answer. Their initial meeting had been rocky, to say the least.
A hint of a smile flirted with Iseult's lips, and she let out a thoughtful hum, teasing him. "I had naught but malice for you, for a time... after what happened to my uncle." He flinched, pulling his hand back before she continued speaking. She reached down, stopping him from withdrawing. Iseult grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently, interlacing their fingers together. "But in our time together to travel to Cornwall... well." Her voice became softened, wistful. "It became difficult not to love you. I was torn, but you won in the end, as usual." Her words were said in jest, but they hung heavy in the air anyways. They were tired, hungry, like animals in the woods, but happy to freely be in each others company.
Her eyes moved back to gaze out into the forest, birds flitting through the trees, and he felt her hand tremble in his. Silence stretched before Tristan spoke again. “That eases my heart.” His voice wavered, as if he was simply telling himself that, still unsure. .
Iseult felt each moment of silence, and she tensed. A small knot of anxiety filled her stomach. He must know, right? That she loves him? That she's done all of this for them? Iseult turned her head to face him once again, her mouth pressed in firm line. "I do love you, Tristan." She murmured, her eyes wide and searching his for understanding, for belief.. "In ways that I can't possibly describe. And its not because of the wine."
Tristan sat up, surprise on his fair features, and gently rested his hand on her shoulder. "No, Iseult, I know—"
She cut him off, the words spilling from her lips before she had a chance to stem the tide.
"On the ship, I knew the wine we shared was enchanted." Iseult's words were naught but a whisper, carrying a great weight to them nonetheless. For the first time, she told him the truth. It wasn't an accident. For once, she wanted to take her life into her own hands.
He blinked, confused. "What?" The confession took Tristan by surprise. He was always under the impression that it was mistake, a mix-up. The draught that they had shared was intended for Mark and Iseult to share on their wedding day.
"I had my maid fetch it for me, but I didn't know-" Tears pricked the corner of her eyes, and her gaze dropped away. "I didn't know it would pain us so much... to be separated." She didn't realize it had a compulsion attached to it, a force that drew them together. If they were apart for too long, the pain was almost unbearable. "I just hoped that we could use it as an excuse to..." Iseult let out a deep sigh, and buried her head back into her arms. "I don't know."
Iseult was sent off to a strange land to be wed to a man she had never met, all because a strand of her hair crossed the ocean. The man at her side managed to win her hand for his king, and yet they still fell in love. Taking the potion together was her desperate attempt at a way out. To put forth some reason, some explanation, so they could not be found to blame. "So we could be together."
King Mark didn't deserve it, not truly. It made it all the more difficult that he was kind, and caring. A truly honorable king. At least at the beginning. Their last meeting had been terrifying, the man nearly transformed by rage and suspicion— he had become a different man. Iseult was well aware he was driven to that point, and that they had a part in it. She couldn't imagine the pain. His wife, hopelessly in love with his most faithful knight—a man who was like family to him. They had tricked and witted their way through tests and traps, until they could no longer.
"Do you..." Tristan started to ask, then stopped. The unfinished question lingered in the air, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer. Instead, he reached for her, wrapping his arms tightly around her small, trembling body. The stress—and perhaps guilt—was wasting her away.
"I love you, Iseult. With everything I have." She buried her head into his shoulder, clutching tightly onto his back.
"And I you, friend." Her voice was barely a whisper, but Tristan knew she meant it.
They held each other in silence for a long while, the weight of it all resting heavily on them. She was a queen who had abandoned her kingdom, and he a knight with no kingdom to serve. Truly, they made a pitiful pair.
MADE BY MIZO
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