❛WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU MAKE THE TEN MOST POWERFUL GODS ALIVE PLAY A GAME OF MUSICAL CHAIRS WITH ONE SEAT?❜
They fight - to the death.
They fight over three crowns and a throne with steel spiked maces. They despair a little more everyday keeping thei...
But the last thing I saw was the sight of the arrow buried to the shaft in Tristan's neck, the poison tearing through his shirt and burning out his white skin.
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HARTINGTON CASTLE, ALNWICK, STORMHOLT.
EDWINA
"YOU'RE HURT, WOMAN!" TRISTAN SNAPPED at me as soon as our feet made contact with the solid floors of the castle. Impatiently, he grabbed hold of my shoulders and carefully peered at the blood smearing my previously wounded chest.
I nearly slapped him on the spot and irritatedly pushed him off to latch my hands onto the arrow sunk into his neck.
"You're shot, Valmont! Why the fuck did you get into the way? The arrow was meant for me, you fucking idiot!"
His eyes barely widened as he caught sight of the poisoned tip embedded into his moon white skin and turning it black. Instead, he merely flicked his sleeve and returned his attention back to my injury.
"It's nothing."
"Are you even for real?" I shouted, voice cracked with urgency and worry and panic - I had to get that arrow out of him! "You're hurt! I'm not! Shut the hell up and let me have a look at you-"
"-I'm fine, woman - stay away!"
"-you better shut the bloody heck up and listen to me, Tristan Valmont!" I screamed right into his face, raging with gnawing worry. "You're going to behave and sit quietly while I take that thing out of your shoulder, are we clear?"
"Stay away from the arrow!" he roared, eyes blazing like fiery stars.
"For once, can you do what she says and shut that smart mouth of yours?" Llewellyn hissed as he came in running, face white worry. His eyes widened in fear as he saw the arrow sunk into Tristan's neck.
"I'm alright-"
"You're not!" he snarled at his elder brother and rushed to my side to restrain Tristan and prevent his flinging limbs from hitting anyone. Together, we managed to lock him in an iron hard grip as he spat and hissed, shooting us both clear glares.
Celinette ran in at the huge commotion, and her face drained of all colour.
"My son - my son!" she shrieked wildly, rushing to Tristan. Her elegant silk dress flew as she ran to her son, fresh lines of worry etched into her youthful face as her eyes began to water up.
