Cursed

Final Part

Tristan’s mind was a blur. His only thought was to protect her. He grabbed her delicate body and ran as fast and as far away from their attacker as he could. When he was completely sure there wasn’t any more danger, he lay her down on a grassy patch. The wound wasn’t as bad as he thought but her natural physical weakness made her more vulnerable to it. Her breathing had grown slower and slower as he ran and now he could barely see the slight movement of her chest.

Please, please be alright, my sweet.

Her eyes fluttered and slowly opened as her lips formed a sweet smile. She lifted her feeble hand to his cheek and took her final breath.

The knight had no control whatsoever over his emotions. He slammed his fists against wood and rock until his knuckles bled, screamed until his lungs shattered, cried until he had no more tears. It was miracle his hysteria hadn’t brought on any bandits. He forced himself to calm down, or at least the closest to calm as he could get. He knew who to blame. He knew what he had to do.

He buried his beloved and placed a flower on her final resting place.

The sun had barely risen when he reached the gates to Camelot. How his life had changed in only a day. He managed to sneak back into his chambers without being discovered and slip under the covers before any of his servants came to dress him. The day passed without his realizing it. The only thing on his mind was revenge. It was all that despicable man’s fault.

He went through the chamber doors and stood there, waiting. He was good at waiting by now; waiting for Ella to accept his feelings, waiting for the time when he could meet her, waiting for her to finish her errands so they could enjoy each other’s company, waiting for his grief to subdue so he could think about anything else but his shattered heart, and waiting until his king finally came through the doors. Arthur was surprised to find him there.

“What is your business with me, Sir Tristan?” he wondered.

“I have come to challenge you, sire,” the broken man said it in a way that was emotionless and cruel at the same time. Although taken aback by his knight’s words, Arthur slowly put his hand on the hilt of his sword. He was a knight before he was crowned king; he knew what an imminent fight looked like. And this one would be to death. Their blades clashed as their calculating minds decided on their next move. There was no sure winner in this battle for the king and his knight had trained on equal grounds and defeated enemies side by side. The only factor that gave one of them an advantage was Tristan’s anger. It would have been Arthur’s gain if it didn’t make the knight’s blows stronger. Both had been maimed but it was the last strike that declared the victor. The king was on his knees using both arms to push back Tristan’s sword. Arthur’s strength slowly drained out of him as he was shoved to the ground.

“I must only ask why Tristan,” his loyal knight’s betrayal brought fresh tears to his eyes, “why do you turn against me?”

Silently weeping, he replied, “You killed her, my lord,” his voice the one of a shadow’s, “we were forced to run because of you, and Ella… she died. I-I didn’t even get t-to say… goodbye.” As Tristan spoke his last word, he thrust his blade straight into his king’s heart.

He was dimly aware of men seizing both his arms and hauling him down flights of stairs, of a bawling Guinevere choking on her own tears, and of an unnaturally gleaming sun that blinded him as he walked through an assembly of whispering people. That glorious knight in shining armor was now the empty shell of the man he used to be. Nothing mattered to him anymore. He stood up as straight as he could as somebody put a knot around his throat. No matter what happened, he would leave with his last bit of dignity. He looked around the crowd, registering the people’s faces for the last time. That was when he saw the cloaked figure, small compared to those around it. They lifted their head just enough for Tristan to see the outline of their grin and their gleaming green eyes. And then… nothing. The knight’s lifeless body was hanging from a rope.