G R A C E L E S S

Obsessed

She was rightly his, and he knew it.

One word from the King and he would be able to take her away from the eyes of other men who frolicked after her.

He just needed to bide his time.

Tristan ignored the ongoing chatter of his sister in favor of getting lost in his fantasies about his Isabeau, again.

Tristan would not tolerate the looks she received from the other men at court.

Especially the lusty gaze of the Count's eldest.

"Tristan, are you listening?" His sister huffed in annoyance.

"In truth, no. I am scheming with all my heart to make Isabeau my Christmas bride. It is only two months away and I need to win the approval of the King if I am to have her."

"I don't understand why everyone is so obsessed over her. She's been disgraced." The fiery redhead was starting to lose her cool.
How dare her own brother ignore her over a wretched whore. No title could be worth all that trouble.

"She's mine." He hissed through his teeth at her before exiting the drawing room.

Even the servants steered clear of his war-path as he strut down the hallways to call on his princess.

Halfway there, he changed his mind.

He wrote the king directly, sending a hawk ahead of him.

There would be no more useless courting and silly games. No more kisses on his cheek when he could kiss her in front of all the men that dared to look upon her.

Tristan had become obsessed and he knew no boundaries.

Men took what was theirs and that's how the world had always worked. Would always work.

No more waiting at a lady's pace.

He barged into his father's rooms to find the old man sitting in front of the fireplace with a new mistress on his lap.

"Get out." His father pushed the half naked woman from his lap; making her flee from the rooms.

Tristan sat down gingerly next to his sire, avoiding his gaze and instead eyeing the embers.

"So you've decided to barge in without saying anything?" His father goaded.

"You were right." He whispered.

"I'm sorry, I must be going deaf—"
"—I said, you were right!" He yelled and threw a glass into the fire, making it flare with its alcoholic contents.

"And so my son is ready to become a man?"
The old man asked with a pleased expression.

"I'm going to see the king. I've sent a hawk out. I won't play the princess's games any longer. She will marry me."

His fiery gaze landed on his father.

"You were right father. A man takes what is his. Even if it's by force."

A sly grin krept up on the other man's face.

"You ride at dawn."

That evening he left his father with a satisfied smirk playing across his face.

Everything was playing into his hands.