Who: Charlotte Evans and Tristan Lewis What: Accidental encounters in the castle. Where: Camelot, in one of the kitchens. When: Backdated to Tuesday evening, January 4th, 2011 Warnings: A for seriously Awkward?
Ever since her return to the castle, Charlotte had more or less become a room hermit. There were two reasons for that, but when it came right down to it, she was, quite simply, a coward. It hurt too much to venture outside the safety of her room – more than that, it was humiliating. The bruises on her neck were still there, fading but an ugly and very noticeable shade of yellow, and the cut on her lip was impossible to hide. She had barely uttered ten words since she’d come back for fear of splitting the cut again. That had happened the day she had come back, when a hug from her brother had caused her to smile too widely. It was embarrassing. Pathetic. She hated living like this, but she couldn’t make herself put on an act anymore. Everyone could see right through it.
Over the past week, the only times she left her room were to find food, and even then she usually just took it back to her room and ate it there. Tonight, though, she couldn’t be bothered. She went out of her way to a kitchen she didn’t normally visit in the hopes that anyone who came in wouldn’t be someone who knew her, but she also brought a book with her just in case someone got chatty. She made herself some soup and settled in with Jane Eyre (her mother’s copy, worn with age and use), intent on ignoring the world at least until she’d finished eating. When the door opened about twenty minutes into her meal, she resolutely kept her head down and belatedly remembered the iPod on her nightstand. She should’ve brought that with her. It was much easier to ignore people when you genuinely couldn’t hear them. If someone spoke to her now, she would just have to live up to her reputation and be the rudest of all the Morgans. She turned the page with a small sniff. Oh, well. She could live with that.
--
Tristan hadn’t particularly wanted to come back to the castle at all, but when he had been told about the hit list just before Christmas he’d felt it had been his duty to come back and help out wherever he could. Not to mention it would be safer for him, and for Elizabeth. She had been more than kind in letting him stay for as long as she had, but the last thing he was going to do was endanger the people he cared about simply by having the unfortunate luck of being around him. He was going back to visit her the following day, but he was intent on keeping it as short as possible. So far nothing had happened, everything was relatively quiet on all fronts but that didn’t mean people wouldn’t try anything at any time. The most unsettling thing about all of this was the notion that whoever was taking this hit list seriously was just biding their time, waiting for people to come out of hiding. His birthday, Christmas and New Years had all past with little to no recognition on his part, though they hadn’t been particularly unpleasant. They just. Were. That was it. In some ways Tristan felt little more then a ghost in the castle, he was simply going through the motions. There just wasn’t much to do around here to keep him occupied other than train.
When he’d heard through the grape vine that Charlotte had come back to the castle he’d really made himself scarce, having no desire whatsoever to run into her. That was a run-in that could quickly turn unpleasant and hostile, and he just didn’t have the energy to deal with it. So, he avoided. He only left his room to eat, to train and help Kace wherever she needed the help. In an embarrassingly desperate attempt to keep avoiding Charlotte he even went to the kitchens at the far end of the castle that no one ever went to. Usually this tactic worked well for him, but not tonight. As soon as he walked in, he spotted her immediately and bristled. Just his luck. Still, it would be worse to turn around and walk out now, then he’d be just as childish as she had been. Maybe even more so. So he didn’t. Instead he walked right in, not sparing her a second glance and clenched his jaw in an attempt to force himself to stay on the path to the huge walk-in refrigerator, instead of turning tail and running. She seemed completely engrossed in her book so with his luck he could get in and out without her even noticing, but even he knew he couldn’t count on her to be quite that oblivious.
--
Out of curiosity, and almost out of habit, Charlotte glanced up from her book to see who had come in as he passed in front of her – a move she instantly regretted, because it was exactly who she didn’t want to see. Tristan. Her eyes widened and she hastily turned them back to her book, choking back an involuntary sound that threatened to escape from her lungs. She focused on the page in front of her, trying to keep her breathing slow and controlled, but she knew wouldn’t be able to read a word until he was gone. Her heart was racing, and she felt petty and insignificant and ashamed, but then her hand went to her mouth and she remembered. She had been right. Her argument had been justified, not his.
Her eyes flew up again then, glaring daggers into his back, and she sat up a little straighter. Maybe it was childish, but she didn’t care: she slammed her book shut and slid it a few inches away from her. As much as he might want to, he couldn’t ignore that. Or this. “Are you going to ignore me forever, Tristan?” Her voice was shakier than she would’ve liked, but that couldn’t be helped. She was more hurt than angry, really, and more than that, she just didn’t understand. Still. Weeks later, and she didn’t understand why he had been so cruel to her, when clearly she had been right. “Or don’t you want to see your brother’s handiwork, hm?”
---
He hadn’t actually expected her to say anything, and it surprised him just how much the mere tone of her voice made his blood boil, when just a month or so ago it was the only thing that could make him happy. The way she spoke to him said more then her actual words ever could. Of course, she still thought she was right. And she was, but he had been right too, and yet he was still the only one to admit to both. Apparently a few weeks apart had done nothing to curb that holier-than-thou attitude. How he had never realized just how single-minded she was before he couldn’t even fathom. Kane was his responsibility. His. And the fact that in the end, after everything he had done for him Tristan had still been unable to help his brother cut into him like a dull, rusty knife. In the span of two seconds he was even more sure that he had done the right thing in breaking things off with her. She was still the same selfish brat who refused to accept anything that was outside of her own understanding, which was shockingly narrow. The burden of living with your own flesh and blood as a dangerous enemy? There was nothing worse. She was so pampered and sheltered, she had never had the pleasure of experiencing that kind of betrayal. Hopefully she never would, but god help her if she never changed. He’d never met a person who’d grown so little in a year after all the things she’d had to face.
Tristan tensed, reluctantly turning when she spoke to him. He wasn’t so angry that he wouldn’t at least extend her the courtesy of direct eye contact when speaking to each other. It was only polite. As soon as his eyes settled on her, he very nearly did a double take. She looked like she’d been beaten six ways from Sunday. A flash of concern went through him that he quickly buried, and outwardly, there was no sign that the sight of her had shocked him at all. While Charlotte may not have changed, Tristan had. And was. With every day that passed since he’d become a reincarnate, Oberon had seeped into him just a little bit more. It was unavoidable after awhile, especially if you didn’t fight to keep your self whole, and after he’d broken things off with Charlotte he hadn’t seen the point in fighting his reincarnate anymore. At least that painfully indifferent, cold resolve was something she’d be used to, since she wore it so well herself. It came with the territory of having a royal bitch in your head.
It was clear to him that she meant to rub this in his face. Whatever had happened, she actually had the nerve to sit there and try to hurt him with this. Just more proof that she really didn’t care how he felt or how deeply what had happened to the man who used to be his brother had hurt him. Just more proof that he shouldn’t give his heart to such a vindictive harpy (Oberon’s words, not his). Tristan was very quickly becoming just as stubborn and unforgiving as the King himself was. Well, if she was wanting some kind of reaction out of him, she wasn’t going to get it. She was alive, so obviously whatever Kane had tried to do had failed. He wasn’t going to leave without getting some answers though, so after a beat Tristan strode over to her table and placed both hands on the edge opposite her. He fought and succeeded at keeping his face completely impassive when he leaned forward and spoke in a flat tone, edged with a tinge of anger that he wasn’t able to hold back. Anger at Charlotte? Kane? Himself? All of the above, most likely. “What did you do to him?”
---
Charlotte knew the moment after the words left her mouth that she had made a mistake. The way his shoulders tensed before he turned around to look at her told her as much, and when his eyes found her wounds but showed no emotion whatsoever... well, she had never wanted to crawl away and die so much in her entire life. She nearly fell to pieces under his gaze, but somehow she managed to take a deep breath and keep her back ramrod straight. She was deathly pale now. Frightened. This wasn’t how she’d wanted it to go, but the wounds were still too fresh, and she consistently made terrible, terrible decisions when she was upset. But it was too late to apologize now. Clearly, he wouldn’t believe her even if she tried.
Even though she was halfway prepared to take whatever he decided to throw at her (she certainly deserved something for the way she was acting), she still recoiled instinctively when he approached the table and leaned forward. For a moment, she couldn’t look at him. He looked too much like Kane, and she could’ve sworn that there was hatred in his eyes. But maybe she was imagining things – when she looked back, it was gone, replaced with cool indifference. That hurt more than anything. If he was completely indifferent to her, then there wasn’t any hope, was there?
But that was all forgotten as soon as he opened his mouth. Her jaw dropped, momentarily speechless at his unbelievable question. It shocked her beyond belief that, even though he’d made it abundantly clear that he didn’t care about her at all anymore, he still cared more about his psychotic, murderous brother than anyone else. She simply couldn’t comprehend that, and that made her angry. “What did I do?” Her voice was relatively even in spite of the fact that she was mortally offended, but the more she spoke, the louder and more uncontrolled she became. “I was attacked in the middle of the night, in my father’s house, while I was sleeping! If he hadn’t intervened, I’d be – I wouldn’t be here, and neither would he, for that matter! We would both be dead, murdered by your precious brother! What did I do?” Charlotte looked away and took a shaky breath, staring at the clenched hands resting in her lap. When she spoke again, she was on the verge of tears, and her voice was soft and broken. The last thing she wanted was his pity, but this was just too much for her. She couldn’t do this. “How can you – how can you say that?”
---
Her hysterics didn’t reach him, or at least he pretended they didn’t. It was safer that way. He wasn’t completely indifferent to her, not yet, no matter how much he wished he was. That would make things so much easier. But he was a master at masking his emotions so his expression didn’t change, no matter how much she carried on. He wasn’t in the mood to cater to her dramatics and it wouldn’t get them anywhere, so he waited all too patiently for her to finish her tirade before he spoke again. Unlike Charlotte’s, Tristan’s voice was calm and quiet. Giving away none of the storm that was currently brewing inside of him.
“You misunderstand me, Charlotte. I’m genuinely surprised you would think so low of me already.” His words were carefully chosen and painstakingly stated, he was trying with all his might to keep his voice level and void of emotion. It was difficult, Charlotte was far too closely tied to his emotions for his and Oberon’s liking. She was a weakness, just like Kane was. The only difference was, she had actually deserved that level of devotion, not Kane. As much as he wanted to reach out to her, especially now that he could see the detail in each wound on her face and neck, he didn’t. He couldn’t. He needed to preserve what was left of him, after all that she’d taken while they’d been together.
His muscles tense slightly in the effort it took to keep himself perfectly still as he continued to lean over the table, looking at her hard. There was the faintest crease of concern lining the middle of his forehead as he spoke. “I meant, what did you do to him. From the looks of it, you’re both alive and not nearly as injured as you should be after an encounter with him. Still. He came after you. But from everything I know about Kane both then and now, if he was planning on coming after you with the intent to kill you, he would have succeeded, as he would have planned well for it. Obviously he was there half-cocked, unprepared, and easily duped. That still begs the question, what was he doing there at all? He was provoked. What did you do? If you’ve done something to anger him, please tell me. Just because he failed once doesn’t mean he won’t try again.”
---
Charlotte shook her head, closing her eyes and trying to clear her mind. Had she done anything? No. No, of course not. She’d spoken to a total of three people between the time she’d left the castle and Kane had attacked, and none of them had been her attacker. Briar, on the other hand... Now, that was entirely possible, but she couldn’t think about that, not right now. Besides, Briar would’ve told her if she’d done anything. Of course she would’ve. So, the truth was, she hadn’t done anything but keep to herself for an entire month. Kane’s assault had been completely random, or at least it had seemed that way, and now she was more hurt and confused than ever. Was he... Was Tristan actually worried about her? No, he couldn’t be. He didn’t love her anymore. He was just worried about the repercussions of his brother’s actions. That was all. That was all. She had to make herself believe that. The last thing she wanted right now was hope. Hope was far too painful.
“N-nothing,” she answered finally, glancing up at him with earnest, pleading eyes. “I didn’t do anything, he was just – I woke up, and he was just there. I don’t know what happened.” She looked away again, back down at her hands, which were no longer clenched but now wringing together in her lap. Even now, she didn’t know what was happening. Half a minute ago she’d been angry enough to slap him, but now... God, she just didn’t understand anything. If he thought so little of her, then why was he acting like he still cared?
Taking a shallow, shaky breath, she propped her elbows up on the table and leaned forward, holding her head in her hands. She bit her lip for a moment before a sharp pain reminded her of the cut, and she hissed softly in pain. She didn’t know what to do here. All she wanted was for everything to go back to the way it was. She wanted to kiss him and laugh with him again and fall asleep in his arms, but this mess she’d made over Kane wouldn’t let her. Wouldn’t let either of them. They were both so stubborn about the things they loved – the people they loved. But for whatever reason, she couldn’t put herself in his shoes. She couldn’t imagine feeling an ounce of love or responsibility for someone like Kane, no matter how much they might have been through in the past. As much as she tried, she couldn’t wrap her head around it. “I just... I don’t understand, Tristan,” she said quietly, her eyes closed, still trying. “How can you stand there and let him do this? And I’m not... after everything we s.... I’m not trying to...” She wanted so much to look at him, but she couldn’t make herself do it. Maybe she was the coward here, not him. “I just don’t understand. I – I can’t.”
---
So maybe Charlotte hadn’t done anything. And he certainly hadn’t. But someone had. Someone had done something to anger his brother enough to make him think and act completely irrationally and completely out of character for him. Well, in a twisted way, he was glad. Had Kane been of more sound mind, he probably would have succeeded in killing Charlotte, and as terrible as what he’d done had been it had gotten Charlotte back to the castle. Tristan was still convinced this was the safest place to be for all of them.
As fast as things had heated up, they’d very suddenly fizzled into something resembling a more civil conversation, and Tristan visibly relaxed a little. His posture leaning on the table was no longer rigid and after a moment he stood up smoothly to his full height, looking down at Charlotte. Not with disgust or anything resembling anger anymore. His expression was pained. She still couldn’t understand? He couldn’t understand how she couldn’t empathize. Kane was a monster. He did horrible things and most of the time to other people, but this wasn’t about Kane. She couldn’t come to grips with Tristan’s position in this and why not? Was she so blindly stubborn that she refused to even think about how this must be for him? The things he had to endure because of who his brother was? What his brother was?
“I’m not letting him do anything, Charlotte.” His tone was still soft and even. He didn’t have the energy to get back on the defensive again. “Why has nobody been able to do anything about him yet? Because up until now, he’s been impossible to get to. The one time I’ve seen him since he reappeared after all those years was outside our parents house, the week we were without our reincarnates. Drugged out of his mind and beyond pitiful. I couldn’t do it then, and that was my mistake. A moment of weakness I’ve come to regret. But he was there out of some weird sense of remorse, something he isn’t capable of with Carrion. I won’t be finding him again that easily, if he doesn’t want to be found he won’t be. Why do you think we thought him dead all those years? Believe, this hasn’t been for lack of trying.”
It was hard for Tristan to admit that Kane was his biggest weakness, but he felt that he didn’t have to with Charlotte. She knew. And maybe one day he could forgive her for pitting it against him, but not now. Not when the wounds from their split were still so fresh. He hadn’t had the heart to kill Kane that night. Not when he was all Kane, for once, for the first time in years. Maybe Charlotte would never understand. Maybe Tristan didn’t really understand either. But that night, his little brother had begged for Tristan to kill him. And he hadn’t. He couldn’t. He’d foolishly hoped that Kane would simply do it himself. Was it really so difficult to understand why? Blood was thicker than water for people like Tristan. Kane was a monster, but he hadn’t always been. At the end of the day, Tristan still remembered. That was what hurt the most about all this. Kane had long forgotten.
“Is it really so hard for you to understand, Charlotte? I suppose it is. You didn’t grow up with him. You only see him as the monster who’s done all those terrible things. You’ve never known any other Kane, but I have. You aren’t related to the person who is responsible for these horrors. I am. You’re not the one who failed him, after all those years of taking care of him. I failed him. And maybe that’s a burden you can’t really understand unless you’ve lived it. So imagine if this was Briar. Or Daniel. I’m fully aware of who Kane is and I know that he needs to be stopped. But that doesn’t make this any less painful for me, and it certainly doesn’t make this any easier just because it’s the truth.” When he spoke again, there was a flicker of sadness in his eyes before he regained composure. “The heart has reasons which reason does not know. I’m sorry if that wasn’t the answer you were looking for, but it’s the only one I have.”
---
As she listened to him, Charlotte began to cry, as silently as she possibly could. The tears fell freely from her eyes, but it was a struggle not to make a sound. There was nothing more difficult than trying to cry quietly, but over the past few weeks she’d gotten awfully good at it. She bit her lip even though it hurt, and she only let out the smallest of whimpers when the cut split and she began to bleed. She quickly moved one of her hands to hide it, bowing her head even further so that her hair fell over her face, hiding her tears.
As if they’d stay hidden for long. It was a futile gesture, but a necessary one of her part. He was right. She was a child. She tried so hard not to be, but adulthood wasn’t something you could fake. It had to be earned, and she had never done that. None of the hardships in her life had actually been hers; they had all been someone else’s, and she’d just been along for the ride. She’d endured losing a high percentage of her family, but they were just dead. She hadn’t actually lost anyone like Tristan had lost Kane. Scott had gone away for awhile out of necessity, but he always came back. Sally was... drifting, but she and Daniel had resolved not to let her lose herself. If anyone faltered, there was always someone to lean on for support – quite a lot of someones, in fact. That wasn’t true for Tristan. It had only been the two of them; Tristan had tried his best to live for two, but in the end it hadn’t been enough. How could it be? How could anyone bear that burden and expect to succeed? And how could she be so naive not to see that he still carried it? She felt like a prize idiot. Her ignorance and stupidity and obstinacy had lost her the one person she loved more than anyone – more than her family, even, which was horribly frightening now. She still felt that way, even if he didn’t. Part of her even hoped he didn’t. He deserved someone better, someone who did understand. Clearly that wasn’t her. They weren’t meant to be.
Eventually her crying slowed enough that she was able to speak, though she sounded very strained when she did. She rested her head on the table, her face turned away from him and shielded by her hair. It was easier to say this if she could hold on to the fragile delusion that he wasn’t really there. For once, she pushed aside her pride and tried to get the words out. The ones she’d been too scared to ever say. “Don’t... don’t regret it. I–I’m glad you didn’t... I know how h–hard that would’ve been for...” She cut herself off, squeezing her eyes shut tight. But she had to keep going. If she didn’t say this now, she never would, and god only knew what would happen then. “You were right. I am a child. Childish. I don’t – I don’t know anything, but I can’t grow, I can’t change without... without help. I need y– I need... that. And I’m so sorry for ev–everything. If you don’t... if I’m not... well, I. I understand.”
---
Tristan honestly wasn’t sure what to believe. One minute she was the coldest, most unreasonable person he’d ever met, and then she was this. A blubbering mess of tears and concessions. He wanted to believe her sincerity, but he didn’t know if he could trust it. He’d already said too much, but then, they were all things she should have known in the first place. Kane was his brother, how could anyone in their right mind not understand the most basic, human thing in the world? When it came down to it, he still loved Kane. More then anything else. He was family, even if Kane himself didn’t feel the same anymore. That’s why they call it unconditional love, it doesn’t require the other person’s love in return. It just is. And that haunted Tristan more than anything else, that he could still feel that for someone so inhuman as his brother had become. Oberon certainly didn’t understand it, but Tristan wasn’t quite as selfish and petty as the faerie king was yet. Though he was well on his way.
Still, no matter how much he loved his brother, he couldn’t abide this. The people in his life didn’t deserve to be touched by his twisted brand of destruction. Charlotte certainly didn’t, and Tristan wasn’t going to pick Kane over her. He hated seeing her like this. He was still angry with her but that didn’t mean he didn’t still care. Maybe if he didn’t still love her then he wouldn’t be so angry. He’d noticed her lip split and knew she must be bleeding so after a moment’s hesitation he backtracked to one of the kitchen drawers to pull out a cloth, wet it at the sink and bring it back to her. “Charlotte,” he spoke quietly, sitting down next to her and waiting for her to look up so he could put the cloth to her lip. “I shouldn’t have been so harsh with you. And I’m sorry. For what he’s done to you. I honestly thought you’d be safer if I wasn’t in your life, but I didn’t factor in that you might leave the castle all together. That was my fault.”
---
Charlotte knew he was trying to be kind to her, but even so, she felt an overwhelming sense of defeat. It was like he hadn’t even listened to what she’d said, all those things she’d never had the courage to say before. But she couldn’t really blame him, either. Maybe this was his way of letting her down easy. Maybe he thought it would hurt less if he didn’t reject her outright like he had before, but he was wrong. This hurt more. Everything hurt more. When he sat down next to her, all she wanted to do was run away, hide in her room and never come out, but she couldn’t find the willpower to even flinch. She just wanted to die.
It was that thought that finally caused Snow to speak up. Stop wallowing. I know you’re miserable, but this isn’t healthy. Sit up. Speak to him. Look him in the eye. If you stop acting like a child, then maybe he’ll change his mind. Not that hard, sweetie. She rarely put in her two cents these days, mostly because she knew Charlotte never listened to her, but she did this time. Snow was right. Sitting here and crying like a baby wouldn’t accomplish anything. She could feel pathetic but still be dignified, couldn’t she? Like Snow said, it wasn’t that hard. It was just an act. She could manage that until she had the chance to retreat back to her room. She could do it.
Swallowing her pride and sadness for the moment, she sat up and looked at him, finally, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. She knew she looked a mess – she knew she was a mess, and she was mortified that, once again, she had dissolved into histrionics around him. It was just so ridiculously easy to let herself go around Tristan, which she was beginning to realize wasn’t a good thing, especially now. He wasn’t going to comfort her now, and she honestly didn’t want him to. If he touched her, she wasn’t sure what would she would do, and she was so busy fretting about it that she didn’t even notice the rag in his hand. “No, no, it’s not,” she murmured after a moment, once she had regained some of her composure and wiped away most of the tears on her face. “I’m in danger no matter what. If Kane doesn’t get to me, someone else will.” She let out a little breath of laughter, her nerves completely shot. It wasn’t funny, but it was the truth. “That’s practically a guarantee in this family.” She didn’t say anything about his apology. She didn’t want to think about that. As much as she wanted him to forgive her, she wasn’t sure if she could forgive him just yet. He had been harsh. Too harsh.
---
Tristan said nothing for a few moments, simply waiting for her to quiet so he could press the rag to her lip and put a slight pressure on it to stop the bleeding. He’d heard everything she said and while he was sorry, even if he was too harsh, the things he had said she had needed to hear. As much as he still loved Charlotte, she was far too sheltered for someone in her position. Coddling was of no real benefit to her and she had needed to hear the things he’d said, no matter how harsh. No matter what she thought of how she’d come off to him, the things she’d said had been just as bad. He wasn’t sure he’d ever forget them, so he didn’t know what to say when she’d said she needed him. Still, he was a gentleman and gentleman apologized when they’ve offended a woman, even if his apology was seriously overdue. Some habits never actually died.
“I don’t like being right about these things. For what it’s worth, you weren’t wrong about some of the things you said either,” he said after a long pause, noticing how tense she was so he took great efforts to soften his gaze if he was going to be this close to her and look at her. For his part, his jaws was practically locked with how much tension was radiating through his body right now but he did his best to hide it. He knew what he wanted to do, what he wanted to say. But he knew he had to listen more to what he needed to do. No matter how much it hurt both of them. “You have people you can lean on, Charlotte. People you should be leaning on. Family, friends. I have too much faith in you to really believe that you can’t change without me. You’re stronger then that, you have the capacity to be your own woman all by yourself. I can’t be your crutch, it won’t be fair to you in the long run. Look what’s already happened? I can’t be that for you.”
Tristan drew in a deep breath, hardly believing the words that were coming out of his mouth but he couldn’t stop now. Even if a huge part of him was telling himself that this was a mistake. The right thing maybe, but a mistake nonetheless. He’d be regretting it within two seconds of leaving this kitchen, he was sure of that. With his free hand he reached up and brushed a lock of hair gently behind her ear. He’d missed that. “I’m sorry for everything as well. And I do still love you, if that was ever in question. But this... us. We can’t be each other’s Achille’s heel, it’ll kill one or both of us eventually, one way or another. Things have been done and horrible things have been said and maybe it’s time to part on better terms for awhile. I don’t expect you to forgive me for the things I said anymore then I can forgive you right now, so maybe now that the anger has passed we can actually think about this rationally. I’m always around if you need me.”
---
What little composure she’d managed to fake dissolved as soon he touched her lip. The things he was saying were the last things she wanted to hear, and she couldn’t look at him anymore. Every single word felt like a stab in the heart, every sentence a twist of the knife. She couldn’t take this, this... unvarnished kindness. In fact, she preferred it when he’d been cruel. At least she could hate him then, but now all she felt was a crushing, inconsolable wretchedness. It came upon her so suddenly that she felt dizzy. She didn’t even try to cry quietly now; her breaths were short and shallow and desperate, and when brushed some hair behind her ear, she sobbed openly and smacked his hand away before leaping up from the table and starting for the door. That was the last straw, that and his promise. Of course he would always be around, but not in the way she needed him to be. She could see that now.
“Please, Tristan, don’t... don’t say that!” she choked out once she had calmed down enough to speak, even if what she said was halfway hysterical. “I told you I’d always love you, and for once in my life, I actually meant it. You were the only thing, the only thing, that made the prospect of forever bearable to me, and now you’ve – you’ve...” She wanted to keep yelling at him, thinking misguidedly that inflicting some pain on him would somehow ease her own, but she didn’t have the energy for that. She was so focused on keeping herself upright and getting out of that kitchen that words were failing her, and thank god for that. The last remaining vestige of her rationality told her that anything she said now she would definitely regret later, but one last thing escaped her lips before she could stop it. One hand was on the doorknob, her book abandoned on the table, completely forgotten, and the door was opening as she swore under her breath, unfortunately still loud enough to be heard in the quiet kitchen, “God. I wish he had killed me.” Then she was out the door, and she was gone.
---
Of course, Tristan had expected this sort of reaction but that didn’t mean it didn’t shock him horribly any less. He didn’t like hurting her. A big part of him still didn’t know why he was. He meant to punish himself but punishing himself meant also punishing her, and he wished he could avoid that. She didn’t deserve this kind of pain. He almost reached out to her again but then she was out of her chair and shouting at him, and all he could do was sit there and watch. He couldn’t exactly disagree with anything she was saying since he knew exactly how she felt. He felt the same way. Whoever first said the truth hurts really didn’t know the half of it, Tristan was sure of that.
He definitely heard the last thing she said before she walked out the door and that cut into him more than anything else she had said. Something had to be done about this. All of this. For a long moment Tristan stared sadly down at the book she’d left behind before he shook his head at himself, standing up from the table and taking her book with him. He was leaving for Martha’s Vineyard tomorrow, he’d be gone from the castle for at least a few days. Maybe the rest of the week. Charlotte wouldn’t have to endure his presence for at least that long.