Chapter 7 #3
He’s not far behind me, releasing his seed into me. I know it’s for the last time.
The large war Elf stares down at me, suddenly turned to stone. “It’s time for you to go, Tristan.”
I knew this was coming, but I won’t accept it. “What do you mean? No. I’m here with you. I stay with you. That was the deal.”
“No. It was never right. Andothair should never have taken you, I never should have accepted you.”
“I’m a spoil of war, Bayaden. I always knew there was a chance for this, especially had I become Warlord. All’s fair in love and war.”
“Love and war are never fair, no one knows that better than you and I.” He can’t move, he’s fixed in one spot, hardening himself for this moment. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
“I don’t want to go back, Bayaden. Please don’t make me.” I can’t help the tears that keep coming, but if they serve to make him feel guilty, then good. This is a terrible thing to do.
The tears soften him some. He switches to my home tongue, to Markaytian. “You are like me, Tristan. Your first duty is to your homeland, everything else is secondary.”
“Screw Markaytia. Markaytia abandoned me and shipped me off with Elves.”
“No. The marriage might have been arranged, but you didn’t fight it. You did so with pride, for your people. The dishonor you feel not fulfilling your side of the bargain has you burning up my shirts at two a week.”
“Is this about shirts? I’ll get better at laundry. I’ll have Mary teach me. I’ll be so good at it. They’ll say ‘that Tristan, he was once good with a sword, but you know what he’s better at? Laundry. Stains beware.’”
He smiles a watery smile. “I’m going to miss your nonsense.”
“No. You don’t have to miss it; you can keep it right here.”
He shakes his head. “It’s tearing you apart Tristan.
I understand. I am the same,” he says taking my hand and putting it over his heart.
“My father wants me to marry the prince from Dominithia and I’m going to.
I know the prince doesn’t want to marry me all that much, and I don’t blame him, but Father is right, it’s a good match.
They are a strong kingdom. I’m pants at all the politics and the prince clearly doesn’t know the sharp end of a sword.
We will balance each other, it will work. ”
“I’m fine with that. I will service you both, happily. Tell me, do you think his come is green too? I could get on board with green come.”
He laughs, then he frowns. “There’s something else, Tristan.
Father knows I’ve gotten too close to you.
He was fine with it, for the time, but he says it’s gone as far as he can allow it to with a human.
He likes you though. You have a knack for making the most unlikely of us fall for you, which is why I got any choice at all—I am to make arrangements for you to leave, or he’ll have you executed. ”
“What does Andothair think of all this?”
“He doesn’t know. We’re not going to tell him until it’s done. He’ll be angry, but he’ll calm down since they’re Father’s orders.”
I nod, a thousand things running through my head.
You don’t always get to know when it’s going to be the last time for something.
Today was my last day in Aldrien, that’s why Baya cut us out of training early.
I don’t want to think of sad things, so instead I remember something else.
“Wait, aren’t the Domi one of the races in which the men can have babies? ”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to have green babies,” I say picturing it, but instead of it being funny like it should be, my heart is breaking. I want our stubborn, warrior babies.
“Let’s hope I can teach one of them to be half as good with a bow as you are.”
“Good luck without me there to teach them properly.” I put my arms around him and cry.
I know he’s right. We’re both far too duty-bound for our own good.
Aside from the fact that his father would never allow him to marry his human manservant, his father needs that match.
I am good at politics, my parents—all three of them—made it so and I know this marriage would secure strength so that if they do attack Mortouge, they stand a chance. Domi has a solid army.
“Corrik has been looking for you.”
They’re the words my heart’s wanted to hear, but they hit different, knowing that to see Corrik, I have to say goodbye to Baya.
“Uncle Taj knows where he is. He can get you out of here and bring you to him.”
I nod attempting to imprint his smell into my nostrils, and the way he feels, into my fingers. “I love you. I love you.”
“I love you, Tristan. You have my heart. And I … I have recovered from a great many battles, but I don’t know how I’ll recover from this.”
Regret sets in for all the moments I spent hating him, and all the moments I spent doing anything else aside from being with him because now I have no moments left.
I feel them slip away. I’m going to wake up tomorrow somewhere else, somewhere he isn’t, where I won’t see how hard his jaw gets when I’ve said something that annoys him, where I can’t make him laugh at my nonsense, and where he won’t chase me through the soft-stone hallways, hollering at me to, “Get back here now, Human,” so he can spank the life out of me.
“I thought about what I wanted to give you, something your paltry human brain might use to remember me by,” he says, trying to tease me, but it doesn’t work; everything’s too sad right now. “But Corrik wouldn’t let you keep your stuff; he’ll never allow you to keep anything from me so…”
“That’s why the hair?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Baya.” I hug one side close to me and I can feel him.
“I like to think that maybe you’ll miss me someday and your hair will surround you, bring you comfort.
” He tucks my long hair behind my ear. I can’t move my ears like he can.
I wish I could so I could show him affection in that way.
It’s a subtle thing, but Elves move their elegant ears in a variety of ways to display various emotions. Took me some time to learn that.
“I already miss you.”
“I already miss you too.”
We hold each other as long as we can until finally, we’ve run out of all our minutes. “It’s time to go, Tristan. Pack your things.”
When I’m ready, I take one last look at his chambers, the bed I used by his bed still freshly made from when I made it last, not knowing it would be for the last time.
The table we ate at together, the window through which the sun shined in on us every morning, and the moonlight during the long nights we spent fucking after a hard day training in the fields.
I attempt to memorize everything, knowing I’ll never see it again.
I grab my bag packed with my meager belongings and together we head out the door.