Tale of Four

"Tristan," Annabell said from Tristan’s shoulder as he stood before the main doors into the palace, looking at the blazing sun outside, lighting the path towards the city of Everlight below. Behind his back, his hand shook. Clasping his wrists to try and stop them had no effect, and even when he screamed at himself to step forward to follow the guards, servants and his family out, he struggled to take the first step.

"Annabell. Take control." Annabell heard his voice and frowned with her eyes, shaking her head.

"No. If you can’t step outside on your own, then there’s no point," Her echoing voice said with certainty as she flew off his shoulder and landed above the exit, watching Tristan as servants and guards walked around him, making their annoyance clear that he was blocking the path.

"Please." He said quietly, knowing Annabell couldn’t hear him from where she sat. Looking up at her, she stared back, flapping her wings like she was trying to cheer him on. Looking back down at the door, he lifted his foot and put it back down in a heartbeat, feeling his other leg about to give out.

’Take the step. Do it. Do it. DO IT! Screaming at himself, he desperately tried to move, knowing his fear was stupid. He had done this before under similar circumstances. Each time, he had the same struggles, but each time, he had forced himself out. ’COME ON! Anton is there. So is Brandon, Mary. All the King’s Guard. I couldn’t be safer.’

Those thoughts calmed his nerves slightly, as strength returned to his legs. Taking a step forward, he felt a knot in his stomach form as he got closer to the exit of the palace. Every step he took, he counted, taking a deep breath afterwards. It was like learning how to walk again for the first time, only this time, he had no one there to pick him up and help him.

’Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Five more.’ Swallowing the saliva in his mouth, he felt Annabell land on his shoulder and shake, with it a motherly warmth spreading across his body. ’I’m not alone. It’s fine. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen.’ Standing between the open doors, he felt the heat of the sun on his skin and lifted a hand to cover his eyes. Closing them for a second, he didn’t look and took the final step. A cool breeze brushed past him as he did.

’I’m such an idiot.’ It was all he could tell himself once he was outside. The fear, although not gone, was dwarfed by shame at how hard he had to act to come this far. Rows of carriages lined the garden before the palace, its high walls standing tall, like a grey dome, shielding it from the horrors outside.

Banners proudly flew in the wind. One was a man holding a sickle, another a set of white wings, and another a bow and arrow, with many more around. But above them all, proudly looking down on them was the banner of the Cosmaton family, a gold star on a black background. Some of his family had a different version of the banner, with multiple stars or differently coloured stars, but each one was the same as the original in feeling. Proud, arrogant, leading the way for all the others, eternally watching over them.

"Tristan." A voice cried out from the distance, and looking over, he saw Edmund standing with his father and mother, and a king’s guard, Ser Carl Keep. Tristan smiled and slowly made his way over, his movements stiff and robotic. "Are you ill?" Edmund asked, seeing Tristan move so strangely once he was close enough.

Tristan smiled and rubbed the back of his hand, "I’m..." The words got trapped in his throat.

"He’s scared of going outside," Annabell spoke for him, making Tristan’s head snap toward her. "What?" Ananbell innocently said, knowing full well what she did.

"You’re scared?" Edmund said, shocked, unable to believe that his friend was actually scared of soemthing. Lowering his head in embarrassment, all Tristan could do was give a weak nod and stare at the ground. "Why?" Edmund asked without mocking, genuinely curious.

"Becuase." Tristan paused again. ’Can I trust him? Surely I can? But it’s pathetic, he may look at me differently.’

"You don’t have to say if you don’t want to." Edmund eased his worries, seeing Tristan embaressed to say. Hearing his voice, the final wall around the truth shattered, and Tristan smiled.

"I’m scared becuase I can’t control the outside." Looking into Edmund’s black eyes, he bitterly chuckled, "Inside I can plan to stay safe, but out here, anything can happen." Tristan looked past the open gate that led towards the city, "You know about my parents, right?" Edmund nodded, "I was meant to be with them. And yet I wasn’t. I survived because I caught the flu as a baby. How ridiculous is that? My survival came down to mere luck. I refuse to put it in those hands again." Sighing, he rubbed the back of his head, "And I stayed that way too long, now I struggle to even go outside the palace grounds."

Tristan watched Edmund’s gaze, expecting pity. The boy chuckled and wrapped his arm around Tristan. Instead of pity or mocking, his gaze changed, looking at Trisatan more like a person. "I’m afraid of seaweed, you know," Edmund said with self-mockery. "When I’m in the water, it always finds a way to grab you. It has made me jump so many times that I see it in my nightmares."

The two looked at one another before bursting into laughter, the weight in his heart and the fear he had been feeling vanishing. "Mother. Can Tristan ride with us?" Edmund asked Mary. The woman gave a passing glance and nodded, refocusing on her conversation with Wells.

"HIS GRACE! KING ANTON! SECOND OF HIS NAME! KING OF VESTON!" Before he climbed into the carriage, Tristan fell to his knees, much like everyone else. Only a few, such as Mary, Brandon, and the King’s Guard, didn’t, instead giving small bows. Tristan looked up at Anton and watched. The king was his usual self, aloof, cold and sharp. By his side, two King’s Guards flanked him.

’Ser Guy Daywatch and...’ Tristan’s gaze narrowed on the other knight. Unlike the rest of the people in the Palace, he was the lone northern man in court. His skin was pale, sickly, almost grey when not in sunlight. Atop his head, under his helmet, a set of black hair and eyes sat. ’Ser Bryan Halls.’ It was rare to see a Northern man, and although the selection of him as a King’s Guard was more political than for ability, Tristan knew better than to assume he wasn’t a good warrior.

"Tristan." Annabell quietly spoke in his ear, "There’s soemthing about him. It’s ancient." Tristan shot a look at the dove, who shook her head, "I can’t be sure, but it feels old. If it is what I think it is, you can’t handle it."

Tristan sighed as he rose, after Anton got into his carriage, "I know there are things you can’t tell me and things I learned which I shouldn’t have, but there must be a way I can handle these things at some point."

Annabell huffed, "There is. One is to do what Magi do and study arcane arts. They build a resistance to forbidden knowledge through their power. Secondly, to continue to merge with me. What allows me to handle the knowledge will slowly begin to affect you." Annabell fell silent, not liking that choice, "Lastly, is to gather knowledge slowly and then, when you feel secure enough in what you know, try and pry into the forbidden. It is the riskiest of the lot, but the quickest way." Her childish voice spoke of wisdom that didn’t match her appearance. Tristan fell into thought and nodded, climbing into the carriage after Edmund.

Despite the boy wishing to talk, he held off seeing Tristan and Annabell, deep in thought, and decided to pester his father and mother to keep himself entertained.